“Too bad.” The girl sighed. “That would have been fun.” They both sat and did nothing for a few minutes. “Does your boom box work?”
“Of course.”
“Do you have any decent music?”
“What do you think is decent?”
“Canned Tin?”
Grace couldn’t help releasing a smile of relief. “Have you heard their latest CD? It’s awesome.”
“I know. And my dad won’t get me the disk—he says it’s not good music.”
“Your dad’s crazy out of his mind.” She expected to be slapped for the words.
But the girl smiled again—a real smile, this time. “I know.”
DIXON AND ADAM got the doors hung around midafternoon, and shared a glass of iced tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies with Valerie and the kids before going back to their own families. Then Rob went to work on the locks.
After only a few minutes, he felt eyes boring into the back of his head. A glance to the rear showed Connor standing behind him. “Hey. Want to watch?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Rob turned back to his work, but the sensation of being observed didn’t go away. “Since the other door was about twenty years old,” he said conversationally, “the lock hole on a new door wouldn’t have been in the right place. So we got a door without a pre-drilled hole and I’m gonna make one that matches the old door.” He picked up his router and set the point on the door. “This’ll be loud.” The high-pitched roar of the tool took over for a few minutes.
With the hole drilled, Rob popped out the plug of wood. “That’s all there is to it.” He set the plug to his side and a little behind him, where a small hand promptly snatched it up. “Now I need another, smaller hole for the tongue to go through.”
Step by step, he talked his way through the dead-bolt installation, without ever seeing Connor face-to-face. “All that’s left is to tighten these screws.” He suited actions to words, then stepped back. “Now there’s a good strong bolt on this door, at least.” With the door shut, he locked both the dead bolt and the knob. “I bet nobody’s gonna get that door open without a key any time soon.” Gathering up his tools, he headed for the kitchen without a glance around.
But he paused in the dining room and grinned as he heard the distinct sound of a little boy rattling a doorknob.
By dinnertime, both the front and back doors of the Manion house boasted state-of-the art brass doorknobs, plus heavy-duty dead bolts.
“That’s a start.” Rob surveyed the finished back door from inside the kitchen. “No junkie’s gonna get through steel and brass before the cops get here.”
“Fantastic.” Valerie stood beside him, her dark, curly hair barely level with his shoulder. “I miss the windows in the door, though. I liked looking out onto the backyard while the kids played.”
“You still can—that’s why we’ve got the storm door, here.” He reached around her shoulder to open the inner panel. “When you’re home, you can leave the door open and look through the glass. Come nighttime, or when you’re away, this thick metal door will keep you safe.”
He followed Valerie out onto the deck, where Ginny sat with a book. Connor and Grace were climbing on the play set in the shade underneath a grove of pines, but Rob didn’t like Ginny using a swing unless he was nearby.
“What I really need is a security system, with all the doors and windows wired.” Valerie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, though the evening was far from cool. “My last two houses had one. Does your company install alarms?”
Rob blew out a deep, frustrated breath. Another potential sale he had to turn down. “No, we don’t. I can send you to a couple of good companies up in Raleigh. But there’s nobody local who installs and monitors alarms yet. I’m pushing my dad, but…” He shrugged. “Mike’s a little set in his ways.”
Valerie looked at him curiously. “Do you like working with your family?”
“Has its ups and downs.” Mostly downs, lately.
“I know I couldn’t work with my dad. He still can’t believe I actually read the financial pages and run whole departments in big companies. And whenever we go home, he tries to tell me how to parent my kids.” She made a wry face. “I don’t go home very often.”
“The grandparents think they know best, don’t they?”
“Of course. And it’s worse since the divorce. He’s sure I don’t know what I’m doing with Connor.” It was her turn to sigh. “Unfortunately, half the time I think he’s right.”
“Don’t give up yet. I imagine it’s hard on a kid, losing his dad. Does he get to see your ex often?”
She turned away to fiddle with the leaf of a potted plant. “No. Con Sr. doesn’t do kids anymore.”
Rob had a word for men like that, but he kept it to himself. The sun had dropped behind the treetops, leaving the deck and the entire backyard in shadow. Valerie lifted a hand to the nape of her neck and massaged the muscles there. He knew she had a headache, from the tiny line between her brows.
“You must be tired,” he said. “I doubt you got much sleep last night.”
“None.” She looked up, smiling. “But tonight I can sleep safe behind my strong new doors.”
That smile was a killer—sweet and saucy, with the dimple, and yet a little shy. He got hit by the strangest need to trace the shape of her mouth with his fingertip. Or to sample the taste of a kiss.
In his head, bells clanged and a siren screamed. Rob backed all the way to the rail of the deck. “I…think Ginny and I had better be getting home. Leave y’all in peace.” Even an argument with his daughter would be preferable to the wild ideas currently racing through his brain. “Ginny, time to go.”
“I really appreciate all you’ve done.” Valerie followed as he wrangled a protesting Ginny to the front door. “I expect a bill for your time and all the materials.”
“You’ll get one,” he promised. “Or my dad’ll be on my back.” He reached the car without further temptation. “’Night,” he said, as Valerie stood by his open window. He pressed the brake and shifted gears, almost escaped.
Then she placed her hand on the door—a capable hand, with well-tended nails and soft-looking skin. “Rob, we need to get together to talk about the first GO! meeting. I’ve got a general plan, but I want you to contribute. When are you free?”
He’d forgotten GO!. “Anytime,” he said, relaxing in the seat, accepting his fate.
“How’s tomorrow afternoon? Around two?”
“Fine. Shall I come here?”
“That’s good.”
“Okay, then. Y’all have a peaceful night.” He couldn’t help adding, “And call me if you need help this time.”
“Sure.” That reassuring smile meant Not a chance.
“Promise.” He glared at her. “Let me hear you say it.”
Valerie put her hand over her heart. “Okay. I promise.”
Rob nodded. “Right.” She stepped back and he made his getaway. Only for a brief reprieve, though. Tomorrow, he would come back…to a woman who inspired ideas he hadn’t allowed inside his brain for years.
Maybe by tomorrow, he’d have recovered from this temporary insanity. Tomorrow, she’d look like every other woman he’d met in the last eight years. Nice. Ordinary.