Terms of Surrender (15 page)

“It’s no wonder Mike’s taken up drinking.”

She frowned across the cab at him. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not meant to be,” he muttered as he turned his attention forward and stared morosely at the road. “It’s probably a good thing I don’t keep booze in the house.”

Up ahead, the glow of the town lit the sky. Harley welcomed the silence in the cab. Exhausted, she yawned and leaned her head against the window, her eyelids drifting shut. Tomorrow was sure to be a repeat of today, the day after that a repeat of yesterday. And on and on and on.

Caring for the twins was the most exhausting thing she’d ever done.

The steady hum of the truck’s motor soothed her agitation and she didn’t open her eyes again until she heard one of the girls whine. Disorientated, she blinked against the bright florescent lights in Gage’s garage.

The whine came again, louder this time. She turned her head and saw Gage shaking Lisa by the arm. Dread sizzled through her. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake her up so we can go into the house,” he whispered.

“Do you know anything about kids?”

He stopped shaking the girl, jammed his hat lower on his head, and sent her a ferocious look. “Not a damn thing. And for the record, what do you know about them?”

“So far I’ve learned that you don’t wake a sleeping child and you don’t let them get hungry. The rest I’m making up as I go along.” She caught the latch with one hand, pushed open the door, and gathered Laura into her arms. “Unlike adults, they could live on catnaps. If you wake her up now, she’ll be recharged for another five hours or so.”

Over her shoulder, she saw Gage snatch his hand from Lisa’s arm. “We need a kid-manual.”

“And lots of patience. And when that’s gone, more patience.”

He carefully put his arms around the younger twin and lifted her out of the truck.

Trying not to jostle the sleeping child in her arms, Harley slid off the seat, stepped from the running board on the side of the truck to the cement floor, and hip-checked the door. It closed with a bang, echoing in the garage. She winced. Gage froze. They both held their breath.

A soft murmur came from between Lisa’s lips. Laura suckled at her thumb a wee bit harder. The girls relaxed and slept on.

Gage headed for the house, his voice soft and low and slightly desperate. “Did I mention you owe me big time for this?”

She tilted her head his way. “What did you have in mind?”

“My truck washed and polished to a high gloss shine. The shingles on the roof torn off and replaced. How’s that for starters?”

“That’s it?” Hmmm, couldn’t he think of something a little less like physical work and a little more like physical pleasure? Sex. She was exhausted beyond even a double shift at the hospital, sticky and sweaty and yet, she would’ve mustered the energy for a roll in the hay with Gage.

Juggling Lisa, he freed up one arm and fished in his pocket for the key. The door lock clicked open. Gage stepped back so she could enter the house first. “I’m teasing, Harl. You don’t have to repay me. Mike is my brother. I’d do this even if you weren’t involved.”

Annoyance filtered through her. All she was to him was another lost soul to rescue. She’d much rather be a notch on his bedpost.

Pushing past him into the house, she headed for the spare bedroom, Gage following close behind. Inside, she tugged down the blankets on the bed, laid Laura on the cool sheets, and pulled off the child’s shoes and socks. Across from her, Gage copied her actions, tucked Lisa’s feet under the blankets, and covered her.

Straightening, he headed from the room, stopping in the doorway as Harley placed a kiss on Laura’s, then Lisa’s forehead. She tucked the blankets securely around the girls, gave them each another kiss, and headed toward Gage.

At the doorway, he didn’t move out of the way, his attention fixed on the twins. “They look like angels when they’re sleeping.”

“That’s what fools people into having children, you know.”

He dragged his gaze from the twins, lifted his hand, and wiped at something on her cheek. Egg yolk from supper no doubt. Eeewww, yuck. How not sexy.

And neither was feeling hot and sweaty.

She probably smelled, too.
Uggg.

With his index finger, he loosened a piece of stuck hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the fantasy, Gage. Couples all over the world get caught up in this image of rosy-cheeked, sweet-natured children to round out their life.” She tried not to think about the warmth of his hand slipping from her ear to her neck, tried not to be affected by the increased warmth in his eyes. Gage Toryn was a tease and she’d discovered that nothing—absolutely nothing—could stop her body’s involuntary response to his nearness. “They have baby number one. Soon comes baby number two. Right about then, reality sets in and they realize they can’t give their children back. They’re stuck.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into an easy smile. He dropped his hand back down to his side and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans. “You have a warped vision of parenthood.”

She slipped past him into the hallway. “Hey, I’ve been living the dream for the past two days.”

Gage sent her a dubious look. “It won’t be too bad.”

“Oh, honey, you truly have no idea. If taking on a couple of four-year-olds doesn’t change one’s perspective on parenthood, nothing else will. You wait. Two days from now, you’ll be begging for mercy. And I’ll get to say I-told-you-so.” She heard him step into the hallway after her, and the bedroom door closed with a soft click. She turned to face him, and with a shrug and an easy smile, tried to appear calm and nonchalant about the whole being-back-in-his-house thing. “So now what? Do you have house rules or preferences or some weird fetish I should know about?”

A startled laugh escaped him and she saw him relax the teeniest tiniest bit. “No rules. We’ll take one day at a time and see how it all plays out.”

She stuffed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans so that she wouldn’t touch him, and waggled her eyebrows at him. “And the fetish part?”

“You mean other than rescuing sassy brunettes who don’t think they need to be rescued?”

Her heart thumped in her chest. “Yeah.”

He grinned and took a step closer. “No fetishes. My house is now your house.” He gently took hold of her chin and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes, as though he could find some answers there. And when he finally spoke, his quiet, husky voice whispered through her body, warming spots that were sure to keep her awake for the rest of the night. “Why didn’t you call me before things got out of hand?”

“Because when you made the offer, I knew you didn’t mean it.” She looked away from the intensity of his watchful gaze, down at the tiles on the floor, then forced herself to face him straight on. “Why couldn’t you mean it, Gage?”

He kept his gaze fixed on her face, steady and honest. “I was sure you’d be safer with Mike.”

“We weren’t, were we?” He looked miserable, all guilt and remorse and damaged goods. Harley stepped away from his touch because she couldn’t think when he had his hands on her…even if it was a non-sexual touch, like now. “What happened to you? What made you think you could never have a family?”

Something shifted in his gaze and he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his eyes hooded, his face expressionless. When he didn’t respond, Harley pushed on. “Tell you what. While the girls and I are staying here, you can pretend we’re the family you won’t let yourself have.”

His voice deepened, grew rough. “And when things get ugly?”

“What if they don’t?” By the closed look on his face, she could tell she wasn’t going to convince him otherwise tonight, so she checked her watch and stifled a yawn. “You better hit the sack, Gage. Those sweet little angels are merely hiding their horns for the moment. At six a.m. sharp, they’ll be climbing your walls, demanding your attention.”

“I’m always up early.”

“Unfortunately, early is never early enough.” Turning her back on him, she headed for the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower and the couch.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next morning, Gage discovered Harley wasn’t far off the mark. A high-pitched, airplane-like noise ripped past his bedroom and through the house. He heard Harley’s footsteps drag into the kitchen, and then only blessed silence.

Half an hour later, he woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. As the silence continued, curiosity got the better of him and he rolled out of bed. Whatever trick Harley had used to keep the girls quiet, he definitely had to learn it.

Tugging on his blue jeans, he wandered down the hallway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. After last night, walking into the kitchen was like stepping into the twilight zone.

The twins were seated at the table, faces freshly scrubbed, angelic countenances firmly in place.

“Good morning, Unca Gage,” they sang in unison, and promptly went back to drawing all over his morning paper. Oh well. At least they were quiet and not tearing around the house, a path of destruction in their wake.

“Morning, girls.” He dragged his butt across the kitchen and stopped behind Harley, peering over her shoulder at the pans of sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs. “Morning, honey.”

She swiveled around to face him, her pale cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove, her wide-eyed, freshly scrubbed face almost an exact replica of the twins. “I’m sorry if we woke you.”

“Not a problem.” Grease dripped from the spatula in her hand onto the floor. Gage pried it from her fingers and set it on the counter.

The flush on her cheeks deepened. Her gaze skittered away from his face and down to his bare chest, before it returned. Her mouth curved up into an overly generous smile. Warning bells went off in his head as he rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

Man, it was way too early in the morning to figure out what was making her so nervous. “I need coffee and a shave.”

“Here. Let me get your coffee.” Like an overly efficient waitress at a diner, she grabbed his favorite cup, banged it down on the counter, snatched the coffee pot off the machine, and sloshed a liberal dose of the dark steaming brew into the cup.

She picked up the cup and shoved it into his hands, that high voltage smile firmly in place. “Here you go.”

Did she feel guilty about imposing on him? He remembered their conversation from last night and decided that later, he’d have to reassure her he’d made the choice freely. Right now, it was too early to do more than force a smile and some good cheer into his voice. “You know what? You were right about what you said last night. I’ve decided it’ll be fun with the girls here.”

A frown puckered her brow. She spun back to the stove, grabbed the spatula, and stirred the scrambled eggs. “Fun. Yes. Of course. Fun. Why didn’t that word come to mind?”

She sounded grumpy and out-of-sorts. Gage retraced his steps across the kitchen, past the unusually quiet girls, down the silent hallway, and into the sanctuary of the bathroom.

Somewhere in the background of his thoughts, his own experiences not withstanding, he knew this idyllic family-like setting was improbable. Something was wrong and until he discovered what it was, it was probably wiser to keep his head in the sand.

Sipping at the hot, black brew, he scratched the growth of whiskers on his chin, examined his full hairline, and wondered if men with children underfoot lost their hair faster than those without.

Setting the mug aside, Gage picked up the electric razor, and flipped the ON switch.

Peace and quiet. How lucky could a man get?

He pressed the blades to his jaw.

Fuck.

Gage yanked the razor away, peered into the mirror, and saw blood ooze from the cut on his jaw. Checking the razor, he noticed that a piece of the head had been torn, as if—

He pulled out some fibers which looked suspiciously like the material on his couch.

“What the hell?” Yanking the cord from the wall, he headed for the kitchen, the razor in hand. He stopped in the entryway. Nobody looked his way. It was all very deliberate and very suspicious. “Who used my razor this morning?”

Wide-eyed and cute as could be, the twins looked up from their drawings.

Harley pulled the pan off the stove, dumped a healthy portion of eggs onto the two plates in front of her, added a couple of slices of bacon to each serving, then crossed the kitchen and slapped the plates in front of the girls.

“Eat,” she ordered, and the girls dug into their food with the determined relish of the guilty. She turned to face Gage, her eyes growing wide. “You’re bleeding.”

“No kidding.” He peered around her at the girls, knowing the answer before he even asked the question. “Which one of you did this?”

“Let me explain,” Harley said, drawing his attention back. She grabbed a napkin off the table, closed the distance between them, and dabbed at the injury. Her gentle touch almost made him forget about the damage to his face and his favorite razor.

Damn it. His only razor. He’d have to get a new head for it now.

One hand on his shoulder, she leaned into him, the soft fabric covering her breasts brushing his bare chest, her nearness more intoxicating than a man already drunk on lust needed.

What had she said last night? Something about coming up with a better payment? Darkly, he wondered if she was trying to distract him from his purpose here. Any other time, her ploy might have worked. Not this time.

He felt it deep inside the tightness of his chest, the churning of his stomach.

He was furious.

Beyond furious.

Heads were going to roll. “Well?”

“Children get curious, Gage.”

“Where I come from, they also get spanked.”

She stepped back, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He grabbed the napkin from her hand, pressed it against the injury, and waved the razor in the air. “I’ll ask this only one more time. Who did this?”

The one he thought was Laura exchanged a look with her sister and slowly slid to her feet, a belligerent frown identical to her aunt’s firmly fixed on her brow. “Spanking’s not allowed.”