Darcy and the Single Dad

скачать книгу бесплатно


She brushed by him on her way through the kitchen and moments later, he heard a door slam somewhere from the back of the house. Nick exhaled a humiliated sigh of regret. Yes, he was definitely done here.

Nick stood in the middle of Darcy’s kitchen feeling like he’d dodged a bullet, but guilty for winding up unscathed all the same. He was positive—almost positive—he hadn’t imagined the heat and invitation in Darcy’s gaze. She’d wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t she? Hell, he’d been out of the game so long, he wasn’t sure he still could read the signs. And damned if he didn’t know if maybe all he saw was his own desire reflected in her eyes. But no matter what he saw or thought he saw, that didn’t give him the right to hurt her with his clumsy rejection.

Yet what else could he have said? That she was a beautiful, sexy woman and he’d sleep with her in a heartbeat if he wasn’t already looking for an entirely different kind of woman for his wife? A different kind of mother for Maddie? Somehow he didn’t think that would have scored any points in her book either.

He thought briefly about apologizing, in a note left behind for her to find—because no way was he searching her out in her bedroom where he assumed she’d taken refuge—only to decide against it.

It was probably better to leave things as they were. If he’d ticked her off as much as he thought he had, then he wouldn’t have to worry about ending up on her radar again—except maybe for her to shoot some dirty looks in his direction on any rare occasion when their paths might cross.

He checked on the mama dog and her puppies one more time before he packed up his bag and left out the back door, the same way he’d come in. The slash of wind and rain pelting him the moment he stepped outside the warmth and comfort of Darcy’s house felt like punishment, but the sudden chill was just what he needed. He didn’t bother trying to outrun the storm on his way to his truck or duck for cover beneath the arms of the large tree in her front yard. Putting his head down, he methodically trudged along the gravel driveway.

A summer storm might not be what the term “cold shower” usually meant, but it would do.

The baseball game was likely over, but he couldn’t have used a beer more. After fishing his keys from his front pocket, Nick turned the ignition and—nothing. Not a click. Not a flicker of light from the dash. Nothing.

Rain pounded on the roof of his SUV in a constant, unrelenting pattern as he reached for his phone. Cell coverage was always spotty at best thanks to the surrounding mountains. Add in the storm, and Nick shouldn’t have been surprised when he got no reception. Dropping his wet head back on the padded headrest, he seriously debated sitting out the storm and the night in his truck. But what if Maddie needed him? His cell phone was as useless as his dead battery, and he needed to be at home in case she called.

It didn’t happen so often anymore, but there’d been a time when Maddie brought back more than souvenirs and gifts from her trips to see her mother. Her first few nights back home, she used to wake up crying, her nightmares filled with terrors of being lost in the big city, trapped in falling elevators or stuck on escalators that carried her far, far away.

As much as he’d hated to see his daughter frightened, a small—very small—part of him had taken comfort in her needing her dad and the security and familiarity of small-town Clearville.

He didn’t want to be out of contact from Maddie, not even for one night. Not even if it meant facing Darcy Dawson. He was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the front porch and knocked on the door.

“My battery’s dead,” he announced before she had the chance to launch into him for his nerve at showing his face on her doorstep. “I’ve got cables if I could just use your car for a—” He nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from using the word jump.

“Sorry,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, “but you can’t.”

Nick snapped his jaw shut. Okay, so he’d known she might slam the door in his face. Half expected it, but he also thought once she heard what he needed, she’d oblige—just to get him and his vehicle off her property if for no other reason. “Look, I was a jerk.”

“You were.”

“A total jerk.”

“Right.”

His frustration mounting when Darcy refused to bend an inch, he snapped, “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Really?” Her elegant eyebrows shot upward. “Because—again where I come from—apologies usually start with the words ‘I’m sorry’ and end with ‘Can you ever forgive me?’”

Clenching his jaw, Nick ground out the words from between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, Darcy. Can you ever forgive me?”

He sounded about as sorry as when he was a kid and his father insisted any confrontations with his brothers ended in a handshake, but it was the best he could do. And he really didn’t expect it to work.

Still Darcy did lower her arms and her posture loosened ever-so-slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

“So does that mean I can use your car?”

“No.” She held up a hand before his head actually exploded. “Because my car isn’t here. My car hasn’t been here for days, ever since I left it at the mechanic’s in town. So good luck getting a new battery.”

Nick swore beneath his breath, but put the problem with his battery on the back burner for a second to address what Darcy had said about the garage in town. First, there was only one car shop in town. And second, it was owned by his youngest brother. Nick might have gotten on Sam’s case over the years about his desire to live his life like Peter Pan, but his Lost Boy brother was a pure genius when it came to anything mechanical.

“Your car’s been in the shop for days? Was there a part that needed to be ordered?” He couldn’t imagine a problem Sam wouldn’t be able to fix blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

“The mechanic told me what was wrong and what it would cost to fix it but—” Darcy shrugged as if that was the last she’d heard.

None of which sounded like Sam. His brother always followed through with a client if a job was going to take longer than anticipated. Most of the time, he beat any time frame he gave, especially since he’d recently hired on some help.

“But I shouldn’t really complain. The mechanic has been sweet enough to pick me up when I’ve needed to go into town.”

“He’s been giving you rides?”

That sounded more like Sam. With his teasing smile and lighthearted charm, his youngest brother had always had a way with women. All women. He never seemed to single out one in particular, and for him to put his reputation as a mechanic on the line for the pleasure of driving Miss Darcy—

Jealousy sizzled through Nick, eating away at logic and reason like acid.

“You’re welcome to come in and use my phone. And by ‘use my phone,’ I mean use my phone. That’s not any kind of big-city sexual innuendo.”

The slap of humiliation heated his cheeks, but the only thing worse was knowing he deserved every moment Darcy spent raking him over the coals. “I’d appreciate it.”

The words were too stiff, too formal, but he didn’t know how else to pry his foot from his mouth other than to watch his every word. The same way he had back when his Nana Pirelli was still alive and he wasn’t too big or too old for her to slap upside the head. But despite Darcy’s insistence that her offer had nothing to do with sex, his mind went there anyway as he followed the seductive sway of her hips as she led the way into the house.

It was his first glimpse at the front of the house. Like the laundry area, the living room showed signs that Darcy had yet to unpack. The built-in bookcases flanking either side of the brick-faced fireplace were conspicuously empty. So, too, was the wall above the hearth, a large expanse crying out for a family portrait. Instead, six splotches of paint marred the space as if she was having a hard time deciding on a single color.

He had the feeling the furniture, mismatched floral couches huddled around an old-fashioned steamer trunk, had come with the house. He wondered why Darcy would even bother redecorating. The paint would likely have yet to dry by the time she grew tired of small-town living and headed back to the city.

She handed him a cordless phone and disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen. Nick wasn’t sure if she was trying to give him privacy or she’d simply rather not be in the same room with him. Sighing, he dialed his brother’s number. His brother Drew’s number. Sam would have been the logical choice, but logic wasn’t running real high at the moment. His call went through to voice mail, though, giving Nick little choice but to call Sam who also asked him to leave a message and told him he’d call back lat er.

Swearing beneath his breath, Nick disconnected the call. After his brothers, his soon to be brother-in-law would be Nick’s next choice, but Jake had taken Sophia to L.A. to introduce her to his mother and stepfather. His parents would have gone to bed hours ago, and he’d hate to get them out of bed at this time of night.

“You could always call a cab.”

The helpful suggestion came from the kitchen, letting Nick know Darcy had picked up on his frustration even though he hadn’t said a word. “Clearville doesn’t have a cab company.”

“That was a joke, Doc.” Framed by the doorway, Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. Backlit by the light from the kitchen, her red hair shimmered with an ethereal, almost halo effect. But the gleam in her green eyes was anything but angelic as she added, “You probably won’t find this funny, either, but you’re welcome to spend the night.”

Spend the night with Darcy Dawson.

Proving he was at least smart enough not to make the same mistake twice, Nick didn’t assume she was offering him anything more than a place to crash. But even the thought of sleeping under the same roof, with Darcy only a room away, seemed far too dangerous. It had been a long time, way too long, since Nick had spent the night with a beautiful, desirable woman. If he had any other choice—

Looking down at the phone still in his hand, he said, “My daughter’s spending the night at a friend’s. I need to let her know how to reach me.”

At his words, Darcy seemed to unbend a little, far more so than she’d done at his admittedly lame apology. “Of course,” she said as she backed out of the doorway, leaving him to make the call in private.

Dialing the Martins’ number from memory, he immediately apologized when MaryAnne answered. “Hey, MaryAnne, it’s Nick.”

“Oh, Nick. Hi.” The woman sounded slightly surprised.

“Sorry to call so late. I just wanted to let you know that my cell phone’s reception is down. I don’t like being out of touch in case Maddie needs me, so I wanted to give you a landline number. I’m … taking care of an emergency call.”

“Oh, an emergency. Right. Of course.”

It had to be his guilty conscience that made it seem like MaryAnne had stressed the word, almost as if she suspected he was lying. “Yeah. Anyway, I’ll, um, be at this number for the rest of the night.” He recited the number Darcy had given him and apologized again, saying, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

MaryAnne laughed, sounding more like herself. “Don’t you know by now that the whole point of a sleepover is not sleeping?”

Nick winced at the very idea of being surrounded by half-a-dozen preteen girls, amped up on sugar and a lack of sleep. “I owe you, big-time.”

“Just remember that when Fluffy’s shots come due.”

“You got it,” Nick promised. “Fluffy is on the house.”

He ended the call while a movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention as Darcy stepped into the room, her arms full of sheets and pillows. Her brows rose in question as she padded barefoot across the scuffed hardwood floors and dumped everything on the couch. “Fluffy is on the house?”

“The Martins’ cat,” he explained. The cross-eyed Siamese may well have been fluffy, but Nick had long thought the feline’s name should have been something even more appropriate like “Butch” or “Killer” or “Devil’s Spawn.” Still, he’d rather take on a dozen hissing, scratching fluff-balls than host a sleepover for his daughter and five of her friends.

“Is there a lot of bartering done for work around here?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, feeling defensive even though Darcy’s question had been more curious than amused. It was part of small-town living. Times were hard, and people helped out where they could. That sense of community, of neighbors lending a hand, made Clearville … well, Clearville. Despite the occasional downside of everyone knowing everyone else’s business, Nick had always appreciated how the town’s citizens looked out for their own.

He waited, half expecting, half dreading another sexual innuendo comment. He could see one written in the sparkle of her green eyes, but maybe she’d decided to cut him some slack after all because she simply made up the couch. His gaze locked on every movement—how she bent at the waist and the pale pink material stretched across her perfect backside, how she reached to tuck the sheet behind the couch cushions and the strip of creamy skin peeked out above the hem of her sweatpants, how her hands smoothed over the soft cotton sheets …

If he hadn’t been tongue-tied before, he certainly was now. The last thing he needed was to try to fend off another one of her teasing remarks. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t serious or that he deserved her giving him a hard time. Because even the harmless banter punched holes in the shoddy patchwork job he’d done when Carol had left, revealing the empty, aching hollow he’d been trying to hide—for Maddie’s sake, for his family’s, but mostly for his own almost desperate self-preservation. If no one knew how much Carol’s desertion had ripped away from him, then he didn’t have to admit it—not even to himself.

He didn’t have what it took to laugh with a woman like Darcy anymore—if he ever had. That he shouldn’t want to flirt with her made no difference. Knowing he couldn’t, knowing he’d fail miserably, was what mattered. He’d end up seeing the same pity in her gaze as he’d seen in Carol’s when he had showed up in San Francisco with his offer to move there to keep their family together. The very thought threatened to fill the emptiness inside him with a sickening mix of humiliation and failure until the unfeeling void seemed like a blessing.

So he was glad, really, that Darcy was giving him a break.

But when she gave the floral pillow a final pat and turned to face him, Nick thought maybe he’d breathed a sigh of relief a little too soon.

“So how do you decide fair compensation,” she asked, “for say—the local vet delivering four puppies?”

Refusing to respond to her teasing, he quoted his normal rate for a house call even though it made him feel like an ass. The straight man who couldn’t bend enough to enjoy a joke.

Darcy sighed and shook her head in disappointment, but that was still better than the pity he might have seen. “I was really hoping you might go for some soothing candles or a relaxation massage.”

Yeah, right. Like the very idea of Darcy’s hands on him would be relaxing in the least. He could already feel the tension stretching to all points inside him, warning him that, at some time, his tightly leashed control was going to break. He could only hope he’d be far, far away from Darcy Dawson when it happened.

“I’ll be sure to write you a check then,” she said, a little of her teasing fading away, and damned if he didn’t miss that spark in her eyes already. “I laid out a few things in the bath down the hall for you to get cleaned up,” she added with a nod at his still damp and slightly muddy clothes. “Sleep tight, Doc.”

He thought he might have mumbled a good-night but was too busy escaping into the bathroom to stick around for a more formal response. He felt like she’d given him an out, and he was taking it. Shutting the door, he leaned back against the panel.

Like the rest of the house, the bath showed its age with pale blue throughout—tub, tile, toilet and sink. He might not know Darcy well, but she was clearly a woman of style. A woman like Carol. His ex-wife had insisted he gut the entire interior of the first house they bought in Clearville, enlisting his brother Drew’s help behind Nick’s back when she thought he wasn’t working fast enough. And yes, Drew was a contractor and amazing at his job, but dammit, it was supposed to be their house—Carol’s and Nick’s. Not Carol’s and Nick’s and Drew’s, no matter how much he loved his brother.

Shaking off the memories, Nick reached for the towel she’d left on the edge of the tub and a bundle of clothes fell to the blue and white mosaic floor. As he bent to pick them up, he found a T-shirt and sweats, but nothing like the pink feminine pair Darcy wore. The worn T-shirt was an extra large with the Trail Blazers emblem faded across the front, the pants slate gray and masculine.

Nick’s hands fisted in the soft material. He could tell himself all he wanted that he didn’t care who or how many men Darcy had dated, but when he was faced with the proof, the truth hit like a blow to the gut. He cared too damn much.

The last thing he wanted was to put on clothes left behind by some other guy. His own muddy clothes and, hell, even the bucket seat of his truck were looking better and better. With a muttered curse, he attacked the buttons on his shirt. He was making way too big of a deal out of something that could only amount to nothing.