Her Only Hero. Marta PerryЧитать онлайн книгу.
felt for him—a sudden empathy that startled and disturbed her. She didn’t want to feel for anyone but her daughter. She had far too much responsibility in her life right now to leave room for anything else.
Luckily he didn’t seem to expect an answer from her. He touched her arm lightly, and she felt the warmth of that touch right through the fabric of her sweater.
“Hey, I’ll work it out. But thanks for listening. I’ll be glad to return the favor, any time.”
She managed to smile, to nod. Ryan meant well, but she didn’t have any intention of sharing her inner thoughts with anyone, least of all him. He’d come too far into her life already.
Now what exactly was he doing back here again? Ryan didn’t have a good answer to that question as he approached Laura’s building the next day. If those moments with Laura by her car the night before had taught him anything, it was that she spelled danger to a man like him.
He ought to stay as far away as possible from Laura McKay, with her fierce sense of responsibility and her prickly determination to do everything herself. Instead here he was, putting his head in the front door that stood ajar, probably to air the place out.
“Anybody home?” He tapped on the frame.
Mandy’s head jerked up. Had she responded to the sound or the vibration? He wasn’t sure. She had a child’s toy broom and dustpan, and she’d obviously been mimicking her mother’s work.
“Hi, Mandy.”
She broke into a smile and carefully finger-spelled his name.
“Good job.”
“What’s a good job?” Laura came in from the kitchen, carrying a bucket. “Hi, Ryan.”
“Mandy finger-spelled my name when I came in.”
A smile blazed across Laura’s face. “That is a good job.” She set the bucket on the floor and hugged the little girl, and for a moment the love in her eyes seemed strong enough to light the world.
It was a warning, that love. It announced in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t wander into their lives and then wander out again. Laura and Mandy needed more than that.
I’m just helping out, he told his conscience firmly. Nothing else.
“You’re making progress.” He glanced around the large rectangular room that was cleared now of debris. The fireplace that covered most of one wall had obviously just been cleaned, revealing the mellow, rosy tone of the bricks.
“Not enough.” Laura followed the direction of his gaze, but her level brows drew down, as if she saw all that remained to be done instead of what she’d accomplished already. “The fire put me days behind my schedule.”
“I can spare some time to help on my off days, if you want.”
The corners of her wide mouth tucked in, as if she didn’t want to give anything away. “That’s not necessary. I can—”
“I know. You can do it yourself. That doesn’t mean an extra pair of hands wouldn’t make it go faster.”
She evaded his eyes, and he suspected she was searching for a good excuse. Or at least, a change of subject.
“Maybe so.” Her tone was noncommittal. “Tell me, have you talked to your folks yet about the new job?”
She’d opted for the change of subject. And he must have been suffering from a mental lapse when he’d told her about that. Why on earth would he talk to her about something he hadn’t even told his family?
“Not yet, but I have to.” He couldn’t suppress a grin.
“I just heard that I passed the test. I’ve been called for an interview.”
And once again, he’d told her something he’d told no one else.
She came closer, as if she needed to study his face seriously. “Are you happy about it?”
Was he? A good question. “I guess. The arson squad would be a challenge, if I got it. Lots of brainwork.” He grimaced. “To tell the truth, I’m better at physical challenges than mental ones.”
Maybe that was the problem. He liked the physical risks of firefighting, maybe too much. He’d told Laura about Dad’s heart attack, but he hadn’t told her all of it. Not about the part he’d played.
“Just tell them.” She put her hand lightly on his arm.
“They might surprise you. And if they’re upset, at least it will be out in the open. You can’t deal with it as long as they don’t know.”
“You’re pretty good in the advice department, you know that?”
She smiled slightly, shaking her head. “I should have learned something from all the mistakes I’ve made.”
A man who was interested in a woman would follow up on a comment like that. But he’d just told himself how wrong it would be to get interested in her, hadn’t he? Whatever he said next had to be noncommittal.
“Well, given the way rumors fly around the department, I’d better come clean before they hear it from someone else.”
Laura didn’t move, but she seemed to draw back a little. Her smile faded. She got the message.
She turned her attention to the bucket, wringing a sponge out as if it were a very important action. “Speaking of the department, I’d say you’ve more than done your duty here. The fire damage is cleaned up, and I’m back on target with my renovation.”
It was a nice, polite dismissal. Well, that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He couldn’t get involved with her. He couldn’t let Mandy start to depend on him. Everyone knew he wasn’t dependable when it came to relationships.
He took a breath. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to find the words to agree with her. “I’ll just check that back door to be sure the new lock is in right, and then I’ll be on my way.”
She nodded, her smile stiff.
Right. He headed for the kitchen before he could say something he shouldn’t.
Fifteen minutes later he was still fiddling with a perfectly good lock. Maybe he ought to face the fact that he didn’t want to leave.
This isn’t about what you want, dummy. It’s about what’s the right thing to do.
His head came up at the sound of voices in the other room. Apparently Laura had company.
“Mr. Potter.” Laura didn’t sound happy to be interrupted yet again.
“Bradley, please. I thought you were going to call me Bradley.”
Bradley Potter. Nice, well-off, the last son of one of Suffolk’s founding families. Brad was a successful businessman, good-looking, single. Laura ought to be friendlier to someone like that.
“Another list of changes?” She didn’t sound particularly friendly at the moment. He heard the rustle of papers. “But I’ve already complied with the requirements from the historic preservation committee.”
“I’m so sorry.” Bradley’s tone exuded sympathy. “I wish I didn’t have to bring you bad news, but I’m sure you understand that we have to be very careful about any renovations that go on in the historic district.”
“I know that.” Laura snapped the words.
Maybe he’d better get in there before she got into a fight with one of the most influential men in town. He strolled into the room, enjoying the look of surprise on Brad’s face at the sight of him.
“Hey, Brad. What are you up to?”
“Ryan. What are you doing here?” Brad nodded stiffly, his immaculate dress shirt and flannel pants incongruous in what was essentially a construction site.