FATHER IN TRAINING (5 page)

"The moving company left a message that they would be late delivering the furniture. The truck blew its transmission." She moved closer to him and lowered her voice. "Mom called them and said she was going to blow more than a transmission if they didn't get our stuff up here." She glanced at him and swept her lashes up and down several times. "So we're stuck."

"When do they think the truck's going to arrive?"

"In another three or four days. I don't think it matters that much. The house is still a mess. We're not getting a lot done."

"I am," Nichole said. "I've got three stars." She held up the right number of fingers. "When I get five stars, I get to buy a new book."

"Stars?" he asked, confused.

"One of Mom's attempts to keep us as organized as she is," Lindsay said. "She's got a chart up on the wall. Everyone has chores listed. When you complete a certain number of chores, you get a star. After so many stars, you get a reward."

"What's your reward?" he asked Blake.

The boy looked up, obviously startled that he'd been noticed. Light brown eyes peered at him through thick glasses. Except for the freckles across his nose and the shape of his mouth, Blake didn't look anything like his mother. His slight shoulders hunched forward. "I haven't picked one yet."

"Oh, he'll get another game for his silly computer. He sits in front of it all the time."

Blake glared at his older sister, but didn't defend himself.

"What about you?" he asked Lindsay, then wished he hadn't. She moved even closer and stared up at him intently.

"I want clothes. Something pretty."

"Uh-huh. That sounds, uh, nice." He cleared his throat.

If his brothers could see him now, they'd all roar with laughter. Any of them could handle a flirtatious woman with no problem. But a vamping preteen was out of his realm of expertise. He wished
Sandy
would show up.

"So you guys are having trouble with the house?" he asked.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. Nichole giggled, and even Blake nodded.

"It's too big," Nichole said. "I washed the kitchen cupboards forever and they're still not done."

"We haven't even started on the upstairs," Lindsay said. "Mom wants us to get the painting done, too. She's crazy. This isn't how I planned to spend my summer."

"I know it's hard," Kyle said. "But your mom really needs your help. This is hard for her, too. Moving to a strange town, and all."

"No one asked her to drag us to this dumpy place." Lindsay's brown eyes snapped with anger. Her posing was forgotten as she drew her eyebrows together and glared. "There's nothing to do. There are no kids around here, no beach, nothing. I hate it. I don't care if the house never gets finished."

"Glenwood isn't so bad," he said. "There's a mall on the other side of town."

"Wow," Lindsay said sarcastically. "A mall. Gee, now I love it here."

Nichole skipped over the hose and motioned for him to bend over. "Lindsay's being a brat," she whispered loudly. "Mommy says it's just a stage."

He crouched down and smiled at the child. She had curly red hair, but her mother's beautiful green eyes. "You're a pretty little girl."

Nichole dimpled. "I know. Mommy told me."

Kyle grinned.

"There you are," a voice said. "I'd wondered where you'd run off to. I told you not to bother Mr. Haynes."
Sandy
stood at the end of his driveway. Like her children she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Unlike his noncommittal response to their clothes, he found her outfit intriguing. Her red shorts exposed long tanned legs. Her round hips drew his eye toward her waist, then up to her breasts. She wasn't overly curvy, she was … just right.

He stood up slowly. "I'd rather they call me Kyle, and they weren't bothering me. I heard about the truck."

She wouldn't—or couldn't—meet his gaze. "Yes, well, I just got off the phone with the moving company. The truck will be here Monday for sure."

"But
it's
Friday," he said. "What will you do until then?"

"Stay at the motel where we've been staying. The kids don't mind. It has a pool."

"By the time we get back there, we're too tired to go swimming," Lindsay grumbled.

Her mother shot her a warning look. "The extra time will give us a chance to finish the house."

Lindsay groaned.

"How's that coming?"

She stared at his car,
then
at the ground, finally her gaze landed on his knees and settled there. Kyle wanted to believe she was having trouble looking at him because he was wearing cutoffs and nothing else. He wanted to believe the sight of his bare chest and legs left her speechless. He wanted to believe he would one day win the
California
lottery. Right now they seemed equally likely.

"Fine,"
Sandy
said shortly. "Just fine. We're cleaning and soon we'll start painting."

"We're never going to finish," Lindsay said.

"Nonsense. I've come up with a new plan. It will allow us to work more efficiently."

"Mo-om." Lindsay planted her hands on her hips. At that moment, she looked exactly like her mother. "We're kids, not slaves."

"And just an hour ago, you were trying to convince me you're all grown up. You'll have to pick one,
Lindsay,
you can't have it both ways."

Kyle opened his mouth to offer his help,
then
thought better of it. He didn't want to give
Sandy
another chance to shoot him down.

Sandy
glanced at his car, then at him. "We'd better let you get back to work. Have fun. Come along, children."

She took Nichole's hand and started down the driveway. Lindsay followed slowly. Only Blake hesitated. He stared at the car for a moment.

"Do you like Camaros?" Kyle asked, suddenly curious about the quietest member of the
Walker
family.

Blake nodded. "Does it go fast?"

"Pretty fast." He grinned. "I'm a deputy in town, so it's not right for me to break the law. I keep her at fifty-five."

"Blake, come on, honey,"
Sandy
called.

"Maybe you and I could go for a drive someday," Kyle offered.

Blake stared up at him, nodded,
then
ran off to join his mother.

As Kyle picked up the chamois, he watched Sandy and her kids enter the big house. He remembered how dirty it had been. Yesterday, the exterminator had come by to drop off his traps, so the mouse problem was being handled. Still, there was the whole upstairs that Lindsay said they hadn't even started on. And painting. How would they get that done?

He wiped off the roof of the car. Maybe he shouldn't offer to help. Maybe he should just take care of it. She would hate that. Of course, if he didn't give her a chance to refuse, she would have to hate it silently.

He looked at the oversize home again, then tossed the chamois down and went inside his house. He knew exactly how to take care of
Sandy
's problem. He had brothers, and they all owed him.

Chapter 3

«
^
»

I
t was like being descended upon by locusts. Tall, handsome,
male
locusts. There were only three of them, but that was enough.

Sandy
stood at her front door Friday afternoon and stared at the men in front of her.

"We're here to help," Kyle said.

"But I don't—"

He pushed past her into the house. "Sure you do. Be polite, say thank-you,
then
show us what needs to be done. We're not going away."

Lindsay came running down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she stared at the three men. "Wow."

Yeah,
wow,
Sandy
echoed silently. There was enough testosterone in the room to float a football team.

"She's speechless," the tallest of the men said. They all had dark hair, but this one had cool gray eyes and was wearing a gold earring.

"
Sandy
?" Kyle said, coming up and putting his arm around her. "Not her. She's just mentally organizing her next attack.
Sandy
always has a plan."

She usually had a plan, she admitted to herself. She just didn't have one right at this minute. Besides, how was she supposed to think when Kyle was standing so close? She told herself she should pull away, but her legs weren't listening. It had been bad enough when she'd walked over to his place that morning. He'd been wearing shorts and nothing else. Just the thought of his bare chest was enough to make her hyperventilate.

"Maybe you should introduce us," the third man said. He was obviously one of Kyle's brothers, but
Sandy
couldn't remember which one. He had the same dark hair and warm brown eyes. He was handsome as sin. They all were.

"Good idea," Kyle said. "This is Lindsay." He pointed to the preteen still standing on the bottom stair, gaping at them. "And this is
Sandy
."

Kyle's brother waved at her daughter,
then
nodded at her. "Hi,
Sandy
. I'm Travis. The second oldest of the Haynes brothers. You dated Jordan, right?"

She shook the hand he offered and grinned. "I'm amazed you could keep any of us straight," she said. "Girls came and went through your lives with the speed of light."

Travis chuckled. "Maybe, but a few were memorable."

Sandy
felt herself blush at the compliment.

The man with the earring moved toward her. "I'm Austin Lucas." His gray gaze met hers. He was almost as handsome as Kyle, but there was something dark about him. Dangerous. She noticed a ring on his left hand and wondered who'd been brave enough to tame this man.

"Hey, enough of that," Kyle said, stepping between them. "You're
married,
she's not interested, let's get to work."

"I picked up the paint you ordered from the hardware store," Travis said, stepping out onto the porch.

"We've brought a decent ladder, too,"
Austin
told her.

Sandy
barely heard them. She couldn't seem to notice anything, not even when Blake and Nichole rushed into the room to see what was going on. All she could do was stare at Kyle, at his dark brown eyes and that lock of curly hair that fell over his forehead. He'd almost sounded…

She shook her head and told herself to quit being silly. He hadn't sounded anything. It wasn't possible. A man like Kyle wouldn't be interested in a woman like her. And even if
he
was,
she
wasn't. She wanted a mature, responsible man, not a handsome hunk who probably had women lined up for miles. None of which explained why Kyle had ended the conversation between herself and the other man. Or why he'd specifically told her that
Austin
was married. Kyle wasn't jealous. Was he?

It was a dangerous train of thought. Mostly because her heart hadn't recovered from its earlier aerobic workout when she'd gone to find her children and had also found Kyle practically naked.

His chest had been as big and broad as that tank shirt had promised three days ago when she and her kids had arrived. His tan went clear to the waistband of his shorts, and probably
lower
. The sprinkling of dark hair, the faint outline of impossibly firm muscles and the heat radiating from him had made her palms itch to press against him. She'd wanted to touch and taste and—