you think that was a little rude?”
“What was rude? Interrupting your flirting?” Forrest asked.
“I wasn’t flirting.”
His brother snorted.
“I wasn’t,” Clay insisted, though he wondered why he bothered. Because even if he had been flirting—which he wasn’t—he didn’t care what his brother thought. But he also didn’t want Toni overhearing their conversation and thinking that he had a thing for her. Because he didn’t.
“Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said something about men who protested too much?” Forrest challenged.
Bennett banged his hands on his tray, giving Clay an excuse to turn his attention to the little boy and ignore his brother’s comment.
“How’s your breakfast?” he asked.
The baby responded by offering a fistful of scrambled egg.
Clay nudged the little boy’s hand toward his mouth. “Bennett, eat.”
And he did, happily.
Toni returned with a platter laden with scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, browned sausages and savory fried potatoes in one hand and a full coffeepot in the other. She set the platter on the table and filled Clay’s and Forrest’s mugs before making her way down the table, offering refills to the other boarders who were lingering at breakfast.
Forrest loaded up his plate, then immediately focused his attention on his meal. Clay scooped up a forkful of eggs, but found his gaze following Toni as she made her way back to the kitchen.
“Transference,” Forrest said.
Clay looked up, startled by the abrupt pronouncement. “What?”
“Transference,” his brother said again. “It’s the redirection of emotions, usually in the context of a therapist-patient relationship but also occurring in other situations.”
Clay wasn’t sure he was following. Although he knew that one of the reasons Forrest had chosen to come to Thunder Canyon was to continue working in a therapy group with Annabel Cates and her dog, Smiley.
“Are you saying that you have feelings for your therapist?”
His brother snorted. “I’m talking about you, not me.”
Now Clay was even more confused. “You think I have feelings for your therapist?”
“I think you’re still feeling guilty about not being there for Delia when she was pregnant—”
“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he interrupted to remind his brother.
“—and you want to make up for it by demonstrating an interest in the stages of pregnancy, resulting in your infatuation with our expectant landlady.”
“I’m not infatuated with our landlady.”
Forrest continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The fact that she doesn’t have a husband just makes her a more obvious target of your attention.”
“What’s obvious to me is that you have too much time on your hands if these are the scenarios you’re dreaming up.”
“‘That looks heavy, Toni,’” Forrest said, mimicking his brother. “‘Let me get it for you.’ ‘I’m going into town, Toni. Do you need me to pick anything up?’”
Clay scowled at his sibling, although he was more annoyed because he realized that Forrest was right. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be helpful?”
“Not at all,” Forrest denied. “So long as you’re aware of the rationale behind your actions.”
Clay thought he understood his rationale far better than his brother did, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Toni’s pregnancy. Truthfully, every time he caught a glimpse of her rounded belly, his mind started, because when he looked at his gorgeous landlady, the absolute last thing on his mind was that she was a mother-to-be.
No, his feelings for Toni Wright had absolutely nothing to do with any latent parental instincts he might possess and everything to do with simple masculine appreciation. He was a man, she was a beautiful woman, and he wanted to get her naked.
“But what do I know?” Forrest said now, a teasing note in his voice. “I’m not a father. Maybe you want to double your diapers, double your fun.”
Clay shook his head emphatically. “Bennett gives me more diaper changes than any man should have to handle.”
As if in response to his name, the little boy looked up from the egg he was smearing on his tray and smiled, and Clay actually felt his heart squeeze inside his chest.
Maybe he hadn’t thought too much about having children before Delia showed up at his door with Bennett, and maybe he’d denied—instinctively, and perhaps a little too vehemently—that he could be the baby’s father, and maybe his offer to let Delia and the child stay with him had been made more grudgingly than willingly. But living with a woman and her child, even temporarily, had been a huge adjustment for Clay, especially considering that his relationship with Delia had been, by mutual agreement, a strictly no-strings arrangement.
But a child wasn’t just a string. The possibility that he might actually be the boy’s father had felt like a noose around his neck. A noose that grew tighter with every day that passed until he woke up one morning to the sound of a screaming baby and realized that Delia was gone. He’d almost accepted that he might be Bennett’s father and had started to think about the practicalities of shared parenting, then suddenly, there was no one around to share any of the responsibilities.
Delia had the benefit of nine months to come to terms with the fact that she would have a baby—nine months to prepare for the arrival of her child and the realities of motherhood. But she’d shown up on his doorstep without any kind of warning and, not even giving him nine days to accept the fact that he was a father, ran off, abandoning the baby into his care. And with the realization that she was well and truly gone, the noose had pulled so taut that Clay could hardly breathe.
It was Bennett’s frantic cries that had finally penetrated the chaotic thoughts swirling through his brain, that made him realize he didn’t have the luxury of panicking or falling part because there was a tiny person who needed him. And with Delia well and truly gone, there was no doubt that Bennett needed him, so Clay stepped up to the plate.
The first time Bennett’s tiny fist had curled around his finger, Clay had been lost. The wave of affection for the little boy had knocked him flat with all the subtlety of a freight train. And the first time that Bennett had smiled at him, just a few weeks later, Clay had vowed to his son that he would never let Delia take him away. By the time he got the report from the lab, he’d realized that the DNA results didn’t even matter.
It was his mother who had encouraged him to open the envelope, anyway. Ellie Traub had accepted the baby more quickly and easily than he had done. In fact, from day one, she’d positively doted on the child, which was why she’d insisted he had to know what legal status he had with respect to the little boy. She was as thrilled as she was relieved to have scientific proof that Bennett was her grandson—and none too happy when Clay first told her of his plans to leave town with the baby.
Truth be told, Clay had vacillated for weeks before making the decision. As much as he wanted to get out of Rust Creek Falls for a while—and away from the nosy gossipers who liked to offer unsolicited suggestions to the new dad—he’d worried that he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own with the baby. His mother had been an enormous help, offering not just her own tried-and-true baby care advice, but giving him hands-on assistance whenever he was feeling overwhelmed. Which, over the first few months, was quite frequently.
As if on cue, the phone he’d tucked into his jacket pocket began to vibrate. He checked the display and smiled as he connected the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where’s