So it was a cheap shot. Rainy had no remorse.
Nate leaned back in his chair, hands dropping into his lap as he stared at her with exasperation. “You don’t give up, do you?”
A tiny smile tickled Rainy’s lips. “Never. Not when it comes to my foster kids.”
This time, she was the one who leaned forward, pressing, determined as a terrier, her voice dropping low so the children didn’t hear. “You met my kids, Nate, but you have no idea what they’ve lived through. They’re survivors, but they carry scars. Will is too serious and considers the other children his responsibility. Joshua is my encourager, but he shivers and shakes at the first sign of conflict. Emma’s charm can be manipulative. And Katie, poor little Katie—” She choked, tears filling her throat. She had not intended to go this far.
The cowboy across from her raised both hands in surrender. “Okay. They can come.”
Rainy pressed back against the hard, wooden chair and drew in a deep, relaxing breath. Thoughts of what these children had suffered and witnessed always tore her apart.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get teary on you.”
“No big deal.”
But she could see it was. Her handyman was ready to cut and run like a wild horse. Better grab the opportunity while it was knocking. Besides, one trip to the ranch would be a nice start, but she really had something more in mind. “How about tomorrow after church?”
He flinched. “So soon?”
“The weather is supposed to be decent tomorrow. And the kids will go wild with excitement. I promise to keep a tight rein on them. They’re good kids.” When he lifted a doubtful brow, she rushed on, “Really. I promise. Great kids. What do you say?”
Before he could answer, Katie’s scream ripped through the air. Rainy pushed back from the table to see what was amiss this time.
“Great kids, huh?” Nate said without a bit of humor. “You could sell that scream to Hollywood.”
Rainy chuckled anyway. “I know. Pure, high and bloodcurdling. And most of the time, she’s screaming about nothing.” The scream, however, was Katie’s way to communicate. “Katie has some issues we’re working through, but today the scream might indicate another episode of throwing up. I’ll have to check.”
Nate got that helpless, eager-to-escape expression again. Well, who could blame the poor guy? No one—not even Rainy—liked dealing with a stomach virus.
As she pushed out of the chair, Will came into the kitchen. “Katie’s all right. She’s mad because I gave one of the babies a stuffed animal.”
“No throw up?” she asked.
“No.” The boy’s serious eyes glanced at the cookies.
“Want one?” Nate offered the plate and then thought to ask Rainy, “Is it okay if he has one? He helped me out back there with the hose. Good worker.”
Will took the cookie before she could reply, although she would have said yes anyway. “Joshy and Emma got scared. They’re hiding in the closet again.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a cop coming up the sidewalk.”
Nate watched as Rainy Jernagen’s face alternately paled and then flushed, a hot-pink color flaring on delicate cheekbones.
“Are we in trouble?” Will asked, his face alive with worry.
Rainy placed a hand on the boy’s narrow shoulder, and in a soft, calm voice asked, “Have we done anything to be in trouble?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then we have nothing to fear from the police.” She dipped her head low, making eye contact. “They’re our friends, remember?”
From the way the boy’s eyes shifted away, Nate figured he didn’t buy that. Negative experience must have left a scar.
“Anything I can do to help?” he heard himself asking, though in reality, he’d had about all of the Jernagen house he wanted for one day. He was baffled as to why he wasn’t escaping out through the garage.
On second thought, the police wouldn’t look kindly on a male slithering out the back way while they stood on the front porch.
Rainy lifted blue-gray eyes to his, and he knew why he hadn’t already cut and run.
A few minutes ago, she’d gotten to him with the mere hint of tears—he was a sucker for a woman’s tears, as his sister well knew. And Rainy was kind and gentle and patient with the children, even though she was obviously running on adrenaline and little sleep. She was cute, too, now that her hair was brushed and she didn’t look like a troll doll about to explode with stress. If he was truthful, she’d been cute all along, though he’d not wanted to notice.
But he was a man, and admiring a pretty, sweet woman came naturally. He couldn’t change biology.
If she didn’t have this passel of kids, he might even have asked her out.
A chill tingled his nerve endings.
If was a big, big word. He and kids didn’t mix, and Rainy’s devotion to the children was obviously more than a do-good activity to make herself feel charitable. She was passionate, with a missionary zeal.
Nate Del Rio simply did not understand the sentiment. Kids were a pain. Trouble. He knew from ugly, tenacious experience.
The doorbell played another round of hideous rock music. Rainy jumped.
She gave Will a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a gentle push. “If you’ll check on Emma and Josh, I’ll talk to the policeman first and then I’ll be right in. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”
She started into the living room, knees trembling. The nervous reaction made her almost as angry as the notion of someone intentionally frightening her kids. And she had no doubt this was the case.
Strong fingers caught her by the arm. “Why don’t I answer the door?” Nate said. “So you can take care of the little ones.”
She blinked her surprise, touched by his concern. “Thanks, but we’ve done this before. It will only take a minute.”
He dropped his hold. “The police come here often?”
“More often than I’d like,” she said grimly.
Kathy Underkircher and her hostility were wearing thin, for Rainy was certain that the woman who had decided to hate her for reasons that had nothing to do with these children had once again called the police.
“Why? You don’t seem the kind to cause trouble.”
“I’m not.” She waved him off. “It’s too complicated to explain right now.”
The doorbell screamed again and, under other circumstances, Nate’s flinch would have made Rainy laugh. The awful music had that effect on everyone.
“What is with the musical doorbell?” he asked.
“My brother installed it. His idea of a joke.” She pushed a stray lock of hair behind one ear and said a little prayer as she gazed around the living room. The place looked better, if not perfect. But who expected perfect with children?
“Not your kind of music?”
“What?” she asked. “Oh, the bell. Despise it. Don’t know how to dismantle it.” She reached for the doorknob as the raucous tune restarted. Through gritted teeth, she said, “If that thing wakes the babies, I’ll take a hammer to it.”
Behind her Nate chuckled. “Sounds like a handyman job to me.”
It occurred to her then that he was still here. By now the handsome cowboy—the handsome single cowboy—would