Raeanne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One. RaeAnne Thayne

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      “I got him, Mom,” Owen said, pushing his chair away from the table.

      “Thanks,” she answered.

      Owen opened the door for the dog, then returned to the table to clear away his plate, which seemed to be the signal for everyone that dinner was finished.

      “I guess we better clean this up,” Macy said. She stood and began to help Owen. When Claire started to rise, Riley froze her with a death glare.

      “If you try to clear a single dish, I’ll be forced to handcuff you to the chair. Don’t think I won’t,” he said, his voice stern.

      Both Owen and Macy apparently thought that was hilarious. Claire wasn’t nearly as amused as she was forced to sit idle and watch Riley and the kids joke around as they scraped dishes, packaged leftovers and loaded the dishwasher.

      Riley was drying a pan with one of the pretty embroidered dishcloths when he took a careful look out the window above the sink. Was Chester digging up her flowers again, as he sometimes did when a particular capricious mood struck?

      “Looks like you’ve lost some shingles from your shed, probably from all the wind and rain we’ve had.”

      She frowned. “I hadn’t noticed.” Usually when she was at an angle where she had a vantage point over the window above the kitchen sink, she was focusing on staying upright on the crutches and not on the shingles of her shed roof. “Have many blown off?”

      “I can’t tell for sure. It’s too dark, but I can see a couple missing in the porch light.”

      “Oh, dear.” Just one more thing she had to add to her fix-it list.

      “It shouldn’t take long to fix. I bet Owen and I could take care of it in an hour. Don’t you think, dude?”

      “Maybe even a half hour,” said her son, who never met a competition he didn’t try to conquer.

      Claire didn’t know what to think. What game was Riley playing? She dearly wished she had some idea of the rules so that she didn’t feel as if she were floundering completely in foreign seas.

      Why did he seem to feel so compelled to help her every time she turned around? Why would he want to give up an hour of his life to fix the roof on her garden shed? Even as the cautious grown-up tried to figure it out, the silly junior high girl inside her squealed and did a happy little dance.

      “I’m going to go work on my homework,” Macy announced, bored with talk of shingles.

      “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

      “It’s algebra.”

      “Okay.”

      “You’re worse at algebra than I am, Mom.”

      True enough. “Between the two of us, we usually figure it out.”

      Macy shrugged and headed from the room, Chester, whom Owen had let in a few minutes earlier, following behind. The reminder of her maternal responsibilities was exactly what she needed right then to give the mature grown-up the advantage and send the giddy girl to her room where she belonged.

      “Thank you for the offer to fix the roof,” she said to Riley when Macy left. “But you really don’t have to do that. I told you I have a handyman. Handy Andy Harris. Do you know him? His family moved here about five or six years ago.”

      “Don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

      “He’s a nice guy. His wife comes into the store quite a bit.”

      “So you pay him to fix things, then she comes in and spends the money on beads?”

      She managed a smile at his baffled expression. “More or less. That’s how it works in a small town.”

      “Well, while I don’t want to take work away from Handy Andy—or beads away from his wife, for that matter—this is a simple job. Seriously. It wouldn’t take long at all and I was planning on fixing the bike anyway. Two birds, right? Consider it my way to repay you for the spaghetti.”

      Claire sighed. She knew that tone. He was going to be stubborn about it. A stubborn Riley McKnight was as immovable as Woodrose Mountain.

      She could be stubborn, too, and she really hated being on the receiving end of help. But arguing was only going to prolong the inevitable. She needed her shed roof fixed, Riley wanted to do it and she had no real logical reason to refuse.

      “I can come over right after school. We can fix the bike first and then take care of the roof. That work for you, kid?”

      “Cool!” Owen looked as excited as if Riley were offering a trip to Disneyland. Even though Jeff was good to take him snowboarding and skiing, her ex-husband wasn’t a handyman sort of guy and Owen enjoyed working with his hands. He’d been begging her for a year to let him build a tree house in one of the mature maples on their lot.

      “Can I go play on the computer?” Owen asked.

      “Yes,” she answered. “Set the timer for half an hour, then we need to do your reading.”

      “You don’t fight fair,” she muttered to Riley after he left.

      “When have you ever known me to?”

      She rolled her eyes. “Why are you so stubborn about this? I can handle my home repairs on my own. What I can’t do myself, I can hire out. I’ve been coping by myself for two years. Longer, really, because I’ve always been the one to coordinate these kind of repairs.”

      Jeff had always been too busy with school and his residency and starting his practice, so the pesky details of day-to-day survival had fallen to her.

      “Then it’s about time someone else stepped in to take a little of that load off your shoulders.”

      “Why does that someone have to be you, Riley?” she asked, exasperated.

      He didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, his tone was solemn. “If not for me, you’d be up and around and handling your own life with your usual terrifying efficiency.”

      She stared at him as all the pieces clicked into place. “Are you still hung up on that? I told you, you’re not responsible for that accident.”

      His jaw tightened but he said nothing.

      “That’s what this is about,” she said. “All of it. Why you think you have to help me with my shed roof, why you’re fixing Owen’s bike, why you picked up my branches the other day. You think you owe me something because of the accident. Because you feel responsible.”

      He gave her a cool look. “Of course not,” he drawled, even though she could see her words had struck home. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Claire? I’m a guy. I just want to sleep with you.”

      The air suddenly thickened with tension, currents seething in the air like the swirls and rivulets of melting snow running fast and high in Sweet Laurel Creek.

      She had a wild image СКАЧАТЬ