Nixie’s eyes jerked up to meet his. “I never thought of you that way. It was a horrible nickname, and I don’t know why you used to let people call you that,” she said with more vehemence than she’d intended.
He shot her a skeptical glance but said nothing.
Nixie wasn’t sure why, but it bothered her to think he doubted her sincerity.
The first drop of rain hit Nixie’s cheek and trickled down to her chin. In a few more seconds, she and Boone were running across the soggy field, back to the car.
Doors opened and slammed shut, and bodies dripped water onto the leather upholstery.
Laughing and winded, Nixie said, “We could have walked and gotten no wetter than we are now.”
“Ah,” Boone corrected with a finger held aloft. “But then you wouldn’t be breathing hard and fogging the windows.”
Nixie cut her eyes at him. It was as though time had stood still for fifteen years. Only Ellen was not here to tell her brother to shut up.
“Could we call a truce for the next, say, thirty or forty years?”
Boone put a hand to his chin as if considering her suggestion. “If you want to call a truce, it must mean we’re at war and you’re losing. If you’re losing, that means I get to seize all your property. Personally, I think that sounds like more fun than a truce.”
He was not going to do it again. Nixie was not going to let him make her blush or stammer or react in any of those embarrassing ways she did as a kid.
“Look, nobody’s going to seize anyone else’s property.” She tried not to focus on the mental image that accompanied her words. “The only thing I want from you is your promise not to encourage Bethany and Brad in this ‘daddy’ ad or any future such brainstorms.”
He stretched back against the seat and draped his right arm behind her. “I don’t want to see them get hurt any more than you do. But,” he reminded her, “they did spend their own money for the ad.”
“I realize that, but I’m just asking you not to get them overexcited about this cornball idea.” In a gesture of annoyance, she swept her hair away from her face and flipped the ends over her shoulder. The damp tendrils fell limply across Boone’s arm.
“We’re both soaked to the skin. Let’s go dry off, and then we’ll talk about this some more.”
He drove only a block and a half and pulled in at the centuries-old tavern that housed the Bliss Crier. Inside, he led her past the empty receptionist’s desk and offices that were occupied by desktop publishing systems, large screen dual monitors, and laser printers. In a nod to the past, there was even a large slant-top graphic design desk with a stack of clip art books on top. The modern insides of the building provided a sharp contrast to the historic exterior.
Boone opened a wooden crossbar door and led her up a narrow staircase to a small apartment. With a minimum of furnishings other than bodybuilding equipment and an absence of curtains, it looked like a man’s apartment. A Cro-Magnon man’s apartment.
Nixie smiled. “How quaint.”
“It’s not much to look at yet, but it has everything I need.” He pointed into the cramped kitchen. “Including a dryer.” Without preamble, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the machine.
Nixie’s eyes were drawn to the broad, firm planes of his chest and abdomen. Liberally covered with golden-brown hair, his torso was so wide she wondered if her arms could encompass it. Which led her to wonder whether it was curiosity or the strange sensation in the pit of her being that made her want to try. The upper part of his arms seemed as big around as her thigh.
Her gaze fell to the purplish mark that began on his left hip and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. From his casual stance, he appeared not to be aware of the dark bruise or her reaction to it. Yes, indeed, this was a Cro-Magnon’s apartment, and here was the resident Cro-Magnon.
“I swear I won’t jump your bones. There’s even a lock on the bedroom door if you don’t trust me.”
Nixie jerked her attention away from his hip to the amused expression he wore. “What?”
“I said, give me your dress and I’ll throw it in the dryer with my shirt. Come on, I’ll get you a robe to wear.” He led her down the short hall to his bedroom and rummaged in the drawer for a terry cloth robe, which he tossed to her. Then he retrieved a black T-shirt and pulled it on. Nixie had been relieved to see him covering his bare chest, but the sight of him in that tight shirt was just as distracting.
He left the room and was pulling the door shut when he leaned back in with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
When the door finally clicked shut, Nixie took a big breath to calm her frazzled nerves. “What you need is a swift kick for what you’re thinking,” she muttered to herself. “He didn’t ask what you want.” As a widowed mother of two, she knew she would be wise to forget about those particular wants. At least for now.
Doffing the wet dress, she let it fall to the floor and shrugged on Boone’s enormous robe. On him, it was probably knee-length. On her, it fell to the middle of her calves. She wrapped the front flaps tightly about her and knotted the belt around her middle. Even though she still wore her half-slip and camisole, she felt naked underneath the robe.
She was glad, when she emerged from his bedroom, that he made no teasing comments about her appearance. Instead, he took her dress to the kitchen where he started the dryer and returned a moment later with two cups of hot coffee.
Aside from the television and a bench press, the only piece of furniture in the living room was a brown plaid demi-sofa. She sat down and, with a little squeezing, he joined her. Although it was made to seat two people, Nixie was sure it hadn’t been designed with Boone in mind.
He had turned at an angle to face her. Having crossed one ankle over the other knee, his thigh hovered disconcertingly over her lap. Trying to ignore his proximity, she attempted once more to elicit his support in discouraging the children from their wild-haired scheme.
“Look, about that ad—”
He looked up and gave her his full attention. It was all Nixie could do to keep from drowning in the ocean-blue depths of his eyes.
“It would make things a lot simpler if any replies were, well, discreetly disposed of.” She was acting in the children’s best interest, so why did she feel like such a heel for making this simple request?
“This is the kids’ ad,” Boone said gently. “They’re entitled to all the replies that come from it.”
Nixie fumed. It was impossible to argue with someone who wielded logic as his weapon. “What about dangerous or crazy people? Surely you know that they’re the only kind of people who would answer such an ad.”
Boone chuckled. “Does a person have to be dangerous or crazy to look for love or a place in a family?”
“You’re ignoring my point,” Nixie persisted. “I don’t want my kids reading angry or foul letters from someone with an ax to grind.”
“You’re right.”
Nixie breathed a sigh of relief that he was finally beginning to see reason.
“You’re their mother,” he continued, “and it’s certainly within your rights to take away from them whatever you think might be harmful.”
The rat! He wasn’t giving in after all. He was going to force her into the role of bad guy by making her take away the letters he brought to her children.
Boone set his empty cup on the floor and leaned back, clasping his fingers behind his neck. The thought entered Nixie’s head that with this posture, he created a bigger target for a thrown object.
Opting for a more prudent alternative, she followed suit and placed her cup on the floor. She stood. “Obviously, you aren’t willing to see reason, so I may as well quit wasting our time.”
“Suit yourself,” said Boone, making no apology for his inflexibility. “I’ll get your dress.”
He came back clutching a yellow and black garment that looked as though it would fit a large doll.
“What did you do to my dress? It was almost new!”
Boone at least had the grace to look sheepish. “If I were you, I’d take it back. This sucker shrunk to half its original size.”
“Give me that.” It was just like Boone Shelton to heap insult on top of injury. It was bad enough having her simple request refused so callously, but now this. She shook out the dress and held it against her. The bottom barely cleared her hips. “There’s no way I can wear this home.”
Her glare warned him not to make one of his typical smart-alecky replies.
He took the hint, and the ride to Nixie’s house was filled with a tense silence. Boone broke the standoff as he pulled into her driveway.
“I’m sorry about your dress. It looks like I owe you a new one.”
“You owe me, all right.”
She got out before he could come around to open the door. She was furious with him—but not about the dress. That could easily be replaced. Even so, she wanted him to pay … for the dress, for insisting on giving letters to her children after she’d asked him not to, for implying she wasn’t doing a good job of raising her son. Most of all, she wanted him to pay for those years of merciless teasing.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “You owe me for a lot more than this dress. You can start paying me back by forgetting that my kids ever placed that crazy ad in your paper.”
“I’m sorry.” He got out of the car and came around to open her door even though she’d already gotten out, as if either his chivalry or his nearness would soften his answer. “I can’t do wrong by your kids just because you asked me to … even if you are a friend.”
“Friend?” How could he have ever considered them such? They’d been at each other’s throats all through school, and it looked as though the cycle was starting all over. “If you treat your friends like this, I’m glad I’m not your enemy.”
Her voice sounded squeaky, and she hated how she’d let him get to her. With trembling fingers, she untied the terry cloth sash at her waist and yanked off the bulky robe.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the garment into his arms. “Don’t ever let it be said I accepted any favors from you.”
With a haughty whirl, she turned away from him and stormed toward the house. To Boone, in the twilight her white lingerie made her look like a tiny spirit floating across the lawn.
And like a spirit, she was just as hard to pin down. When the apparition disappeared into the house without so much as a glance over her shoulder, Boone got back into his car and drove off.
He wouldn’t be able to wear that robe again without thinking of her.
Nixie stomped into the house and slammed the door behind her. Unmindful of her appearance, she huffed into the living room, where her aunt and uncle looked up from their television show.
“Well,” said Uncle Jay, “it looks like you had a nice time.”
Tarzan eyed her from his cage and let out a jungle yell.
“You—” Not in the mood for the bird’s shenanigans, Nixie pointed a finger at the parrot.
“Shut up, stupid!” Tarzan finished for her.
“Shhh!” If he kept up like that, he was sure to wake the children.
“Nixie, don’t argue with the bird.” Aunt Lauren got up to cover the cage. “You know he always gets the last word.”
With the feathered commentator quieted, Aunt Lauren turned back to Nixie. “Are you all right? Did Boone hurt you?”
Nixie shifted the dress to her other hand and crumpled it. “I’m fine. My dress was ruined in his dryer after we got drenched in a downpour.”
Uncle Jay grunted his annoyance. “I lent him my shirt. I don’t see why he couldn’t have done the same for you.”
“He lent me his robe, but I gave it back.” At their questioning glances, she stretched and faked a yawn. “I didn’t mean to stay out so late. Thanks for putting the kids to bed.”
“Anytime, dear.” Aunt Lauren kissed her cheek.
Nixie could tell there were questions her relatives wanted to ask. She was glad they didn’t voice them, because she certainly didn’t have any answers. As she closed the door behind them, she decided life would be much simpler if she could avoid Boone Shelton altogether.
Over the next week and a half, she tried many times to put him out of her mind but frequently found her thoughts returning to him.
One morning, as she was reading the Bliss Crier, she couldn’t help noticing the new image the twice-weekly paper sported lately … more professional and much less biased than when Mr. Yoden had owned the business. Even many of the advertisers who had, over the years, taken their business elsewhere now returned with large, eye-catching displays. One of the new features was an advice column. And, along with the changes in format and content, the name had been changed to the Bliss Gazette. She supposed that was Boone’s attempt to stop the Bliss Liar jokes.
Yes, indeed, he was a man of honor, and the business owners of Bliss knew it. It was just too bad he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—relax his honor where her kids were concerned. She supposed she should be glad he was so steadfast about doing the right thing, but she wished he could also foresee the problems it could cause.
Regardless of Boone’s code of ethics, she couldn’t just stand by and watch her kids get hurt—or worse, scared— when they read the letters that might come from their ad.
Nixie had ignored her children’s squabbles about who should get the marshmallow stars from the cereal box. Now, however, she looked up to find Brad with his finger poised and ready to flick a piece of cereal at his sister. She gave him a quelling glare, and he reluctantly popped the tidbit into his mouth.
Boone might be the rough-and-tumble type, but her children weren’t. They still needed protection, and she was determined to provide it for them. She would just have to be extra diligent with Boone to make sure they were protected from his good intentions.
When Boone showed up unexpectedly the next evening, she didn’t let him rattle her composure.
“I didn’t know they made Cub Scout uniforms that big,” she said, referring to his khaki shirt and pants.
“Mom, he’s the den leader,” Brad pointed out.
Boone, however, refused to be goaded. “The bigger the kid,” he replied, “the bigger the uniform.” Turning his attention to Brad, he added, “I’ll bet we can get you one in your size, too.”
“Can I, Mom?”
She fixed a warning glare on Boone, but he appeared not to notice it. He was certainly the most hardheaded person she’d ever met.
“He missed last week’s den meeting,” said Boone. “There’s plenty of room in my car, so there’s no need for him to miss this week, too.”
Nixie pushed her hair behind her shoulders with a defiant flip of her wrist. “We’ve already talked about this.”
“We also talked about depriving children of opportunities to grow.” To Brad, he said, “What have you achieved in your spare time since I saw you at the play?”
The boy grinned proudly. “I taught Tarzan to bark at Bethany’s cat.”
Boone opened his hands in a resigned gesture. “I rest my case.”
Bethany obviously overheard and came in from another room. “Mom, you’ve got to do something about that kid.”
Nixie sighed. She supposed Boone had been telling the truth when he said the most strenuous den meeting activities would be memorizing pledges and making crafts. Maybe she could at least let Brad try it. “He hasn’t had supper.”
“I’ll buy him a burger.”
“Friends for life, man!” Brad and Boone exchanged high five. The boy dashed out to the car, then stopped to see what was holding up the den leader.
Boone had been a little slower to leave. Lingering on the porch, he acted as though he wanted to say something else to Nixie. When Brad called out to him, he winked at Nixie and said, “See you in a couple of hours.”
His words sounded more like a promise than an idle comment. With a peculiar sense of anticipation, Nixie found herself looking forward to seeing him later that evening.
She watched as Boone and Brad drove away. One large blond man and one small blond boy. To the uninformed, the two could easily pass for father and son.
Less than two hours had gone by when Nixie started worrying. She wasn’t used to Brad going away with anyone other than Jay or Lauren. They should have had time to eat a hamburger, attend the hour-long meeting, and return by now. She paced the living room again and pulled the curtain back to peek out. Maybe she shouldn’t have let him go after all.
“Chill out, Mom,” said Bethany. “He’ll be back soon. You ought to enjoy the peace and quiet while you can.”
A little more than two hours passed before she heard car doors slam, followed by excited male voices.
Brad entered, carrying a large department store bag. Boone smiled in a self-satisfied way. It was enough to make Nixie wonder what mischief they’d been up to.
Boone nudged the boy. “Show her what you got.”
That was all the prompting Brad needed. In seconds, the floor was scattered with official Cub Scout uniform parts, including cap, neckerchief, and patches.
“Where did you get all this?” Nixie asked, puzzled by the unexpected purchase.
Boone cleared his throat. “After the meeting, I figured we weren’t too far from the mall, so we saved you a trip.”
The mall was very much out of their way, but before Nixie could point this out, Brad declared, “I’m a real Scout now, Mom. Next time, I won’t be the only one wearing play clothes.”
“Who said anything about next time? I thought you were just going to try it out and see if you liked it.” Turning to Boone with one hand on her hip, she waited for an explanation.
“He did try it out, and he liked it. Since we got the uniform tonight, you’ll have time to sew the patches on before the next meeting.”
He seemed quite pleased with his forethought, but Nixie wished he hadn’t taken it upon himself to do this. She felt pushed into a corner.
“You really shouldn’t have done it,” she said, sweeping a hand to indicate the items Brad was admiring, piece by piece.
Boone sat on the couch. “It was the least I could do after what happened to your dress. I would have bought you a replacement, but I don’t know your size.”
“Don’t worry about it. In my job, I don’t wear anything fancier than jeans and T-shirts.”
Brad interrupted by jostling Boone’s knee. “Don’t forget to give this to Bethany.”
Boone took the small white box from the boy and handed it to Bethany. “We saw this in the store and thought of you.”
Nixie watched as her daughter tentatively opened the box and lifted out a pair of miniature satin ballet slippers on a pink velvet rope. “Thank you,” she whispered. Gingerly, she draped the necklace over her head. “This is beautiful. Whose idea was it?”
As one, Brad and Boone pointed at each other.
“I’m going to go look at it in the mirror,” she said and ran upstairs.
“I’m going to try on my new uniform.” Brad disappeared up the stairs behind his sister.
In those few seconds, the room fell silent. Even the parrot was quiet for a change.
Nixie settled into the chair beside Boone and tucked her feet under her. “Don’t you know Santa’s not supposed to return for another nine months?”
“I like your kids. They’re good people.”
Nixie looked at him suspiciously. She thought he had been joking, but one look at the sincere smile on his handsome face told her he meant what he said. Hadn’t he seen by now what little stinkers her children could be?
The few other men who’d come to her home had chosen not to return after the first visit. She had suspected they’d been put off by the mere presence of the children, yet Boone was a man who claimed to like them even though they could be very rambunctious at times.
She turned her attention to him. “How’s your forehead?”
Boone lifted a hand and touched the spot above his eye. Nixie admired the way his simple motion caused the muscles to bunch in his upper arm.
“Back to normal.”
Slipping back into the role she’d played so many years ago, she shot back, “I knew that hard head of yours would come in handy someday.”
Boone was just as quick with his reply. “It’s even harder now. I don’t take no for an answer.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I still feel bad about shrinking your dress. Let me take you to dinner Friday night.”
“That’s not necessary. Besides, you’ve more than made up for it by buying Brad’s uniform.”
“I would have done that anyway.” He leaned back again and pushed away the shaggy blond hair that had fallen over his eyebrow. When Nixie started to make excuses, he repeated, “I don’t take no for an answer.”
She studied the man who had once been her chief tormentor. Why was he being so nice now? This side of Boone Shelton unsettled her. She was used to dealing with his orneriness and teasing, aggravating as it was. But when he was being nice like this, she couldn’t help suspecting he was up to something.
She shook off the feeling of unease. Maybe he was truly repentant for what he’d done to her dress and was honestly trying to make it up to her. If that was the case, perhaps she should let him assuage his guilt and be done with it.
“What if we say it’s just for old times’ sake?” he prompted.
Maybe if she said yes, he’d satisfy his guilt, she’d satisfy her belief that they could never get along, and then they’d both go their separate ways. “I get off at five,” she said, “unless I happen to be tending a hit-and-run victim.”
“That should be no problem since one of the Cub Scouts wrote down the license number of the car that hit me. The driver is to appear in court next month.” He laughed. “Funny thing is, we had just talked at the meeting before that about what to do if you witness a crime. Those kids remember more than you’d think.”
There was no mistaking the pride in his voice when he talked about the young Scouts. A chill came over her as she realized that was the same tone Paul had used when bragging about Bethany and Brad.
At times such as this, Boone Shelton actually seemed tender and sensitive, an image that did not go with his boisterous, rough nature. It looked like she was going to have to rethink her impressions of him.