Midnight Choices. Eileen Wilks

elevated on one of the couch pillows. He had a milk mustache, a piece of bacon in his hand and a plate empty of everything but syrup. His mother sat beside him with her back to Duncan. She wore a sweater the color of raspberries. In the bright sunshine, her pale hair was almost incandescent.

      They looked like a family.

      “Hi, Unca Duncan! My dad made us fatjacks for breakfast!”

      A smile eased onto his face. “Fatjacks huh? Is that sort of like flapjacks and do I get any?”

      Ben spoke from the stove. “I’m putting yours on now. You’ll have to flip them yourself—I’ve got to get out to the site.”

      Gwen pushed her chair back. “Come on, Zach, let’s wash a few layers of syrup off your hands and get you dressed.”

      “No need for you to rush just because my day starts early,” Ben said.

      “I need to rent a car, remember?” She flashed Ben a quick, polite smile on her way to the sink, where she yanked off a paper towel and dampened it. “I was hoping you could drop me at a rental place on your way in. Hold out your hands, Zach.”

      Ben’s jaw set in a way Duncan knew all too well. “You don’t need to rent a car. I told you that. I’ve got my work truck, so you can use the Chevy. It’s old, but I keep it in good shape.”

      “Thank you, but I’d rather rent a car. I explained that when I agreed to come here.”

      “If an old Chevy isn’t good enough for you, you can use Duncan’s Mustang.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “How kind of you to offer me the use of your brother’s car. As I said, however, I prefer to make my own arrangements.”

      Oh, but she did that well, Duncan thought, a grin tugging at his mouth. Princess to peon, with more than a whiff of mad for flavor.

      “Why spend the money on a rental when you don’t have to?” Ben demanded.

      She finished wiping her son’s hands and gave him a pat on the bottom. “Upstairs, short stuff. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

      Zach protested, glancing uncertainly between his mother and Ben. Kids always picked up on it when there was anger in the air, Duncan thought. And these two fairly simmered with old anger.

      People didn’t carry anger around this long unless other strong feelings were involved. He made himself face that. While Gwen was busy with Zach, he crossed the room, took the spatula from Ben and said under his breath, “Try to remember you’re not her big brother.”

      Ben shot him an annoyed glance. “I’m real aware of that.”

      “Then stop grabbing the reins. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need you to steer for her.” Gwen didn’t really know either of them, yet she was living in their house. Of course she wanted to have her own car, rather than depend on them.

      Zach ran out of excuses and left to get dressed. She carried his plate to the sink, every stiff inch of her announcing her displeasure. “I would rather we didn’t argue in front of him.”

      “Okay, you’re right about that,” Ben admitted. “Look, can we settle this later? I need to get out to the site if I’m going to have any chance of finishing up early enough to take Zach to the movies the way we planned.”

      “If you’re in a hurry,” Duncan said mildly, “I can drop Gwen off at the rental place on my way to the shooting range.”

      Ben scowled. “All right, all right. Do it your way. I should be back by noon.”

      The door didn’t quite slam behind him, but it came close.

      “Well.” Gwen slid the plate into the dishwasher. “Thanks for offering me a ride. We’ll be ready whenever you are.”

      “His bark is worse than his bite, you know.” Duncan flipped his pancakes. They were a little singed.

      “No doubt. I’m not crazy about being barked at, though.” She grabbed another paper towel and began wiping off the table.

      He sliced a chunk of butter into a small bowl and stuck it in the microwave. “Ben can be bossy, but he’s not a tyrant. Just stubborn.”

      “Maybe so. But I’m not one of his employees.”

      There it was again—that princess lilt to her voice. He shook his head, wondering why that cool, snooty tone appealed to him so much. “Oh, Ben picked up the habit of being in charge long before he had any employees to boss around. He’s been running the family—or trying to—ever since our folks died. God knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken charge of the lot of us then.”

      She paused, a little V between her eyebrows, the crumpled paper towel in her suddenly motionless hand. “I didn’t know. I mean, I knew his parents were dead. That was in the PI’s report.”

      He stared. “You had Ben investigated by a PI?”

      “I needed a PI to find him.” She jerked one shoulder in a quick shrug. “I thought I might as well find out if he’d gotten married or something in the past five years. Since I was planning to introduce him to his son.”

      “I see.” He took the melted butter out of the microwave and drizzled it over his pancakes.

      “You’re either remarkably tactful or lacking in curiosity.”

      The amusement in her voice made him look at her, really look at her. Mistake, he thought as his groin tightened. Down, boy. But there was such self-deprecating humor in her eyes that he couldn’t help smiling back. “Oh, I’m curious, but devious about it. I was the middle child until my little sister was born. Middle children learn to be tricky.”

      “Do they?” When she relaxed into her smile like that, she reminded him of her son—no trace of the princess now, just warm, sunny woman. “I wouldn’t know, being an only child. We don’t bother to be devious since the world revolves around us.”

      He chuckled and carried his pancakes to the table. “I can’t remember the last time Ben made pancakes for breakfast. Thanks for inspiring him.”

      “Zach’s the inspiration.” She threw herself back into motion, heading across the kitchen. “Which is wonderful, just what I’d hoped for. Being Zach’s father is obviously important to Ben.” She opened the door. “Where’s the trash?”

      “Under the sink. You don’t stand still much, do you?”

      “Not willingly.” She hurried back across the room to toss the paper towel in the trash. “I guess that’s all the damage I can do here without snatching your plate away. Most people get testy if I do that before they finish eating.”

      “Something of a neatnik, are you?”

      “It’s one of my more annoying flaws. I’d better see what’s keeping Zach.”

      “He’s okay. We haven’t heard any loud crashes.” Duncan took a sip of coffee. “I was fifteen when my folks were killed. Ben was twenty-one. He dropped out of college, talked the construction company where he’d been working in the summers to take him on full-time and persuaded the court he was a fit guardian for the lot of us.” Duncan put down his mug. “You didn’t ask, but I thought you ought to know. He comes by his managing ways honestly.”

      She tipped her head to one side. “I always wanted a brother or sister—someone who could do for me what you just did for Ben. Someone with all that shared history. I never intended for Zach to be an only child, too.”

      “Does he have to be?”

      “I don’t know.” She had a look on her face that made him think she wanted to clean something, and quick. Her glance fell on his mug, which was half-empty. She grabbed it and carried it to the coffeepot, which put her back to him. “I’m not sure what you know. What has Ben told you about my health?”

      Ah. Easier to talk about