a pro day. I told you that yesterday,” Brandon answered, his scowl still firmly on his face. “I guess you had other things on your mind.”
“You got something you need to say?” Dean asked, getting straight to the point of Brandon’s attitude. “Because your mom and I didn’t raise you to be so ugly to an innocent child.”
Instantly chastised, Brandon made a visible effort to shake off whatever feelings were rioting in his brain, and Dean let up.
“I need a couple of bucks,” Brandon said, still eyeing Honey with faint distrust. “Me and Jessie want to go down to Merced and catch a movie. I’m short a few until payday. Can you front me?”
Dean nodded and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket. Tossing it to Brandon, Dean instructed him to pull out two twenties. “Home before ten, right?”
“Yeah.”
Brandon was doing a better job of hiding his feelings but Dean knew his son well. “Brandon, I’m not adopting her. Relax.”
Brandon swallowed but nodded. “Sorry, Dad. It just freaked me out for a minute. You’re right. She is kinda cute. For a baby.”
Dean smiled, his chest loosening from the pent-up tension between them. “Hey, why don’t you and Jessie sign up for D-Day? You know your nana could use a couple of young hands to help out.”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll see what Jessie says and I’ll get back to you.”
Brandon left, and Dean turned to see Annabelle standing by the bathroom door, watching with a slightly frozen expression on her face.
“She was fussing,” he said by way of explanation but he moved to return Honey to the pen, feeling distinctly as if he’d trespassed. “I waited for you to come out, but she seemed pretty upset…”
“That’s fine. Thank you.” Annabelle flashed a bright smile and settled behind the desk, once again the model of efficiency, yet Dean sensed something was off-kilter. “Don’t forget you have a subcontractor meeting at 3:00 p.m.,” she said, adeptly avoiding meeting his gaze. She double-checked the calendar. “Dayton Plumbing. They’re going to meet you at the job site.”
“I haven’t forgotten. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Beth had always accused him of being Neander-thalishly blunt when it came to some things, and he could almost hear his wife’s annoyed sigh as the words tripped out of his mouth.
Annabelle pinned him with a short look. “I’m fine. Please stop asking. I don’t like to be badgered, especially when there’s nothing wrong.” She added stiffly, “Thanks for your concern.”
Case closed. Dean shrugged. Plainly, there was something bothering her, but out of the two of them she was being the smart one by not inviting him into her business. He knew when to stop pushing his nose where it didn’t belong.
“Good. I’m heading out after my meeting with Dayton. I probably won’t return to the office. I’ll come in tomorrow before you get here to baby-proof everything.”
She offered him another smile by way of gratitude and he accepted it at face value.
Women were too complex for the likes of him. Beth hadn’t been high-maintenance and he’d loved that about her. For a fleeting moment he wondered what kind of woman Annabelle was. There was an air of mystery about her, so different from Beth, who’d been completely down-to-earth and practically an open book. An odd tickle at the base of his spine warned him away from delving too deep into Annabelle’s secrets. Something told him he might not like what he found.
THAT NIGHT Annabelle sat staring into the darkness of her rundown duplex and sipped a glass of wine. It wasn’t like her to be so maudlin, allowing her thoughts to wander into dangerous territory, but seeing Dean holding Honey as if it were the most natural thing in the world had made her sad in a way that was too close to self-pity for Annabelle’s comfort.
Dean was not hers. Nor would he ever be. Annabelle would no sooner wish for the moon to fall into her hands than wonder what could be between them.
That had been Sadie’s problem. She was always looking for love in the wrong places. Her mother’s romance track record—God love her—was as clichéd as a country song.
Fatigue pulled at her body and Annabelle couldn’t keep her thoughts straight. She’d lied to Dana, but only because she didn’t want her to worry. Buddy King was up for parole much sooner than a year. It had been just another reason to leave Hinkley behind. She doubted he’d try and track her down. Annabelle didn’t suppose he enjoyed prison so much he’d want to return to it.
The night air had the scent of rain, though Annabelle hadn’t heard that a storm was coming. Emmett’s Mill was so different from the dustbowl nothingness of Hinkley. Sadie Nichols would’ve called it God’s Country, a scenic place with wondrously wild smells, its Sierra Nevada greenery broken only by the vibrant fall colors of changing leaves on the trees and spots of dry earth as it hungered for moisture.
It was a place anyone would love to call home. She glanced at her half-empty glass and wondered if such a place existed for her. As a child she’d prayed for a fresh start for her and her mom but it had never come. Now Annabelle had found that perfect place, but she still felt like an outsider looking in—a beggar child pressed against the windowpanes of a cozy house belonging to someone else.
She drained her glass and reached for the bottle sitting on the scarred coffee table, but, as her fingers curled around the neck, she decided against a refill. One glass was enough.
A twig snapped outside and Annabelle jumped as she peered nervously into the dark. The sound of a tomcat yowling echoed in the night. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she forced a light laugh at herself for acting like the heroine in a scary movie. There were no boogeymen in Emmett’s Mill.
Not even ones named Buddy.
WHATEVER had been bothering Annabelle the day before was gone today and Dean was thankful. She wore another sundress, only this one she wore with a light cardigan that covered her most bountiful assets and Dean told himself that was a blessing. Except, when she smiled she brought the sunshine with her and he momentarily forgot what he’d been saying or doing. Flustered, he returned to his calendar, ready to hit the job site. He noted Annabelle glancing in puzzled amazement at the various baby-proofing items throughout the office: latches on drawers, doorknob protectors, plastic covers for electrical outlets, a gate blocking off the bathroom. Granted, he might’ve overdone it.
“You really didn’t need to go that far,” Annabelle said, although her eyes were shining. “Clients are going to think you run a daycare on the side.”
He chuckled. “I just don’t want Honey stuck in that pen all the time. Babies need to stretch their legs, too.”
Annabelle nodded, appreciation evident in the way her mouth played with a subtle smile. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
For a split second a violent hunger to taste those full lips ripped through him and stole the air from his chest. He cleared his throat with difficulty on the pretense of having something caught, and made a concentrated effort to get the hell out of there before he did something stupid—like give in to his baser needs—but he was met at the door by his mother.
“Dean, sweetheart, just the person I wanted to see,” Mary exclaimed, moving around him with the ease of a woman who knew what she was doing. She approached Annabelle with a warm smile. “You must be Annabelle. Sammy and Dana have told me very good things about you.”
Annabelle looked clearly nervous and Dean could understand why. Mary Halvorsen was a woman to be reckoned with. After raising three boisterous sons, each of whom had grown to over six feet tall, she didn’t scare easily or get sidetracked from her purpose. And right now, she had her sights set on Annabelle for some reason.
“Mom, don’t be wrangling Annabelle into one of your committees. I doubt she wants to spend her time in