In front of Roxie stood a grinning, wriggling little boy wearing well-worn blue jeans, a heavyweight hoodie and straw-colored, choir boy bangs. Beside him stood an unshaven Noah wearing well-worn jeans—black, natch—a heavyweight hoodie…and a smaller boy in plush, dinosaur-splotched footed jammies, clinging to him like a limpet.
It was a lot to take in at seven-thirty in the morning. Especially given her lack of sleep over the pending job interview, her screwing up the courage to call Jeff and her uncle’s two-days-and-counting mopefest, which she assumed had something to with Eden but God forbid he actually talk to her or anything.
“Sorry,” Noah mumbled as he ushered in his six-year-old nephew, Ollie, then gently set a still very sleepy, two years younger Tad on the sofa, along with a jumble of pint-size clothes and a largish paper bag smelling of greasy heaven. “Silas had an early appointment and Jewel’s out at a birth. So I said I’d get Ollie to school by nine, and whichever one finishes up first’ll swing by to collect Tad. Hope that’s not a problem? Ollie!” he shouted as the boy vanished into the back of the house. “Get back here!”
“Coming!”
“Of course not,” Roxie said, aching to take the sagging little boy in her arms, even as she kept an eye on his brother, darting from room to room like a pinball, his backpack going thunkathunkathunka between his slender shoulders, his sneakers pounding against the bare wooden floors.
First things first, though. “Hey, I called—”
“What’s all that racket?” Charley called from upstairs. Blast.
“Silas’s boys are here for a little while,” Roxie called back up. “Come say hi!”
Slam.
Crouching in front of the wobbly kid, who was seriously listing east, Noah shot her a glance. “Still?”
“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “Um, I—”
“Tad! Wake up, buddy!”
Shaking his curly head, the little boy collapsed into a ball on the sofa cushion, hands smushed underneath his cheek. Roxie gave up. For the time being, anyway. “You want me to set out plates and stuff for the boys?”
“Nah, paper bags, fingers—we’re good. Okay, Tadpole,” Noah said, heaving the kid upright again, “I need to get you dressed—”
“Don’wanna,” the pink-cheeked tyke said on a huge yawn, drooping forward to crumple against his uncle’s chest, thumb in mouth, eyes drifting shut again.
“I know, guy,” Noah said, real softly, rubbing the little back, and Roxie could actually feel her heart melting. And her knees. And…other things. “But you gotta. Aren’t you hungry?”
With a slow, curl-quivering head shake, the squirt cuddled closer. Chuckling, Noah gently untangled the little arms, letting Tad slump against the back of the sofa to tug off his pj bottoms…earning himself a shriek of laughter when he tickled the soles of the little guy’s feet. Meanwhile, Ollie thunked and clumped back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
“You’re good at that,” Roxie said to Noah, snatching up the bag of food before the grease reached the sofa, carrying it to the one end of the dining table not covered in Mae’s stuff and renovation detritus.
“What? Dressing kids?” Noah yanked a long-sleeve T-shirt over Tad’s head. Not looking at her. “Line up limbs to corresponding openings in clothes, how hard could it be?” The little boy blinked, then grinned, and Roxie could practically see the jets firing, one by one. Countdown to liftoff in three…two…one…
“Shoes!” Noah boomed, grabbing Tad before he could take off after his brother. Feet rammed into a pair of SpongeBob sneakers, the little one let out a war whoop and threw his entire small self at the bigger one, igniting an instant wrestling match. In one sweet move Noah surged to his feet and yanked the two apart; Roxie tried to swallow her laughter, but a muffled snort still escaped.
“Knock it off, you two!” Noah pointed at the table. “Go, sit!”
This said with a mock stern look at the giggling boys, who flew into the dining room, chairs shimmying dangerously as they scrambled up into them, and then Noah was calmly divvying up egg sandwiches and hash browns and pint-size milk cartons between the two wiggle worms, and Roxie thought, Yes, please, just like that, although of course she didn’t mean exactly like that, since Noah would never—
Because he wasn’t—
Girl, don’t even go there.
“There’s plenty,” Noah said to her, unwrapping his own sandwich as he sat at right angles to his nephews. “Help yourself.”
Honest to Pete. Roxie plucked a bunch of napkins off the sideboard and distributed them, then pulled a still-warm sandwich out of the bag. “Mae used to make these,” she said with a blissful sigh, as she settled across from the boys. “I tried once, but it was a spectacular failure.”
Chewing, Noah frowned at her. “You can’t make an egg sandwich?”
“I can barely make toast. I can, however, identify a piece of antique glassware down to the decade, so I’m not entirely useless. So, where’d you get these?”
“Jewel made ’em, I’m guessing. Silas sort of shoved them at me when I walked through the door. Tad, sit up, buddy, you’re gonna fall out of the chair—”
“Ahmjushtryingtosee—”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
The preschooler’s arm jutted toward the window as he gulped down his bite. “That is like the biggest crow ever!”
Noah caught Oliver with one hand before the kid fell out of his chair trying to get a better look; then all three traipsed to the window, where Noah let out a long, low whistle. “Holy moly, you ain’t whistling Dixie! Rox, get over here and look at this sucker!”
When she did, Noah put his hand on her waist to steer her to the right spot, and she thought, Okay, maybe that’s not such a good idea, even before the skin-searing, hoo-hah tingling zing! that all too smartly reminded her exactly why celibacy sucked. Especially when it wasn’t by choice. Except, as he moved away, the vivid memory of her surreal phone conversation last night reminded her that, in her experience, the alternative—as in, intimacy with the wrong person for the wrong reasons—sucked far more.
Yes, it did.
The space shuttle-size bird duly admired by all, Noah got the boys settled back in their chairs, then snapped his fingers. “I keep forgetting…Mom wants you and Charley to come over for family dinner Thursday night,” he said, and Roxie’s instant reaction was Oh, heck, no, until he added, “because you’re currently kitchenless,” and she remembered there’d be a million Garretts there—Noah and she probably wouldn’t even see each other. And she was getting really sick of microwave dinners with mushy rice and limp broccoli—
Roxie heard Charley’s floor creak overhead, then his door eerrrk open. And close again. Softly. As though he didn’t want anyone to know he so wanted one of those egg sandwiches.
Sighing, she glanced at the kids, who were busy having a who-can-stuff-the-most-food-in-his-mouth contest, then said, “If I can pry Charley out of his bedroom by then, sure—”
“We’re done,” Ollie said, scrubbing his greasy napkin across his mouth. “C’n we go outside?”
“Yeah, c’n we?”
“I don’t know, guys,” Noah said, but Roxie laughed.
“The backyard’s fenced. Not much harm they can do,” she said.
To which Noah replied, “Remember you said that,” and they were off at top speed through the kitchen and out the door.
They both took a moment to absorb the silence before she said, “All he does is sit in his room, listening to old opera recordings,” while watching Noah efficiently gather the leftover debris and stuff it back into the paper bag. “I see evidence of his sneaking down to raid the fridge in the middle of the night, or going out for food while I’m at work, but other than that, he’s turned into a mole.”
“You think it’s over?”
“Who knows? But now he’s back in grump mode. I swear, it almost makes me wish Eden was still in the picture, because he’s reminding me a lot of me when I was a teenager and some boy or other blew me off.”
Noah gave her a look. “Like me?”
“Actually, I was thinking of Sammy Rodriquez,” she lied, thinking she already had more than enough pots on the stove without stirring that one, thank you. “Speaking of former boyf—”
“Knock, knock!” came a perky female voice from the entryway, before, a moment later, Silas’s windblown fiancée appeared at the dining room doorway, her little glasses fogged from coming from the cold into the heated house. “False alarm, no baby yet.” A symphony of color in bright blue leggings, red high-top sneakers and a multicolored paisley jacket, Jewel glanced around.
“You lose ’em somewhere? Ah,” she said as shrieks from the backyard found their way into the house. “Thanks, guy,” she said to Noah, dimpling at him as she reached up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
Yes, you are, dammit, Roxie thought despondently, as Jewel gathered her stepsons-to-be and herded them out to her car, around the same time the crew’s assorted trucks and vans began pulling up outside, and the slamming of doors, the shouted greetings officially heralded the start of a new workday. With a grin, Noah started out of the room. “Showtime—”
“I called Jeff.”
His head whipped around. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I’ve been trying to!”
“So…what…?”
She took a deep breath. “We talked for maybe three minutes. He said, again, he wanted to see me. I said no, no point, delivered my little speech and…that was that. Except for his saying he’d found a couple of old CDs of mine mixed up with his, could he have my address so he could mail them back to me?”
Odd. If she hadn’t known better, Roxie would have sworn she saw a little “Thank you, Lord,” flash in Noah’s eyes. “Did he at least sound brokenhearted that you’d refused him?”
“Not really, no. But then, dude’s got an ego like a bomb shelter.”
The front door, already left ajar, burst open, followed by heavy, work-booted footfalls, more laughter, the hum of energy enveloping a half dozen men focused on what they had to do. Noah glanced toward the noise, then back at Roxie, his voice barely more than a whisper when he spoke. “You okay?”
Such a simple question, but so heartfelt it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I think so. I’d expected…actually, I don’t know what I expected, exactly. But something. Regret? Anger?” She shook her head. “It was weird. I felt absolutely…nothing. As though none of it had ever happened, really. Except for…well. You know. The baby.”
Noah’s gaze darkened, for barely a moment, before a slight smile curved his mouth. “Now aren’t you glad you called?”
“Yeah,” she said on whooshed breath. “I am.”
The smile softened. “I’m real proud of you, Rox—”
“Hey, Noah—” One of his crew stuck his dark-haired head in the kitchen. “We brought the new cabinets. You installing them today?”
Ever since they’d started this project, Roxie had been all too aware of the obvious respect Noah’s crew had for their boss. And he for them. Not once had she heard them talking trash about him behind his back, or seen them goof off when he wasn’t there, nor had he ever complained about any of them in her presence. In fact, the more she got to know him, the more she saw the rock-solid core beneath the cocky exterior…and the more he reminded her of what she’d loved about Mac. Not personality-wise—in that respect, they couldn’t have been more different—but integrity? Honesty? Fairness? They might as well have been twins.
Except, lest she carry this twin thing too far, Mac had wanted to be a father. And even she wasn’t naive enough to confuse Noah’s devotion to his brothers’ kids for a suppressed desire to have his own. So, falling for the guy would be pointless and dumb and frustrating, especially since she’d been down that particular dead-end road once before.
Noah tore his gaze away—dear God, how long had they been staring at each other?—to nod at the baby-faced young man in a flannel shirt grinning at him. “Sure are, let’s get ’em in.” Then he turned to Roxie. “Ready to lend a hand?”
She blanched. Stripping wallpaper and mutilating tile was one thing. Actually helping to install something that could fall on someone’s head if she screwed up?
“I’m not sure—”
“You’ll be fine, Miss Roxie,” the kid said. “Mr. Noah would never let you make a mistake.”
Then she met Mr. Noah’s mischief-filled eyes again and thought, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.
Noah didn’t know about that Miss Roxie.
Just as well she’d had to leave for work, he thought on a suppressed chuckle, as he held the next cabinet steady while Luis bolted it into place, since her carpentry talents were decidedly limited.
Not to mention for a boatload of other reasons. Like the way she’d look at him, so directly it shook him up. Probably every bit as confused as he was, too. Nothing like the coy glances he was used to. Sure, Rox would undoubtedly move mountains if necessary to achieve her own goals—rather than waiting for somebody else to do it for her, which was strangely sexy—but she wasn’t the type to pout and whine in order to get her way.
Nag, yes, he thought on another chuckle as he remembered her trying to cajole her uncle into leaving his room by refusing to bring his lunch to him. She’d walked out of the house muttering something about coddling sixty-five-year-old children not being part of her game plan. Except Noah noticed she’d left sandwiches and what all for Charley in the fridge, anyway.
“What’s so funny?” Luis asked, repositioning the drill.
“Nothing,” Noah said as he checked the level. Dead on. Excellent. “We should have this done by knockoff time, don’t you think?”
“Easy,” the young man said, hefting the next cabinet into place for Noah to hold. And kind enough to let the subject drop.
Of course, Noah guessed a good part of that directness had to do with her trying to figure him out, too. Or rather, what to do about the chemistry sizzling like acid on metal between them. Whether she’d admit it or not, he had no idea. Whether she’d be amenable to acting on it, he had even less. Whether he’d be amenable to acting on it…now that was the question of the century. And wasn’t that a kick in the pants, that there’d even be a question. On his part, anyway. Because, if she was leaving soon, that was perfect, right? No strings, no ties, no worries about the future….
Yeah. Perfect—if it’d been anybody but Roxie. A thought that made him feel like Luis had taken the drill to his head instead of the wall stud.
The cabinet in place and Luis called away for a minute to help with something else, Noah leaned against the counter and took a swig from the bottle of water he kept refilling from the bathroom sink, the kitchen sink being out of commission until the new laminate counters were installed. Yesterday, when the gal from the other night had called, he hadn’t even hesitated to nip the whole thing in the bud. Gently, but firmly. Because somehow, when he hadn’t been looking, Roxie had filled up his brain. And until that changed—probably when she left, a prospect that stung far more than it should’ve—he had no business dating anybody else. Even casually.
Yeah. Go figure.
“Is it safe?” came a gruff voice from a few feet away. He looked over to see Charley standing at the kitchen doorway, back in those crummy coveralls and looking like hell on a bad day, and Noah realized he’d probably never feel safe again, that the earth had shifted underneath his feet and he had no clue what to do about it.
“For the moment. Rox left your lunch in the fridge.”
Grunting, Charley slogged across the kitchen, his mouth pulled down at the corners. Noah couldn’t resist. “Whatever you broke, I suggest you fix it.”
His hand on the refrigerator’s handle, the older man swung his head around. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The fight I’m assuming you and Eden had?”
Another grunt preceded his hauling out the plate of sandwiches, which he then clearly had no idea what to do with, since there were no counters. Noah took the plate from him and carried it out to the dining table, as Charley muttered behind him, “If I’m not gonna talk about it with Rox, I’m sure not gonna talk about it with you. And what do you care anyway?”
“I care because Rox cares,” Noah said, which surprised him nearly as much as it apparently did Charley, who came to a dead halt on his way to the table, an expression on his face like Noah’d announced he was from Neptune. “And in any case,” Noah continued, once the shock subsided enough to get words out, “talking about it is the last thing I want. Do I look like a girl?”
That almost got a smile. Or at least, the grooves at the corners of Charley’s mouth faded a little. He sank onto the chair where Noah’d set the plate, releasing a gusty sigh before mumbling, “Nobody talks trash about my Rox.”
Noah’s brows dipped. “What do you mean?”
“Okay, maybe ‘trash’ is a bit too strong, but…” He wagged his head. “Things kinda went sour, that’s all.” A bite of sandwich taken, Charley set it back on his plate, the picture of dejection. “But God, I miss her.”
“So you did break up?”
“I didn’t exactly mean to, but…yeah. I guess that’s what happened. Rox was right,” he said with a curt nod. “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, and now I’m paying for it.” He waved Noah away. “You’ve got stuff to do, you don’t need to stick around. I’m lousy company right now, anyway.”
If the poor guy hadn’t been so obviously heartsick, Noah might’ve found his drama queen act almost funny.
“Charley?” When Roxie’s uncle lifted pain-wracked eyes to his, Noah said, “God knows, I don’t claim to know everything about women, but…I’ve got a little experience with ’em. So if you do want a sounding board? I’m here. Okay?”
“When hell freezes over,” Charley said, one side of his mouth barely tilted, “but thanks for the offer.”
After a moment, Noah nodded and quietly walked away, although a sizeable chunk of the older man’s misery had apparently broken off to follow Noah, doing its level best to find purchase in his gut.
By the time Thursday rolled around, Noah was so tired from pushing through on Charley’s house—so he could take on another project waiting in the wings—he’d nearly forgotten that Roxie and her uncle were supposed to come to his parents’ that night. Judging from Roxie’s voice over the phone, when, after his mother reminded him, he reminded her, she’d forgotten as well. Or hoped everyone else would.
“Oh, Lord, Noah…I’ve finally got Charley downstairs, but actually getting him to leave the house might be a stretch.”
“Mom’s insisting. In fact…” With one hand propped against the kitchen wall where he was doing the new estimate, he almost winced. “I think she might have someone for him to meet.”
“Who? Charley? You’re not serious.”
“This is my mother we’re talking about. Trust me, I’m serious—”
“Who’re you talking to?” he heard in the background.
“Noah. Donna and Gene invited us for dinner tonight. I already told him you might not be up for it—”
“What’re they having?”
“I have no idea.” Then to Noah, as she obviously tried to hold in a laugh, “He wants to know what’s on the menu.”
“Beats me. Tell him to call Mom if he can’t stand the suspense. So, sounds like he’s recovering?”
“Apparently so. Although—” she lowered her voice “—he’s still being a big old groucheroonie—”
“I heard that! And get off the phone so I can call Donna.”
“I’m on my cell, use the landline! Honestly,” Roxie said, chuckling aloud by this point. “I guess we’ll meet you over there, then. We can’t stay long, though, I’ve got a real early flight to Atlanta tomorrow morning.”
A comment that put Noah in a funk for the rest of the day.
She came bearing flowers and candy for his mother, who of course hugged her and told her she shouldn’t have—except Noah could tell she was tickled pink, especially about the chocolate—before disappearing back into the kitchen, yelling at Noah to take the gal’s coat, for heaven’s sake. As if he couldn’t figure that one out for himself. Charley immediately followed the sound of ESPN into the family room, where both the big screen TV and Gene resided.
“Mmm…roast pork?” Roxie said as Noah hung up her coat in the closet.
“Yep.” Noah turned, fingers shoved in pockets, to admire the way her soft, white, big-collared sweater both clung to her curves and exposed her neck, flanked on either side by long, glittery earrings. “You look good.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, grinning. “Thought I’d wear this to the interview, too. With a skirt, though, not jeans. Opinions?”
“Hey. What I know about fashion can be summed up in three words—hot or not.”
She laughed. “Good enough. And?”
“What do you think?” he said, leaning closer, smelling her perfume over the rich scent of roasting pig, the combination about to make his head explode, and yep, her eyes darkened and her chest rose…before she took a step backward, craning her neck to see past him.
“So. Where’s this chick your mom wants to fix Charley up with?”
Got it. “Not here yet,” Noah said. Frustrated. Disappointed. Grateful. “Everyone else is in the living room.” A lusty newborn cry pierced the general chaos of a dozen Garretts sharing the same breathing space. “Including little Brady.”
Practically shoving him aside, Roxie made a beeline for the living room, where Eli paced, trying to calm the squalling, dark-haired infant. Noah guessed his brother hadn’t shaved in several days. Or, judging by the messed up hair and bags under his eyes, slept.
“Where’s Tess?” Noah asked over the caterwauling.
“Home. Sleeping,” Eli said, jiggling the baby, as his stepdaughter and stepson roared through the living room, Silas’s two hot on their heels. He gave a slightly spacey laugh. “She actually fought me about it.” He jiggled the baby again; Brady only screamed louder. “Like I couldn’t handle my own son for an hour.”
Rox lifted her arms. “Give him to me.”
Eli shot her an are-you-nuts? look, then nearly dropped the red-faced infant into her arms. “He’s fed, changed, burped and pissed about God knows what—”
“Go. Eat. You can come get him when you’re done.”
“You sure—?”
“We’ll be fine.” One hand firmly clamped around the little one’s back, Rox shooed his daddy away. “Go on. Get.”
Sagging with relief and gratitude, Eli blew Rox a kiss before gathering his two charges and heading into the dining room. Noah, however, followed her into the now vacated living room, where she settled with the baby in a corner of the blue-flowered sofa, plopping him on his tummy over her knees and rubbing his back. Almost immediately the infant got a lot quieter, his hollering settling into periodic screeches before, lo and behold, he passed out.
“Okay, that was spooky,” Noah said from the doorway.
“Nah, just experience. I used to babysit a lot when I was a teenager. It doesn’t always work, of course, but babies pick up on when the person holding them is tense. And poor Eli looks like his brains are leaking out of his ears.”
“He’s taking this fatherhood thing very seriously. Tess told Mom if she wasn’t breastfeeding he might not let her have the baby at all.”
Roxie’s soft laughter quickly dissolved into an expression that both wrecked and humbled Noah as she shifted the infant to her shoulder and leaned back into the cushions, letting the small, limp body mold to hers. He could practically feel her longing, her pain for the baby she’d lost. Except right at that moment she lifted her eyes to his, a slight smile touching her lips.
“Believe it or not, this doesn’t make me sad.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “More determined, perhaps, to have my own someday. But there’s nothing better than the sweet weight of a baby in your arms.”
“I know,” he said, obviously startling her. “If you hadn’t taken him, I would’ve. Don’t know that I could’ve gotten him to crash like that, but I like holding babies, too.”
“As long as you can give them back.”
“You got it,” he said, telling himself the words sounded hollow because his ears were still ringing from the kid’s crying.
“You’re a strange one, Noah Garrett.” She nuzzled the baby’s thick hair, like a shag rug run amok, before contorting her neck to peer down into Brady’s squished little face. “I think somebody finally wore himself out.”
“You want me to take him so you can eat?”
“No, we’re good,” she said, slouching farther into the sofa. “You go on. I’m not real hungry, anyway. Too excited about tomorrow. But save me a piece of whatever’s for dessert.”
“You bet,” Noah said, then added, “need a ride to the airport?”
“Oh, thanks…but Charley’s taking me. Besides,” she said with a little smile, “when I said ‘early’ I wasn’t kidding. I have to leave here at five in order to make it to the airport by six. And I know getting up early isn’t your thing.”
It could be my thing, he heard inside his head, only to then wonder who’d traded out his brain when he wasn’t looking. “Yeah, you’re right, that is way too early,” he said, and she laughed, grabbing Brady’s hands and kissing them when they shot up in his sleep. Noah stood for a moment, stealing one last glance at the pair before heading to the dining room, thinking there was a gal who deserved everything she wanted.
And for damn sure that didn’t include him.
“You look like hell,” Gene said to Charley as he handed him a can of beer from the minifridge underneath the Garrett’s family room bar. Dinner done, the rest of the family had crowded into the living room, knowing better than to encroach on Gene’s man cave time.
Grunting, Charley dropped onto the sectional and popped off the top, took a swig. “Could say the same about you. Donna still on your case about working too hard?”
“Does the sun rise in the east?” his friend said with a cross between a sigh and a chuckle, settling into his recliner. “What’d you think of Patty?”
That she’s not Edie. “Nice enough gal, I suppose. No spark there, though, to be honest.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. But you know Donna.”
“I do that.”
They both sipped their beer, idly watching ESPN. Football. Charley hated football, actually, but wouldn’t dream of mentioning it. Nor would Gene mention Eden unless Charley did first. That’s just the way their friendship worked.
Then Gene shifted in his chair, casting a glance over Charley’s head toward the other part of the house before looking at Charley and whispering, “You catch those two with Brady earlier?” and Charley didn’t have to ask what Gene was talking about. Because that was another way their friendship worked.
“I certainly did.”
“What’s your take on it?”
Charley thought a moment, then said, “That youth is definitely wasted on the young.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Gene said, settling back again, the beer propped on his stomach. “Can I say something?”
Charley braced himself. “Sure.”
“That Roxie of yours turned out to be one fine gal. Smart. Sure of herself. And pretty as they come.” His gaze slid to Charley’s. “And you know what I think? I think she could work wonders with my boy. That she’d be real good for him. If she’d have him. Don’t get me wrong, Noah’s a good boy, but he needs some…fine tuning, if you know what I mean.” He aimed the remote at the TV to turn up the volume. “Just thought I’d toss that out there.”
Charley smiled. “Even though it’s none of our business.”
“Even though,” Gene said with a sly smile. “Even though.”