Raye Morgan

Secret Dad


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in no condition to be doing something like this,” she said, frowning as he staggered back from the momentum of the ax. Reaching out, she put a hand on his arm, and he didn’t pull away, but he stiffened, and she knew he didn’t want her doing that. Quickly, she pulled her hand back.

      “Come on in and sit down,” she said quickly. “We’ll be eating soon.”

      He was leaning against the sawhorse that held the wood in place and it was obvious he was going to have to take her suggestion, whether he wanted to or not. “I’m actually doing fine,” he protested, though he didn’t look it. “The leg is getting back to normal. Really, I’m okay.”

      She frowned, not buying it. “Let’s go have dinner,” she said again.

      He shifted his weight and glanced at her, stalling for time. “Dinner already?” he said. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

      “We have to eat early. I have to be at work at five.”

      He looked at her as though her entire speech surprised him. “What do you do?”

      She liked surprising him. She threw him a sassy grin. “I sling hash.”

      The look of shock on his face astonished her, though she had to admit that the thought of working in a greasy spoon would once have sent her reeling as well. And if her mother ever found out, she would probably have her committed to a home for dangerously unbalanced young ladies.

      “Actually, it’s in a very nice little restaurant in town. We serve Pacific Rim fusion food, things like mu shu pork in tortillas and Cornish game hens in Thai peanut sauce.”

      He was still staring at her as though he didn’t believe a word she said. She waited for a moment, then shrugged, feeling a little wobbly herself.

      “It’s not all that extraordinary,” she said with a touch of irritation. “What did you think I was, a lady of leisure or something?”

      “No, I sure didn’t think that,” he said quickly. Then he frowned, seeing something behind her. “Is that your kid?” he asked.

      She turned and saw Robbie at the door. The moment her gaze caught him, he slipped back into the house, and she shaded her eyes, wondering why he was acting uncharacteristically shy. “Yes, that’s him,” she said, then she gestured toward the house. “Come on,” she told him seriously. “Let’s get you fed and rested and then I’ll figure out where I’m going to put you for the night.”

      That brought a quick reaction from him. Something deep in his eyes changed and he straightened, rubbing his chin with the heel of his hand. “No, listen, I’m out of here. I was just trying to split a few of your logs to try to pay you back for all you’ve done. I’ve got to get going, get up to my cabin and...”

      His mind on his excuses, he made the mistake of trying to take a step toward her by putting weight on his weak leg and it deserted him entirely. He lurched and she sprang forward to break his fall. Her body caught his and her hand grasped the hard curve of his biceps, and the immediate sense of coming in contact with a man went through her as though she’d been struck by lightning.

      “Here, lean on me,” she managed to get out around the catch in her breath. She knew she was quivering with a visceral reaction to his physical strength, she only hoped he didn’t notice. His body was long and hard and her own body was responding to it in a way she hadn’t felt for years—a way she hadn’t expected—a way that made her want to stop and listen to her heart beating like a captured thing in her chest.

      Dangerous. The word echoed in her mind. He was danger all right, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to it.

      “I don’t think so,” he was saying, pulling away from her so quickly, it was almost a recoil. “I don’t need help. I’ve got to do this on my own.”

      He started toward the house and she followed slowly, trying to calm herself. This was wild. She never did things like this. But her body seemed to have a will of its own today. And she had to admit—it was pretty exhilarating.

      “I’ll get out of your way,” he muttered, starting to bypass the house.

      “No,” she cried, jumping forward and slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. “You come on in the house. I’m going to feed you, at least. Look at you, practically wasting away here.”

      He turned his head and met her gaze and she felt as though he saw right through her, knew she’d grabbed his arm because she wanted to feel his muscles again, knew she wanted to keep him around as long as she could—just because. A flush filled her cheeks, but she didn’t care. That sparkling feeling was filling her with a sense of life she hadn’t had in a long time.

      “Come on,” she urged, tugging on his arm. “Come eat.”

      He came with her, but reluctantly, and he let her lead him. She knew he hated feeling weak this way, but she also had a feeling that wasn’t all there was to his hesitation. The awareness that had sparked between them earlier had come to life again when she’d broken his fall and held him for a split second, and she could tell that he felt it too, and that he wasn’t happy about it. Turning resolutely, she led the way to the house, chattering about the weather.

      “Sit down,” she told him as they entered the dining room. “I’ll have the food on the table in no time.”

      Denver hesitated as though he were about to argue, but the aroma of pot roast simmering wafted in from the kitchen and his resistance seemed to melt away. He lowered himself carefully to a seat at the table and she pretended not to be watching him out of the corner of her eye to make sure he made it. Turning, she glanced around the room. Robbie was nowhere to be seen and she set off to find out why.

      She found him in his bedroom and took him to the bathroom to wash his hands. He came willingly enough, but he seemed worried about something.

      “Mom. Who is that man?” he asked her as he soaped up, his eyes wary.

      “He’s my friend,” she told him, turning off the water to hurry him along. “Do you want to come and meet him?”

      Robbie frowned, taking his time, washing his hands as though it were a heavy responsibility. “Is he the surprise?” he asked, then shot a quick glance at her face.

      She smiled as she turned the faucet back on for a rinse. “Yes. He’s the surprise. I thought you’d like having a man come to dinner. We don’t have men around here very often, do we?”

      Robbie shook his head, thinking that over. “He’s awful big,” he said at last.

      Charlie laughed. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

      His freckled nose wrinkled. “Are you sure he likes boys?” he asked her.

      “Of course.” She answered without thinking, handing him a towel. “Doesn’t everybody?”

      He shook his head vehemently. “No. Mrs. Rathworth doesn’t. She always yells when I go by her house. She tells me to stay away from her yard.”

      Charlie became serious suddenly, her head to the side as she gazed at him. “Have you ever gone in her yard?” she asked.

      He shook his head. “But some of the fifth-graders did,” he told her as though in confidence. “They picked a bunch of her apples right off her tree.”

      “Well, there. You see? There’s usually a reason when someone seems too mean. It’s usually because someone has been mean to them. You have to think about that before you get mad.”

      “Okay,” he said agreeably. “Look.” He held up his hands for inspection. “All clean.”

      “Clean as a whistle,” she agreed, and they left the bathroom behind.

      She led him out into the dining area and introduced him to Denver, who nodded to the boy but seemed to look right through him. Robbie followed her into the kitchen rather than stay at the table with him, and she took advantage of his