What a Woman Needs (17 page)

“And you went after a rabid animal?”

He had her there. She’d never have done that. “I thought it was Muffy.”

He arched that eyebrow at her again, but didn’t say anything. It was a good thing she hadn’t picked acting as a career choice.

Beth let them wander for another hour, knowing full well they weren’t on Muffy’s trail, but she didn’t want to freak her kids out or make Bryan feel guilty about the paparazzi any more than he already did.

“Hey, aren’t you Bryan Manley?” A kid on a skateboard popped a wheelie to stop beside them.

“I am.” Bryan stopped walking to talk to the kid. Beth admired that about him, that he hadn’t forgotten where he came from or didn’t forget to appreciate that fans were why he could do what he did.

“Any chance I can get you to sign my board?”

“You have a marker?”

“Yeah.” The kid pulled out a marker—Beth had no idea why he’d be carrying one—and thanked Bryan for signing it before riding away.

“Why do people want you to sign things, Bryan?” Maggie tugged on his shirt.

He picked her up and settled her on his hip. “It shows people that they met me.”

“Why do they want to meet you?”

“I guess they like my movies and it makes them feel like they’re a part of it when they meet me.”

Um . . . no. At least, that wasn’t why Kelsey’s friends and their moms wanted to meet him. But Beth was thankful he didn’t share that info with Maggie. She’d learn soon enough. And when she learned that Bryan had held her in his arms . . .

“Hey, can I get a picture of you two?” She pulled out her cell. This was a memory for Maggie, not a publicity shot.

“Yay, Mommy!” Maggie wrapped her little arms around Bryan’s neck and rested her head against his cheek.

The image on Bryan’s face was priceless. Stunned and happy all in one.

Beth felt a lump rise in her throat. He was holding her daughter so tightly, one hand on her back, the other arm holding her against his waist, and the smile on Maggie’s face . . .

Beth worked a smile past the lump. “That’s great, Maggie. It’s a good picture of both of you.” Not that either could take a bad picture.

“Let me see!” Maggie kicked her legs.

Luckily, Bryan’s reflexes kicked in so he avoided some, ah, damage.

Beth hid a smile as she showed them the photo.

“Oh cool! Maybe you can sign this for me, Bryan?” Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck again and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Please?”

Bryan averted his eyes from Beth’s. Then he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Of course, Maggie.” He gave her a final squeeze, then set her down. “How about we give it another few minutes to find Muffy and then head home? Your mom can print it out.”

“Nah, let’s go home now. Muffy’s not going to go this way. She doesn’t like the McNulty’s dog, Bruiser. He’s a bully.”

Bull
dog
, but it was close enough. Beth grabbed Maggie’s hand. “Okay, kiddo, let’s head home.”

Maggie reached for Bryan’s. “Come on, Bryan. You have to walk with us.”

Bryan was lucky not to be stumbling back. Too much emotion was clogging his chest, making breathing difficult. The moment he’d held Maggie in his arms and she’d wrapped hers around his neck . . . The look on Beth’s face, then that photo . . .

He was never going to make it through the rest of the time without doing something he’d probably live to regret.

But, hell, if he didn’t do something, he’d live to regret that as well.

Thankfully, Liam called to say their friend Jared had scored some last-minute baseball tickets, so the four of them had plans for the evening. He even left Beth’s house early, though Maggie begged him to stay for dinner, but that was too much temptation. His brothers would never let him live it down if he blew them off for a five-year-old. Well, and her mother. But still . . .

But despite the fact that he was out with his best friends in the world, not to mention the thirty thousand other people in the stadium, it turned out to be a pretty lonely night when all he could think about were the six people he’d left behind.

O
H
no, Sherman, not again!”

Bryan winced when he heard Kelsey’s whine.

Beth came flying out of the kitchen. “What’d he do now?”

Bryan peeked around the corner from the mudroom. This room was going to take him all day to clean; the Hamilton children had taken the name to heart. Plus, there was a tear in the vinyl flooring that was going to require some work to fix. Beth needed a handyman more than she needed a cleaning service. He was definitely going to talk to Mac about adding the service.

“He dragged my underwear through the Templetons’ backyard.”

The laundry line. Again. That made four times since he’d been here. No wonder they had so much laundry, the dog was making more work.

That was it; he was building Beth a freestanding clothesline that the dog couldn’t get to.

“Hey, Jason. Want to come with me? I need to head to the hardware store.”

“Not really.” The kid was flat on his back on the sofa with a handheld in his hands, thumbs punching feverishly.

“Dude.” Bryan tugged the game from his hands. “It wasn’t really a question. Let’s go.”

“Aw, man. Do I hafta?” Jason swung his long, gangly legs off the sofa and looked at his mom. “I got stuff to do today, Be—Mom.”

Beth raised her eyebrows. “What kind of stuff?”

“Uh, you know. Stuff. School stuff.” Jason put a smile on the end of it as if he’d thought Beth would believe him.

“You can do that after you go with Bryan. I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked you unless it was important.”

It wasn’t a question, and Bryan appreciated the support.

He tapped Jason on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get going. The quicker we go, the quicker we can come back so you can get to your stuff.” Stuff both he and Beth knew didn’t exist. Jason could help him when they got back. It’d be good for the kid to learn about tools and building things. Mike had a nice array of power tools in the garage.

Beth couldn’t help but watch her son leave with Bryan. Couldn’t help imagining how real this could be. What it would have been like if Mike were still alive. He would have taken Jason there and shown him things, taught him to mow the lawn, fix the mower, maybe even use some of the tools he’d collected over the years. Although . . .
she
was pretty handy with a drill; she could show him—all of them—how to fix things.

Funny, but she hadn’t really given that a thought until now. It’d been a constant struggle to make sure their mental health was okay with all of this, and to keep being their mom. Being their dad was a whole other element and it was becoming a more important one than she’d realized. If she needed any reminders, that tire-changing lesson had drilled it into her. Jason wasn’t getting any younger. Two more years and he’d be driving. Then Kelsey two years after that. Look what had happened in the last two years. Those seven hundred and thirty days weren’t as long as she’d like.

“Mommy, why do you look like that?” Maggie poked her head up from the coffee table where she was drawing yet again. The therapist had said to give Maggie a tablet and crayons, since she’d been too young to write when Mike had died. That tablet had become her daughter’s constant companion and it turned out that Maggie had some real talent in that area. Beth had removed the frightening images she’d drawn right after the accident once the pictures had started to change into pleasant things. Butterflies, flowers, Sherman, Mrs. Beecham—another addition the counselor had suggested and whom Maggie had named after her preschool teacher.

“Look like what, honey?”

“Like you want to go with Bryan and Jason?”

Beth snapped out of whatever fog she’d been in. Maggie had picked up on
that
? Things were getting a little too much out of hand. No, not
things.
Her
emotions
. She had to distance herself from Bryan. Had to make the kids do so, too. Mike’s departure hadn’t been his choice; Bryan’s would be. A necessary one since he had a career to get back to, but the kids wouldn’t see it that way. He was here only for a brief moment in their lives; she had a feeling they didn’t get that. So when he left, it’d be one more person they cared about leaving them.

 • • • 

B
RYAN
could feel the noose tightening. The kids were getting to him. Jason had grumbled the entire ride to the hardware store, mostly about the company logo magnet on the truck and how
uncool
it was. Bryan told him
cool
was in the behavior of the person, not the trappings, and zoomed the truck into a parking spot in an impressive move one of the stunt guys had taught him on his last film. That had gotten Jason’s attention and opened the door to what they were doing at the hardware store.

“You’re sure Sherman’s not going to be able to get to this?” he asked as he helped Bryan haul the lumber to the truck.

“I’m fairly certain.”

“Then why are you doing it if you’re not totally sure? That dog is a monster.”

Bryan had to agree with Jason on that one, but didn’t voice it. “I think we can come up with something to outwit a dog.” He crossed his fingers.

“I dunno.” Jason picked up the roll of nylon rope. “I’ll bet the mutt chews through this in a day.”

“You’re on.” Not that teaching a fourteen-year-old to gamble was a good thing, but it’d keep him engaged in the project once they were finished building it. “So you’re going to help me build this, right?”

Jason swished his nonexistent roof of hair out of his face and looked surprised to find it missing. Or maybe the surprise was because of what Bryan had just asked him. “Me? Build? I don’t know how.”

“Good.” Bryan clasped him on the shoulder. “Then you’ll have no bad habits I have to unteach you. You’ll be learning the right way to do it from the get-go.”

“Why are you doing this? It’s not in your job description.”

“Because Sherman creates more work for everyone. A little extra effort now will save a ton of work later on.”

“But it’s not in your job description.”

“Sometimes, Jase, it’s not about what you’re supposed to do. Sometimes it’s about what’s the right thing to do. And the right thing here is to prevent the dog from doing what he keeps doing. It’ll make everyone’s life easier.”

Jason looked out the window and mumbled something.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

For a second, Bryan wasn’t sure Jason had heard him—or wasn’t planning to answer. But then he turned his head and looked at Bryan. “I said, it’d be nice for Mom if life got easier. She’s been stressed out since Dad died.”

Bryan sucked in a breath and prayed for the right words. “Then it’s a good thing we’re doing this. Every little bit we can all do to make her life easier will be a help.”

“Yeah. That’s why I did my room. You were right.”

There was a moment. A teenager telling him he was right. Bryan ought to record this moment for posterity.

But . . . why? He was leaving, remember? Jason would have more of these moments with the next man in Beth’s life.

Bryan didn’t want there to be another man in her life—which was ridiculous since he couldn’t be.

Yeah, it made no sense, but then, a lot of these past two weeks didn’t.

Or maybe it did and he just refused to listen . . .

 • • • 

B
UT,
Jason, I want to mix the cement. Bryan said I could.” Mark stuck his tongue out at his older brother.

Jason held the trowel over his head. “You’re too little, Mark. You don’t have enough arm strength. It has to be done thoroughly and quickly, and you can’t.”

Bryan took the trowel from Jason and knelt down by the posthole. “It’ll be a moot point if we don’t get this mixed and the post in, guys. So let’s work together, okay?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his shoulder. The backyard had a lot of shale below the surface, so he’d had to make another trip to the hardware store for some quick-set cement. Of course Maggie had wanted to mix it, then the twins had joined in, and all of a sudden, cement mixing had become a family affair.

And he was smack dab in the middle of it. Wouldn’t his brothers be laughing their asses off if they could see him now? And considering he had dinner with them and Gran tonight, he didn’t need to give them any clue what was going on here.

What
is
going on here, Manley?

He didn’t want to analyze it too closely.

“Okay, guys, let’s tie up the post.” He’d rigged four lines to the post and gave each of the older kids, Kelsey included, a rope with a stake on the end. “Maggie, you watch the level to make sure that water bubble stays in the middle, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Maggie saluted him. For some reason, she equated the dry cement with the beach and had been making nautical references all afternoon.

Whatever worked.

Bryan held the post straight while the kids worked the stakes into the ground. He’d shown Jason how to adjust the ropes so once they were in, he could go around and shore them up.

“Okay, everyone, while that sets, we’re going to build the clothesline. You guys ready to help out?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool!”

“Sure.”

“Whatever.” The last was from Kelsey, who wasn’t as eager as the boys but who, nevertheless, had chosen construction over helping her mom prepare lunch.

Speaking of which, every so often, Beth would step out onto the deck in her pink shorts and flowing white top, her feet bare, and her hair its natural state of windblown, and Bryan would have to find his breath yet again because she kept stealing it.

Thankfully, the whirr of the miter saw was enough to get his body’s reaction under control—nothing like having a spinning steel blade with nasty teeth at groin height.

He measured out the angle, matched it to the drawing he’d made, and set it up for Tommy to make the cut. “Now, remember, Tom, take it slow. You don’t want to drive the blade down too fast, or the wood will splinter and we don’t need that.” He lowered Tommy’s safety goggles in place. “Remember, safety first.”

“I know. Mom always says that.”

Of course she did because Beth was a great mom.

Each kid got a turn to work the saw and the drill, but by the time they were on their second screws, the novelty had worn off. Only Maggie hung around to help him compile the frame and string the rope along it. They finished just as Beth carried a tray of sandwiches onto the patio.

“Lunch!” she called out.

Kids came running from all parts of the house. Some that didn’t even belong to Beth.

“Kelsey, you and Amanda please bring the iced tea out here. Mark, you grab the cups. Tommy, the ice. Kevin, you can bring a big spoon, and, Jason, there are chips and fruit on the island.”

“What about me, Mommy? I want to get something.” Maggie tugged on Beth’s shirt again.

And just like before, Bryan wasn’t about to tell her to stop. Especially when the neckline dipped lower and the hint of cleavage she’d had going on was more than just a hint.

Not that he could have said anything anyway because his mouth had dried up. His throat, too, and his chest was constricting as blood flow headed south.

God Almighty, he was a dog. Her kids were here, for Christ’s sake. Neighbor kids, too. It was inappropriate. It was stupid. It was just plain wrong.

But it didn’t stop him from looking.

She had a pink bra on. Light pink, a shade darker than her skin, and Bryan’s imagination went into overdrive. He wanted to peel that shirt off her, up over her head, then slide his palms down her arms and around her back, undoing her bra and slipping it off, revealing her to him in tiny tantalizing glimpses, brushing his fingertips gently over her skin, causing her to shiver. Then he’d cup her, his thumbs stroking her nipples, watching them harden as he lowered his head just as she said—

“Do you want something, Bryan?”

Thank God he looked up without telling her exactly what he wanted. Thank God he looked up before he just took it.

Her entire family was staring at him.

“Are you okay, Bryan? You look kinda weird.” Tommy handed him a glass of something. “See? We told you it was too much work. That’s why me and Mark took a break.”

He gulped the drink. Iced tea. Good. He needed something to clear his head.

He finished the glass with a big
ahhhh,
then wiped his mouth with his forearm just for the boys.

Beth rolled her eyes and handed him a napkin. “I swear, you boys never outgrow that.”

“You’re right. It’s too much fun.” He used the napkin to prove he wasn’t the heathen she’d think he was if she could read his thoughts.

“So when are we gonna put the top on the pole?” Mark asked, reaching across the table for the chips.

“Mark Joseph Hamilton, we do not reach across the table. Especially when we have guests.”

“But Bryan’s not a guest. He’s—”

That stumped him. Stumped Bryan, too. What exactly was he? Not an employee—he didn’t work for her. He worked for Mac. He could be an outside contractor, but he doubted the kids would know what that was.

“He’s a member of the family!” Maggie popped up from under the picnic table, squashing the massive cat in her arms. “Just like Mrs. Beecham!”