“I’m going inside our new home. Why don’t you come and look around?” she invited with a sweeping gesture.
To her surprise and delight, he opened the door of the pickup she’d bought for the move and unfolded his gangly body from the cab. If he walked any more slowly, he wouldn’t be moving at all, but she hid her irritation beneath a veneer of patience as she waited for him to cross the yard. He’d shot up this year and the girls back home had started to notice him, one more reason he resented the move.
When he finally joined Emily, their gazes were level, even though she was standing three steps above him. “It’s your new home,” he replied, his attractive features distorted by his hostility. “I’m moving back to Brentwood with Dad.”
Dismay pricked Emily’s balloon of happiness. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away. Letting her hand drop to her side, she bit her lip and debated breaking the news that his father didn’t want him. Stuart had a new family now, a wife who was much younger than Emily and a baby conceived before his separation from her. True to form, Stuart had allowed David to believe that Emily’s vindictiveness was the reason he couldn’t live with his father in his sprawling new showplace, that the court had sided with her, and that Stuart’s hands were tied.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Emily said now, silently calling herself a coward for postponing the inevitable as she juggled the groceries and unlocked the solid front door. It opened directly into the living room, which was minuscule by the standards they were both accustomed to, but was perfectly adequate for the two of them. On one wall was a lovely fireplace built by the former owner with rocks he’d hauled from the surrounding land.
Ignoring David’s derisive snort, Emily crossed the wood floor and went through an archway to the cozy dining room. Two big windows trimmed with leaded glass faced east, framing a view of rolling pasture that stretched out like a shaggy gold and green carpet as far as she could see. Twenty acres of that pasture was hers.
Emily tore her gaze from the view and continued to the kitchen. The appliances were outdated, though functional, and would eventually have to be replaced, but the oak cupboards, lovingly handcrafted and polished to a satiny gleam, were as appealing as the first time she’d seen them. Setting down the bag of groceries, she stowed the perishables in the refrigerator.
“Where’s my room?” David demanded from behind her. “Or do we have to share, like last night?”
The town’s one motel had been booked nearly full with attendees of some local livestock auction, an event that hadn’t escaped David’s contempt, and they’d been fortunate to get a room at all.
Emily ignored his sarcasm, but his attitude was eating at her patience and spoiling her pride of ownership. “You have your own room,” she replied with forced cheerfulness. “You’re way too messy for us to be permanent roommates.”
Before he could say anything more, she brushed past him, leading the way back through the dining room to a short hallway. As well as three adequate bedrooms, the house had, astonishingly, two bathrooms, one adjoining the master bedroom. She paused in the doorway of the other one.
“This is yours,” she said, gesturing, “but you’ll have to keep it picked up, because company will be using it, too.” Their home in Brentwood had included a private bathroom off each of its five bedrooms, as well as two powder rooms on the main floor, one bigger than the kitchen in this house.
There was no point in looking back. The past was behind them and the future was hers to determine without asking anyone else’s permission.
“Like we’ll have any company here,” David complained. “We don’t know a soul in the whole damn state.”
“I’ll let that one go,” Emily replied, hanging tight to her temper, “but any more bad language and your bike stays parked for a week. If you want to ride the bus to school, keep it up.”
“Aw, geez!”
“You know the rules,” she continued, ignoring his outburst. “I understand how difficult this has been for you, but it’s no picnic for me, either.”
“The he-eck it isn’t,” he burst out. “You can work anywhere, but my life and my friends are a thousand miles away!”
“So’s the hood who could have killed you!” Emily said without thinking. The boys who’d shot at David while he was jogging before school had never been apprehended. Her son had steadfastly claimed not to have recognized them, nor could he remember anything about their car.
Now his jaw clenched as she touched his arm fleetingly. Flogging him with constant reminders of the incident would get them nowhere. “You’ll make friends at your new school,” she promised, hoping his appearance wouldn’t set him apart from the local kids. “Now let’s look at the rest of the house before the truck gets here with our stuff.”
For a long moment he returned her pleading stare with an obstinate one of his own. Then he ducked his head, giving her a glimpse of the bewildered child behind the defiant rebel, and stepped aside. Emily pushed open the door to the room directly across from the bathroom.
“This is yours.” She let him go in first, knowing how different it was from his former retreat with its custom entertainment center, computer desk and small refrigerator. He stood in the middle of the floor with his shoulders hunched, but at least he looked around. The corner room had windows on two walls. The third held an ample closet and a built-in bed frame with drawers underneath.
David glanced at Emily and shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”
Not surprised, she nodded and quickly showed him the remaining two rooms. Her bedroom would be the one with the adjoining bath that she’d been surprised an old bachelor would bother with, and the other would serve as her office. She planned to turn one of the nearby outbuildings into her studio.
Trained by a respected old master back in L.A., Emily restored rare books. While living in California, she had developed a large client base and she now turned down more commissions than she accepted. Her income, though not on a par with that of her ex-husband, was sufficient to maintain herself and her son comfortably. The only money she accepted from Stuart was the court-ordered child support payments that went directly into David’s college fund.
Before she could think of anything else to say about the house, a rumble from outside alerted her to the arrival of the moving truck. Emily was relieved it was on schedule. Once the unloading was done, she and David would have plenty to keep them busy. With the first show of real interest since they’d crossed the California state line, he hurried past her toward the front door.
“Adam, it’s just dinner. Denise Sparks seems like a nice woman. C’mon, give her a chance.”
Travis Winchester’s voice was as irritating as the whine of a mosquito, and his older brother, Adam, ignored it as he stalked past the feed store cash register to the exit. Adam had enough on his mind without dodging Travis’s clumsy matchmaking attempts.
Head down, cheeks burning, Adam pretended not to notice the cashier’s smirk or the curious glances from several other customers who had overheard Travis’s plea. Adam would have liked to wring his brother’s neck. Ever since Travis had married his mail-order bride, he’d been determined to see Adam get hitched, as well.
Dammit, why wouldn’t anyone listen when Adam told them he tried never to make the same mistake twice? Except for his daughter, Kim, his marriage had been a huge blunder he had no intention of repeating.
Tugging down the brim of his hat, Adam yanked open the front door of the feed store, bent on escape from Travis’s nagging. The bell jangled, and he barely had time to register a pair of startled brown eyes before a woman who’d been pushing the door open from the other direction stumbled forward.
She yelped in surprise as one of her flailing hands knocked his hat off and the other jabbed his ribs. He grabbed her arms, struggling to keep his balance as she fell against him, but their feet got tangled, and they both