The MacKades Collection: The Return of Rafe MacKade / The Pride of Jared MacKade / The Heart of Devin MacKade / The Fall of Shane MacKade. Nora Roberts

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “I know all about the battle and everything,” Connor said in one quick burst. “It was the bloodiest day of the Civil War, and nobody really won, because—” He broke off, embarrassed. This, he thought miserably, was why some of the kids called him nerdhead in school.

      “Because nobody went for the final push,” Rafe finished for him. “Maybe you’d like to come by the house sometime, take a look. I could use somebody who knows all about the battle.”

      “I’ve got a book. With pictures.”

      “Yeah?” Rafe took the wine Regan offered him. “Let’s see.”

      It was simple enough to draw the boy out, as long as they were discussing McClellan’s flawed strategy or the Battle of Burnside Bridge. Rafe saw a bright, needy boy, too bookish to fit neatly with his contemporaries, too shy to showcase his own brain.

      The girl, a miniature of her mother, never strayed far from Cassie or Regan, ate her dinner in small, neat bites. And watched him like a baby hawk.

      “Ed would be better off having you in the kitchen than waiting tables,” Rafe commented after he’d polished off a second helping. “Her business would double in a month.”

      Off guard, Cassie blinked at him. No one had complimented her cooking in too many years to count. “I’m glad you liked it. I could put some of the leftovers in a dish for you. You’d just have to heat them up.”

      “I’ll take them.”

      When Cassie rose and began to clear, Regan held up a hand. “No, you don’t. You cooked, I clear.”

      “But—”

      “That was the deal. And since Rafe ate enough for two growing boys, he can help.”

      The Dolins looked on, awed, as Rafe cheerfully stacked plates. The men they knew would have belched, loosened their belts and plopped down in front of the TV with a six-pack.

      “Daddy says girls and sissies do dishes,” Emma announced, in a surprisingly clear voice.

      “Emma!” Paling, Cassie stared at Rafe and waited for the retribution.

      He considered making a comment about her father’s brains but decided against it. “My mama always said a meal has to be earned.” He said it lightly and winked at her. “And if I do the dishes with Regan, I’ll probably be able to kiss her.”

      “Why?”

      “Because she tastes almost as good as your mama’s chicken and dumplings.”

      Satisfied with that, Emma nibbled solemnly on her cookie.

      “I’ll just give Emma her bath, then.” Flustered, Cassie shooed her children along. “I have to turn in early. I have the breakfast shift in the morning.”

      “Thanks for dinner, Cassie.”

      “You handled that very well,” Regan murmured. “That’s probably the first time in years they’ve sat at the dinner table with a man and had a civilized conversation.”

      “Dolin’s not only a swine, he’s a fool.” Rafe set stacked plates on the kitchen counter. “Sweet woman like that, beautiful kids. Any man would be lucky to have them.”

      A home of your own, Rafe mused. A woman who loved you. Kids racing out to meet you at the end of the day. Family meals around a table. Noise in the kitchen.

      Funny, he’d never thought that was something he’d wanted, or needed.

      “You made an impression,” Regan went on as she filled the sink with hot, soapy water. “A good one. I can’t think of anything better for all of them than seeing a strong, intelligent man behaving in a strong, intelligent way.”

      She glanced back, and her smile faltered at the look in his eye. She was used to the way he stared at her, or she nearly was. But this was different, deeper.

      “What is it?”

      “Hmm?” He caught himself, realized he felt like a man who had nearly skidded hard and landed on very thin ice. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” Good God, he’d actually been thinking about marriage and kids and picket fences. “The boy, Connor. He’s awfully bright, isn’t he?”

      “Straight As,” Regan said, as proudly as if he were her own. “He’s bright, sensitive and sweet—which made him a perfect target for Joe. The man bullied the poor kid mercilessly.”

      “He hit him?” The question was mild, but the fire was already burning.

      “No, I don’t think so. Cassie’s fiercely protective of her children. But emotional abuse doesn’t leave bruises.” She shrugged. “Well, they’re out of it now.” She handed him a plate to dry. “Did your father do dishes?”

      “Only on Thanksgiving.” Rafe polished off the plate, set it aside. “Buck MacKade was a man’s man.”

      “Buck?” Impressed, Regan pursed her lips. “Sounds formidable.”

      “He was tough. Had eyes that could drill holes in you if you messed up. Devin got his eyes. I got his hands.” Bemused, Rafe stared down at his palms, flexed his fingers. “It was a hell of a surprise to me when I looked down one day and saw my father’s hands on the end of my arms.”

      She couldn’t have said why it touched her so to see him smiling down at his hands, a dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. “You were close to him?”

      “Not close enough. Not for long enough.”

      “When did you lose him?”

      “I was fifteen. Tractor rolled on him. It took him a week to die.”

      She plunged her hands into the water again, struggled with tears. “Is that why you hate the farm?”

      “Yeah, I guess it is.” Odd, he’d never realized it was that simple, that direct. The farm had taken his father, so he had to hate the farm. “He loved it, every rocky acre. The way Shane does.”

      “What did Jared get from him?”

      “The mouth—Jared can horse-trade just like the old man, and make you think you got the best end of the deal.”

      “Then I’m relieved he’s my lawyer.” She offered another plate. “My father never did a dish in his life. I’m sure my mother would be horrified if he tried. The kitchen is a woman’s domain,” she said dryly. “They agree on that completely. She brings him his first cup of coffee every morning before he goes to the hospital. He’s a surgeon.”

      “Hard feelings?”

      “I used to have them,” she admitted. “She made herself into exactly the woman he wanted her to be. If she was ever anything else, wanted to be anything else, anything more, it doesn’t show. She’s Dr. Bishop’s wife, and that’s all.”

      He began to see just why she was so set on marking her own boundaries, taking her own stands. “Maybe that’s all she wants to be.”

СКАЧАТЬ