expression tightened a hair. “Don’t be silly, Darby. I wouldn’t dream of taking money for helping you out.”
Darby’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. I guess I misunderstood you then when you said it’d be ten dollars an hour.”
Garrett swallowed a chuckle at the consternation on Beth’s face. “I’ll be in the den,” he said, and escaped while the escaping was good.
Darby continued holding out the cash. Beth snatched it out of her hand, her lips tight. “You didn’t have to do this in front of him,” she hissed.
Darby shrugged. “Thanks for coming over. I do appreciate it.” That was sincere, at least.
“When are you coming back to Smiling Faces?” Beth’s eyes were fastened hungrily on the closed door to Garrett’s den.
“If Garrett has his way, no time soon.” She ought to feel ashamed for baiting Beth, but then Beth should be ashamed for the way she was practically throwing herself at Garrett.
And she didn’t exactly appreciate the disbelieving look the other woman cast her way.
“Molly’s not going to like that,” Beth predicted. “You know, the only reason she hired you in the first place is because she’s friends with Mrs. Vansant.”
Since it was true, Darby couldn’t very well argue the point. She started herding Beth to the door. “Whatever I end up doing, I’ll work it out with Molly.” She smiled. “Unless you’ve been promoted and are handling more than the check-in desk?”
Beth’s lips tightened. She gathered up her purse and flounced out of the house.
“Thank you and goodbye,” Darby murmured after the door slammed shut.
Thunder pounded overhead, making the windows shake again.
“Now there goes a woman who is not the least bit intriguing.”
Darby turned to see Garrett standing in the doorway of his den. “Who? Beth?” The windows rattled again, and Darby quickly moved deeper into the living room. Away from the windows. “She’s all right. She’s just—”
“On the prowl for a man.”
She picked up several crayons that had rolled from the coffee table to the floor. “I bet you say that about all women.”
“I wouldn’t say that about you.”
She pushed the crayons into the box. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that or insulted?”
He crouched down beside her, reaching for the red crayon that she’d missed under the table. “Neither. It’s just another intriguing thing about you.”
Darby snatched the crayon out of his hand and jammed it into the box with the others. “Stop calling me intriguing. I’m nothing of the sort.”
“Did you ever go to college?”
She stood up so fast that she felt light-headed. “What? Yes.”
“What did you study?”
“Is this your version of Twenty Questions?” He kept watching her, and her lips tightened. “Nursing,” she said shortly. “Now, I’ve got to get dinner started.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “That explains this, then.” He held up his hand. His cut had healed enough that it was covered only with an adhesive bandage. “So why are you playing nursery worker instead of nurse?”
“I didn’t say I was one.” Darby grabbed a deep pot and filled it with water. She wasn’t one anymore, that’s for sure. Nurses were licensed and licenses could be traced. “We’re having spaghetti. But we don’t have any garlic bread. Would you mind running to the store to get some?” Anything, anything to get him to move away. To get him out of her personal space so she could think of something more than the way he smelled so warm and male and— “In other words you don’t want to discuss your nursing aspirations.”
She turned the water up higher.
“Garlic bread,” he murmured. “I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled faintly and left.
Darby drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush.
What a mess she’d gotten herself into.
She turned off the water and set the pot on the stove, glancing out the window at Regan and Reid who were chasing each other around in the backyard, perfectly oblivious to the crackling thunder.
A mess she was beginning to feel awfully comfortable in.
Chapter Eight
“Relax, would you?” Hayden spoke softly as he leaned a few inches toward Garrett. “I’ve heard Judge March is a pretty straight shooter, but if he sees you looking as if the top of your head is going to explode, he might think you’re a risky choice for guardian.”
Garrett forced his hands to relax. Hayden was right, he knew. “Courtrooms,” he said grimly. “Haven’t ever liked ’em much.”
“Probably because you were on the receiving end of justice,” Hayden murmured. “It was a long time ago. Forget it. You are a nationwide developer. You can hold your own against anyone now, including the mayor.”
Garrett sure as hell hoped so.
The judge, beanpole tall and white-haired, entered the courtroom and everyone present rose, sitting again only after the judge impatiently waved at them.
Garrett glanced back over the small crowd that had been gathering. Darby sat in the back row. A wide-brimmed straw hat sat on her head, preventing him from seeing her expression. He doubted that it had changed much, though, since earlier that morning when Carmel had arrived at the house. His assistant had agreed to watch the children during the hearing, and Garrett suspected that it was only Carmel’s presence that had kept Darby from backing out entirely.
Since he’d brought up that nursing thing the evening before, she’d barely spoken to him.
Judge March was eyeing the courtroom. “Seems we’ve got a lot of spectators,” he commented. “This isn’t a hockey match so I’m gonna ask the sheriff here to clear the courtroom.”
Voices murmured, and feet shuffled reluctantly from the courtroom. Garrett looked back again. Darby had left, too. Without her, his case was toast.
“Morning, Mayor,” the judge was saying. “I’m real sorry about your daughter. I’m real sorry about us being here today at all. Seems like situations like this always get worse before they get better.” He shook his head and slid a pair of eyeglasses on his beaked nose. “Let’s try to keep this as uncomplicated as we can. I’d like to get out of here before lunch. Any arguments?” He eyed the occupants of both tables and with none forthcoming, nodded with satisfaction. “All right, then.”
Darby felt as if a dozen curious eyes were watching her and, wanting only to escape, she walked down the wide marble-floored hallway toward the drinking fountain. She slipped her hat off long enough to bend over the bubbler and take a quick drink.
But the cool, refreshing water did little to alleviate the tension that clawed at her. Until the accident had occurred on the corner outside of Smiling Faces, she’d almost managed to forget the fear of being recognized.
Going to the market had become something to enjoy rather than something to dread. Walking in the park was no longer an exercise in furtiveness, but something to cherish. Now it was all back. In spades.
From beneath the brim of her summer hat, she eyed the crowd that was still hovering outside of the courtroom doors. At least four of them were reporters. She would have recognized the look of them even without the steno pads or the microcassette recorders.
The exit was right behind her. So close she could feel it reaching out to her. Beckoning. Inviting her to slip out the doors. To start running. To keep