The Millionaire and the Mum. Patricia Kay

see you discovered Char,” Beth said when he rejoined her and the children.

      “Char?”

      She grinned. “Short for Charcoal.”

      “She discovered me.”

      “Usually when strangers are here, she hides until they leave, plus she’s been really spooked since the storm. She must like you.”

      Again he thought how much he liked Beth Johnson’s smile. So far his impression of her and her children was favorable. Whether that would make a difference to his investigation, he didn’t know, but he thought it probably would, because he was a pretty damn good judge of people, and Beth struck him as completely honest.

      Returning her smile, he filled his plate, accepted a glass of lemonade, then sat on the top porch step and began to eat.

      Beth settled the kids on the old glider that was a holdover from her grandmother’s days, then decided it would be friendlier to join Jack on the steps, even though there were a couple of wooden chairs on the porch that she’d intended for them to use.

      “I’ve been looking at your roof,” he said when she was seated. “Did you know you’ve lost some shingles?”

      Beth shrugged. “No. There are so many more immediate serious things wrong around here that I hadn’t looked at the roof yet.”

      He nodded. “I can probably replace those shingles for you, and maybe later you can show me what else needs doing.”

      “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow? It’s probably going to take you the rest of the afternoon to dispose of that tree, don’t you think?”

      “Probably.”

      “Okay, then. Tomorrow morning we’ll look at everything else.”

      For a while, they ate in silence, but Beth was acutely aware of his presence beside her. She was very curious about him, yet strangely reluctant to ask questions lest he think her interest something more than normal curiosity.

      When they had finished their meal, she got up and went into the kitchen where she fixed a plate of cookies from a batch she’d baked a couple of days before.

      “They’re peanut butter,” she said apologetically when she offered the plate to Jack.

      “Peanut butter cookies are my favorite.”

      “Really? Did your mother used to bake them when you were young?”

      For just a moment, something resembling pain flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. “My mother left home when I was six,” he said offhandedly.

      Beth wasn’t fooled by his attempt to be casual. Tenderhearted, she was immediately sympathetic. How awful to lose your mother when you were little more than Amy’s age! And he hadn’t said she’d died, he’d said she’d left home. Had she willfully abandoned him? Is that what he was saying? She was tempted to put voice to her questions, but thought better of it. Jack Stokes didn’t seem like the kind of man who would share confidences easily, and certainly not with someone he barely knew. Mind your own business, she told herself.

      But she was still wondering about him later that afternoon as she prepared supper. He was back working at the sweet gum tree. She could hear the intermittent whine of the chain saw as he cut the trunk and branches into pieces small enough to easily move.

      Walking to the sink, she peered out the window. He sure didn’t look like a man down on his luck, she thought again, yet what other reason could he have for offering to work for room and board? It wasn’t as if Beth had anything else he might want.

      She took an onion out of the wire bin hanging over the sink and, laying it on her cutting board, peeled it, then cut it into hunks. Using the food chopper her best friend Dee Ann had given her, she minced the onion, then added it to the ground meat mixture she was preparing to turn into meat loaf.

      Still thinking about Jack, she rooted around in her spice cupboard for the bottle of Worcestershire sauce she was sure she had. Finding it, she sprinkled some over the meat mixture.

      Could he be running from the law? Somehow he just didn’t seem like the type. Besides, if he was, Rose Hill wasn’t the kind of place he’d go. People running from the law usually tried to lose themselves in big cities where you could be anonymous. In little towns like Rose Hill, everybody knew everybody else’s business. Beth would be willing to bet just about every one of the nearly three hundred souls who called Rose Hill home knew that a man in a red pickup truck had been hired to work out on the Johnson place. And in a day or two, they’d probably know the terms of his hiring, too. There were no secrets here.

      Maybe she’d been crazy to hire him. And yet, there was something so solid and reassuring about him.

      She added two eggs and bread crumbs to the meat, then washed her hands and dried them carefully. Once she was sure they were clean, she stuck them into the bowl and mixed everything by hand until all the ingredients were well blended. There was something very satisfying about mixing meat loaf by hand, she thought, remembering how her grandmother had done it the same way.

      “Mama, I’m hungry.”

      Glancing around, Beth smiled at Amy, who had walked into the kitchen. “Supper won’t be ready for a while, but you can have a banana or an apple if you want.”

      “Okay.” Amy walked over to the table and reached into the bowl sitting in the center. Inside were two bananas and one apple. She took a banana out and began to peel it.

      Beth shaped the meat mixture into a loaf. Once it was a neat oval, she placed it in the pan she’d prepared earlier. The oven was already preheated, so she stuck the meat loaf inside and turned her attention to the potatoes that needed to be peeled.

      While the meat loaf baked and she prepared the mashed potatoes, green beans, and butterscotch pudding that would round out the meal, her thoughts returned to the man outside.

      Maybe she was crazy for hiring him, but right now she really didn’t care. It was comforting to have a strong, masculine body on the property, someone who could do the things she couldn’t do herself, so no matter what he might be hiding, she wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth.

       Chapter Three

       “S upper’s ready!

      Jack looked up and saw Beth standing on the porch. The late afternoon sun had turned her hair into a fiery crown of red and gold. “Be there in a minute.” He glanced down at his watch and saw it was almost six. He couldn’t believe how fast the afternoon had flown by. He still wasn’t finished hauling off the remains of the sweet gum tree, but he only had about an hour of work left. He should be able to finish after supper, though, if there was enough light. If not, he would come early in the morning and get it done.

      Since he was finished cutting the wood, he picked up the chain saw and carried it over to the barn, replacing it where he’d found it. Then he washed up and headed for the house.

      The kitchen was unlike any he’d seen before. Certainly it bore no resemblance to the massive kitchen in the Stockwell mansion, which contained the very latest stainless steel appliances and every modern kitchen contraption known to man.

      This kitchen was big and square, with lots of light, but, with the exception of a fairly new looking stove, there was nothing modern about it. The top cupboards had glass-paned doors and the wood, chipped in places, was painted white. An ancient refrigerator—so old that it did not have a separate freezer compartment—stood in one corner. A quick glance revealed no dishwasher, and Jack would be willing to bet there was probably no disposal, either. The floor tile, worn and weary looking, had obviously seen better days. In the center of the room was an oval maple table surrounded by six chairs. It, too, looked ancient, its top scarred and deeply grooved from use.

      Despite all this, the room was cheerful. Yellow-and-white-checked curtains on the windows, yellow paint on the walls, bright red cushions on the chairs and a red-and-yellow-flowered