“You don’t have to go to all that trouble. Just write a check to Premier Body Shop and I’ll give it to them.”
Shane’s gaze riveted to hers. “If that’s the way you want it.” He removed his checkbook and quickly wrote a check for her.
Beneath her brave front, he glimpsed vulnerability in Whitney that he doubted she knew she projected. But he’d seen it in a lot of the children he’d worked with over the years. What had put it there for Whitney?
He looked toward his son, rolling the ball around the floor in the corner. He had enough problems raising a child with autism. Since his wife had died five years ago, his hands had been full just making it through each day as a single dad. He certainly didn’t need to become involved with anyone.
But there was something in her brown eyes that haunted him, even invading his dreams at night.
Saturday morning, Whitney dragged herself to the kitchen to make coffee and grab something to eat before she tackled packing the boxes to move. While the coffee brewed, she hurriedly dressed in navy blue shorts and a red T-shirt and was back in time to pour a huge mug of the hot liquid, its aroma spicing the air.
As she sat at the table and ate her bowl of cereal, she looked around at the mess she’d created the night before in preparation for her move this weekend. Her gaze lit upon a yellow pillow that graced the sofa, and she immediately thought about Jason. He hadn’t attended school either Thursday or Friday. She’d almost called Shane on Friday to see if his son was all right. She’d even dialed halfway through the phone number before she’d slammed down the receiver, determined not to intrude.
Finally yesterday afternoon she’d asked Mrs. Bradley if she knew why Jason wasn’t at school. She’d said that he had come for about fifteen minutes the day before with his father and thirty that morning to acquaint himself more with the classroom. But he left when Dr. McCoy did. Disappointment had spread over Whitney as she’d gone back to the classroom she’d been assigned to assist in.
She wanted Jason’s school experience to work. That was the only reason she’d been disappointed the day before. Taking a long sip of her coffee, she shut down her thoughts about Shane and his son. Getting involved with them wasn’t a smart move. She already had too much on her plate—starting with packing.
A few minutes later as she emptied another drawer of her possessions, someone knocked at her door. She was trying to decide which member of the family was going to tell her all the reasons she shouldn’t move.
When she swung the door open, she was surprised that every member of Noah’s family, except the baby, stood outside the guesthouse. “I don’t want anyone of you to say another word about my move. If that’s why you came en masse, turn around and leave. I’ve got too much to do to listen.”
Noah grinned. “We’re here to help you. I’ve got Peter and Jacob coming to help with moving the pieces of furniture. They’re bringing a van. And Jacob’s wife is watching the baby so we’re all free to help all day.”
Free all day! The gesture touched Whitney but at the same time overwhelmed her—as usual. “But the furniture is yours. Zoey has a few pieces in the apartment, and I was going to buy some when I save up enough money.”
“Nope,” Cara said as she came forward, “we decided to redecorate the guesthouse. This won’t fit with the new scheme.” She waved her hand at the surroundings.
“No, this is yours.”
Lindsay gasped at Whitney’s fierce tone. Rusty’s eyes widened as Whitney faced her brother.
“Guys, let’s start in the bedroom with packing,” Cara said, gathering the four children and pushing them toward the back of the guesthouse.
When the room was cleared of everyone but Noah and Whitney, he released a long breath and frowned. “Haven’t you figured out what’s mine is yours? You are my family. I don’t need this furniture. You do. Why spend money on something I can give you?”
She narrowed her eyes on her brother. “Because I don’t want your handouts. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m going to do this on my own.”
“Cara taught me that you don’t have to go through life alone, that it’s okay to need others.”
“That’s you, not me.”
He glared at her for a long moment. “Can we compromise on this? You use the furniture until you can replace it with your own, then you can give the pieces to charity. Okay?”
There was that word compromise again. In his eyes she saw the need for her to say yes. Noah did too much for her, but she’d found out from Cara not long after she’d come to town that it was important to her brother to help his little sister. That was part of the reason she’d stayed longer than she had intended. Noah’s guilt over not being able to find her for years still ate at him. He’d felt it was his fault her childhood had been rough, that he hadn’t been able to protect her.
“Fine, but just until I can buy my own.”
The huge smile that spread over her brother’s features told her she had made the right decision. Okay, as much as she didn’t want to compromise anymore in her life, she had to be realistic. There would be a few occasions when she would have to. But she would control when and what.
That evening in her new apartment, surrounded by chaos, she sat among the unopened boxes and knew she would have a lot to do tomorrow. She’d refused Noah’s offer to bring her something to eat because she’d craved some quiet time after being among the whole family plus a few friends. Although they’d wanted to help her put some of her items away, she needed to do that personally.
Exhausted as she was, maybe she should have accepted the assistance. But she had a hard time letting others do things for her. She always expected them to have their hand out for something in return. Although Noah’s family hadn’t done that, old habits were hard to break.
When someone rapped on her front door, she jumped, her gaze swinging toward it. With a quick peek at her watch noting the still early time, she strode toward the entrance. Must be Zoey. But when she checked the peephole, the fading sunlight, as it headed toward the western horizon, illuminated Shane McCoy.
Chapter Three
Whitney automatically glanced down at her wrinkled attire, dirty from moving all day, and frowned. When she found herself finger-combing her hair, her anger rose. Why did she care how she looked? She looked like a person who had been working hard.
She wrenched the door open, ready to tell Shane she was too tired for company. The instant she saw his smiling face, then Jason next to him, both holding containers of what appeared to have food in them, the words fled her mind. Even covered, the aroma wafting from the dishes made her stomach rumble.
“We saw Noah leaving while Jason and I were going for our bike ride. He said you moved in today and grumbled something about you didn’t have much food yet, so how did you think you were going to eat tonight? So here we are with your dinner. Aunt Louise always makes too much for just us to eat.” Shane held up his casserole dish. “It’s pot roast with vegetables. And Jason has a salad. If you aren’t hungry right now, it can hold until tomorrow.”
At that moment her stomach growled. “I guess that’s your answer. I’m hungry. Come in, you two.”
“I don’t want to impose. I just wanted to bring by a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”
Jason finally peered up at her, his gaze lighting up when it encountered her hair, which she’d taken down from her ponytail a while ago. “Pretty.” Moving into the apartment, he touched the strands that had fallen forward over her shoulder.
“Well, I guess we’ll come in.” Shane crossed the threshold, taking the container from his son. “Where do you want these?”
“Kitchen.”