A Forever Kind of Guy: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 2 (2 page)

But nothing Hayley did brought Fletcher out of his self-imposed shell. She marveled at the strength of will he possessed to keep himself from speaking. He didn’t interact much with other kids even in the daycare setting. Mostly he played alone with building blocks or trucks or puzzles. Outside, he went his own way on the playground, observing everything, showing enthusiasm for nothing.

Sometimes she felt the same way. As if she had an invisible bubble around herself. She could see out, observe other people interacting normally, developing relationships, falling in love, believing in the same romantic fantasy she’d once believed in. But she had no enthusiasm for, or personal interest in, any of it. Not anymore.

Refusing to brood any longer, she got out of the car, retrieved her crutches and released Fletcher from his car seat. Too bad the imaginary bubble wasn’t waterproof. She popped the trunk and handed two of the lightest bags to Fletcher. “Take these to the porch, honey. I’ll be right there.”

Resting her crutches against the bumper, she stood on one foot to rearrange the other bags in the trunk so she’d be able to pick them up and balance fairly equal weight on either side, and manage the crutches at the same time.

“Need some help?”

Hayley jumped back at the unexpected male voice and figure that appeared next to her. She made a too-late grab for the crutches, wobbled awkwardly on one foot and fell backward, landing on her butt in patchy, wet gravel.

“Ouch!”

A pair of male feet in beat-up flip-flops stepped directly into her line of vision, and her eyes traveled up a set of muscular legs. Baggy khaki shorts and a wrinkled black tee-shirt did nothing to disguise his tall, athletic build.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He bent down to help her up and her gaze flew to his face, his dark eyes, the straight, almost-black hair that fell across his forehead. This morning she’d noticed he was overdue for a shave, either by laziness or design, and that fact was even more pronounced now. Not to mention damn sexy.

He touched her and she froze.

That all-too-familiar tingling started, while butterflies began flapping their wings in her stomach.

Stop it! Stop it!
Stop it,
she warned herself. She’d been burned by those same feelings once already. It wasn’t going to happen again.

With hardly any help from her, Ray got her on her feet and slid her crutches under her arms. “I’ll get these,” he informed her, as he gathered up her damp grocery bags. “You go on ahead.”

What a lovely sight she must make. Her butt was sopping wet and probably muddy. The rest of her was merely rain-damaged.

She got the door unlocked and let Fletcher go in ahead of her. She was only too aware of Ray behind her, heat radiating off him through his damp clothes.

“You can leave everything on the counter,” she told him, indicating the kitchen. The living area of the duplex was a large open space with the kitchen tucked in one corner, featuring a counter that overlooked the seating area and dining table. There was a laundry room on one side of the space and a short hallway on the other that led to a bedroom at either end and a bathroom in the middle. “There are clean towels in the laundry room if you want one. I’m going to go change.” She held out her hand to Fletcher. “Come here, Fletch. Let me dry you off.”

In the bathroom, she sat on the closed lid of the toilet again and propped her crutches against the wall. Fletcher was damp from the rain but not soaked. She wrapped a towel around him anyway, drying his hair, face and arms. She held the edges of the towel around his head for a second before parting them. “Peek-a-boo.”

Fletcher stared at her.

She tried again, closing the towel and quickly opening it. “Peek-a-boo.” His brow knit in puzzlement. Hadn’t Steffie ever played games with him, had fun with him? Had he ever laughed, or had he simply forgotten how?

“It’s okay, Fletch.” One of these days he’d smile. She’d make sure of it. She patted his damp shirt. “You want to put on a different shirt?” He shook his head. She knew the green tee-shirt he wore with a picture of a frog on it was his favorite. She gave him a quick hug. “You can go play. I’ll be out in a minute.”

In her bedroom, she berated herself for getting flustered before. She yanked a pair of jeans and a denim shirt out of her closet and scolded herself as she stripped off her wet shorts and tee-shirt. “Since you aren’t trying to impress Ray Braddock, what do you care how you look?” She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she buttoned the shirt. Damn, she looked good. The rain made her complexion even more dewy and healthy-looking. She scrunched her damp hair and clipped it up off her neck. Stubborn tendrils drifted out of the clip to hug her neck and temples.

Some days she cursed her reflection, and some days she thanked God for it.

“I don’t care how hot he is, you are to stay away from him.” She shook her finger at her image in the mirror. “Don’t encourage him. Don’t flirt with him. Don’t get involved with him.” She yanked the jeans over her hips and zipped them. “He’s your landlord and your next-door neighbor. Behave yourself.”

Satisfied she’d effectively covered herself from head to toe in denim and armed herself against any masculine charm that might present itself, she joined Fletcher and Ray in the kitchen.

Hayley saw that Ray had unpacked her groceries and put the refrigerated and freezer items away. Everything else he’d left on the counter. The plastic grocery bags were bunched together in a little ball. He’d put himself on Fletcher’s level once again, and the boy nodded at something Ray had asked about the toy truck he had in his hand.

Ray glanced her way and she wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her, or did his gaze eat her up as she approached?

Warning bells went off in her head when Ray straightened and his stomach growled long and loud.

Irritated with her reaction to him, she crossed to turn on the oven. “Helping me with my groceries wasn’t a ploy to invite yourself to dinner, was it?” she asked over her shoulder.

Ray’s stomach gurgled again and she turned around. He looked a tad bit guilty. “Not entirely, but I’m open to an invitation. What are you having?”

Hayley extracted two pizzas from the freezer, much too aware of her culinary deficiencies. “I’m sure you’ll get a much better meal at your place.”

Behind her, she heard Ray sigh. “I’ve been out of town for a while, and my cupboard is bare. But that’s not a very good excuse for barging into your dinner plans, is it? I’ll catch you later, okay?”

He started for the door with Fletcher trailing after him. He ruffled Fletcher’s hair. “Bye, buddy. I’ll see you later.”

“I didn’t say you had to leave,” Hayley called out. Too late. The door closed behind him. “Dammit!”

She grabbed her crutches and hop-skipped to the porch. Ray had already crossed to his porch and had opened his door. “Hey.” He stopped and turned toward her. “I never said I wouldn’t feed you dinner.” Since he’d helped her bring in her groceries in the rain, she owed him even though the last thing she wanted to be was indebted to him. He stayed where he was. “Don’t make me come over there,” she threatened, only half joking.

The rain had let up to a light sprinkle, but the overcast sky added an extra shade of gray to the evening light. They stared at each other.
He’s not going to make me beg him to come back is he?
Hayley wondered. The nerve. Why, when everything she’d learned in the past year had taught her to avoid men like Ray Braddock, did she sense herself giving in, making the next move, which technically should have been his?

“I’m making frozen pizza. And I usually manage to burn it. Still interested?”

“Burnt frozen pizza? That’s my favorite.”

But still he stayed on his porch, his door half open. Hayley groaned. Why didn’t she let him go, back to his bare cupboards and growling stomach?

Why? Why? Why?

Why was he hanging back if he was supposedly starving? She’d come to the door, essentially told him he was welcome to eat with her and Fletcher. What else did he expect from her?

This was as much effort as she was willing to make, and she was already mad at herself for it.

Could he possibly be as skittish as she was? Maybe he was warning himself to stay away from her. Perhaps he, too, had a healthy fear of history repeating itself.

Fletcher edged up next to her, poking his head out so he could see Ray.

As if Fletcher’s appearance helped him decide, Ray closed the door and came back to her side of the duplex. “I guess, since you asked so nicely, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Biting her lip, refusing to smile, she muttered “Idiot” under her breath as he followed her and Fletcher inside. The thing was, she didn’t know who she was referring to when she said it.

Chapter Two

Ray rose early the next morning.

At least he’d slept, which he figured was an improvement over the nights of suddenly waking up, then trying to turn his mind off and get comfortable enough to sleep some more. Many times he simply gave up and got up, usually to sit in front of a television offering nothing better than infomercials or recycled news on the cable networks. If he were lucky, every once in a while a classic movie could distract him for a couple of hours.

He dragged himself into the bathroom and stared at his bleary-eyed appearance. He felt much older than his thirty-two years, and he was pretty sure he looked it. Old. Tired. Sad. Disillusioned.

He turned on the shower and rummaged for clean towels in the cabinet near the sink. Luckily, there were still a couple there. They smelled a little musty, but then, after being unoccupied for almost two years, the whole place smelled musty.

He stepped under the warm spray and willed himself to think about nothing. Nothing at all. Fat chance.

Hayley Christopher. Okay, there was no other word for it. She was hot. From the healthy layers of highlighted blonde hair to those perfectly made up blue-green eyes to the athletic curves accentuated yesterday by a snug pink hoodie and matching shorts. Her lips looked moist and exceptionably kissable. Except for her bandaged ankle, and well, the crutches, she looked healthy and outdoorsy.

Beneath her attractive exterior, Ray saw the wariness in her eyes, the suspicion in her reaction to his knowledge about her yesterday morning. And something else didn’t quite add up when he’d asked about the boy. Was he her son or wasn’t he? Fletcher hadn’t said a word or made a sound. He hadn’t smiled at Ray’s funny faces that used to crack his niece Molly up when she’d been around the same age.

If he’d never met her, even in high school, he wondered why he had this weird feeling that he already knew her. He’d have to dig out his yearbooks and look her up.

After the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and forced himself to shave. He was going to behave like a normal human being instead of a wounded animal. He’d made that vow to himself when he’d decided it was time to return to Perrish, and he was going to stick with it even if all he did was go through the motions. Caroline was gone along with his unborn child. He couldn’t make amends, he couldn’t change the past. Months spent traveling the country taught him he couldn’t run away from his memories. He could, however, learn from his mistakes, rebuild his life while he rebuilt his business. That’s what he should concentrate on now. Most likely he would be if not for the distractions living next door.

Even Hayley’s attempt to cover up last night had failed, Ray recalled as he lathered his face. The couple of buttons she’d left undone on the denim shirt merely tickled his imagination, and the fit of the jeans emphasized a firm ass and shapely legs. Not that Ray had a foot fetish, but she’d been barefoot, and he’d noticed her well-tended feet and toenails painted hot pink.

Fletcher had been silent but attentive during Hayley’s pathetic attempt at a meal. The pizza had been only slightly singed, and she’d offered fresh carrot and celery sticks along with canned peaches, which apparently was Fletcher’s favorite. Hayley hadn’t acted exactly maternal toward the boy. She treated him with rather baffled affection, as if she were trying to do right by him, when she wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed.

Ray finished shaving and found a relatively clean, albeit wrinkled pair of baggy cargo shorts and a shirt. His stomach growled, the pizza from last night a distant memory. Maybe thinking about food was a good sign. Acknowledgment of hunger seemed like a normal response.

He’d decided to get in the truck and go get breakfast when someone knocked on his door. He yanked it open and stared for a moment at a near mirror image of himself. “Well, hello there, little brother.”

His twin stood on the porch balancing two Styrofoam cups of coffee and a napkin-lined basket. The image of Little Red Riding Hood popped into Ray’s head, and he grinned. “Come to see if the big bad wolf still has his bite?” He stood back to let Rick enter.

As soon as Rick set the coffee and the basket on the kitchen table, Ray embraced him in a bear hug. The two stood silently in the circle of each other’s arms for a few seconds before letting go and stepping back.

Rick handed Ray one of the cups and lifted the lid on the other for himself. Ray took an appreciative sip, eyeing the basket. “What have you got there?”

“Cranberry-orange muffins.” Rick folded the napkin back and the fresh-baked aroma wafted out.

Ray slid a chair out and sat before grabbing one. He took a huge bite and closed his eyes. He chewed, swallowed and said, “Wow. Where’d you get these?” He took another big bite.

Rick sat as well, but made no move toward the muffins. “My wife. She loves to bake.”

Ray paused, his mouth open, partially chewed muffin visible. “You—” He stopped, finished chewing and swallowed. “Damn, that’s right. You got married again. Sorry I missed it.”

Rick grinned. “Yep. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t get in touch with you.”

Ray’s gaze flickered away before returning. “I hope you’re happy.”

“I am. It’s pretty disgusting. Wait ’til you meet her.”

“And how’s my favorite niece? How’s Molly?”

“She’s good. She’s almost eight.”