Right Before His Eyes (11 page)

Bart chuckled. “You look like a mama hen right now.”

“I feel like one when it comes to that girl. Don't dodge the issue.”

“I was thinking maybe some time on the lake would be relaxing for her. Probably take a picnic.”

“I'll have a basket ready.”

“You don't have to do that, Sheila.”

“I want to. Shoot, I'd pay you, too, if it would get that
girl out the door for some fun.” She cocked her head. “But something tells me you don't need bribing to want to spend time with her.”

He shook his head. “I don't know what it is about her. She's too young and she runs from me as often as not, but…”

“The heart has a mind of its own, my grandmama always said.”

“It's not like that, Sheila.” But even he heard the hollowness of his protest.

“Then don't do it, Bart. Don't string her along.”

“I just want to be her friend.” He couldn't even convince himself of that lie, and Sheila's expression made it clear she wasn't buying, either. “Okay, maybe I think about more sometimes, but that's all I'm focusing on now, all right?” He couldn't explain his family situation so she'd understand that friendship was all he could offer Mellie right now.

“Girl's got problems enough without having her heart broken, a young girl trying to raise a baby on her own.” She sighed. “But that's not all, my gut tells me. She's just so alone, and she won't confide in me.” Sheila's eyes took on a gleam. “Maybe she'll tell you more.”

He didn't need anyone else leaning on him, but just then Mellie came into view and he knew he couldn't turn away from her, regardless. “Let's just start with some fun, Sheila. I'm not a good bet, you know.”

“Oh, pish.” Sheila waved him off. “You are nothing like your father. Look at Will, he's a family man now and happy as he can be.”

“Sheila…” he warned. “Don't get carried away. I care about Mellie and want to give her a chance to relax and enjoy herself for a change, that's all. Will and Zoe
have been in love since high school. Me, I'm not getting married, ever. Maybe I should forget this whole idea.”

“Don't you dare, Bart Branch.” Sheila held up her hands. “I'm sorry. I just want so much to see that girl happy.”

“Just because you're dead gone on Gil Sizemore, don't get yourself in the matchmaking business, all right?”

“Gil and I are just—”

He had to arch an eyebrow. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He was fascinated to see salty Sheila actually blush. “But I'll leave your love life alone if you'll do the same.”

“Smart aleck.” Sheila held out a hand to shake but retracted it because Bart's hands were full. “Okay, deal. Now hand over that baby and I'll take her upstairs.”

But Lily whimpered as he shifted her. “Why don't you let me?”

“Louise is off tonight. Someone will have to stay with her.”

“If you'll bring me the special, I can sit up there as well as down here.”

“Mellie's pretty protective of her privacy.”

“Louise is up there every day. I swear I won't touch anything, but go ask Mellie before I do it.”

“If I do, she'll just worry, and we're too busy for me to let her off for probably another hour, and I can't go either.” She gnawed at her lip. “I'm her landlady, right?”

“Right.” But he could see the dilemma. “Why don't I just hold on to her here? I can eat with one hand.”

“You are just mush over that little girl, aren't you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Okay…one special coming up. On the house.”

“No, Sheila, I'll pay—”

“I told Mellie I'd help her mind Lily, but we both need to get to work. You're doing me a favor, so forget about paying. Least I can do.” Then she sailed off before he could argue.

He managed to eat while Lily slept like a rock for another hour, but Mellie kept coming over and asking him if he wouldn't like to leave. He told her he was fine, but she was so clearly uncomfortable owing him that he finally had a brainstorm and told her there was a way she could pay him back. She visibly relaxed until he refused to explain until Sheila cleared her to quit for the night.

Once she was off work, she presented herself at his table. “I'll take her.”

“Let me carry her. Don't want to wake her up.” Without waiting to argue, he rose and strode toward the kitchen and the outside steps that led upstairs to her apartment.

Mellie scampered after him. “What's the favor?”

“Shh,” he said. “She's stirring.”

Once upstairs, Mellie skirted around him and hesitated as she opened the door.

“I'm not going to check out your housekeeping, if that's what you're worried about.”

“I don't care what you think.” She moved through the tiny living room, painfully neat and sparsely furnished, and into a tiny bedroom about the size of his closet. A single bed sat in one corner, and he gratefully deposited the sleeping child. Lily might not weigh all that much for someone his size, but his arm muscles were cramped up from holding her for so long.

He massaged the cramp out of his left bicep and
watched while Mellie took off Lily's shoes and socks and pulled the covers over her, brushing the abundant curls.

“'Night, sweetie,” she said, and kissed Lily's cheek, but Lily slept on. Then she turned and jolted when she nearly brushed into Bart. “You can go now,” she said quietly.

“What if I don't want to?” he found himself saying. In the moonlight sifting through the window on one wall, Mellie looked as delicate as a cobweb, a tiny, spike-haired fairy. He reached for her and brushed one thumb across her cheek.

Mellie jumped as though she'd been shot and all but raced out of the room.

When he rejoined her, she stood with arms folded across her midriff, as stiff and straight as a toy soldier, and equally fierce. He had to smile. “What?”

He shook his head. “Why are you so uneasy around me? I'm harmless, you know. Want me to call my mother and have her tell you?” he teased.

A shadow crossed her features. “You're anything but harmless.”

“What have I ever done to make you so suspicious of me?”

“It's not that, it's just…”

“Go on.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then halted. “You've had a long day. You should go.”

“You said you'd pay me back.”

Fear blossomed.
Fear.
“Mellie, are you actually afraid of me? I don't deserve that, you know.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know. I do.” She looked away, then back. “I'm sorry. I just—I don't know what you want.” She lifted dark eyes to his.

Oh, boy. What did he say?
Me, neither?
He settled on what he'd told Sheila. “I'd like to be your friend.” That much was true—it was the other things that he couldn't sort out, like the attraction he felt and the urge to protect.

“Really? That's all?”

Oh, great. What was the right answer? “Probably not all,” he admitted. “But it's the one part I'm sure of.” He reached for her hand, and when she tried to slip away, he held on. “Couldn't you use a friend, Mellie?”

“I have Sheila,” she said stubbornly.

“You have lots of people in town who like you, but is there a limit? Do I have to take a number? ‘Line forms to the left. Miss Mellie will make her decisions when she deigns to do so.'”

The foolishness had the corners of her mouth curving. “You make me sound like a snob or something, but you're the one who—” She stopped.

“Me, a snob? Are you kidding? That's what you think of me?”

Honest distress rose. “No—I'm sorry, no. But you're rich and you come from this important family and you're famous and—”

He blinked. “I'm not any better known than any other driver, if you don't consider the bastard who calls himself my father.” It was his turn to halt. “Is that it? You know about the scandal and you don't want to be around me because—”

“No! Of course not!” She laid one small hand on his arm. “I barely know anything about that, anyway, and I couldn't care less, except that it hurts you.” More than distress darkened her eyes now; actual tears glistened on her thick lashes.

“Then come with me tomorrow.” Shamelessly he used
her distress, for her own good. Okay, and because he wanted her to come more than ever.

“What? Where?”

“To the lake. Sheila said you could have the day off, and Louise is going to come—my treat—and take care of Lily. Not that I don't want Lily around, but you could use some downtime.”

“You talked to Sheila about me? You made arrangements without asking me? And you're paying Louise?” Outrage poured from her. “You have some nerve. And absolutely no right.”

Boy, could he have mishandled this any worse? “Mellie, look—”

“No. You need to go. Now.” She moved around him to reach the door.

He turned and faced her. “No.”

“No? Look, I don't know where you get off behaving like the spoiled rich kid you obviously are, but I don't take orders from you, Bart Branch.”

“Whoa.” He held up his palms. “Look, you'd be doing me a favor, and you said you wanted to pay me back.”

“I didn't think you'd—”

“Nobody asked you to sell yourself into slavery. I'm exhausted, and it's affecting my performance on the track. My hauler driver is holding all manner of threats over my head if I don't take some time off, and my crew chief is in agreement. I could go by myself, but a picnic alone isn't much fun, and you work really hard, too, so I thought maybe you'd enjoy a day on the lake. Some time to just chill out. You don't seem to have a chance to do that very often—if ever. And I'd enjoy your company, just two friends hanging out.” He shook his head.

“It wasn't intended as a mortal insult, but obviously it came across that way, so fine. Consider the invitation
retracted.” He gestured toward the doorknob she was currently gripping. “If you'll move, I'll go.”

Her entire posture spelled defeat.

“Mellie, I'm sorry, okay? I'm not mad, I just…miscalculated. I don't really know you, no matter how hard I've tried, but I meant no offense.”

Still she looked down. He took a chance and tilted her chin up with one finger. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Mel, I'm sorry. What is it? What can I do?”

At last she spoke. “Friends, really?”

Relief swept through him. “Well, at least to start.” When wariness set in, he shook his head and smiled. “Friends, then. Cross my heart.” He performed the
X
over his chest. “Friends can go on a picnic, right?”

She studied him with an odd mixture of hope and regret. “They can. And I'm sorry, too. You didn't do anything wrong. I just…I have a hard time with people doing me favors.”

“No kidding.” He smiled and resisted the urge to kiss her. “Now, you're right. I'm whacked and I need to hit the hay. Pick you up at nine or are you going to talk yourself out of this by morning?”

A small smile danced on her lips. “I'll try not to.”

“Good girl.” He settled for leaning over and kissing her cheek. “Good night, friend.”

“Good night, Bart. And thank you.”

“Hey, what's a favor between friends?” Before he could change his mind and ruin everything by folding her into his arms as he suddenly wanted very badly to do, he slipped through the open door. “Sweet dreams.”

Her answer was faint as he descended the stairs, but he heard it.
Sweet dreams to you, too.

He drove home whistling.

M
ELLIE HAD CHANGED CLOTHES
three times already, but finally Louise shooed her out the door and downstairs to wait for Bart. Wisely she'd suggested that if Lily caught sight of him, she'd likely get upset when only Mellie departed with him.

I feel so guilty,
she thought. Mostly because she so badly wanted to do this. She and Lily had been joined at the hip for a very long time now, well before their mother's death. Sometimes Mellie couldn't remember how it was to be simply a teenager whose greatest worry was if a boy she liked would ask her out.

Now here she was—on the back of a motorcycle, no less—zipping down the highway with her arms wrapped around a gorgeous NASCAR driver's very toned middle. The day was already growing hot, so he had on only a T-shirt. It and the tank top she was wearing provided very little cushion between herself and his broad back and slim hips. She'd tried leaning away, but he'd pointed out that she was upsetting their balance on the bike.

Holy moley…the combination of speed and sun and warm man had her insides jumping. This was probably the worst idea in the world, spending the day with him, but oh, how she could love it if she let herself.

This one day won't hurt, right? Just friends, that's all we are, all we can ever be.
And because she remembered what he'd said about needing some downtime
himself, she forced herself to relax, so she wouldn't cost him that leisure.

Once she hadn't been uptight and worried all the time. Once she'd spent hours on her long hair and dreamed of the life she'd create far away from that remote part of Idaho.

Once she'd lived with people who loved her, and she'd never felt alone. Now, loneliness and fear and worry were her constant companions, and only one person loved her.

The bike slowed and made a turn onto a two-lane dirt road. Bart steered it expertly until they reached the lakeshore. He cut the engine and removed his helmet. She did the same and dismounted, looking around her. “Where are we?”

“Not far from Will's house, where we keep the boat we share.”

She craned her neck. “Is he home?”

Bart grimaced. “Probably, but I hope we don't see him.”

She did a double take. “Why not? He's your brother.”

“He is—and he's nosy. If he sees us, next thing you know he'll be on the boat with us, probably with all three kids and Zoe.” He chuckled at her dismay. “All of whom I love very much, but I see them all the time. Plus if I'm with Will, we'll start talking racing, and today is about getting away. With you,” he added.

She bit her lip. “You said just friends.”

He sighed. “Don't remind me.” He fastened down their helmets, then grasped her hand and led her through a clump of trees. “We're sneaking over to the dock. Pretend you're a ninja.”

That startled a giggle out of her, and he turned to face her, his very blue eyes nearly as wide as his smile. “Well, score one for me. I've never heard you laugh before.”

“I laugh.”

“Not enough. Mostly you worry. What are you worried about, Miss Mellie?”

More than I can ever tell you.
But aloud she said only, “Nothing important.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell that to someone who hasn't been watching you for months.”

She gulped. “You…watch me? Why?”

“Because—” and here he trailed one long finger down her cheek “—I care about you.”

“You can't.”

“Why not?” He insisted on standing so close. Too close, his gaze too observant, his nearness too magnetic, his big body too imposing, too…male.

She stepped back. “It's just not a good idea, is all. We're too different. I'm…a mother,” she managed to choke out, though for brief moments she'd actually felt like simply a woman, so very aware of him as a man.

A man to whom she was very tired of fabricating, but what else could she do?

“I care about Lily, too, you know.”

She believed that, but she had to make him stop this line of thinking before she burst into tears and blurted out everything. She took another step, this time to the side, and pointed at a house in the distance. “Is that Will's? Is that him standing on the deck?”

Bart's head whipped around. He groaned and grabbed her hand again. “It is. How fast can you run?”

“You can't be serious.”

“Never more,” he said with a wink. “Get a move on!”

 

T
HEY MADE IT TO THE DOCK
in record time, and before Will could cross the yard, Bart had the anchor lifted and the motor running. By the time Will's feet had touched the dock, the boat was out of the slip, and Bart was turning it around. “Bye, bro!” He waved, and Will stood on the dock with a big, smart-aleck grin on his face, shaking his head.

There would be consequences. That Bart had sneaked over—never mind that he owned the boat, too, and knew Will had no plans to use it today—would be grounds for a great deal of ribbing.

Plus, of course, inevitable questions about exactly how involved he was with Mellie.

“Will he be mad?” she asked.

Bart grinned. Mad, no. A pain in the behind? Absolutely. “Only that he didn't get to come play.”

She glanced back, looking thoughtful, but already Will was a speck on the horizon. “I like Will.”

“I do, too, usually. But you know how siblings can be, and a twin is worse.” He caught a sad expression.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

Her face shut down. “No.”

“Well, sometimes I'd call that damn lucky.”

“You shouldn't,” she said fiercely. “Family is everything.”

“Actually, I agree—most of the time,” he said darkly, thinking of his father. But he didn't want to waste a second on Hilton, especially not today. “Where is yours?”

For a second, she seemed so lost and lonely that he wanted to stop the boat right there. Before he could, she turned away. “Is there any water on board? I'm thirsty from the run.”

Hands off.
Her message couldn't be clearer. “Go below. There's a refrigerator in the galley.”

Slow down, slick. Today is about relaxing.

But he'd never been more aware that dealing with Mellie was a little like taming a wild and frightened animal.

 

B
ART HAD QUIT TALKING
altogether when she returned with the water, and Mellie had finally been able to let herself sit in the seat beside him and simply…be. The wind whipped through what was left of her hair—the first time she hadn't mourned the loss of it—and the sun was warm on her shoulders. He'd handed her a tube of sunscreen but otherwise focused only on wherever he was taking them.

When was the last time she'd been able to sit and just do nothing? She might only be twenty, but she felt old in her bones, and very weary. The heat and the drone of the motor combined to make her fight to stay awake, and finally she lost the battle.

She had no idea how much time had elapsed when the lack of engine sounds and the rocking of the boat crept into her consciousness, and she opened her eyes. Bart had a ball cap tipped down over his face, and she thought he might be asleep, as well, from the stillness of his posture. She took advantage of the moment to study him as she'd never been able to do before.

He'd taken off his shirt and placed it behind him on the seat, probably to keep his skin from sticking to it. And oh, there was such a wealth of skin on him, so taut over the bounty of well-formed muscles. Golden hair even lighter than that on his head dusted his forearms and his broad chest, and he had actual washboard abs,
what she could see beneath the arms crossed over his midsection.

He had on board shorts and deck shoes, and in between were long, muscled legs. My, but he was one fine specimen of man. He was by no means anything but lean, but he would have made two of her, a big man for a driver, she'd come to realize as she learned about the sport.

One hand twitched, and her gaze was drawn to it. Hands could tell a lot about a person, she'd always thought. His were long-fingered and wide-palmed, scarred here and there, tough and capable yet gentle enough to cradle a little girl in them and make her feel so safe she'd fall asleep in his arms.

There were times when Mellie envied Lily. She'd have liked an embrace to crawl into and rest.

Just then he stirred, and Mellie held her breath.

His head turned to the side. His sleepy smile warmed her—not that she needed any more heating up. The less she looked at Bart Branch, the better off she'd be, she was certain.

“Hi,” he said. “Get a good nap?”

She nodded. “Sorry I drifted off on you.”

He rose and stretched, and those washboard abs were revealed in all their glory, right in front of her face. “Not to worry. You'll notice I caught a few winks myself.” He smiled. “Feels good. You hungry?”

“Starving.” She'd been too nervous to eat break fast.

“Well, come on down and see if I packed anything you like.”

They shared a laugh when she surveyed the food and realized it had all come from Maudie's. “Sorry,” he said. “You may be sick of the diner's food, but I came up
with this plan too late to make other provisions. Sheila wanted to help out, thank goodness.”

“The diner's food is wonderful,” she replied. “I actually don't get many chances to eat it.”

“I can tell,” he said, scanning her. “You're too thin.”

She shrugged. “My dad called me Squirt. I was always skinny.”

“Lily's going to be a lot bigger. Her father must have been tall and big-boned.”

She couldn't help it—her brain froze. “He was,” she finally managed. And looked a lot like his son, she now realized, though Hal—Hilton, she corrected—was not nearly as handsome. He'd had a certain charisma, though—it had certainly taken in her mother, hook, line and sinker.

“No contact with him? Or do you say
was
because he's not living?”

She would trip on all her lies if she wasn't careful. “He's out of the picture,” she responded. “So you have a sister and another brother, am I right? How old are they?”

His expression told her that he knew she was dodging, but she couldn't think about that now. She listened to some stories of Sawyer and Penny, of childhood pranks and the mother who loved them enough to laugh over most of them, but she was deeply relieved when they finished eating and he asked if she wanted to swim.

“Not a believer in the one-hour rule?” she asked.

He grinned. “No, but if you are, we can play it real safe and just hang out under the canopy.”

It was the next thing to a dare, and once Mellie had been a daredevil—so long ago, she'd nearly forgotten how. Besides, though she loved hearing about his family, she feared more questions from him about her own. “A
man who drives inches from the wall at high speeds taking the cautious route? I can't be responsible for ruining you as a driver. Race you up top.” She sprinted for the deck, surprised at how liberating it felt to do something impulsive.

She even managed to strip down to her bikini without letting herself quail at what he'd think of her too-skinny frame. Just friends, right? Pals didn't care that she barely had any curves and he was a Greek god.

Sure thing, Amelia.
Then she closed her eyes at the mental lapse.
Mellie.
She hadn't made that mistake in months, but somehow Bart made her want to be herself.

Didn't matter, though. Mellie, that's who she was now. Who she'd be forever, if she didn't find Hilton Branch and figure out something about Lily.

But that was too much to think about when there was cool water waiting. She dragged her gaze from the gorgeous man beside her and dived over the side.

When she emerged, she saw Bart make a clean arc over the water and spear in like an arrow with barely a splash. It figured that he'd do that well, too. What could the man not excel at?

He stayed underwater long enough that she was starting to worry when suddenly she felt a hand on her leg, dragging her under.

Just as quickly, he braced one hand on her waist and wrapped the other around her thigh, shooting her up to the surface, then following her with a wicked grin.

She splashed him straight in the face, and the battle began.

 

S
O
M
ISS
M
ELLIE WAS FEISTY
, was she? When they paused in the water fight, both dripping and grinning,
he couldn't help but notice that years seemed to have sloughed from her shoulders. She always looked young—and was, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know just how young—but right now, she was like a kid.

When she reared back to splash him again, he grinned and dived under. Though she kicked and tried to dodge, he captured her and rose to the surface, their legs tangling as they treaded water.

In the bright sun, her brown eyes were caramel, and he noticed for the first time a tiny trail of freckles on her nose. Impulsively, he bent and kissed her. He meant it to be light and friendly, but when her lips parted, he dived in, bodies brushing, the kiss going on and on—

Until they started sinking.

They broke apart, and she surfaced a few feet away, her eyes like saucers, her cheeks blooming rose. She didn't speak but only stared at him.

“If you expect me to say I'm sorry, I'm not,” he said. “You may look like you're fifteen, but you're one hell of a kisser, Miss Mellie.”

“We shouldn't have done that.”

“I disagree.” He swam to her. “It won't be the last.”

“Bart, we shouldn't—”

“Sugar, I've spent most of my life doing things I shouldn't. I regret very few of them. And if you tell me you didn't like that kiss, I'm afraid I'll have to call you a liar.”

She looked stricken.