Within Reach. Sarah Mayberry
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they painted it.” Angie shook her head with disgust.
Michael crossed to the sideboard and crouched, getting a good grip on it before easing into an upright position. Once it was righted he saw it was still half-filled with books, which explained both why it was so heavy and why Angie hadn’t tackled it on her own. There was more broken glass underneath, as well as the smashed remains of what looked like a porcelain menagerie—a lion, a tiger, an elephant and a monkey.
“More casualties.” Angie’s face was taut with unhappiness.
“No be sad,” Charlie said, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “You no be sad.”
She immediately smiled, rubbing her nose against his. “It’s okay, Charlie-boy. I’m okay.”
Michael pushed the sideboard against the wall and crouched to tidy the books on the shelves.
“Don’t worry about those. I can do that later,” she said.
“We came to help.” He was aware of feeling off balance as he tidied the books. It took him a moment to understand that he was thrown by the discovery that Angie had a boyfriend.
She hadn’t mentioned anyone to him, not even in passing. The omission left him feeling oddly unsettled. As though something small but significant in his understanding of the world had shifted.
In the months since Billie had died Angie had laughed with him, cried with him, cooked for him, changed his son’s diapers and read bedtime stories to his daughter. Yet she hadn’t even so much as hinted that she was seeing someone.
Newsflash, buddy—you don’t own her. She doesn’t owe you anything.
He knew the voice in his head was right. He had no right to feel…possessive was the wrong word, but it was close…of Angie. She didn’t belong to him and the kids. She was her own person, with her own life and her own dreams and wants and desires. All of which she was entitled to keep to herself if she so chose.
“What does Carlos do?” So much for minding his own business.
“He’s a musician, plus he does a bit of sound-engineering work on the side.”
“Right.”
Shut up. Not another word.
“So how long have you two been…?” He kept his gaze on his task, very carefully not looking at her. He had no idea why he was asking, why he felt the burning need to know what was going on in her life.
Angie laughed, the sound reassuringly startled. “Me and Carlos? I don’t think so.”
He allowed himself to look at her. “Yeah? The way he was marking his territory just now, I figured you guys must have something going on.”
“I have no idea what that was about. We’ve had drinks after work a few times. But he’s not my type. Too brooding and artistic. I like a little less drama in my life.”
She might not have any idea what the other man’s ostentatious display had been about, but Michael did. For some reason, he’d seen Michael as a rival for Angie’s affections. Which went to show how good the other man’s instincts were.
Angie took up the broom and resumed sweeping the floor, Charlie clinging to her leg. It occurred to him that bringing a two-year-old to the site of a break-in hadn’t been his smartest move. But he hadn’t exactly been thinking rationally when he’d turned the car toward the city. He’d only wanted to make sure Angie was okay.
“Here, I’ll do that,” he said, holding a hand out for the broom.
“I’m almost done,” Angie said, smiling at Charlie, who was looking at her with bright eyes.
“Is there a bin where we can dump all this stuff?”
“I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.” She tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. “There’s supposed to be a wheelie bin on each level, but half the time it disappears.”
“I’ll go see if I can find something.” He started for the door.
“Michael?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I meant what I said before. I really appreciate you coming in like this.”
“Not a big deal.”
“It is to me.” Her smile was a little wobbly.
He could suddenly see all her hurt and anger and frustration, all the emotions she’d stuffed deep inside in order to do what needed to be done to get her studio back in order.
“We’ll fix it, don’t worry.”
“Okay.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
Before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. She tensed for a second and he thought she would push him away. Then her arms circled his waist and her body softened and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. For a long moment they were silent. He was aware of her knees touching his and the warmth of her body and the faint fruity scent of her shampoo. He rested his cheek against her hair, wishing there was some way he could make things right for her.
After a minute she lifted her head and he let her go.
“Thanks,” she said with a small, self-conscious smile as she stepped backward.
“I want cuddle, too,” Charlie demanded, both arms raised.
Angie laughed. “Of course you do.”
She stooped to pick him up and Charlie wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed a big, wet kiss to her cheek.
Michael smiled. “I’ll go find that bin.”
It wasn’t until he was turning the corner in the corridor that it occurred to him that hug had been his first adult human contact in months.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HEY, CHARLIE, COME away from there. You don’t want to touch all that nasty stuff,” Angie said, herding him away from the pile of debris in the corner.
Charlie complied readily, trotting off to inspect the safe instead. Angie watched him distractedly. She was still getting over the surprise of Michael’s spontaneous embrace.
They had hugged before, but not often, and usually only briefly, in greeting or thanks. And, of course, after Billie’s death there had been condolence and sympathy hugs.
Today’s hug had felt different, and she couldn’t understand why.
Charlie spun the dial, fascinated. Angie thought about the moment when Michael’s arms had come around her and she’d found herself pressed against the firm, warm wall of his chest. She’d been surprised at first. But then something inside her had relaxed as she’d understood that she was in a safe place and she’d allowed herself to take comfort from him.
Then he’d shifted slightly or she had and their knees had bumped and she’d become very aware of how well-matched their bodies were—knee to knee, hip to hip, breast to chest.
The realization had been enough to make her step away then, and it made her feel uneasy now, even though he’d been gone for more than ten minutes.
Because that moment had been about sexual awareness. The woman in her noticing the man in him.
But Michael wasn’t a man. At least, he wasn’t an ordinary man. He was Billie’s husband. He might as well be Angie’s brother.
And yet there’d been that funny little moment when he’d opened the door wearing his running gear yesterday and she’d seen him with fresh eyes and registered that he was a very attractive man….
There was a loud rumbling in the corridor and Michael appeared in the doorway, a large wheelie bin in tow. She forced herself to meet his eyes, almost as though she was testing herself,