can wait for supper.” Chase smiled at the kids, their enthusiasm contagious. “I don’t even know your names.”
“I’m Ryan,” said the oldest. “I’m eight. Jordan is seven, and Kodi is six.”
“I’m Chase.” He wasn’t sure if Joy wanted them to call him Mr. Asher, but he didn’t want to sound so formal. People called his dad Mr. Asher. “I’ll be living in the carriage house for a while.”
“Come on, Chase.” Kodi took his hand and tugged him toward the barn on the south end of the property. For some reason, his fingers were covered in chocolate. “We’ll show you where we got the wood.”
He let go of Chase’s hand and took off running down the road that led around the base of the hill. Ryan and Jordan trailed after their little brother, glancing over their shoulders to make sure Chase was following.
It was bad enough forcing Joy and Mrs. Thompson out of their home, but even worse evicting kids. There had to be a way to keep them all at Bee Tree Hill.
He owed it to Joy to at least try.
The aroma of Mrs. Thompson’s famous lasagna and garlic bread wafted through the house as Joy picked up the coloring books and crayons the girls had left on the dining room table. She had sent them off to the kitchen to wash up for dinner when she had caught sight of Chase walking toward the house with the boys.
Several things had distracted him when he first arrived, and he probably hadn’t had time to think about Kinsley and Harper’s age, or the fact that they had his nose and hair. She’d come to accept that it would be impossible to keep them away from Chase forever. If he suspected he was their father and asked, she wouldn’t lie, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell him, either.
“Mama?” Kodi ran into the house, his big brothers close on his heels. He was the youngest of the boys, but he usually led the way. “Can we build a tree fort with Chase?”
Chase followed the boys into the dining room, his hair windblown and his eyes sparkling.
Joy’s breath caught at the sight of him and it took her a moment to compose her thoughts. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
“I’m sure Mr. Asher has enough to keep busy.” Joy set the coloring books and crayons in a built-in hutch. The dining room, just like the rest of the house, still retained its historic flavor. Thick trim, painted a creamy white, dominated the room, while a chandelier hung over the long walnut table. She kept a tablecloth on it at all times to protect it from the inevitable scratches and dents the kids would inflict on the expensive wood. All the rooms in the house were full of Asher family heirlooms, and it was a full-time job keeping them safe from the kids.
“They can call me Chase,” he said, but then added quickly, “if that’s okay with you.”
It wasn’t okay with her. She’d rather he keep a professional distance from the kids. But one look at their expectant faces and she knew it was already too late.
“Can we build the fort?” Ryan asked, his freckles already becoming more prominent from the sunshine and being outside during the warmer weather. “Chase said he’d help, but we had to ask you first.”
Joy searched Chase’s face. He almost looked as excited and eager as the boys. “Would you like to build them a tree fort?”
He nodded, his mouth tilting up in a smile. “I would.”
“It’ll be better than the one we built,” Ryan said with assurance.
How could she say no to this request? The boys didn’t have many male role models in their life—and though she would have chosen someone other than Chase, it seemed that God had brought him here.
Hopefully not for long.
“Did you speak to your father?” she asked Chase.
“Mama!” the three boys called out impatiently.
“Can we build a fort?” Jordan asked.
It didn’t pay to fight them. She put her hands on Jordan’s cheeks and smiled down into his adorable little face. “You can build your tree fort, but only when Mr. Asher has time. Don’t bug him if he’s busy.” She knew how persistent these children could be. They would drive him crazy if she didn’t stop them.
“Yes!” Ryan pumped his fist in the air and the other two tried to mimic him.
“Now go wash up for supper.” She ruffled Kodi’s hair as he ran past.
The door between the butler’s pantry and the dining room swung on its hinge after the boys rushed through. It squeaked mercilessly.
Chase walked over to the door and opened and closed it a few times. “I’d be happy to fix this for you.”
It had been making that noise for weeks, and Joy would be grateful to have it fixed, but she didn’t want Chase in the house, if she could help it. “I can take care of it.”
“It’s why I came, Joy.” He went to the French doors that led from the fountain room into the dining room and ran his hand over a piece of trim that had come loose. “If you have time tomorrow, I’d like to go through the whole house and make a list of the minor repairs that need attention. If there’s something major, I’ll call a professional.”
Joy was conscious of being alone with Chase, even if her kids and Mrs. Thompson were on the other side of the butler’s pantry. While Chase had called his father, she had run up to her room, pulled her hair out of the messy bun, changed into some cuffed jeggings and put on a nice shirt. She’d even touched up her makeup and slipped on a pair of sandals. She told herself she had done it because he was a guest, and she usually tried to look nice when she entertained—but she knew she had done it because there was still a part of her that didn’t feel worthy of Chase Asher. It was a part that had been with her since she was a child in her first foster home. She was always viewed as the dirty, unlovable kid that no one wanted. When Chase left her, it only confirmed that belief.
“I didn’t realize you were the handy type,” Joy said, wanting to change the course of her thoughts. She was now a respectable adult, raising a houseful of kids. She didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.
He smiled as he continued around the dining room inspecting the trim, the windows, even the wallpaper. “When I was here last time—” He paused and glanced at her, regret on his face. “About that, Joy. I’d like to explain why—”
She lifted her hand to stop him. “Please don’t.” There was nothing he could say to make up for what he had done to her. She’d rather they not discuss it.
Chase let out a long sigh. “Mr. Thompson took me under his wing that summer and taught me a lot. I helped him with several projects and found I had the knack for handiwork. You can trust me.”
Trust him. How could she ever trust him again?
“Dinner’s ready.” Mrs. Thompson poked her head into the dining room. “Come and get it.”
“Aren’t we eating in here?” Chase asked.
Joy wrinkled her nose. “We prefer to eat in the kitchen. The dining room feels too formal.”
She led him into the butler’s pantry and through another swinging door into the kitchen. The room wasn’t overly large, but it was big enough for a table and chairs. A large window looked out at the river, displaying the late evening sun glistening off the water.
“It smells delicious, Mrs. Thompson.” Chase went to the sink and washed his hands. “I remember your lasagna well.”
Mrs. Thompson grinned. “I thought you would. I once made a pan, just for you.” Her eyes grew wide when she looked at the children. “And he ate the whole thing in one sitting!”
“Whoa!”