Название: Wilder Days
Автор: Linda Winstead Jones
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
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Del could never know Noelle was his daughter. And Vic couldn’t get involved with him and continue to lie. It was too hard. So no matter what she wanted, no matter how tempted she was…
Hot once again, she threw off her covers and sat up. She hadn’t been with or wanted a man in years. She was alone, and had been long before the divorce. Alone, but never lonely. She didn’t mind that there was no man in her life. All she needed was her painting and her daughter. Life was simple that way. Simple was good. But Del made her feel lonely, as if she was missing something important. Something beautiful.
On bare feet, Vic slipped out of her room and down the hallway. Passing Noelle’s door, she heard her daughter’s deep, even breathing. As she neared the main room, she heard Del’s deeper, decidedly masculine breaths.
Just a peek, that’s all she wanted.
She stopped at the entrance to the main room and leaned against the wall. Del was sprawled across the sofa bed, which was indeed too small for him. He filled it, his feet hanging off the end, his out-flung arms and legs taking up the length and breadth of the mattress.
And that hair… She had always loved his long hair. It was beautiful and it suited him. Wild. Unconventional. He was definitely not the kind of man her father had envisioned for her.
He was definitely not the kind of man she needed in her life now. If she let him get too close, he would only complicate matters. But, oh, as she watched him sleep she wished again that when he’d asked Where am I sleeping tonight? she’d answered With me.
With a shake of her head she turned and silently returned to her bed. Stupid, she chided silently as she walked away. If she knew one truth, it was that Del Wilder was not for her and never would be.
Chapter 4
Del heard the steps, too cautious in the hallway. Noelle, he saw as he cracked one eye and caught sight of a young girl’s legs topped in yet another pair of black shorts. Her toenails, he noticed, were painted a dark red. At least she had a color scheme going for herself.
It wasn’t even seven in the morning, yet, and here she was, creeping through the cabin as if she had all sorts of nefarious plans. He had no doubt that nefarious was Noelle’s middle name.
The keys to Vic’s van were close, there on the coffee table he’d moved to the wall so the couch could be opened into an uncomfortable bed. He wondered if Noelle would be so bold, and pretended to sleep.
She came close but didn’t go for the keys. Instead she snagged his cell phone from an end table on the other side of a fat chair and headed stealthily for the kitchen.
When she was out of sight, Del left the sofa bed with just as much stealth and followed. He’d slept in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, too warm for summer but all he had. He grabbed a T-shirt from the chair he’d tossed it over last night and pulled the garment on as he walked.
Who was Noelle calling? A boyfriend? Her friend Michelle? He wasn’t worried about her giving anyone directions to the place, attempting what she was sure to see as rescue. She’d slept most of the way to the cabin, dozing through the many twists and turns he’d taken to get here.
He was just about ready to jump out and give the girl a scare—no more than she deserved—when Noelle’s soft voice stopped him.
“Dad?”
Something in his heart clenched. This was no tough teenager with a bad attitude; it was just a little girl who sounded uncertain and a bit afraid. Del leaned against the wall, out of sight, and waited.
“I…I know you’re getting ready to go to work,” she said quickly. “But—”
Preston must’ve interrupted, because Noelle went breathlessly silent once again.
“Mom has a boyfriend,” she said, her voice too fast. Was she afraid her father would interrupt again? “A real loser.”
Del relaxed against the wall. Loser?
“I can’t stay here. They practically kidnapped me and forced me to go on vacation.” She sighed. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny. We’re, like, in the woods, and I think they expect me to go fishing or something.” She was silent for a short minute or two. “It’s just gross.”
Finally, she got to the point of her call. “Can’t I come live with you?”
The tone of her voice was so tender, so fragile, Del had the feeling—no, he knew—that Noelle had asked this question before.
“Just for the rest of summer vacation, maybe,” she said in a lower voice. “Or…a couple of weeks.”
She was definitely breathing now, too hard, as if struggling to stop the tears of rejection.
“Okay,” she finally said. “Maybe I’ll see you then. ’Bye.”
At the moment, Del really wanted to get his hands on Preston Lowell. What a jerk. What a complete and total jackass.
He pushed away from the wall and stepped into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head, closing his eyes as he yawned to give Noelle a chance to wipe away the tears on her face.
“’Morning, kiddo,” he said as he dropped his arms.
She opened her mouth to argue.
“Noelle,” he corrected himself quickly. “Good morning, Noelle. Did you get up to make me breakfast?”
To look at her, you wouldn’t know she’d been crying just a few seconds ago. Tears were gone, eyes were dry and flinty. The cell phone had been quickly and expertly slipped up the long, baggy sleeve of her black shirt. “No.”
“Then maybe I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, heading for the refrigerator.
“Don’t bother.” She looked angry, as if she wanted to take all her frustration out on him. But she didn’t leave.
“You didn’t eat much last night,” he said. “You must be hungry.”
Noelle’s short cherry-red hair stood on end, and her face…she tried so hard to be tough as nails, unforgiving and obstinate. But there was still a touch of the child in her mouth and her eyes.
“What are you making?” she finally asked.
Shock had equipped the place well, and last night Del had searched all the cabinets, taking stock of their supplies. “Pancakes?”
“Okay.” Noelle slipped out of the room for a moment, while Del took the pancake mix and a bowl from the cabinet. When she returned and took a seat at the round table on the opposite side of the room, he could see that she no longer hid the cell phone up her sleeve. If she hadn’t already been jerked around once this morning, he’d let her know she’d been caught. Best to let her think she’d gotten away with СКАЧАТЬ