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Well, he couldn’t just turn tail and run. No, he had to face her. Until he’d finished his business down here and could return to Portland.
To
what?
An empty apartment.
A domineering father.
A worrywart of a mother.
A job he detested.
“Hell,” he ground out, then decided he had to do something—anything to keep his mind off her and his hands occupied. He’d start with the fence. One section of the old boards sagged, and that was just the beginning. There were more projects around here to keep him busy. The porch was rotting, the windows losing their seals, and the roof and gutters needed attention. He could keep himself busy for a couple of weeks and maybe do some good for his sister-in-law and her kids. Just stay away from her, Santini. He found his shoes and hitched his way down the stairs. His leg still bothered him, but it was healing without the physical therapy that his mother seemed so focused upon.
On the second floor he hesitated outside Christina’s room, then poked his head inside the partially open door and saw that the little girl was still sleeping. The bed was rumpled, the one-eyed rabbit on the floor again, but the imp was tucked into a fetal position, her thumb near her lips, as if ready to be sucked at any moment. He smiled to himself and walked the few paces to Stephen’s room where he rapped gently on the door, despite the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from its knob.
No response.
He knocked a little more loudly.
“What?” was the groggy response.
J.D. took that as a sign to enter. He twisted the knob and shoved the door open to gaze upon a mother’s nightmare. The kid’s room was a mess. Clothes, towels, magazines, CDs and guitar picks were strewn all over the floor. A sleeping bag, unrolled, was kicked into the corner, and the wastebasket overflowed with candy wrappers and empty fast-food drink cups. Stephen’s guitar, with one string broken and curled, was propped against the end of the bed, and a set of weights was rolled against a wall housing a low bookcase. “What d’ya want?” Stephen asked, then opened his good eye a crack and spied J.D. His demeanor changed instantly from surly to wary.
“You could lend me a hand.” J.D. stepped inside, crunching a corn chip beneath his shoe.
“Doin’ what?” Stephen rubbed his face groggily and, with an exaggerated groan, sat up in the bed.
“Some things to help your mom. A couple of downspouts need to be replaced, the gutters cleaned, the rail of the porch should be shored up, there’s a broken step on the back porch, the windows need recaulking—”
“I get the idea.” Stephen flopped back on the bed. “Maybe later.”
“In half an hour.”
“How about three hours?”
“Be ready.” J.D. didn’t give the kid a chance to worm out of the chores. He found Tiffany in the kitchen, wearing a soft yellow bathrobe and slippers as she poured pancake batter on to a griddle already sizzling with oil. At the sound of his footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder. Hot color washed up her neck and cheeks, and her eyes, gold in the morning light, slid away from him.
“Morning, Jay,” she said as if he’d come down her stairs at eight in the morning every day of her life. She plucked a few fresh blueberries from a colander and dropped them on to the heating griddle cakes.
“Hi. I stopped by Stephen’s room and tried to nudge him out of bed.”
She smiled and cleared her throat as if neither of them were thinking about last night and the kisses they’d shared on the bench outside. Just at a whiff of the memory, his damn crotch tightened.
“How’d that go over?”
“Oh, you know, like the proverbial lead balloon.”
“I’ll bet. He usually sleeps in on Sunday. No summer school.” She smiled and showed the hint of a dimple. “Stephen’s not known for being overly enthusiastic in the morning.”
“Is any teenager?”
She shook her head, the dark strands gleaming in the morning light that streamed through the windows of the nook. “There’s coffee in the pot if you’re interested.”
“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup from the glass carafe and tried not to notice how her hips shifted invitingly beneath the terry cloth. “I’ve been thinking, Tiffany.”
“Always a dangerous sign.”
