Cassidy urged him forward. “Your nephew needs you now.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the ambulance. Once he’d climbed inside, it took off. Shivering, she waited until the flashing lights disappeared from sight before turning back toward the building. Leaving Greece in January—was she crazy?
She retrieved her coat and purse, then stepped out the front door.
A grizzled old man, dressed in a shabby overcoat, stood on the bottom stoop.
“What happened?” He didn’t sound like a curious onlooker. He sounded concerned, worried.
She debated whether or not to tell him, then decided it could do no harm. But first she had some questions of her own.
“Who are you?”
“Mac. I’ve been coming here awhile, helping Ty get the place cleaned out.” The skin on his forehead drew into a crease. “The boy got hurt, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Jack broke a mirror and some of it cut him. He’s going to need some stitches. I’m going to the hospital as soon as I lock up.”
“Ty’ll blame himself.”
“It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident.”
“Ty doesn’t always see things that way.”
That sounded strange but Cassidy had no time to probe deeper. She stepped around him, pulled the door closed and used the keys Elizabeth had sent her to lock it.
“Things will probably be back to normal on Monday. Why don’t you come back then.”
He nodded, turned away. “Ty will have nightmares tonight.”
Cassidy frowned as she watched him leave. Ty? Nightmares? What an odd thing to say. Maybe he’d meant Jack.
As Cassidy drove to the hospital, her thoughts flew to the young boy who’d lost so much blood and to the man who’d seemed more traumatized than the child.
Not that it was any of her business.
But when she weighed her own electric connection with Tyson St. John with the unusual way his nephew had touched something she usually kept buried deep inside, Cassidy couldn’t help being intrigued by Ty and Jack’s relationship.
You’re here to do a job and not to get sidetracked by a good-looking man and his nephew.
Her brain issued the message, but it also conjured up an image of Ty leaning against the counter, winking at her. Her pulse fluttered in response.
Don’t even go there. Focus on your future.
And the dream.
Yeah, she’d concentrate on the dream.
Chapter Two
Cassidy Preston was late.
Ty tossed two more bags of garbage into a plastic bin, then glanced—for the tenth time—at the big metal clock on the kitchen wall.
“Seems like the cook must’ve slept in, Elizabeth,” he muttered as he swept up a pile of debris. “How is she going to handle breakfast at six if she can’t get to work on a Monday morning by eleven?”
“You might be surprised by what I can handle.”
Ty whirled around. Cassidy leaned against the door frame, wearing a short espresso-toned jacket shot with the same silver as her eyes. Her smug expression told him she hadn’t been sleeping in. He was stupidly pleased by the way her eyes lit up when she looked around.
“Very nice.” Her gaze rested for a moment on the saucepan he’d left on the counter—the sparkling clean saucepan. A smile eased the severity of her lips. “I hear Jack was released. Everything okay?”
“He’s doing very well. Thanks for asking. The doctors sent him home once they were sure he was okay and the stitches were holding. He’s supposed to be on bed rest till school starts, but I doubt anyone can hold him to that.” Ty grimaced. “Keeping him quiet while he heals is going to be the hard part.”
“Well, he is a boy. I don’t suppose it’s all that easy to lie around when all your friends are outside.”
Ty could’ve told her that Jack didn’t have many friends, that ever since his mother’s death he’d grown more introverted. He could’ve told her that he was concerned by the boy’s aimlessness, by his lack of interest in the swimming team on which he’d once excelled, or the Rollerblading that had worried his mother. He could’ve told her that, since Gail’s death, he’d tried a thousand things to draw the boy’s interest and that none of them had worked.
Thankfully, he didn’t get a chance to relate that sad history.
“You’ve made quite a difference in here. Did you work all weekend?”
“Nope. I started at the crack of dawn.” No way would he tell her why. “Someone tried to break in Friday night so I hired Mac to act as our night watchman. He was a cop once. He says you’ve met.”
She nodded.
“When I showed up here this morning it was pretty early. I think I scared the wits out of him.” The old man’s disgruntled complaints still rang in Ty’s ears.
“Well, whenever you started and however long it took, you’ve done a great job.”
“Thank you. Does that mean you’re cooking lunch?”
She tossed him a “when pigs fly” look.
“Regarding that.” Cassidy frowned. “I wonder if it would be possible to haul out those old refrigeration units while you’re in your cleaning mode. They smell.”
“Haul them away?” Did he look like an ox? “Sure—if I can scrounge up about another six men and some kind of pulley system.”
“I can help you.” She took another look, shaking her head. “You’re right. We’d need Hercules.”
Ty probed past the friendly smile, glimpsed something she wasn’t saying.
“These old things are all we have. If we throw them out—”
A satisfied smirk originated in Cassidy’s silver-gray eyes and swooped down to tip up the corners of her generous mouth. Funny he hadn’t noticed her great smile before, but then she hadn’t smiled all that much on Friday.
“They were all you had.” A spark of mischief played with her smile. “I found something better.”
“You bought new refrigeration?” he asked in disbelief, temper rising at her temerity. He tamped it down with difficulty. “Cassidy, there is no way we can lay out expenditures like that without sourcing all possible providers and getting quotes for the best price. I know you want to get started but you can’t rush ahead on your own.”
“If you’d only—”
“Wherever you got it from, it will have to go back. I’m sorry.” Ty pinned her with a glare, hoping she understood what he wasn’t saying—he was the boss. “You have to take it back.”
“Could you listen—”
“I don’t have to hear any more. It goes back.”
Ty was in charge so she’d better realize he would make the major decisions about where the money was spent. He could be more blunt if he had to, but confrontation wasn’t his usual style.
Apparently their new chef had no such problem.
“How dare you?”
Silver flashes from her eyes speared him. So she had a temper. Well, he wasn’t any pushover, either.
“There is no dare about it,” Ty informed her with a firmness that, thanks to Jack, he’d recently learned to apply. “Elizabeth Wisdom’s foundation donated money to turn Gail’s