Brogan had been largely independent most of his life. Even as a young kid, he’d taken care of himself. His mother had supplied a roof over his head, and usually there was enough food, as long as he prepared it for himself. She’d never bothered herself with his injuries, his grades, his friends, or what time he got home.
Being doted on wasn’t something he wanted. Or did he?
Brogan had to admit—on rare occasions—it was nice to have Pixie taking care of him. Like the night of the storm. He’d rushed through his shower, only to find her in the kitchen with the kids, the groceries put away, the puddles in the foyer cleaned up, and a sandwich and tea at the table waiting for him. Both kids had smiled at him. Pixie had asked if he wanted anything else.
Yeah, he wanted all kinds of things, most of them right in front of him.
Warily, he’d thanked her, and after they’d eaten, he tried to repay her kindness by watching the kids and tidying the kitchen while she took her own shower. At that point, the kids were in better moods and there wasn’t much mess, so it didn’t feel equal at all.
Over the next few days, she found multiple reasons to do things for him. And to touch him. He liked her touches the best. Any connection with Pixie seemed meaningful, and the way she looked at him, with admiration in her eyes, made him feel like a better man.
It wasn’t something he’d experienced before, at least not from a woman. With her, anything seemed possible. And maybe it was.
The next day, they visited Dee Pearson together to see how she was after the accident. She had far too many bruises on her thin, fragile skin, but her spirit was intact. As peppy as ever, she still enjoyed razzing Brogan.
“I think you jinxed me, young man,” she said as she led them into her formal living room, using a cane for added support. “If you hadn’t told me to drive carefully, none of that would have happened.”
“I’ll take full blame if it makes you feel better,” he replied.
“It always makes me feel better to blame someone else.” She gestured for them to sit, then eyed the way Pixie held Shayna while Andy clung to Brogan’s neck.
It makes sense for me, Brogan told himself,to carry the bigger kid.He knew Pixie managed well enough on her own, but he liked holding Andy.
As he sat, Andy tried to scamper off, but Brogan lifted him so his shoes wouldn’t be on Dee’s couch. Honest to God, her furniture looked as if it had never been used. And the upholsterywas a pale pink. He felt uncomfortable just sitting there, as if he might dirty it somehow.
“He’s a fast one, isn’t he?” Dee said. “At that age, everything is a learning experience.” She went into her dining room, opened the bottom of a china cabinet, and got out a set of wooden nesting dolls that looked like animals. A bear, a fox, an owl … Brogan wasn’t sure of the rest. “Would you like to see these, my boy?”
Andy looked at her shyly.
“Come on then.” She set the individual dolls on the cushion of a side chair. “That’s about the right height for you.”
Brogan looked at Pixie for direction.
She nodded, but said, “Very gently, Andy. We don’t want to break them.”
Dee showed him how they could be stored inside each other, patted his head, and then slowly made her way to her own seat. “That old set is indestructible. I’ve had it forever.”
With his arms now empty, Brogan sat forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine and dandy.”
“Yet using a cane.”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” She gave him a mock glare. “So I’m a little sore. At my age, if I paid attention to every ache or pain, I’d never make it out of bed.”
“Fair enough.” Amused, he glanced around. “Where’s your dog?”
“Sleeping right there. He doesn’t hear well anymore.”
He and Pixie looked to where she pointed, just behind the dining-room table, and sure enough, a large gray dog was sprawled over a dog bed, overflowing it in every direction.
Brogan grinned. “What type of dog is he?”
“The type that puts up with old ladies.” Looking over her glasses, she said, “I got him from the shelter. The best dogs come from there, you know. After you get settled in, you shouldvisit and pick out a fifth member for your family. All kids, even babies, deserve a dog.”
Fifth member for your family …Since Pixie didn’t seem inclined to correct Dee, Brogan let that one go. He liked animals, but he’d never been in a position to have one. He could almost visualize Andy with a big affectionate pup.
Or perhaps an older, calmer dog. Not that he could adopt a pet for Andy. Pixie was his mother, and much as Brogan wished it otherwise, he was not the boy’s dad.
