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“That would be great, Lewis.” Kate smiled. “Thank you.”
She was nearly finished cleaning up the kitchen when Sam walked in. Doing her best to hide the discouragement she felt about the way things were going thus far, she said, “I made up a plate for you.”
As he opened the refrigerator door, Sam gave the food a dismissive glance. “I’ll get it later.” He took out a cold beer and a single serving of string cheese. “I just put Help Wanted ads in all the major Texas newspapers.”
Kate closed the dishwasher and tried not to think how easily his six-foot-four frame dwarfed her own five-foot-seven inches. She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not going through an agency this time?”
Sam shook his head, his dark eyes grim. “Been there, done that,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“In other words, you’ve been blacklisted.”
“Something like that, yeah,” he said dryly.
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Tensing visibly from head to toe, Sam twisted off the beer cap, and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the three older boys are just a tad hostile,” Kate said sweetly. And so are you.
“I thought they liked you,” he remarked.
That was the irony of it, Kate admitted reluctantly. She and the boys had started off fine…at the hospital. Had Sam only consented to bring them there for group counseling, she and the kids might still be communicating fine. But he hadn’t. She’d had to go to them. Invade what was essentially hostile territory. As a result they’d gone so far backward in the trust department it was going to take days to recover lost ground. This could have been avoided, had Sam welcomed her into their home and their lives, or even given his boys the slightest hint he thought she might be able to help them deal with losing Ellie. Instead, he had worked to make things that much worse, and succeeded.
Aware Sam was still waiting for an explanation, Kate struggled to contain her frustration. She knew she had come on strong, but it had been necessary. The boys needed to know they couldn’t walk all over her the way they had their previous housekeepers. They had to know that even though their mother was gone, there were still rules.
“I think they did like me until I tried to come in and take Ellie’s place.”
Sam’s expression hardened as he took a swig of beer. “No one can do that,” he warned grimly. “However, I will find someone who can run the house.”
“And until then?” Kate challenged, knowing, even if Sam didn’t, the boys needed much more than clean clothes, good food and a tidy environment to get over the loss of their mom.
Sam glared at her and took another long drink. “What’s your point?”
Finding it awkward to talk about something so intimate when he was standing all the way across the kitchen, Kate stepped toward him and lowered her voice. “When was the last time you and the boys did something together as a family, Sam?”
“I don’t know.” Resentment glimmered in his eyes. “Why?”
“Are you telling me it was so long ago you can’t remember?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Sam said stonily, pushing away from her, “except to mind your own business.”
“So we can’t even talk about the boys?”
He straightened, towering over her, intimidating her with his height and weight and strength. “You got that right.”
“What about Ellie?” Kate persisted, deliberately pushing his buttons, to bring his emotions closer to the surface. She edged closer, mimicking his kick-butt stance. “Are we allowed to talk about her?”
“Ellie’s gone, Kate,” Sam said, the edgy expression on his face intense. “No amount of talking is going to bring her back.”
No wonder the family was such a wreck, Kate thought on a beleaguered sigh. Not only had they all suffered a major loss, they were following Sam’s lead and keeping all their grief locked deep inside.
Sam took a long drink of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting her know with a glance they were changing the subject—now. “I have to be out of here early tomorrow.”
Kate ignored the curtness of his voice and the feeling that he didn’t want her—or any other woman—in his house any more than his three older sons did. It wouldn’t be easy living in such a hostile environment, even for a few days. “How early?” she asked.
“4:00 a.m.”
Kate waited, but to her mounting frustration no explanation was forthcoming. Was this typical of his schedule? she wondered, as she turned and headed back to the sink. Something being enacted just for her behalf? Part of the “test” he was expecting her to fail? Or a once-in-a-while occurrence? He gave her no clue. Because he seemed to be expecting some reaction from her, she utilized the most professional response that came to mind. “Do you want me to get up and cook breakfast for you?” Is that what he wanted from her?
Sam did a double take. Obviously not the reaction he had been looking for. “No,” Sam said as he helped himself to some whole wheat crackers.
So you’re not going to make this easy on me, either, Kate thought as she fished the dishrag out of the sudsy water and wrung it out with both hands. “When do the boys get up in the morning?” she asked as she began to wipe down the kitchen table.
Still ignoring the dinner plate she’d made for him, Sam polished off the crackers, drained the rest of his beer, and reached for another long-necked brown bottle. “Generally, the older four sleep as late as they can, since it’s summer, although that will change starting this week when their extracurricular activities kick into full pre-season throttle with daily rehearsals and stuff. Kev gets up around seven-thirty—like clockwork.”
“I’ll set my alarm for six, then,” Kate promised, briskly wiping down the already-wiped black granite countertops. Finished, she flipped the cloth back into the sink and wiped her hands on a towel. “If Kev needs me before that, wakes with a bad dream or something, and you’re already gone, will he know to come to me?”
“I’ll tell him when I tuck him in.” Sam paused to twist open his second beer. “As for tomorrow specifically, I don’t know what any of the boys has on the agenda. Although Will may have said something about an early football practice….”
“I’ll find out and handle it,” Kate promised.
Sam lapsed into a brooding silence. Kate looked into his face and read his unease. Odds were he was thinking about her inexperience in the homemaking arena, worried she couldn’t handle his crew. She’d prove him wrong if it was the last thing she did. And once she conquered that, she’d win his confidence as a professional therapist and start to work on their grief.
LATE SUNDAY EVENING while Mike was over at the high school working on the physical training program and practice schedule for the entire season, Joyce Marten spread sample styles of wedding invitations across her dining-room table.
She was determined Kate would have the most perfect wedding Laramie, Texas, had ever seen. She had promised Kate that she and Kate’s father would “take care of everything,” from the invitations to the reception. She didn’t want her daughter worrying about anything during what should be the happiest time of her life. Joyce knew what it was like to have parents who weren’t the least bit interested in their child’s life.
Joyce had grown up in a chaotic, two-career household where the only thing that could be absolutely counted on was the constant bickering between her two very strong-willed, domestically disinclined parents. Early on, Joyce had decided she was not going to let that happen in her own adult life. When she married Mike and had his children, she made homemaking—instead of an outside career—her priority, ensuring their home was a cozy, warm and welcoming place where hot meals and clean sheets were to be counted on. She did whatever she needed to do to keep the peace between Mike and herself and the kids. It wasn’t easy, given Mike’s overprotective attitude where his kids were concerned. He felt he knew what was best for them in every situation and no one was going to tell him any different.
But Joyce had managed just fine, keeping everyone happy and healthy and reasonably content, until the summer before Pete’s senior year of high school. Then, for reasons she still didn’t completely understand, everything had fallen apart. Tension between Pete and Mike escalated day by day until Pete’s death. And Joyce had been powerless to stop it.
She saw the same potential for family conflict arising from Kate’s involvement with Sam McCabe and his boys. Mike still resented Sam for his role in Pete’s death. He felt, more than anyone, that Sam had had the potential to prevent the accident, and hadn’t. In Mike’s mind, Sam was part of the reason Pete had died, and the last thing Mike wanted was Kate under Sam’s roof, even temporarily.
But how to get Kate out of there without causing a rift between herself and Kate, Joyce didn’t know. Especially since Kate was every bit as headstrong as her father. She couldn’t just tell Kate not to do it. Mike had already tried that and it hadn’t worked. And now Kate was, if not angry at her father, at least very exasperated and upset with him. Joyce couldn’t get Mike to change his attitude, either. If she even tried, they would end up having an argument. So here she was, Joyce thought, powerless and caught in the middle again. And all this with Kate’s wedding coming up….
Outside, Joyce heard a door slam. Seconds later Mike strode in the back door. “I drove by Sam McCabe’s place on the way home,” he reported gruffly, coming into the dining room where she was working. “Kate’s car is parked out front.”
Joyce put down a lovely ivory parchment invitation with a filigreed gold leaf design. “I don’t know why you’re surprised about that,” she said gently. “Kate told us this afternoon she was going to do this, whether we approved of her actions or not.”
Mike sat at the table, opposite Joyce. “I was hoping she would change her mind when she found out how much we both disapproved of what she’s doing. Failing that, I hoped Craig would be able to talk her out of it.” Mike shook his head disparagingly. “What’s wrong with that boy, anyway?”
The last thing Joyce wanted was for Mike to find fault with Craig who, up to now, anyway, had been very high on Mike’s approval list. “I’m sure he just trusts her judgment,” Joyce said gently as she picked up a pale blue invitation with embossed wedding bells on the front and navy ink.
“There’s a difference between trusting your woman and handing her over to another man,” Mike replied sagely.
Joyce paused to give Mike a level look. “Craig is not handing her over to Sam.”
Mike took off his coach’s cap and set it on the table. “He may as well be.”
“Kate’s not going to do anything to disrupt her upcoming marriage to Craig.”
Mike leaned forward urgently, elbows on the table. “I’m not saying it would be deliberate. But let’s review facts here. Kate loves helping people. She loves being needed and knowing she’s making a difference. And God knows, Sam McCabe needs help with his kids in the wake of Ellie’s death. That’s why he moved back to Laramie. You put Kate there for a couple weeks, when she’s on vacation and should be off somewhere with Craig—” Mike snapped his fingers and looked all the more disgruntled and upset. “Kate could get emotionally involved with Sam and his boys before she knows what is happening.”
Joyce pushed her own uneasiness away. “She probably will get closer to all of them. That doesn’t mean Sam is going to try to steal her away from Craig and marry her himself.”
“But he might take advantage of her.”
Under normal circumstances Joyce would have said that was impossible. But these weren’t normal circumstances, Joyce admitted silently to herself as she began gathering up her things. Kate wasn’t doing this on a professional basis, but as a friend of Ellie’s, and that put a personal emotional tilt on the situation that would not have been there otherwise. She had been away from Craig for more than nine months now. And although Kate never complained about the long separations, Joyce could tell Kate was finding them increasingly hard to take, which in turn made her not just lonely but vulnerable in a way her daughter had yet to admit.
There was also the secret crush Kate had had on Sam McCabe when she was just a kid. Mike didn’t know about that. And, Joyce was pretty sure, neither had Sam. But Joyce had seen the way Kate’s face would light up whenever Sam came over to toss the football around with Pete. The way Kate had hung on Sam’s every word or deed. Unfortunately, because he had been a good five years older than Kate, Sam had never seen Kate as anything more than Pete’s pesky kid sister. And then, when Pete had died, Sam had stopped coming around altogether.
Other crushes had followed. And eventually Kate had started dating Craig. But a girl never forgot a first crush. And that was what worried Joyce. But, figuring Mike was upset enough without knowing any of that, Joyce rose and carried the stack of sample invitations to the rolltop desk in the corner of the living room. Mike followed her and, still brooding, watched as she put everything away.
“Kate is not going to let Sam use her to ease his grief,” she said firmly, doing her best to soothe Mike’s fears. “She wouldn’t let anyone do that. She’s got too much self-respect. Plus, they’ll be well chaperoned by the boys.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mike sighed.
Joyce closed the distance between them. She turned her face up to his and fanned her hands across his chest. More than anything, she wanted this new tension in her family to just go away. “I know I’m right,” she said with quiet confidence.
“And how is that?” Mike demanded gruffly, taking Joyce all the way into his arms. He looked down at her, smiling just a little as he waited for her reply.
Joyce leaned her head against Mike’s chest, loving the warmth and strength and smell of him. “Because starting tomorrow, I’m going to be keeping an eye on the situation there, while I help Kate with her wedding plans. And before you know it, Craig will be home on leave, too.” Those two things combined would work to keep Kate’s heart focused firmly on her own future. Joyce was sure of it.
“WILL?” The urgent whisper sounded outside Will’s bedroom door.
“Are you up? Come on. Let us in.”
Will groaned at the sound of Brad’s and Riley’s voices. He wasn’t asleep yet but the last thing he wanted to do was be bothered by those two troublemakers. He rolled over and put the covers over his head, feigning deafness.
Too late, the lock gave under the persistent fiddling from the other side. His bedroom door eased open. Lewis and Brad and Riley tiptoed in, flashlights in hand, whipped back the covers, and hunkered down beside Will’s bed. “We’re having a secret meeting,” Riley announced.
“Yeah, and we need you to come.” Lewis sent Will a pleading glance.
Will had an idea why Lewis wanted him there. He wanted someone to talk some sense into Brad and Riley, because while Lewis liked to be part of the “group” he didn’t like to get chewed out or grounded. And whatever mischief Brad and Riley were concocting for Kate Marten’s first night under their roof was probably going to cause both things to happen, Will thought. Dad would hit the ceiling. And some—if not all of them—would end up on some sort of restriction. Will had had enough of that the past six months to last him a lifetime. Even when he’d had nothing to do with it, he’d ended up getting blamed just because he was the oldest. He glared at the three of them. “Next person who unlocks my door is going to get a fist for breakfast. Now get out of here.”
Lewis looked disappointed. Brad and Riley remained unperturbed. “Fine. Be that way.” Brad shrugged, already heading for the door.
“Yeah, your loss,” Riley warned. “You’re going to miss some fun.” Together, they eased from his room as stealthily as they had entered.
Will flipped onto his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. He wished he could have some fun. But now that he was living in Laramie, there wasn’t much chance of that. All of his friends were back in Dallas.
He could have vetoed the move here. Persuaded his dad they should stay in Dallas. But he hadn’t because he was tired of seeing the pitying glances of his friends and teachers, tired of being reminded everywhere he went, in everything he did, that his mom had died. And he’d known, with his senior year coming up, and all the senior activities scheduled that it was only going to get worse.
He wasn’t the only one feeling the pain. It had been just as bad for his brothers and his dad. So once school was out, they’d taken a vote and decided to move back to Laramie, to their house there. To see if that was any better.
In a sense it was. In Laramie, he really felt part of the McCabe clan in a way he never had in Dallas, and Will liked being closer to Aunt Lilah and Uncle John, their four sons and their families. It gave him a sense of belonging he hadn’t had since his mom had died.
What he didn’t like was the way he was constantly being compared to his dad. Since they had moved back here at the beginning of July, Will had been told he looked like his dad, acted like his dad, and as far as some people were concerned, might as well have been his dad “at that age.”
Will just didn’t see it.
Okay, so there was some physical resemblance. He had seen pictures of his dad at seventeen. Admittedly, they did look a lot alike. But any similarities ended there. Will couldn’t have cared less about computers or business or any of that. He wasn’t going to grow up to be a workaholic who knew more about what was going on at work than he did in his own home. And he sure as heck wasn’t going to get so wrapped up in any one woman that he couldn’t seem to function without her. There was a place for females in his life. But no female was going to be his life. Any girlfriend he had from this point forward would just have to understand that.
Meantime, Will sighed, looking at the clock and seeing another half-hour had passed, he had to get some sleep if he was going to be worth a damn at practice tomorrow. Knowing there was only one way that would happen anytime soon, Will got up and went to his closet. He reached for the duffel bag beneath the pile of clothes and magazines and brought it out just far enough to get what he needed before he headed back to bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
KATE WOKE to find the sun streaming in through the curtains. She sat up with a start and glanced at the clock. The digital display flashed four-fifteen. Damn, she thought, tossing back the covers. Her first full day taking care of the boys and the electricity was out. Odds were, six-year-old Kevin had been up for hours. Anxious to make sure everything was under control in the rest of the house, she grabbed her robe, belted it around her, and went to the bedroom door.
Though she could see the door was unlocked, the handle still wouldn’t budge. Frowning, Kate tried again to no avail. It was definitely stuck and she had the sinking sense it was no accident. So the boys were giving her a welcome of their own, hmm? Amused but far from defeated, Kate grabbed a pair of denim shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. She dressed hurriedly, put her hair up in a ponytail, then went back to try the door one last time. It still wouldn’t budge. Which left only one way out. Her bedroom window.
Kate went to the curtains and opened them. She lifted the window, then the screen. Ducking her head, she swung her leg out over the wide wooden sill. She groaned in dismay as something soft, thick and squishy plastered the inside of her thigh. Almost afraid to look, Kate touched a finger to the gooey mess. Peanut butter. Oh, nice, boys, nice.
Well, a little peanut butter had never hurt anyone, Kate told herself sternly as she wiped what she could off with the flat of her hand, then smeared it on the sill, figuring that was going to have to be cleaned, anyway. And she knew by whom! Her heart thudding in her chest, she used her hands as leverage and lowered her sneaker-clad feet onto the ground beneath her. Kate swore again as her ankles stuck to the surprisingly wet ground cover.
Knowing by now there had to be something there, too, Kate looked down at her feet. She was up to her ankles in leaves and—oh, God—was that…maple syrup that had been generously slopped all over the ivy? She touched her finger to it, then lifted it to her face and cautiously sniffed. Yes, it sure was.
“Funny, boys,” Kate muttered as the Texas summer sun shone down on her head. Telling herself she had been a camp counselor for six years and could certainly handle this, Kate made her way out of the ground cover and onto the stone pathway that curved around the house, her shoes smacking irritatingly with every step. She made her way down the sidewalk to the garden hose. Using the flat of her unsticky left hand, she removed as much of the remaining peanut butter from her inner thigh as she could, then took off her shoes and rinsed off her feet and ankles. She did not want to be barefoot when she confronted the boys, but she had no choice.
Aware she did not have a house key, as Sam had neglected to give her one, Kate leisurely made her way around to the front door. It was locked. She rang the bell. No one answered.
Sure by now she was being watched from somewhere—the boys would not have wanted to miss this!—Kate glanced around behind her and saw nothing. No one in the trees or in the cars. Kate went around to the garage. It, too, was locked up tight as a drum. Kate headed for the back door off the laundry room. It was unlocked. Which meant what? she wondered. Another booby trap?
Determined not to be caught unawares this time, she edged it open. Then waited just outside the doorway. Again, not so much as one breath was heard. “Okay, guys,” she called in a firm but cheerful voice as she gingerly stepped inside. As she did so, a bucket above her upended, pouring at least a quart of white flour onto her head.
Kate sneezed several times, and thought, but couldn’t be sure, she heard a chorus of muffled male giggles. “All right, guys, you’ve made your point,” Kate announced as she dusted the flour from her face.
Heading for the kitchen, she went straight to the drawer beside the sink and brought out a clean dishtowel. Still standing in front of the sink, she reached for the spigot, turned the water on and was promptly drenched from neck to waist by the sprayer hose beside the faucet. Screaming in surprise, Kate jumped backward away from the still-spraying hose on the sink ledge. This time she heard lots of laughter. Kate swiftly moved around to shut off the water.
Okay, this was the place where she was supposed to scream and threaten and lose it, Kate concluded thoughtfully. No doubt that was what all the other housekeepers Sam had employed had done. But not her, Kate thought as she studied the rubber band the boys had wrapped around the handle of the sink sprayer, pressing the lever into an on position and guaranteeing that whomever turned on the water next would be drenched. They might have gotten her four times in a row. But this was one situation where they would definitely not have the last laugh.
Her plan already forming, Kate tiptoed back out of the house and headed for the driveway. Will’s Jeep was gone—he was probably at football practice. But Brad’s car was still there and it was unlocked. Kate lifted the hood and did a little quick handiwork, then dashed around to the side of the house, out of view. Seconds later the front door opened. Stealthy footsteps padded out onto the sidewalk. “Hey! The hood on my car is up!” Brad said.
“And that’s not all!” Riley noted grimly. “She took the distributor cap!”
“That’s it,” Brad vowed passionately, upset to have his social life interrupted yet again. “We’re gonna have to—”
“Gonna have to what?” Kate taunted as she came around the side of the house and gave Brad and Riley a good squirt with the garden hose.
“Show you who’s boss!” Riley shouted, followed with a rebel yell as he and Brad whipped loaded Super Soaker water pistols from their belts, confirming Kate’s guess that their earlier pranks had just been a warmup to their much-anticipated grand finale. Still whooping, they let her have it. Kev and Lewis—who’d been lingering uncertainly on the front porch—jumped out to join the melee.
Grinning, Kate gave back as good as they gave her, even as they all dashed around madly and soaked each other from head to toe. If she and the boys were going to have it out, they might as well do it now. And maybe that was just what these boys needed, a rousing fight with their new sitter. Fortunately for her, she had an endless supply of water—they didn’t.
“Run for the house!” Lewis directed, taking charge as the Super Soaker pistols emptied. “She can’t get us there!”
“Want to bet?” Kate shouted as she merrily gave chase, still spraying them madly all the while. The boys shrieked and howled and stumbled over one another as they scrambled up on the porch, climbing over the railing that edged it in an attempt to get to safety.
“Cowards!” Kate teased as she ran up the front steps and joyously squirted them again. Dashing forward, she put herself between them and the front door. Still aiming the hose at the boys, she effectively kept them from getting inside. And that was when she heard the powerful motor of Sam’s limo pulling into the driveway.
