Building Dreams. Ginna Gray
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eyes, Amanda gave a disgusted snort and scooted down in her seat. Arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts, she stared straight ahead.
Tess’s uncertain gaze flickered from Ryan’s rigid face to his brother’s smiling one. “Uh…I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. McCall—”
“Reilly,” he insisted with an affable grin.
“Uh…Reilly. You see, I’m the only one who’ll be living here. Amanda is merely giving me a hand.”
“Really. Hey, in that case, perhaps I can talk your friend into moving into my building?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Amanda muttered, but she didn’t deign to look at him.
Reilly grinned. His eyes twinkled as they roved over Amanda’s stiff profile. “Say aren’t you…Of course! Amanda Sutherland. I thought you looked familiar. You’re a roving reporter for Channel Five, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m a big fan. Maybe we can get together sometime so I can tell you how much I admire your work. Say…over dinner tonight?”
Amanda cut her eyes around, giving him a look that would have shriveled most men. Reilly McCall’s grin widened.
“I’m busy.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“The night after that?”
Amanda shook her head.
Ryan shifted impatiently and made a point of checking his watch. “The woman’s not interested, Reilly, so count yourself lucky and come on. We have to get to the park.” He gave Tess another curt nod and turned and walked back to his own car without another word.
“It was nice meeting you,” Tess called after him, but his only response was to yell to his son to shake a leg.
Crestfallen, Mike gazed after his father. He sent Tess an apologetic look. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mrs. Benson. Dad doesn’t really mean to be rude. He’s got a lot on his mind, is all.”
“That’s all right, Mike. I understand.”
His father hollered again, and Mike darted away toward the Cherokee. “Don’t forget,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll be over as soon as the game ends.”
He had barely tumbled into the back seat when his father reversed out of the parking space and sent the utility vehicle shooting out of the lot.
Ryan’s expression did not encourage conversation, but Mike was too upset to care.
“Shoot, Dad. Why’d you have to go and act that way to Tess?” he demanded glumly.
“Yeah, Hoss.” Reilly’s eyes twinkled with devilment. “I’d like to know that, too. You were a real jerk back there. If a looker like Tess Benson moved into my building I sure wouldn’t bite her head off. I’d woo her with soft words and flowers.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how far a little sweet talk can get you.”
“Ah, knock it off, Uncle Reilly,” Mike snapped, surprising both men. “Tess isn’t that kind of woman.”
“Hey, Mike…buddy. What gives? I didn’t mean any—”
“Oh, just forget it.” Flouncing back in the seat, Mike stared out the window, his young face sulky.
The two brothers exchanged a baffled look and fell silent.
Mike didn’t say a word all the way to the ball park, but he was never able to stay angry for long. When they arrived and he spotted his teammates he let out a whoop and rushed off to greet them, his pique forgotten.
“Now, what do you suppose that was all about?” Reilly mused.
Ryan stared after his son, a worried frown drawing his thick eyebrows together. “Beats me.”
For several seconds the two women sat in Tess’s car, staring after the McCalls’ departing vehicle.
“Well,” Amanda huffed. “He certainly won’t win the good neighbor award. That man’s about as warm and friendly as a coiled rattlesnake. Who would’ve guessed that a sweet boy like Mike would have a father like that.”
“He was rather abrupt.”
“Abrupt! The man was downright rude.”
“Yes…well…maybe we shouldn’t be too quick to judge him. It could be that he’s just having a bad day or something.”
Amanda groaned and rolled her eyes. “I swear, Tess Benson, you are the most tolerant, good-natured, incurably optimistic person I’ve ever known. It’s disgusting. The man is mannerless and abrasive. He’s got the personality of coarse-grit sandpaper, for heaven’s sake.”
Tess laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s simply got problems right now. Or maybe he’s just in a bad mood. We all have days when we’re mad at the world and would just as soon people stayed away. Since I’m going to be living next door to the man I’d prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“You would,” Amanda muttered.
The rumble of a diesel engine and the squeal and hiss of air brakes announced the arrival of the moving van. The long tractor-trailer rig lumbered into the parking lot and rolled to a stop beside the car.
Tess looked up at the apartment building, and drew a deep breath. “I guess it’s time to get started. This stuff won’t get unloaded by itself.” With a determined sigh, she reached for the door handle and slowly, awkwardly, hauled her very pregnant body out of the car.
Four hours later, Tess stood in the kitchen of her new apartment, knee-deep in boxes, wadded newspaper and bubble pack, wearily rubbing her aching back.
“Where ya want me to put this one, Mrs. Benson?”
She looked around in time to see Mike come through the front door, staggering under the weight of the carton he carried. The thirteen-year-old was sweating profusely, and the tendons in his neck and underdeveloped arms were corded and straining.
“Mike! You shouldn’t carry something that heavy up the stairs all by yourself! Here, let me help.”
From the look of horror on his young face you would have thought Tess had suggested she bench-press five hundred pounds. He clutched the carton tighter and held it out of her reach when she came around the end of the bar. “No! You can’t do that!”
“The kid’s right.” Amanda sauntered in through the open doorway carrying a half dozen clothes-filled hangers hooked over each shoulder. “In your condition, you haven’t any business trying to manage something that heavy.”
“But—”
“I can handle it, Mrs. Benson. Honest. Just tell me where you want it.”
“C’mon, sweetie, follow me. I’ll show you.” With a don’t you-dare-say-a-word look for Tess, Amanda maneuvered through the maze of boxes and jumbled furniture with her unhurried, hip-swaying walk and led the boy out of the room.
Tess watched them go, feeling properly chastised and more than a little useless.
“How about it, Mike? Whaddaya say we take a lemonade break,” Amanda suggested a minute later, when she and Mike returned.
“No thanks, Ms. Sutherland. But you go ahead. There’re just a few more boxes left in the trailer. I’ll get ’em while you rest. They’re too heavy for you to carry anyway.”
“Now there goes one heck of a nice kid,” Amanda drawled, hitching herself up onto a stool beside the bar.
“Yes, he is. But I’m afraid we’re taking advantage of him.”
“Are you kidding! He’s having a ball. Look, Tess, trust me on this. If there is one