Secret Baby Santos. Barbara McCauley

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СКАЧАТЬ Nick could only imagine he’d be tall as a doorway by the time he was sixteen.

      So little Maggie Smith had a kid. How ’bout that.

      He watched her kneel beside her son, saw the struggle on her face to remain stern. “Hugs shouldn’t hurt, sweetheart. You have to be more careful.”

      The child nodded, then glanced up. His dark eyes turned wary at the sight of a stranger, but he didn’t look away or step back.

      Maggie stood stiffly behind her son, her hands on his shoulders as she faced Nick. “Drew...” She hesitated, then pulled in a breath and continued, “This is Nick Santos. Nick, this is my son, Drew.”

      Nick stuck out his hand, which the child promptly accepted. Nice grip, Nick thought. “How’s it going, Drew?”

      “You drive a truck?” the boy asked.

      Did everyone in this family answer a question with a question? Nick wondered. “Yes, but mostly I ride a motorcycle.”

      “Motorcycles are cool,” Drew said with all the authority of a child, “but I want to drive a truck when I grow up.”

      “Maybe we can go for a ride sometime, if your mom says it’s okay.”

      “Really?” Drew’s eyes brightened. “On the motorcycle or the truck?”

      “Either. Both.”

      “Wow. Really? Can I, Mom?”

      Maggie had been vigorously shaking her head, but she went still when Drew looked up hopefully at her.

      “I don’t think so, honey. You’re not big enough for motorcycles yet.”

      “I’m almost five,” Drew complained. “Tommy Fuscoe rides on his daddy’s motorcycle all the time, and he’s littler than me.”

      “You’re not Tommy Fuscoe,” Maggie said firmly. “But we’ll see.”

      A definite no, Nick realized. But with the two of them working on her, Nick was confident they’d change her mind...one of several things he intended to change her mind on.

      “Wanna see my bike?” Drew looked at Nick. “My grandpa got it for me just to have here. Didn’t you, Grandpa?”

      “Needs new tires,” Boyd mumbled with a flip of his newspaper.

      “C’mon.” The youngster sprinted through the front door. “It’s in the garage.”

      “After you.” Nick swept his hand out and Maggie moved past him, though she was careful not to brush against him. But the warmth of her body where she’d been thrust against him only a few moments ago still lingered on him, and he was anxious to feel that warmth again.

      And next time she fell into his arms, he intended that they be alone.

      He caught her arm on the porch, took it as a good sign when she didn’t immediately pull away. “Cute kid,” he said, wanting a moment alone with her now. “He must look like his father.”

      She shrugged, then glanced in the direction her son had run, but not before Nick caught the flicker of pain in her eyes. Damn, he thought. She must still be hung up on the guy.

      “You see him much?”

      Frowning, she looked back at him. “See who?”

      “Drew’s father. Your ex.”

      “Oh.” She shook her head. “He lives in Vancouver.”

      He thought of his own father, a man he never knew, then thought of the stepfather he wished he’d never known, and felt an instant kinship with Maggie’s son. “That must be hard on Drew.”

      “He was only a year old when we divorced. He doesn’t remember him.” She jammed her hands into her pockets and sighed. “Look, Nick, I appreciate you stopping by, but I really would rather—”

      Drew’s scream stopped her, and she was off the porch running toward the garage in a space of a heartbeat. Nick took the porch steps in one jump and was rounding the side of the house when he heard the sound of a child’s sobs from inside the garage.

      He found mother and son kneeling beside the bumper of a white compact. Crushed under the right front tire was the back wheel of a child’s bicycle.

      “You broke it,” Drew cried. “You broke my bike.”

      “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Maggie looked up at Nick, her face stricken. “I...I didn’t see it.”

      Nick moved around to the passenger door, put the car in neutral and pushed it backward. Metal creaked as the car’s tire rolled off the bike.

      Tears streamed down Drew’s face as he reached for the handlebars and attempted to stand the twisted bike up. “I’ll never ride it now,” he railed.

      “I’ll get you another bike, sweetie.” Maggie reached out to touch her son’s shoulder, but he shrugged away from her.

      “I don’t want another bike. This was the best one, and Grandpa gave it to me.”

      Nick studied the bike and without thinking, said, “I’ll fix it.”

      Drew stopped crying, and both mother and son looked up at him. Good grief, Nick thought. Where had that come from? He’d never fixed a kid’s bike in his life.

      “You will?” Drew swiped at the tears on his cheeks.

      The shop was backed up with two weeks of work, he had a mountain of paperwork to do, but what the hell? “Sure. A bicycle’s just a motorcycle without an engine, right? Can’t be much different. You can come to my shop and help me. We’ll make it good as new. Better, even.”

      “Better?” Drew’s face lit up. “And I can come help? Really? Did you hear that, Mommy? Nick says I can help. I’m gonna go tell Grandma and Grandpa.”

      In a flash of tennis shoes and blue jeans, he was gone. Her mouth open, Maggie stared after her son, then slowly turned to Nick. “This is very embarrassing. You must think I’m some kind of an idiot.”

      He smiled, leaned in close enough to see the threads of dark brown in her deep green eyes. “Come out for coffee with me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what I think of you.” He’d show her, as well, if she’d let him close enough.

      She shook her head, but not before he saw the hesitation. And something else, something wistful and sad. “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m just so busy right now. I really can’t.”

      He was trying to imagine her busy, exciting schedule. No work, home all day with her parents and an almost-five-year-old. “Can’t,” he asked carefully, “or don’t want to?”

      Her gaze was steady as she met his. “I’m sorry,” she said evenly. “I’m just not interested.”

      Well, that was certainly to the point, especially coming from such a shy, sweet girl. The words had even been spoken gently, but were still a direct СКАЧАТЬ