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Nathan charged to life and yanked the box away from Morgan. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he cried.
“I was trying to help,” Morgan said.
“Don’t need your help.” Nathan pushed the box under his bed, grabbed the other two larger ones and pulled them closer.
Morgan was too taken aback at the fury in his son’s voice to reprimand him.
“Okay. You can put what you want in the dresser. There are hangers in the closet for your other clothes. Any toys you have can go in the toy box.”
“Toys are for babies” was all Nathan said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away from him.
His rejection was like a hit to the stomach. Morgan waited but Nathan didn’t turn around.
So he left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, dragged his hand over his face and uttered a prayer for strength and patience. He simply had to give him time.
For now, Morgan had his own unpacking to do.
He was fortunate that his father owned this house, giving Morgan a place to stay. The house had been part of a ranch that Boyce and Cord had purchased a few years ago and his father was willing to subdivide the acreage and sell it to him.
And thanks to his share of Gillian’s life insurance policy and his own savings, he had a down payment to put on the place. The irony of it all hadn’t escaped him. Gillian had given him more in death than she had in life.
Morgan pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall to finish setting up his bedroom. The bed, dresser and the bedside table his father and Cord had picked up at a yard sale were the only pieces of furniture in a room that looked like it could house a small family.
While he worked, Morgan listened for any sounds coming from Nathan’s room.
Nothing.
He was finished putting his own clothes away when his cell phone rang. It was his father.
“So, does the place feel like home yet?” Boyce Walsh asked.
Morgan looked around the bare room and chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m unpacked.”
“It’s a start. Do you want to go out for supper?” his father asked. “I don’t feel like cooking and I’m sure you don’t either. We could meet at the Brand and Grill.”
He hesitated. “What about the pizza place?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet in the same place he knew Tabitha worked.
“I hate pizza. Ate too much of that in my bull-riding days.”
Morgan had to smile. His father often used his bull-riding days as a convenient excuse.
“Isn’t there another place we could go?” Morgan said.
“We could do Angelo’s but it’s too quiet.”
“Guess it’s the Brand and Grill, then.”
His father was quiet as if acknowledging how difficult going there could be for him.
“May as well get it over with,” Boyce said. “You’re going to run into Tabitha sooner or later.”
“I suppose.”
“Good. I’ll see you and Nathan then.” His father hung up and Morgan tucked his phone into his pocket, blowing out a sigh.
He certainly hadn’t figured on seeing Tabitha twice in one day.
He would see her at the clinic tomorrow as well. Maybe the more often he saw her, the quicker he would get used to seeing her around.
And the quicker he could relegate any feelings he still had for her to the past, where they belonged.
There they were again.
Tabitha hung back, hiding behind the wall of the kitchen as she watched Boyce, Morgan and Morgan’s son, Nathan, walk into the café.
Seriously? Twice in one day?
She rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking God what He was trying to tell her.
“You going to just stand here daydreaming?” Sepp Muraski growled at her. “We got customers and supper rush is starting.”
Tabitha gave her boss a forced smile. Sepp glared back at her, his dark eyebrows pulled tight together, a few curls of brown hair slipping out from under the chef’s hat he wore over his hairnet.
Some might consider him good-looking. Tabitha didn’t, and she suspected that was the reason he was always so grouchy with her. She had turned him down twice and he hadn’t seemed to have forgiven her.
“On it,” she said, straightening her shoulders and sending up a quick prayer for strength, the right words and attitude.
She would need all that and more after her encounter with Morgan and his son this afternoon.
The Walsh men were already seated when she approached them, coffeepot in one hand, menus in the other.
“Coffee?” she asked as she set the menus down in front of them.
“I’d love a cup,” Boyce said with a grin, pushing his cup her way. “Pretty quiet in here,” he said, making casual conversation.
Boyce stopped in at the Brand and Grill from time to time, as did Cord, Morgan’s brother, so Tabitha was accustomed to seeing Walshes around. But she still had to fight a sense of shame every time she saw Boyce. She felt like she had a huge L written on her forehead because of the money her father had cheated Boyce out of.
I’m working on repaying it, she reminded herself, thinking of the renovations she was doing to the house she’d inherited from her father. Each new cabinet, each piece of flooring, each lick of paint made the house more sellable, which would mean more money to give to Boyce to repay him for what her father had done.
Then she could tackle the yard, a job that seemed so daunting she avoided thinking of it most of the time.
“It will get busier,” Tabitha said as she turned to Morgan. “Coffee?”
He just nodded, looking at the menu.
Okay. She could do the avoiding thing too. She glanced over at Nathan, who was looking at her. “Can I get you anything?” she asked him.
“You’re СКАЧАТЬ