A Sweetheart For The Single Dad (The Camdens Of Colorado Book 8) (6 page)

There wasn’t any
us
or
we
, she was tempted to point out in a miff, as if that would get back at him for the rejection of her dinner invitation. But she saw her petty response for what it was, reprimanded herself for it and merely stood when he did.

He held the center’s front door open for her to go out ahead of him and they walked together to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

Lindie pointed to it and that was where he headed.

She wondered if his big white SUV was parked in the same general vicinity but after scanning the lot she spotted it at the opposite end.

So he was walking her to her car. That helped soothe the sting of her earlier thoughts that he’d arranged to have her assigned away from him and his so recent rejection, too.

“Are you still on board for tomorrow?” he asked along the way.

“I’ve already let them know at work that I’m taking the afternoon off,” she informed him. “Shall I be here to help serve lunch to the kids or are you coming at one just to work on the park?” she asked, recalling what he’d told her of the Friday schedule.

“You’re only coming for me?” he asked with a combination of challenge and something that sounded like satisfaction at the thought.

“Just asking,” she said a bit aloofly because she wasn’t willing to give his ego too much of a boost.

They’d reached her car. She unlocked and opened her door, standing on the inner side of it to look at him over the top of the window frame.

He finally answered her question. “I can’t make it for the lunch. Huffman Consulting is sponsoring it. I’m having all the food sent in and served so the center staff and volunteers can have a treat in advance of the work, but I can’t be here until one.”

“So they won’t need servers,” Lindie concluded.

“No, but you’re welcome to come and eat.”

“I guess I’ll see when I can get away and decide tomorrow,” she said.

“And for tonight you can think of me eating dried-out macaroni and cheese to the mechanical serenade of robot bears,” he said.

“But at least it won’t be a
bribe
,” she goaded.

He grinned and just stood there looking at her for a minute before he said, “We could have dinner another time maybe. As long as
I
pay.”

Was he asking her out? Or just feeling guilty for turning her down? Had the impact of being rejected showed?

Oh, she hoped not.

Because she didn’t like the thought of a pity invitation—or even the vague suggestion of one—she said, “And as long as I get to talk about you taking us on as a client.”

He just laughed. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it called her glance to the creases that appeared at the corners of his eyes, to the lines that went from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth, to that mouth...

It was a good mouth. Sexy. And suddenly Lindie was thinking about it in terms of kissing.

Of him kissing her.

Of her kissing him back.

She was wondering what it would be like.

And guessing that it might be something he was particularly talented at because how could he be anything else with a mouth like that?

Then she caught herself and looked at a car that had just pulled into the lot as if she was all cool and calm and
not
suddenly wanting to know how the man kissed!

“I should let you get to dinner with your son,” she said, reminding herself that he
had
a son and what her own stance on that was.

“Yeah, robotic bears wait for no man,” he agreed, clasping the top of her car door and pulling it open a fraction of an inch more so he was in control of it as she got behind the wheel.

“Come tomorrow in clothes that can be washed,” he warned then.

“Right. Because you’re going to have me doing something
down and dirty
,” she repeated what he’d threatened when they’d first talked about this, her tone holding the innuendo this time.

It made him grin but he didn’t confirm or deny anything. He merely said, “See you tomorrow,” before he closed her door and walked away.

Leaving her with the sight of a terrific rear end.

A terrific rear end that was not going to make it any easier to get the image of him out of her head.

Where it seemed to have taken up residence since she’d met him.

No matter how hard she tried to evict it.

Chapter Four

“O
oh! What is that?”

Even though she’d been the one to ask the question, Lindie wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to know the answer. Along with Sawyer and two twelve-year-old boys, she had been cleaning storm drains since the Wheatley park cleanup project began on Friday afternoon.

She suspected that Sawyer had chosen that particular chore
because
it was the worst one that needed to be done and he was amused by the idea of a Camden doing it under his supervision.

But she doubted that there was much satisfaction in it for him. Because while she did follow him to the gutter, the two twelve-year-old boys—Tyler and Eric—insisted that she not be allowed to do more than wield the rake to drag the wet leaves and debris and muck out for Sawyer and the two of them to actually put in trash bags. As a result—and considering that they were all wearing thick gardening gloves—she wasn’t even getting her hands dirty.

Unfortunately she also wasn’t getting to talk to Sawyer because the boys were very intent on showing off and posturing and making sure Lindie found out about their sports achievements and accomplishments while they all worked.

“It’s a dead rat,” Tyler informed her, picking it up by its long tail to show her what she’d just pulled out of the drain.

At Lindie’s recoil Eric said, “Don’t make her look at it!”

“It’s okay,” Lindie said. “But I think it’s more important that you don’t touch it.”

“Yeah, get rid of that,” Sawyer advised.

Tyler deposited it in the trash bag.

“Maybe you shouldn’t even rake,” Eric suggested to Lindie. “It’s gross.”

Lindie caught Sawyer rolling his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. Before he could comment, Lindie said, “It’s fine. Let’s just get it done.”

She wasn’t quite sure what was inspiring the boys’ chivalry today. She’d come prepared to get “down and dirty” and had worn a little white tank top underneath a pair of shapeless denim overalls she hadn’t had on since doing yard work for her grandmother the summer between her sophomore and junior year of college.

Completing the nothing-but-functional outfit was a pair of ordinary canvas sneakers. After leaving work to change at lunch she’d brushed all of her hair into a plain ponytail.

But still the boys seemed intent on impressing her. Tyler took this opportunity to boast that he’d developed his rodent disposal skills because most of the time he was the man of the house now that his dad had had to return to over-the-road truck driving. Something that had happened when his oil-changing franchise had gone under because the Camden Superstore offered the same service.

Tyler referred to Camden Superstore scornfully and Lindie caught Sawyer’s pointed gaze at her. She thought she could read his mind—these boys probably wouldn’t think quite as highly of her if they knew her last name.

But he didn’t give her away and she merely praised Tyler for being so helpful around the house while silently accepting the blame for yet another infraction.

It took until midafternoon to clear the drains and then the foursome moved on to breaking down old, decaying picnic tables that were to be replaced.

It was a less dirty job and Lindie was amused at how impressed Eric was at her skills with a screwdriver bit in a cordless power drill—talents gained helping to build Habitat for Humanity houses. It was something that Tyler called him on as if she needed defending.

“Girls can do things like that,” Tyler said as if Eric had insulted her.

“But she’s
such
a girl,” Sawyer put in with some orneriness. “I think that’s what makes it so surprising.”

“I’ve never had complaints about that before,” she countered.

“
I’m
not complaining about you being a girl!” Tyler pointed out.

“Me neither,” Eric declared.

Sawyer sighed, adding under his breath, “Yeah, I’m not complaining, either.”

And Lindie was left wondering why he’d said it at all if it was so reluctant.

The turnout had been good and headway was made on the park until dusk before an end was called. But there was still plenty left to be done and everyone was encouraged to come back on Saturday—and to return their gardening gloves and other tools to the community center before they left.

Volunteers, center employees and kids alike filed inside again to put away their supplies before people began saying good-night and heading out. Since Sawyer was helping to collect equipment, Lindie was, too, as both Tyler and Eric hung back for no good reason, still finding things to talk to Lindie about.

Until Sawyer said, “Okay, boys. Good work today. Thanks for all you did.”

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Eric asked Lindie.

Lindie looked to Sawyer for a clue as to whether or not he was. But he didn’t give her one. Instead the arch of one of his eyebrows seemed to ask the same thing without imparting the information she wanted.

Counting on the likelihood that he was—and by then fully invested in helping these people anyway—she said, “I am.”

She wasn’t quite sure what Sawyer’s small smile meant at that answer but it bore some resemblance to the smiles it elicited from the boys before Tyler said, “Then we’ll be here, too.”

Lindie heard Sawyer’s sigh but she didn’t think the boys did. Then he said, “Are you guys walking home or getting a ride?”

“Tyler’s sleeping over and I just live across the street,” Eric said.

“So we’re walking,” Tyler finished.

“Go on, then, before it gets completely dark,” Sawyer commanded, putting an end to their lingering.

“We could wait and walk you out, too,” Eric suggested to Lindie.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Sawyer muttered under his breath.

Lindie jumped in to say, “Thanks, but you guys go on. You must be starving. Go home and have dinner.”

They stumbled over themselves saying goodbye to her but finally left.

“Apparently you’ve made two conquests,” Sawyer said when they were gone.

Lindie wondered why he sounded so annoyed. “They did a lot of work, whatever the reason was. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah, but...sheesh!” he said, exasperated.

“You just can’t handle the competition?” Lindie asked with a straight face.

She wasn’t sure whether he was going to be outraged or amused but his laugh was spontaneous. “I thought it was you who wanted to be with me,” he shot back.

Had he been viewing today as
being with
her, instead of just an opportunity to show her a thing or two?

Hmm.

She left that alone, though. “And you knew I was volunteering to have the chance to talk to you so you picked the worst job on the list just so you could stick it to me. Did it disappoint you that the boys stepped in to make it easier on me?”

He grinned. “You didn’t just say ‘stick it to me.’”

Maybe not the best turn of phrase she could have chosen but she wasn’t going to let him turn the tables on her. “I didn’t say it the way you’re taking it. At least the boys aren’t lechers!”

“Oh, you are kidding yourself, lady.”

“They’re nice boys.”

“They are,” he agreed. “Nice,
normal
boys. Who did not rush to help Marie or Mrs. Watley or lovely little Grace.”

Marie and Mrs. Watley were both large and substantially matronly older women. And the “lovely little Grace” was thin and fit, but seventy-nine.

“And if they
had
worked with them,” Sawyer added, “you can bet there wouldn’t have been all that clumsy flirting.”

“It was sweet. And funny,” she said. Then she held up her palms and looked down at her overalls. “And it’s not like I came dolled up, as my grandmother would say.”

“I don’t think it makes any difference how you dress,” he said after a glance in the same direction and a return to looking at her face. “It might help if you put a bag over your head, but other than that...” He left the rest unsaid. “But please, don’t come in anything ‘girlier’ tomorrow or one of those boys might actually keel over. Plus chaperoning the two of them is all I can take—if you attract any more minions I might lose it.”

So he would be there tomorrow.

Rather than comment on that, Lindie went back to her earlier goad. “Because of the competition.”

He laughed again. “You think I don’t have better game than a couple of twelve-year-olds?”

Lindie shrugged.

“I’m gonna take you down the street and buy you a sub sandwich with anything you want on it just to prove it.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Wow. Yeah. You
do
have game. Was that supposed to be an invitation to dinner?”

“A full twelve inches—if you want it. Piled high with whatever you take on it.”

“Do I have to call Eric and Tyler back to chaperone
you
?”

“All right, all right, all right,” he conceded with another smile and no repentance whatsoever. “What do you say? A sandwich down the street? You didn’t come for the lunch today, so I’ll buy you a half-assed dinner for your hard work.”

And then she could talk to him and make some of the strides in getting to know him that she’d hoped to make while working with him today.

That was all there was to it.

It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that as flattering as it had been to have the boys fawning over her, she felt a little robbed because she hadn’t been able to talk to Sawyer.

“Deal,” she said. “But if that’s the extent of your game, it’s pretty sad.”

* * *

Taking their separate cars, Lindie followed Sawyer to the brightly lit sandwich shop.

She would have liked to be able to change into other clothes and do something different with her hair and makeup. But she hadn’t come prepared for anything other than outdoor maintenance so she looked the same as when she’d left the park. And so did Sawyer, in jeans and a gray hoodie that somehow didn’t dim his handsomeness one iota.

“I was surprised that so many people came out to help—even more of them tonight when they got off work,” she said as they sat in one of the unpadded booths and unwrapped their sandwiches. He’d ordered the largest sandwich on the menu and still his hands dwarfed it.

Lindie tried not to notice, taking a bite of her much smaller turkey sub.

“Nobody is happy about what’s happened to that part of Wheatley,” Sawyer replied.

She really didn’t want him on his soapbox again. The problems a Camden Superstore caused were becoming more and more clear to her on their own every time she was in Wheatley. It was Sawyer himself who she’d been assigned—and wanted—to get to know. So to keep from going down that other path again she said, “I wasn’t sure whether you were working on the park tomorrow or if you had other plans.”

“But you guessed right. You figured I’d be there so you said you would be, too.”

“I like helping out,” she said quietly. “So what have you signed us up for? Should I wear a hazmat suit?”

“Hmm. That might keep the boys away,” he mused. “We’re picking weeds. There’s an overgrown area that needs to be cleared out for the chess pavilion.”

“There’s going to be a chess pavilion? Will there be a lot of use for that?”

“Actually, I’m sponsoring it for my own sake. There’s one on the Sixteenth Street Mall down in Denver and a whole lot more of them in California—my family’s vacation spot every year when I was growing up—where my dad and I would go to play. It was something I really liked doing with him so I lobbied for one here. I figured as long as we were fixing up this park anyway—”

“There’s a big interest in chess in Wheatley?”

“I’m working on it.” The chuckle that went with that was wry and said the answer to her question was no, there wasn’t an overwhelming interest in chess. Not yet, anyway. “I’ve taught a lot of the kids at the center. But like I said, the outdoor tables are really for my own sake. I got the agreement for it because I’m footing the bill. It’ll only be four tables but I was thinking that it was something I wanted to do with Sam one day.”

Two tiny frown lines creased the spot between his eyebrows, as if there was something else going on when it came to that subject. Lindie recalled having that same sense the first day they’d met when he’d said his son lived in Wheatley “for now.”

“Sam is your son,” she said, hoping to inspire him to open up about whatever was going on.

“Right. Sam is my four-year-old. So far we’re just working on learning the pieces but I’m having trouble getting past the knights being horses and him making them charge through and knock down all the other pieces. We’ll get there, though. My dad did with me and I will with Sam.”

The mention of his father eased the frown and turned the corners of his mouth up.

Interpreting that, she said, “You have a good relationship with your dad and you want to duplicate it with your son.”

“My dad is great,” he stated simply.

Since that seemed like as good a segue as any to air out some of the past, Lindie said, “Tell me about your dad. I don’t know anything about him except that he was engaged to my aunt Tina a long time ago.”

“Tina. The debutante who was more in Howard Camden’s league than my middle-class dad’s and the engagement that nearly cost him his construction business.”

Lindie’s aunt Tina had been one of the children of an airline magnate and, yes, the Larson family had been close behind the Camdens on the social ladder.

“But my dad,” Sawyer went on, “was—and still is even at sixty-eight—a good-looking guy who the ladies have always loved.”

Sitting across the table from Sawyer and seeing for herself how drop-dead gorgeous he was, Lindie had no problem believing that his father had been a lady-killer. She did find it difficult to believe that he could have been any more attractive than his son. But her mind was wandering and she tried to rein it in and listen to what he was saying.

“So until Howard Camden pulled his sh-shenanigans—it didn’t matter even to a debutante that he was in a lower tax bracket.”

“Uncle Howard’s
shenanigans...
” she repeated. “I’d like to hear your side of what happened.”

“Why? Because you want to make sure you don’t admit to something you don’t have to?”