Fairy-Tale Family. Pat Montana
Читать онлайн книгу.
with Mitch’s easy appeal. She didn’t want her hurt all over again.
Like mother, like daughter—both suckers for those Prince Charming types. Ellie would have to teach Seri better. Right after she convinced Mitch Kole to leave.
“Hey, Mom, it’s five past nine.”
Gabe’s too-grown-up voice interrupted her worries. Almost gratefully, she grabbed at the safety of routine.
“Okay, kids, Saturday morning schedule. Michael, kitchen, Rafe, bathrooms, Seri, beds. Gabe, I need you in the store to move boxes. If anybody needs anything, remember the bell.”
She hurried to the stairs leading to the shop below, glancing back for one last check. Burners off, pan in the sink, nothing harmful left untended.
Except Mitch Kole.
“We have things under control here, Mr. Kole. You can go visit your father right away. I’m sure he’ll be glad you came. Please tell him we’ll be there this evening.”
Mitch’s watchful gaze sent her backing down the stairs. “I—uh—guess we won’t see you again, so I hope you have a very nice life in Colorado.” She marched down three more stairs. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have things to—”
The telephone made her stop. Through the stair railing, she watched Rafe snatch the ringing phone from the counter.
He punched it on. “Daddy? Oh.” The hope in his dark eyes faded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Dejectedly he punched the Off button.
Ellie’s heart ached for her son. She had to make Rafe give up that phone—soon. “Who was it, sweetheart? What did they want? You should have let me talk.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It was just King. He said...he’ll bring him home from the hospital.” He pointed at Mitch.
Ellie lurched back up the stairs. “Home? Did he say when?”
“Um...yeah.” Rafe laid the phone back on the counter. “I think he said...tomorrow.”
Mitch stood outside the doorway to his father’s narrow room staring at the high, four-poster bed his mother had loved, trying to ignore the memories. Now was not the time to brood over the past. He had a problem to solve here.
“I thought you’d be at the hospital by now.”
Somehow he managed not to turn, though he couldn’t mistake Ellie’s voice. Or her challenge. “I didn’t expect you back from the store so soon.” He sure as hell didn’t want to see her again now. Especially not here.
“The high school kid who works weekends came in early.”
Hell, Ellie practically looked like a high school kid herself. Too young to have four kids. Too damned young to be living with—No. He shoved down the anger. Her relationship with his father was none of his business.
“I thought I’d check the place out first, get an idea of what King will need.”
“That’s what I tried to tell you at breakfast.” Without looking up at him, she brushed past and into the room. “You can go back to Colorado right away. We’ll take care of King.”
He should be glad she was avoiding him. But heaven help him, he wanted to look into those blue eyes. “You can’t take care of him by yourself.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. “Yes, I can. The kids and I can take perfectly good care of him.”
“There’s hardly space in this room for one person to move around. He won’t be able to get in and out of that bed.”
Ellie pulled herself to her full height and turned to frown at him. “We can help him.”
“We? Who else are you planning to move in here? Ellie, good intentions aren’t enough. You’re too small, and your kids are...well. they’re just kids.” Mitch couldn’t decide which was worse, standing here fighting over King’s care, or fighting his attraction to the woman who slept with him.
Especially when she was so damned valiant. When her lips looked so full and determined. When the top of her head would barely reach his chin even if she tipped her face up to—Why, a man would almost have to pick her up to...
Ellie stepped back. “Why are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. Kole?”
A damn good question. Except that his anger wasn’t intimidation, it was self-defense. Because what he really wanted was to kiss her. A most unwise impulse. But then, when had his impulses ever been wise?
“Look, just call me Mitch, okay?”
He saw her back stiffen, her own defenses go up another notch. His anger just kind of collapsed. “Come on, Ellie, call me Rumpelstiltskin if you want, but give Mr. Kole a rest.” To his surprise, her eyes warmed—just a little—as they did when she teased her kids.
“Okay. Mitch. So why don’t you want us to take care of your father?”
“Oh, but I do. I just don’t see how.”
“Look, I’ve already figured that out, so you don’t need to waste your time.”
Not so much a waste of time as a waste of emotion. This place stirred too many memories, but the feelings Ellie stirred were far worse. Especially since he had no intentions of doing anything about them. Especially under the circumstances.
“Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d guess my father weighs about a hundred and eighty pounds—dripping wet. Without casts. There’s no way he can get around in here with them.”
She fixed him with a firm gaze that clearly said, Get out of my way, and marched toward the doorway. “We’ll move him into the dormitory.”
“The dormitory?” He slouched against the frame, not wanting her to go.
She slowed to a stop. “If you’ll move, I’ll show you.”
Unwillingly he stepped back, bowing slightly.
She moved carefully, turning sideways to keep from brushing against him. She trailed a fragrance that was clean and fresh.
How could he resist? How could he let her go without stealing just one sweet brush of those half-opened lips? The thought of her softness against him sent heat humming through his veins. Raising an arm, he blocked the doorway.
Her blue eyes widened with uncertainty. “Um, the dormitory? I think...when you lived here...you called it—” Her voice caught.
“The Jam Room?” he murmured, leaning toward her.
Almost imperceptibly she turned her face up to him. “Yes. The Jam Room,” she whispered. Then she froze.
“No!” She jerked away. “I mean, yes! The Jam Room.” Before he could stop her, she ducked under his arm and disappeared down the hall.
Damn! What had he been thinking? He needed to get King’s arrangements made and get out of here. His pulse still hammering, he followed reluctantly through the small kitchen and down the hall of the second flat.
She hurried across the hardwood floor of the long, rectangular room at the end. Keeping distance between them. A whole lot smarter than he was.
“The boys sleep in here now.” Nervously she smoothed the plain, unmatched bedspreads on the three twin beds lined up under the back windows.
He tried to ignore her caring gesture. But her touch was everywhere—in the football and race car posters on the walls, in the plastic basketful of balls and dinosaurs and action figures. In the string of paper flowers hanging above the head of each bed.
The Jam Room—where King Kole and his Merry Men had practiced those rare times when his band hadn’t been out on a gig. His father had been gone more than he’d ever been home. Gone when a family really needed him. A lot of things besides this room had changed since then.
“We’ll