His Brother's Gift. Mary J. Forbes

foreign soil. “How old are you?”

      Her head turned slowly, eyes wide and dark. “That’s rude, don’t you think? To ask a woman her age?”

      He shrugged. “I figure with you and Elke being best friends you know my age.” Lifting his eyebrows, he cut her a grin. “Fair is fair. And it’s not like we’re interested in each other.”

      She regarded him for a moment. “Forty-two.”

      “This year?”

      “No.” Her eyes flashed; he curbed a laugh.

      Forty-three this year. A separation of nine years. He’d already had his thirty-fourth birthday.

      “I think,” she said, moving down the path toward the house, “we’re done here.”

      “Are you planning to live with Georgia for the duration?”

      She hesitated. “I’ll be looking for a place to rent. Georgia is kind enough to have us stay, but I’d prefer not to take advantage.”

      Not with a high-maintenance kid. Will nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

      “I wasn’t asking.”

      “I know.” He shifted on his feet. “Thanks for the information about…”

      “His name is Christopher.”

      Was she for real? “I know that. Look, it may take a few months to adjust my schedule. I’m already booked into June.”

      “He doesn’t have a few months, Mr. Rubens, so I suppose it depends on what’s most important to you. Your job or your nephew.”

      Damn the woman. “My job,” he said, breathing deep for control, “pays the bills. It’ll keep the boy in clothes and food with a roof over his head and a babysitter at his beck and call—”

      “Babysitter?” Two steps and she was back within his space, a compact bundle of tenacity. “Christopher needs someone specialized in working with autistic children, Will. He’ll need a behavior interventionist to help reinforce strategies to curb his anxiety and frustrations, establish boundaries. He may require an SLP. And you’ll need to participate in his IEP. There’s also the respite worker—”

      He threw up his hands. “Whoa. Speak English. An IEP and SPL?”

      “SLP. Speech language pathologist. An IEP is an individualized educational plan the school requires for his workload.”

      “Okay, understood, but a respite worker?”

      “As sweet as Christopher is, you’ll need breaks. Respite workers are trained in special needs.”

      “And where am I supposed to dig out this nugget of gold?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe instead of going dancing or playing pool, spend the time doing research.”

      “What? Where the hell do you get this sh—Argh!” He headed down the frozen path. “Elke, right?” Swinging around, he jabbed a finger in Savanna’s direction. “Well, let me tell you something, Ms. Stowe. Her mother ruled the roost in that family, so I told Dennis not to marry the daughter. I also begged him not to leave Alaska. He’d started a fledgling practice right here, did you know that? But he wanted her and she wanted to be rid of Rose. And now they’re dead. Because of her.” The pain of it all had him breathing like a winded sled dog. “And here’s another newsflash. I gave up ‘craziness’—” he dittoed the air with quotation marks and a scowl “—the day Christopher was born. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke and if I play pool, it’s once a month with good, decent folk. And, damn it, yes, I like dancing. You ought to try it sometime. Might loosen that block sitting on your shoulder.”

      Turning sharply, he strode for the back gate and alley that led to his cabin. Damn it. Forty-eight hours and the woman had his temper in a knot more times than in ten years.

      “Will!”

      She rushed after him. He strode on.

      “Will, stop a minute. Please.” Her fingers brushed his coat sleeve. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m making assumptions when I shouldn’t. It’s… It’s been a very grueling week, and I know that’s no excuse. I apologize. Can we start over?”

      One street over, a diesel engine fired into the morning quiet, and he knew his neighbor Nate Burns, their local flight-service controller, was bound for the airport.

      Will took a deep breath. “Are we gonna argue every time something doesn’t go your way?”

      “That I can’t promise, but I can give you honesty. If it means Christopher’s rights versus yours, I’ll choose his. Each and every time.”

      A heavy moment passed as his eyes held hers. Far in the distance his mind registered her green irises as beautiful with sun-gold dots dappling the outer rims. His gaze dipped to her slightly parted lips emitting a wisp of breath to the frosted air, and he wondered about the degree of warmth he’d feel there if he were to bend down and—

      “Here’s the deal,” he said, annoyed because she confused him and had his libido running roughshod over his gray matter. “While you’re in Starlight I’ll respect you’re Christopher’s parental figure. But my free time is none of your business. Clear?”

      “Only if—”

      “It affects Christopher. It won’t.”

      “Yes.”

      Again the long look. Again he felt a tickle in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight when I get in.”

      He left her as he had last night. Standing among shadows. It wasn’t until he slammed into his house that his words tracked back. I’ll see you. Not, I’ll see Christopher.

      Will shook his head. The woman had his insides on a seesaw. One minute he was admiring her mouth, the next he wanted her out of state. He decided to go for a run.

       Escaping, Will?

      Shut up and get your gear.