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Tess only shook her head fondly. “Ack. You’re such a guy.”
There was nothing he could say to that, so he went to collect his pink, sparkly, princess-loving daughter, who at times still seemed like a foreign species to him.
“AHEM. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Rose opened her eyes, recognizing the voice with a flip of her stomach. “Evan,” she said. Her throat rasped. “Uh—” She scrambled to set aside the mop and cleaning supplies she’d cradled in her arms while she sat on the stone step outside her cottage to savor the last of the afternoon sun.
“Let me.” Evan took the mop while she dropped the dust rags into the scrub bucket she’d emptied nearby. “Fall cleaning?”
“We had guests in two of the cottages—bird hunters. They left this morning, so I was cleaning up the—” She stopped and shrugged, aware that she was giving away more information than necessary. That wasn’t like her, but Evan made her nervous. “Y’know.”
It had been more than a week since she’d run into Evan and Lucy in the library. Seeing him on her home territory was strange, particularly when he’d been on her mind so frequently. She might have believed that she’d conjured him up if he didn’t seem so solid and strong and real. He wore a jacket over a blue Alouette Gale Storm sweatshirt, dark jeans and running shoes. His hair was so neat, his jaw so cleanly shaved, the whites of his eyes so bright that she felt grungy and dowdy by comparison. Which she was. That hadn’t bothered her before. Much.
“Deer season next month,” he said, handing her the mop. “You’ll be full up, I suppose.”
“We have several bookings, but it’s not like the heyday when my dad was here to be the guide.” She wouldn’t have been able to stay if that had been the case. Even their occasional guests were a trial for her. She was wary of all men, but especially strangers, and was on constant alert until they were gone. A lesson learned the hard way.
“That’s a shame.” Evan scanned the woods. Fragrant pine boughs swayed in the breeze. “It’s a picturesque location. Great piece of property.”
Maxine’s Cottages overlooked a particularly nice, secluded section of the Blackbear River—a wide S-curve bubbling with rapids, with a steep slope to the water’s edge, mature forest and no other homes in sight.
“Yeah.” Although her mother had entertained several generous offers, none of them involved keeping the cottages open for rent. Maxine still expected that one of her boys would come home to take over. Rose, under no such delusion, had collected business cards from Realtors and land developers in anticipation of the day her mother saw reason. She did have an attachment to her cottage and the riverside setting, but she’d sacrifice them in a heartbeat if given the opportunity to get out of Dodge.
She stated the obvious. “The place hasn’t been kept up, unfortunately.” All that she could manage was keeping the rooms clean and the grounds trimmed. Paint was peeling off the wood trim, shingles were missing, the faulty plumbing was a constant trial. There wasn’t the money to hire pros, so she tackled the bigger jobs as she could. Her friend and handywoman Roxy had offered to help out, but Rose was uneasy about accepting handouts.
Evan barely glanced at the slipshod maintenance before he turned his gaze on her. His eyes were brilliant, the color of a mug of icy root beer shot with sunlight. Under his perusal, the skin on her cheeks became warm and tight.
“Do you have any plans for the business?”
Rose shook her head. “I’d shut down tomorrow if my mother would allow it. She’s the one in charge.”
“Ahh.” He nodded. “I just met Maxine, over at the main house. She said it would be okay if I came out here to find you. I called the other day, but I guess you didn’t get the message?”
“Sorry.” Rose looked down and mumbled. “My mother must have forgotten to tell me.”
“No problem. I was curious to see your place close up anyway. Never stopped before, even though I’ve driven by a number of times.” His gaze went to her little stone house. “This is the one from the painting you gave to Lucy, isn’t it?”
“Yes. My quarters, for now.”
“Lucy calls it a fairy-tale house. I can see why.”
Rose turned to look at the cottage. While there was nothing fancy about the humble place, it had charm. The stone walls were thick and covered in moss and ivy. Along the side that had a southern exposure, climbing roses grew, dressed for autumn in yellowed, curled leaves and the hard red globes of rose hips. Soon the remaining leaves would fall, revealing the twist of thorny vines. Inside, Rose would build a fire in the woodstove and huddle under layers of wool blankets, hibernating for the winter.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Evan said.
She half laughed. “Yeah, well, I don’t get many visitors.” Suddenly she winced, realizing she’d fallen down as a host. “Shi—er, sugar. Pardon my manners. I should have asked you to sit. We can go—” No, not inside. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks. Let’s just sit out here.” Evan didn’t look around for a chair. He lowered his tall frame onto the step where’d she’d parked earlier, then glanced up expectantly.
Of course. She couldn’t remain where she was, standing in front of him. But the step was small and she didn’t like to get too close to strange men, or any men at all, for that matter.
She plopped into the grass, crossing her legs in front of her.
He smiled. “You’ll get cold, sitting on the ground.”
“I’m used to it.”
“All right.” He had an easy manner that smoothed out some of her hackles. “This won’t take long.”
She said nothing, waiting. She hoped he wasn’t going to suggest dinner again. Even though, all week, she’d wondered what might have happened if she’d said yes.
In the end, she’d decided that the only sure outcome was that at least one well-meaning meddler would have made it a mission to warn Evan away from her, and that was too humiliating to contemplate for long. Rejecting his overtures—all overtures—was the only way to stay aloof and protect herself.
“I have a job for you,” he said.
“Oh.” A job. That’s all. She stared down at her lap, where her fingers were tightly braided.
“If you’re interested.”
“I’m pretty busy, but…” Might as well admit what he must be thinking. “I could always use the money.” She made minimum wage at the Buck Stop, and her mother’s disability checks were only enough to sustain her. Medical expenses unpaid by her meager insurance coverage were mounting. The cottages brought in the bare minimum it took to pay their utilities and taxes.
“This job isn’t so much about the money. It’s more of a favor, to help me out. But I will pay, of course. Whatever you think. Fifty per session—does that sound good?”
Rose froze inside, even though a part of her knew that Evan could not be saying what it sounded like. She turned an icy glare on him, the same look that worked on the creeps who came into the Buck Stop thinking she was up for grabs. “Fifty bucks for what?”
He was momentarily rattled. “Wha’d’you—” He winced. “Sorry—I should have explained up front.” He laughed at himself, a little awkwardly. “I’m talking about art lessons for Lucy.”
Rose wanted to cringe with embarrassment. Instead she leaned forward and tore out handfuls of grass. Rip, rip. You’re an idiot. Rip. As if a guy like Evan Grant needs you.
“What do you think?”
“Uh, I don’t have any training for that kind of…thing.” Her voice was like rust, corroding her throat. She had no social skills at all. A total loser.
“I’ve seen you in action. You’re a natural.”
“That was only—” Rip, rip. “Off the cuff.”
“Exactly. That’s what Lucy needs. See, she doesn’t react well to the pressure of a structured environment. She’s in kindergarten now, but already her teacher is telling me she’s intimidated by the classroom and the other students.” Evan stopped and boyishly scrubbed a hand through his short brown hair. His forehead had pleated with worry.
Torn blades of grass fell from Rose’s fingers. “But she’s only just started. She’ll be more comfortable when she gets used to the other kids.”
Rose remembered her own experiences in the classroom. After the freedom at home, where she’d been left to her own amusement most of the time, she’d been ill-prepared for school. The first months had been frightening—the teachers, the children, the strict rules and expectations.
Although she’d never learned to fit in, she had adjusted. In her own way. Lucy was lucky—she was much more socialized than Rose had been.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Evan said. “Except that when I saw her with you, and then saw how excited she was to get home and try drawing, it occurred to me that if she had something special to give her confidence, something she’s really good at, that would help her overall, you know?”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “She’s a bright girl, but she doesn’t know how to shine. Not since her mother passed away.”
Rose picked at the green flecks on her palms. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She felt Evan’s direct gaze on her, like a hot ray of sunshine. “But Krissa’s death was mainly Lucy’s loss. My wife had left me and we were in the middle of divorce proceedings when she found out she had a brain tumor. When the prognosis wasn’t good, she came back home to spend all the time with Lucy that she could.”
“Still, I’m sure you—you must have been—” Rose shrugged when the words stalled again. She wasn’t articulate. Too many years on her own.
“I’m doing okay. It’s Lucy I worry about.”
“She seems like a normal kid.”
“Around you, she is.”
Why me? Rose was truly baffled. She wasn’t even remotely similar to Tess Bucek, whom children flocked to like chicks to a mother hen. The kids that came in the Buck Stop acted as if Rose was a wicked witch who’d seize them for her stew pot if they got too close.
If she’d ever had them, and her situation made that doubtful, her motherly instincts had withered and died long ago. Wild Rose Robbin was the last person Evan should want near his daughter.
“I can’t do it,” she blurted.
“Why not? I mean, if you don’t want to, there’s nothing I can say. I won’t push.” He paused. “But I might beg. For Lucy. She really needs this.”
“I can’t,” Rose repeated miserably. Part of her wanted to. She identified with Lucy’s fears.
“Give it a try,” Evan pleaded. “One lesson.” He put out a hand and touched Rose, his strong fingers gripping her shoulder.
Startled, she pulled away, heart in mouth. She had to stop herself from bolting to prove she wasn’t a total freak. She could deal with normal touching—hand-shakes, pats, rubbing shoulders in a busy supermarket. It was an unexpected male touch that made her adrenaline pump, even when it was a friendly gesture like Evan’s.
He had withdrawn immediately. “Sorry.”
She scrambled to her feet and busied herself with brushing off her jeans, shedding grass like an Easter basket. “Not your problem.”
He got up. “Excuse me if I’ve been an imposition—”
“No, you weren’t,” she said, an unexpected rush of compassion making her want to overcome her fears to reach out. For his daughter, if not for him. “I wish I could help.”
She tipped up her chin. Read the look in his eyes.
He didn’t have to say it. She already knew. She could help, if she really wanted to.
Be generous, she thought. The good karma might come back to you.
Danny’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. Was it possible to develop the motherly instincts she lacked?
She blinked. “All right. Okay. I’ll give it a shot. One time, to see how it goes. But don’t expect me to know what I’m doing.” She rubbed her palms on her jeans, sweating with nervousness at the mere prospect. “Let’s not even call it a lesson. That sounds as if I’d have to come with a plan. Lucy and I can just get together—”
“Thank you.” Impulsively, Evan started to reach out to hug her, but he stopped with his large hands hanging in midair. After a moment of hesitation, he thrust one toward her. “I appreciate this.”
She swallowed thickly and shook his hand, pumping vigorously to show him again that she wasn’t a complete coward. “I make no promises.”
“I do.” Evan looked at her with more confidence and belief than she’d accumulated in her entire lifetime. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
Rose had to turn away from such a bright, bold faith. It left her feeling so empty. “Yeah, well, let’s hope—” She choked off her words. Let’s hope you don’t, either.
“Hope for the best,” Evan said.
Rose nodded.
CHAPTER FOUR
“CAN I BORROW your phone, Mom?”
“Sure.” Maxine sat at the dining table, laying out a hand of solitaire. When Rose had wiped down the table minutes before, she’d seen her mother surreptitiously stick an ashtray and book of matches on the seat of one of the chairs, hidden by the vinyl tablecloth. “Who you calling?”
“Just a friend.” Rose had put the last dish away, squeezed out the sponge, stowed the leftovers. She couldn’t stall any longer. It had been several days, and Evan was expecting her to set up a date for the drawing lesson.
“What kind of friend?”
“That’s my business.”
“My phone.” Maxine’s lips curled into a smug so-there.
Rose might have pointed out that she’d just cooked dinner and cleaned up, in addition to the rest of her daily chores. But she didn’t. She swallowed her tongue the way her mother had been forced to when Black Jack was in one of his moods.
Get me out of here, she thought, taking the cordless phone outside to the dusky backyard, as far as the range allowed. Behind her, the window near the dining table opened with a screech of the sash. Her mother must have had a burst of strength to go along with her nosiness.
Rose’s exhale was visible in the cold air. Frost tonight. She wrapped her sweater tighter and punched out Evan’s number—memorized. He’d written it on the back of a scrap of paper from his wallet and asked her to call as soon as she was certain of her work schedule. She hadn’t told him that she was in charge at the Buck Stop and could arrange any hours she liked as long as the time was covered by the store’s only other employee, a grumpy retiree aptly named Cross who worked to pick up extra income to supplement his social security.
The phone was ringing. “Hullo,” Evan said, harried but cheerful. “Grant residence.”
A match flared inside the house. Rose realized she should have called from work, but all she’d been thinking was to get it over with already.
“Hello?”
It was strange, hearing Evan’s voice on the phone. Familiar, but not. Slightly thrilling.
“Anyone there?”
“Hello,” she finally said. She cleared her throat. “It’s Rose. Robbin. Rose Robbin.”
“Rose. Good to hear from you. Lucy’s been asking about the lesson every day—she’s very excited.”
“I, uh, the store’s been busy lately.”
“I hope you’re not backing out.”
“No. I can be free any afternoon the rest of this week.”
“Well, let’s see. Lucy gets out of school at three and usually goes to her baby-sitter’s house while I have basketball practice. I could probably take time off to run her out to your place—”
“Not my place.” Rose thought frantically, struck by the notion that if she worked it right, she might be able to catch sight of a few minutes of the basketball practice. “I could come to the school, and stay with Lucy while you ran the practice. That way you won’t need the baby-sitter at all.”
