Mummy in the Making. Victoria Pade
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remembered her squeezing a ball as part of her physical therapy to increase the strength in that hand when she was recovering. At first she was too weak to do it and I started to think that my stuff had just enough resistance that it might work better than the ball in the first stages of rehab therapy.”
Okay, now she was thinking about squeezing the biceps her gaze had somehow attached itself to. What was wrong with her?
Averting her eyes, she said, “Anyway—again—” Because she knew she’d already said anyway once before. “I went back to the patent attorney, told him my idea and second ta-da. It’s being used as a filler substance to manufacture a new therapeutic tool.”
“That’s impressive,” Hutch said.
“Not really. Not when you know that it was honestly all unintentional. Accidental.”
“Still, those are more fortunate accidents than I’ve ever had.”
“They did allow me to quit working for the time being so I could move back to Northbridge. That was the biggest benefit because I was at loose ends in Seattle and staying there would have been… I just didn’t want to do it,” she finished, deciding belatedly that she didn’t want to get into the subject of the bad turn of romantic events that had driven her home.
So she skirted that issue. “And I’ll be able to buy a house without having to worry about money for a while. So yeah, that all does make it a fortunate accident,” she conceded. “But I can’t pretend that Gob-o-Goo or the squishy ball were born from the grand design of some sort of brainiac, either, because they really just came from my being a klutz.”
“I think you’re being modest.”
“I’m really not,” she insisted.
And how had her eyes gotten back on him again? This time on his profile? His perfect profile…
“Okay, you can let go.”
She heard the words as if from a distance. But the message didn’t immediately sink in because she was adrift in studying the side view of his face.
Then, from right next to her, Ash echoed his father with a “Y’et go.”
Issa hadn’t been aware of the toddler rejoining them after apparently having given up trying to figure out a way to get to that plate of cookies. But his voice brought her to her senses. She took her hands from the door handles and stepped back as Hutch Kincaid tested them.
Moving farther into the room, she hoped distance might help cure the weird affliction she seemed to have when it came to this man. But even that didn’t keep her from being overly aware of every little detail as he closed the door to make sure it actually stayed closed. He did a few trial runs with the keys—with the door open and finally with it closed, ultimately locking himself out and then letting himself in again.
“Looks like we’re in business! Now you can lock your door and keep your nosy neighbors out.”
Too bad she couldn’t keep the unwelcome thoughts she kept having about him out of her head….
He had two sets of keys and he held one set out to her then. “Keys for you, keys for me just in case of emergency—but only if there’s an emergency or you lock yourself out or something.”
Issa held out her palm. Then she tried not to think about the fact that the keys were warm from his hand.
“I wan some,” Ash complained.
Hutch dug into his pocket and produced an entire ring full of keys. “Here you go, big guy, you can hang on to these, but don’t lose them.”
Ash accepted the keys and jammed them into his own jean pocket. And again Issa was reasonably certain that the child was mimicking what he’d seen his father do innumerable times.
“‘Nother cookie?” Ash suggested hopefully then.
“Nope, you and I are gonna leave Issa alone and go downstairs so you can have your bath and get ready for bed.”
“No bath, no bed!” Ash protested once more.
“Yes bath, yes bed,” Hutch Kincaid countered, reaching out to palm his son’s buzz-cut, sandy-colored head like a basketball.
“I doan wanna,” the toddler grumbled.
“How about if I let you take one more cookie home with you and after your bath, you can have it with your milk while I read your Thomas the Train book?” Then as an afterthought, Hutch said, “If Issa is willing to let you have another cookie.”
“Sure,” she said for the third time. “He can take the whole—”
“Shh,” Hutch cut her short, holding a long index finger to his lips to stop her before she went on.
“I wan chock-it,” Ash announced by way of conceding to the deal.
“Chocolate it is,” Issa said, going to the dish on the bookshelf and choosing the chocolate sandwich cookie with the white cream center.
As she gave it to Ash, his father said, “What do you say?”
“S’ank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Issa responded.
“Okay, why don’t you go downstairs and put your cookie in the kitchen, and I’ll be right there. Remember how much you like to dunk it, so if you eat it before you get your milk, you’ll miss that,” Hutch said then, opening the door to let his son out.
“‘Bye, Itta,” Ash said without prompting.
“‘Bye, Ash,” Issa answered, wondering why Hutch Kincaid was hanging back.
His son had just begun the slow descent down the stairs when Hutch turned his attention to Issa again to say, “The dinner tomorrow night at Meg and Logan’s? I talked to Shannon late this afternoon and she said you’re going, too. She pointed out that we might as well go together? That it’s silly to take two cars?”
Issa hadn’t really thought about Hutch Kincaid going to dinner at her half brother’s house Monday night, but now that he said it, it made sense that he was. It was a barbecue at the Mackey and McKendrick compound that would include Hutch’s brother Chase, nephew, Cody, and Chase’s wife, Hadley, who was Issa’s half sister. Hutch’s twin, Ian, and Ian’s fiancée, Jenna, would also be there. Plus Hutch’s sister Shannon and Issa’s brother Dag were also going.
Hutch’s invitation to share a ride, though, was worded a little oddly—it was Shannon’s idea and Hutch had delivered it as if he wasn’t completely sold on it.
Maybe he didn’t want them to go together.
“It doesn’t matter. If you hadn’t planned to go from here, if you were going straight from your store or something, I can get there on my own.”
“No, I actually planned to bring Ash home for a late nap so he’ll be rested before we go—he’s more likely to behave that way—so I’ll be leaving from here. But it’s up to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go anywhere with me because we live here the way we do. But it does make sense to carpool….”
Still not an enthusiastic sales pitch.
“Are you sure you want me?” Oh, that hadn’t come out right. “To ride along,” she added as if that would make it better.
But it was already too late because there was a hint of a smile on Hutch Kincaid’s lips. Then, as if he’d decided to confess something, he said, “Dag told me you were kind of shy, that you aren’t comfortable around most people until you really get to know them. I just don’t want to push you and have you do something you don’t want to do.”
Damn Dag. He was still her little brother giving away things about her that she didn’t want out in the open—like when he’d announced her shoe size at church one Sunday.
“It’s okay,”