A Daddy for Her Sons, page 7
But what was the use? She’d fought back so often. So much kept going wrong and she kept trying to fix things. They just wouldn’t stay fixed. She was so tired. Today, right now, she wanted to quit. There had to be a way to give up, to surrender to reality. She just couldn’t do this anymore.
Looking at her reflection in the hall mirror, she muttered sadly, “Okay. I get it. I’m not meant to do this. I should quit banging my head against the wall. I should quit, period. Isn’t that what a sane, rational person would do?”
She stared at herself, feeling cold and hollow. She knew Connor was still watching her, that he’d heard what she said, but she hardly cared. She was in such deep trouble, what did it matter if he saw her anguish? But a part of her was grateful for his presence—and that he was keeping back, not trying to comfort her right now. She didn’t need that since there was no comfort, was no real hope.
She stared at herself for a long moment, teetering between the devil and the deep blue sea. That was how it felt. No matter what she did, disaster seemed inevitable.
Then, gradually, from somewhere deep inside, she began to put her strength back together and pull her nerve back into place. She took a giant breath and slowly let it out. She wouldn’t surrender. She would go down fighting, no matter what it cost her. Let them try to stop her! She had glaze to prepare. She had cakes to bake. She would try her best to get this done and on time. She could only do what she could do—but she would do the best she could.
She looked at herself in the mirror again and gave herself a small, encouraging smile. She needed a joke right now, something to help her put things into perspective. She was a baking woman—hear her roar! They would have to pry her baking mitts off her cold, dead hands.
Revived and reinvigorated, she turned to face Connor. “There,” she said. “I’m better now.”
He still appeared a bit worried, but he’d watched her mini-breakdown and the instant rebuild in awe.
“Wow,” he said. “Jill, you are something else.”
She sighed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I’m glad I did. I’ve got more faith in you than ever.”
She laughed. “I’ve got to get back to work.” She frowned. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m not going to go while you still need me.”
“What makes you think I need you?” Turning, she headed into the kitchen.
“So,” he said tentatively, following her. “Now your number one assistant has bailed on you. And your sister has bailed on you.” He shrugged. “Who you gonna call? You need someone else. Who can come to your rescue?”
She met his gaze. “There’s nobody. Really. I’ve tried to find backup before. There’s really nobody. This island is too small. There aren’t enough people to draw on.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He picked up an apron someone had thrown on the chair and began to tie it on himself. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
His face was so earnest, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He really meant it.
“How can I help you, Jill? What can I do?”
This was so sweet of him, but it couldn’t work. He didn’t have the skills, the background. And anyway, he wasn’t here for her. He was here for Brad. There was no denying it.
“Just stay out of the way.” She shrugged helplessly. He shouldn’t be here at all. Why was he? “Go back to your hotel. You don’t belong here.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Connor!”
He shook his head again. “You’re like a fish flopping around on the pier, gasping for breath. You need help, lady. And I’m going to give it to you.”
She shook her own head in disbelief. “You can’t cook.”
“The hell I can’t.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t believe it.”
He stepped closer, towering over her and staring down with cool deliberation. “There are a whole lot of things about me you just don’t have a clue about, Miss Know-it-all.”
She shook her head, still wary. “Look, just because you can fry up a mean omelet after midnight for your Saturday night date doesn’t mean you can cook. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can bake.”
“I’m not proposing to be your baker. You’ve got that slot nailed. I’m signing on as an assistant. I’m ready to assist you in any way I can.”
He meant it. She could see the resolve in his eyes. But how could he possibly be a help rather than a hindrance? There was no way he could get up to speed in time. Still, she was in an awful bind here.
“So you can cook?” she asked him skeptically.
“Yes.”
“There’s a difference between cooking and baking.”
“I know that.” He shook his head impatiently. “Jill, you’re the baker. But you need a support staff and I’m going to be it.”
“But...what are you planning to do?”
“Prep pans, wash pans, drizzle on glaze, pack product for delivery, deliver product, go for supplies, answer the phones...”
She was beginning to smile. Maybe she was being foolish, but she didn’t have much choice, did she? “And the most important thing?” she coached.
He thought for a moment, then realized what she was talking about.
“Keep an eye on the boys,” he said and was rewarded with a quick smile. “You got it. In fact, I’ll do anything and everything in order to leave you room to practice your creative artistry.”
“My what?” She laughed and gave him a push. “Oh, Connor, you smooth talker you.”
“That’s what it is.” He took her by the shoulders and held her as though she was very, very special. “I’ve eaten some of your cake wizardry, lady. Magnifique!”
The word hung in the air. She gazed up at him, suddenly filled with a wave of affection. Had she ever noticed before how his eyes crinkled in the corners? And how long his beautiful dark lashes were? Reaching out, she pressed her palm to his cheek for just a moment, then drew it back and turned away so that he wouldn’t see the tears beginning to well in her eyes.
“Okay,” she said a little gruffly. “We’ll give it a try. As long as you turn out to be worth more than the trouble you cause.” But she glanced back with a smile, showing him that she was only teasing.
“I won’t get in your way, I swear. You just wait and see. We’ll work together like a well-oiled machine.”
She blinked back the tears and smiled at him. “You promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Ooh, don’t say that. Bad vibes.” She shook her head. “Okay then. Here’s the game plan. I’m going to go back over all my recipes and check to make sure I’ve got the right supplies before I start mixing new batters. You go and see what the boys are up to. Then you come back and help me.”
He saluted her like a soldier. “Mais oui, mon chef.”
“Wow. Those sleepy-time French lessons really did do some good. And here I was a non-believer.”
He looked a bit nonplussed himself. “Every now and then a few French words just seem to burst out of me, so yeah, I guess so.”
He turned his attention to the twins not a moment too soon. There was a ruckus going on in the next room. The boys were crying. Someone had pushed someone down and grabbed away his toy. The other one was fighting to get it back. Happened all the time. They needed supervision.
But there was really no time today to deal with it properly. He went back to discuss the situation with Jill.
“If you can think of any strenuous activities, something that might make them take their naps a bit earlier...” she mused, checking the supply of flavorings and crossing them off a list, then handing the list to him to start working on an inventory of the flour she had in storage.
“Say no more,” He gave her a wise look. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve. As soon as I finish counting up the canisters, I’ll deal with those little rascals.”
* * *
Time was racing by. Her convection oven could accommodate four cakes at a time, but they had to be carefully watched.
“We’ve got to get these done by noon,” she told him. “I can’t start the mini Bundts any later than that. We’ve got to get the minis done by three, glazed and packed by four-thirty, and off for delivery by five.”
He nodded. He knew she wasn’t completely resigned to him being there with her. This was her biggest day and her eyes betrayed how worried she was. Her shoulders looked tight. She wasn’t confident that they could do it, even working hard together.
He only hoped he could—what? Help her? That went without saying. Protect her? Sure. That was his main goal. Always had been. If only he’d realized earlier that his vague distrust of Brad was based on more than jealousy. It seemed to be real in ways that were only now becoming more and more clear to him. It was a good thing she’d reconciled herself to accepting his help, because he knew he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave her on her own. He had to be here for her.
Meanwhile, he had to find a way to wear out the boys. He tried to recall his own childhood, but eighteen months old was a little too far back to remember much. Still, he had a few ideas.
He took the boys out into the backyard. There was a big sloping hill covered with grass. Improvising, he set up a racetrack with different stations where the boys had to perform simple modified gymnastic elements in order to move on to the next station.
They loved it. They each had a natural competitive spirit that came out in spades as they began to understand the goals involved. Each wanted to win with a naive gusto that made him laugh out loud. They were a great pair of twins.
They were so into it. Running up the hill took a lot of their time. Shrieking with excitement was a factor. And Connor found he was having as much fun as they were.
At one point, he had them racing uphill, each pulling a red wagon filled with rocks to see who could get to the top first. He’d brought along lots of prizes, including pieces of hard candy that they loved. He knew they were sure to rot teeth, but he would only use them today and never again. Or not often, anyway. He also made sure to keep the winnings pretty equal between the two of them, so that each could shine in turn.
But, as he told Jill a bit later, the one drawback was—no matter how tired he made them, he was even more so. He was pitifully out of shape.
But it was fun. That was the surprising part. The boys were a couple of great kids, both so eager, so smart. He wondered what Brad would think if he could see them. How could he possibly resist these two?
He brought them back in and settled them down to watch an educational DVD while he went down to the kitchen to see what he could do to help Jill. She had recently pulled four cakes out of the oven and she was ready to put on a glaze.
“Show me how,” he told her. “You’re going to need help when you glaze all those small cakes for the engagement party, aren’t you?”
She looked at him with some hesitation, and he saw it right away. Reaching out, he took her hands in his.
“Jill, I’m not here to take over,” he said. “I don’t expect to start making decisions or judging you. I’m here to do anything you tell me to do. You talk. I’ll listen.”
She nodded, feeling a little chagrined. She knew he meant well. He was just here to help her. Why couldn’t she calm her fears and let him do just that?
As she glanced up, her gaze met his and she had an impulse that horrified her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, close her eyes and hold on tightly.
The same thing she’d felt before when he’d held her came back in a wave and she felt dizzy with it. She wanted his warmth and his comfort, wanted it with a fierce craving that ached inside her. She couldn’t give in to that feeling. Turning away quickly, she hoped he couldn’t see it in her eyes.
She was just feeling weak and scared. That was what it had to be. She couldn’t let herself fall into that trap.
“Okay. I’m going to teach you everything I know about putting on a glaze,” she said resolutely. “And believe me, it’s simple. We’ll start with a basic sugar glaze. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”
He learned fast and she went ahead and taught him how to make a caramel glaze as well, including tricks on how not to let the sugar burn and how to roast the chopped pecans before you added them to make them crisper and more flavorful. She then showed him how to center the cakes on the lacy doilies she used in the fancy boxes she packed the cakes in before transporting them.
“Each cake should look like it’s a work of art on its own,” she told him. “Never ever let a cake look like you just shoved it into a box to get it where it needs to go. They should look like they’re being carried in a golden coach, on their way to the ball.”
He grinned. “Cinderella cakes?”
“Exactly. They have to look special. Otherwise, why not pick up a cake at the grocery store?”
That was when his phone rang. It made him jerk. He knew before he even looked at the screen who it was. Brad. Brad wondering how things were going. Brad, wondering if he’d talked her into committing to his plan. Brad, trying to control everything, just like always.
He put the phone on vibrate and shoved it into his pocket.
Once they’d finished the glazing, he went back to babysitting, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the boys. They looked so good, he made one for himself. Then he raided the refrigerator and made a cool, crisp salad for Jill.
“Lunchtime,” he told her, once he’d set the boys down to eat at their little table in their playroom.
She gave one last look at her boxed creations, snuck a peek at the new cakes in the oven and turned to him with a smile.
“So far, so good,” she said as she sat down across from him at the kitchen table. “Though one disaster can throw the whole schedule off.”
“Relax,” he said. “No disaster would dare ruin this day for you.”
“Knock on wood,” she said, doing just that. She took a bite of salad and made a noise of pleasure. “Ah! This is so refreshing.” She cocked her head to the side. “The boys are being awfully good.”
He nodded. “So it seems. I gave them their sandwiches.”
She frowned. “You left them alone with food?”
“They seemed to be doing great when I looked in on them.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Though they sure seem quiet.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “Too quiet,” she cried, vaulting out of her chair and racing for the playroom. Visions of peanut butter masterpieces smeared on walls and teddy bears covered in sticky jam shot through her head.
Connor came right behind her. He didn’t have as much experience with what might go wrong, but he could imagine a few things himself.
They skidded around the corner and into the room, only to find a scene of idyllic contentment. The peanut butter sandwiches were half eaten and lay on the table. The boys were completely out, both lying in haphazard fashion wherever they were when sleep snuck up on them. Jill turned and grinned at him.
“You did wear them out. Wow.”
They lifted them carefully and put them down in the travel cribs that sat waiting against the far wall. Jill pulled light covers over each of them and they tiptoed out of the room and back to the kitchen.
“They look like they’ll sleep for hours,” she said hopefully.
“Maybe days,” he added to the optimism, but she laughed.
“Doubtful. Besides, we’ll miss them if they stay away that long.”
“Will we?” he questioned, but he was smiling. He believed her.
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a nice long lunch,” she said. “Maybe fifteen whole minutes. Those cakes have to be delivered by noon, but the church hall where they’re going is only two blocks away. So let’s sit down and enjoy a break.”
She watched as he settled in across from her and began to eat his sandwich. She was so glad he’d talked her into letting him stay to help. Without him, she would surely be chasing her children up and down the stairs by now, with cakes burning in the background. She raised her glass of iced tea at him.
“To Connor McNair, life saver,” she said. “Hip, hip, hooray.”
He laughed. “Your Bundt cakes aren’t all out of the fire yet,” he told her with a crooked grin. “Don’t count your chickens too soon.”
“Of course not. I just wanted to acknowledge true friendship when it raises its furry head.”
He shook his head and had to admit it was almost as covered with curls as hers. “Anytime,” he told her, then tried to warble it as a tune. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”
Her gaze caught his and she smiled and whispered, “Don’t get cocky, kid.”
His gaze deepened. “Why not?” he whispered back. “What’s the fun of life if you don’t take chances?”
She held her breath. For just a few seconds, something electric seemed to spark between them. And then it was gone, but she was breathing quickly.
“Chances. Is that what you call it?” she said, blinking a bit.
He nodded. “Chances between friends. That’s all.”
She frowned at him. “Some friend. Where were you to stop me from marrying Brad?”
The look in his face almost scared her. She’d meant it in a lighthearted way, but being casual about a subject that cut so deep into her soul didn’t really work. Emotions were triggered. Her joke had fallen flat.
“I tried,” he said gruffly, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.
He was kidding—wasn’t he?
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to ignore the trembling she heard in her own voice.
He leaned back in his chair but his gaze never left hers. “Remember? The night before your wedding.”
