“You’re saying no?” He seemed incredulous as if only an idiot would turn down a brand-new house, and she wasn’t going to explain the circumstances to change his assessment. It was bad enough he pitied her living conditions; she sure didn’t want him to know the rest.
“Yes.” From the living room, she heard Lila giggle and fought off a surge of longing. Her baby deserved better.
She stood again and this time Brady stood with her, towering over her. There was something comforting about a nice man who could make her feel small and feminine.
Teeth clamped tight against the bizarre emotions Brady Buchanon elicited, she led the way into the living room.
Dawg was lying with his nose on Lila’s lap. Her tiny hand rested on his wide head as they both watched cartoons. The dog lifted his eyes toward his master. Brady nudged his chin toward the door. “Time to go, boy.”
Slowly, Dawg stretched to his feet.
“Oh,” Lila said, and wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck.
“Brady and Dawg have to leave now, Lila. Tell them bye.”
Lila looked as if her best friend forever was abandoning her. She gave Dawg one final squeeze. “Bye, Dawg. Bye, Mr. Brady.”
Brady, whose jaw was tight, as if he held back a hearty temper, softened. He gave one of Lila’s twin ponytails a gentle tug. “Bye now, little one.”
Stiffly Abby opened the front door, eager now for him to leave so she could forget this had happened, forget she’d almost let herself dream. “Thank you for the barbecue.”
She didn’t know if she was making the right choice or not, but for her, refusal was the only choice.
* * *
“So how’s the home makeover going?” Dawson asked as he plopped down next to Brady on the couch at Mom’s house the next Sunday afternoon.
“It’s not.” Brady stuck his hand in the chip bowl and filled his paw with Fritos and tossed one to Dawg.
“No?” Sawyer joined the pair in the family room waiting for the NFL game to come on. From the kitchen came smells of hot Ro*Tel cheese dip and homemade chili as the seven siblings gathered for the weekly after-church hangout and football frenzy. “Why not?”
“Abby changed her mind.” Brady was, he had to admit, pretty steamed about that little turn of events. What kind of woman turned down a new house when she could obviously use it, especially when her kid had needs that weren’t being addressed by her current residence? And the way she’d refused, without so much as a reason, irritated him.
“I thought she was on board.” Dawson crunched down on a chip. “What did you do?”
“You think this is my fault?” Like the fiasco on the Crystal Ridge building site. According to Dad, Brady should have foreseen the decorative-rock mix-up. Now he had an entire fireplace to demolish and start all over, as if deadlines weren’t tight enough. Even the church service, where he usually found some peace, hadn’t eased the stress tightening the back of his shoulders. This deal with Abby was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
He glared at his twin brothers—first Sawyer and then Dawson had blamed him for the problem. If steam wasn’t coming out of his ears, he’d be surprised. He’d enjoyed that barbecue supper with Abby Webster and her little girl. Maybe that’s what bugged him most. He’d liked her. He thought she liked him.
Dawson raised both hands in surrender. “You’ll hear no blame from me. I only meant, what’s going on? Why did she back out?”
“Who knows? Abby Webster is the strangest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever encountered.”
Dawson gave him a long look. “I thought you liked her.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling wasn’t mutual, I guess. She showed me the door.”
“So, what did she say?”
“Just that she couldn’t. It wouldn’t work.”
“Couldn’t what? What wouldn’t work?” Sawyer, the mirror twin to Dawson, stretched his long legs out on the floor next to the sofa. By the time the game started there would be Buchanons all over the room. Brady was happy he’d gotten here first to grab a seat on the couch, but he usually ended up on the floor with Dawg.
He had a quick flash of Dawg on the floor of Abby’s house with Lila, the angel-drawing charmer. He’d seen her pink ankle braces and the walker she used for balance. Abby’s house, with the crooked floors and raised thresholds, was a hazard to Lila. He really wanted to do that makeover for the little girl.
“Long story short, the house is a wreck. Joist rotted, leaks everywhere, bad plumbing. There’s so much wrong, I wouldn’t spend a dime to remodel it.”
“Then you’re the one who backed out,” Dawson said. “I knew I should have gone with you.”
“No.” Brady frowned at a Frito and then at his brother. “I offered a new house instead of the remodel. Raze the old one, build from the ground up. It’s only a matter of time until she’ll have no choice but to move.” He’d never built from ground up before on one of his makeovers, but why not?
Dawson turned a bewildered face in his direction. “She turned down a new house?”
“Flat. No reason. Just no.”
“That is weird.”
“See?” He pointed a Frito. “I told you.”
“Her little girl sure is cute. Kind of gets you right here.” Dawson tapped his chest with a fist. “I thought Abby would go for it for her sake.”
“Yeah.” Brady popped the chip in his mouth and considered going to the kitchen for the Ro*Tel dip. “Pretty adorable kid.”
“A kid who needs a handicap-accessible house.”
“I don’t get it,” Sawyer said. He dragged a throw pillow from the sofa and shoved it under his dark head. “Why would the mom refuse? Makes no sense.”
“Take it from the top, Brady,” Dawson said. “What exactly went down? She was on board before you mentioned the rebuild. When did things go sour?”
Brady related the conversation, trying his best to remember the exact point when Abby backed away. “It was the demolition. She said it would never work. After that—” He drew a finger across his throat. “The project was dead.”
“Hmm.” Dawson pushed back against the cushions of Mom’s enormous gray sectional. His Dallas Cowboys jersey stretched across his lean, toned chest. Like all the Buchanon brothers, he’d played college football and was still a fanatic about the game. “She said it wouldn’t work? Wonder what she meant by that? What wouldn’t work?”
Brady’s shoulders hitched. “You got me. I promised a fast rebuild so she wouldn’t have to live elsewhere very long.”
Dawson snapped his fingers and leaned forward. “Could that be the problem?”
“What? She didn’t believe we could work that fast?”
“No. The living-elsewhere part.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I get it.” Sawyer sat up and thumped the pillow with his fist. “Maybe she doesn’t have another place to live. Or maybe money for the rent, even for a few months, would be prohibitive. A waitress doesn’t make much money, and with the little girl’s special needs...”
“True, but they could stay with relatives,” Dawson said.
Brady shook his head. “According to my sources, she doesn’t have any. Grew up in foster care, I think, and her little girl’s father skipped out on her before Lila was born. It’s just Abby and Lila against the