A Family of Her Own Page 3

  She entered the kitchen with her hair up in the towel and Booker’s sweats hanging loose on her body, trying to ignore his scent, which lingered on his clothes, and all the pleasant associations attached to it.

  “You hungry?” Booker asked.

  “Not really,” she said because she felt she had no right to impose on him any more than she already was.

  He considered his sweats on her. “Looks as though you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be gaining plenty over the next few months.”

  When he frowned, she knew he’d made the connection to her pregnancy. “Eggs and toast okay?” he asked.

  Secretly grateful for the promise of a meal, Katie nodded. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t have money for gas that she’d skimped on food. “It’s really nice, you helping me out like this. I appreciate it.”

  She took a seat at the kitchen table, recalling the day Hatty had made Booker varnish it. “The varnish seems to be holding up.”

  Booker looked at her. “The what?”

  “The varnish. We tried to tell Hatty that this set was mostly plastic. But she wouldn’t listen, remember? She wanted you to varnish it, anyway.”

  A ghost of a smile curved Booker’s lips. “I remember. She had me wash the walls before I could paint them, too, and she made me restarch her doilies. I must be the only guy my age who’s ever starched a doily.”

  Katie couldn’t help chuckling. Toward the end of Hatty’s life, Booker did almost anything she asked of him. Some people thought she’d bullied him like everyone else. Others claimed he was afraid of losing his inheritance. Katie had seen Booker and Hatty together often enough to know Booker indulged Hatty for only one reason—he loved her. “The place looks great,” she said.

  “Gran had it in top shape before she died.”

  But she’d been gone more than two years, and while the house hardly seemed different, Booker did. He’d always been a survivor, a man who could take care of himself. But he suddenly seemed so much more…domestic. Maybe it came with owning his own home. “I’ll bet you miss her.”

  He dug through a drawer until he found a spatula. “What’s Andy doing these days?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Andy was partying. But she wasn’t about to tell Booker that. “I’m not sure.”

  He studied her in that way he had of looking right through people. “How long ago did you leave him?”

  “It’s been three days.”

  “And you’ve lost track of him already?”

  Most of the time she hadn’t known what he was doing even when he was in the next room. Because she hadn’t wanted to know. It was rarely something of which she could approve. “I don’t want to talk about Andy.”

  He went to the fridge. “One egg or two?”

  “Two.”

  “When did you eat last?” he asked, setting the egg carton on the counter next to the stove.

  “Today.”

  He paused. “Today?”

  “Yeah, you know, earlier.” She tried to avoid a more specific answer by drawing his attention back to the food. “Anyway, it smells good.”

  He broke the eggs into a frying pan, and Katie listened to them sizzle. As awkward as it was between her and Booker, she was beginning to get warm—and to appreciate the fact that she hadn’t been forced to knock on someone else’s door in the middle of the night.

  When the silence grew to the point of discomfort, however, she asked, “What have you been doing since I left?”

  “Working,” he said simply.

  “Doing what?”

  “He owns Lionel & Sons Auto Repair,” a third voice proudly announced.

  Katie looked up to see Delbert Dibbs standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A rottweiler the size of a small horse sat at his heels.

  “You’re back,” he said, recognizing her immediately. Delbert was wearing a pair of Buzz Lightyear pajamas that weren’t buttoned quite right. Where he’d found such a large size, Katie couldn’t even guess. He was her age. At least five foot eleven, he had to weigh a good hundred and seventy pounds—only about thirty pounds shy of what Booker probably weighed. “I’m so glad,” he added. “I missed you, Katie. I missed you cutting my hair.”

  Katie didn’t have a chance to stand up before Delbert hurried across the kitchen and gathered her tightly in his arms. They’d never been close, but she’d cut his hair every once in a while. They’d also gone to the same elementary school for kindergarten and first grade. By second grade, it had become apparent that he wasn’t developing normally, and he was put in a special school. But she’d still seen him around town. Especially after he dropped out of school altogether and took to rambling up and down Main Street, hanging out at the Arctic Flyer or loitering near the auto repair shop.

  Katie frowned at Booker while Delbert squeezed her with all the exuberance of a child and the dog sniffed her curiously. But Booker neither came to her rescue nor offered any explanation.

  “What—what are you doing here?” Katie asked Delbert when he finally released her and she could draw enough breath.

  “I live here now,” he said, showing crooked teeth in a wide smile. “I live with Bruiser and Booker.”

  Bruiser was obviously the dog, but Katie didn’t get the connection between Booker and Delbert. How did such an unlikely pair wind up as roommates?

  “Since when?” she asked.

  His face clouded as he slumped into the chair next to her. Bruiser went over to Booker and wagged his tail in greeting. “My dad died. Did you know that, Katie? I came home one day, and he was just staring at me. Wouldn’t say a thing.”

  “How awful,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”

  His sadness lifted as quickly as it had descended. “Want me to show you what I made?”

  “Uh…okay.”

  He got up and raced from the kitchen, and Katie slanted a questioning glance at Booker. “Delbert lives with you? How did that come about?”

  “I met him at the shop once I took over.”

  “And?”

  “You heard him. His dad died.”

  “So you took him in?”

  “He works for me,” he said. “I’ve actually been able to teach him quite a bit about cars.”

  Teaching Delbert anything had to be a slow, frustrating process. That Booker would have the patience and go to the trouble when almost everyone else in town—including the local minister—barely acknowledged Delbert impressed Katie. “There must be more to the story than that.”

  “Not really,” he said. “Delbert’s dad was all he had. Once he died, there wasn’t anyone left to care for him.”

  Katie shook her head as she toyed with the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the table. Somehow Booker never failed to surprise her. “That’s really nice,” she said. “What would’ve happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in?”

  “He would’ve gone to a special home in Boise.”

  “Most people would’ve let him go,” she said.

  He set her eggs on the table and went to the counter to butter the toast that had just popped up. “Maybe, but it didn’t make any sense to me. He grew up around here. Dundee is comfortable and familiar to him. And they wouldn’t let him have a dog or work on cars. Delbert lives for those two things.”

  As if to confirm his words, Delbert returned with a model of an antique Ford. “See?” he said. “This is a Model-T, one of the first cars ever made. It came in pieces. Booker helped me put it together.”

  “He did, huh?” Katie watched Booker clean up the mess he’d just made.

  “Yeah.” Delbert gazed lovingly at his model. “Booker can do anything.”

  Katie lifted her eyes to meet Booker’s and found him wearing a wry grin. “Some people are easier to please than others,” he said.

  “WHERE ARE YOU?” Rebecca demanded as soon as the bartender at the Honky Tonk brought her to the phone. �
��Josh and I have been waiting here for over an hour.”

  Booker returned the frying pan he’d dried to its place beneath the stove. “I ran into a slight complication.”

  “What kind of complication?”

  He looked toward the kitchen door to make sure he was still alone. “Katie.”

  “What?” Rebecca nearly screamed the word. The fact that she could scarcely hear above the music pounding in the background probably had something to do with it. But he knew hearing Katie’s name on his lips had more impact than anything.

  “Katie Rogers is back in town,” he explained.

  “No way!”

  “It’s true.”

  She fell silent for a moment. “I thought you were over Katie. Just last week, you told me to quit bugging you about her. You said she was never going to contact you, and it didn’t matter anyway because you didn’t—”

  “I remember what I said,” he interrupted.

  “And now she’s back? Out of the blue? How do you know?”

  “I found her stranded on the side of the road a few miles outside town.” He didn’t add that she’d been driving a hunk of junk, had dark circles under her eyes, looked as thin as a rail and was five months pregnant.

  “Was Andy with her?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think they lasted longer than I ever dreamed they would.”

  They’d lasted longer than Booker had thought possible, too. For a while, he’d held out hope that Katie would reconsider his proposal and come back to tell him she’d made a mistake. But as month marched on to month, he’d finally realized he was stupid for continuing to hope and had forced himself to get on with his life.

  Only now she was back. She just hadn’t come back to him.

  “She should never have let you get away,” Rebecca said.

  “Let me get away? Hell, she practically ran in the other direction.”

  “Maybe it’s because you don’t give many people a chance.”

  “She had more than a chance.”

  Rebecca wasn’t listening. “You’re not unsociable, exactly. Just a little rough around the edges, stubborn—definitely stubborn—and a bit of a cynic.”

  “That’s pretty funny, coming from you,” he pointed out, but Rebecca’s mind had already shifted gears.

  “Hey, do you think she’ll want to work at the salon again?”

  “Aren’t you ready to give up managing that place? It’s not as though you need the money.”

  “I’m not managing the salon anymore, I’m buying it. I like having something that’s all my own. It helps me hold on to Rebecca so she doesn’t get lost in being Mrs. Joshua Hill.”

  “You expect me to understand that psychobabble bullshit?”

  She laughed. “You understand, and you know it.”

  He only understood that Rebecca was one of the few people he could trust, and he valued her friendship. “So you want me to have Katie call you in a day or two if she’s interested in coming back to work?”

  “Wait a second.” Suspicion entered Rebecca’s voice. “She’s staying at her folks’ house, right?”

  Booker blew out a sigh. “Wrong.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s staying with you!”

  “I had to bring her home,” he said. “Her parents refused to take her in.”

  “Why?”

  If he’d been talking to anyone else, he might have said, “Because she’s pregnant and not married.” But he wasn’t talking to just anyone. He was talking to Rebecca, and she was very sensitive these days about who was having a baby and who wasn’t. Mostly because she wasn’t. She and Josh had been married a couple of years and they’d been trying to have a baby the whole of that time, but nothing they did seemed to work. Booker knew Josh had gone in for testing because Rebecca had shown up on his doorstep, when the doctors determined that she was the one facing fertility problems, and ranted about the unfairness of life. Of course it would be her, she’d said; Josh was never to blame for anything. Then she’d done something he’d never seen her do before—she broke down in tears.

  “I guess they’re still upset about her leaving on such bad terms,” he said, glossing over the facts.

  Rebecca snorted. “Give me a break. I didn’t like Andy any more than you did, but Katie’s got a right to make her own choices.”

  “Tell her parents that.” He thought she just might, which was a happy possibility. Maybe Rebecca would get through to Tami Rogers. Maybe then Katie could move home….

  “So you’re not going to make it out to see us tonight, is that it?” Rebecca asked.

  “It’s pretty late.”

  “That’s okay. Delaney and Conner decided to join us.”

  Delaney had been Rebecca’s best friend while they were growing up. She’d married Conner Armstrong nearly three years ago. They had a kid right away and built a huge resort out of the Running Y Ranch. Booker knew Delaney and Rebecca would always be close. They weren’t much alike—but then, Rebecca wasn’t much like anybody.

  “I beat Josh at pool,” she told him.

  “Freak luck, that’s all,” Josh said in the background.

  “Don’t listen to him. He’s a sore loser.”

  “Play me again, and I’ll show you a sore loser.”

  “I have to go,” she said. “Josh needs me to humble him.”

  Booker figured she wouldn’t have any trouble bringing poor Josh to his knees. Josh loved his wife more than Booker had ever seen a man love a woman. But there were days when Booker thought this baby thing would tear them apart. He was glad they seemed to be getting along so well tonight. “Good luck,” he said.

  “Booker?” Rebecca caught him just before he hung up.

  “Yeah?”

  “How did it feel to see her again?”

  “It wasn’t any big deal,” he said.

  But as he went off to bed, he hesitated outside Katie’s door, remembering the nights they’d spent together. There hadn’t been a lot of them. He’d known even then that he was fighting an uphill battle for her affections. She’d had a crush on Josh’s older brother, Mike, when they first met, but she’d had that same crush for over a decade and nothing had ever come of it. Booker hadn’t been intimidated. He’d assumed he’d have all the time in the world to convince her that loving a man who loved her back beat the hell out of idealizing some family friend who’d never shown any interest.

  But then Andy Bray had shown up and changed everything….

  Booker winced as he recalled the night he’d tried to talk Katie into staying with him. Marry me, Katie. I know I can make you happy. She’d almost made an honest man out of him.

  Close call, he thought, and moved on to his own bedroom. If she’d made a different decision, she’d probably be carrying his baby right now.

  Unfortunately that didn’t sound nearly as bad as he wished it did….

  CHAPTER THREE

  KATIE BLINKED AT the ceiling, wondering where she was. Letting her gaze sweep the room, she took in the white eyelet drapes, the faded roses on the wallpaper and the white finish on the dated furniture. Then it came to her. She was at Granny Hatfield’s, staying with Booker Robinson, the Harley-riding ex-con who’d made the whole town groan when he moved in, the guy who’d ruined her reputation before she’d ruined her life. Her parents hadn’t been pleased when she became engaged to Andy; their only consolation was—in her father’s muttered words—“At least she didn’t end up with Booker Robinson.”

  Covering her eyes, she chuckled mirthlessly. In an ironic twist of fate, she was with Booker. Because he’d been kinder to her than her own parents….

  But she wouldn’t stay with him long. She’d find herself a job and move out. She might be single and pregnant, easy pickings for the gossip-hungry, but she was going to get back on her feet.

  Grabbing hold of that fresh resolve, she climbed out of bed. Then she caught herself in the dresser mirror, saw the way her short blond shag was standing up and noticed the dark circle
s around her eyes and the paleness of her skin, and sank back onto the bed. Who was she trying to kid? No one was going to hire a woman who looked ill and wasn’t allowed to stand for any length of time. She couldn’t work at the library, or the convenience store, or even the Arctic Flyer. She couldn’t wait tables at Hokey Pokey’s Ribs and Barbecue. She couldn’t even do day care because of the lifting, not to mention the possibility of picking up some virus or other infection that could harm the baby.

  How was she going to survive until the pregnancy was over?

  Andy should be helping her, she thought with no small amount of resentment. He was just as responsible for her situation as she was. But “responsible” was about the last word anyone would use in connection with Andy. She knew better than to even contact him. The best she could hope for was that he’d stay out of her life. If she went back to him, she’d only sit in their small San Francisco apartment day in and day out—an apartment that had no furniture now—wondering if she was going to be evicted while he was out snorting cocaine and chasing other women.

  She’d sunk pretty low. But she hadn’t sunk low enough to go back to that….

  A knock on the door startled her, made her heart thump loudly, because she assumed it was Booker and felt reluctant to face him in the light of day. “Yes?”

  “Booker told me to bring you this,” Delbert said, entering with a tray of oatmeal, toast and jelly, Bruiser at his heels. “We’ve gotta go to work. I work for Booker,” he added as though he’d never mentioned it before. “I fix cars.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said. She was truly happy for Delbert, that he’d found someone who was so good to him. But Booker liked her considerably less and made no secret of it. “Do you think he could use any more help down at Lionel & Sons?”

  Delbert nearly tripped on the rug, so she helped him steady the tray. “You want to fix cars?” he asked.

  Katie put the tray on the nightstand. “I’d do anything at this point.”

  “I change oil and air filters and spark plugs. I could show you how.”

  “I was only joking,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll fit beneath a car very much longer.”