His Brown-Eyed Girl. Liz Talley

of weeks. I gotta practice.”

      Lucas gave the boy a look that should have been hard, but somehow looked sympathetic. “Not while I’m here. Take that up with your—”

      “Like that’s going to happen. Why won’t Mom come home? Why won’t you tell us where she is?”

      “That’s not my call, kid. My job is to make sure you don’t kill yourself before she gets back...something in which I’m obviously close to failing. Take up complaints with her when she calls.”

      “All she does is ask how our day was. She don’t say nothin’ about nothin’,” Chris grumbled.

      The whole conversation sounded tense and personal, so Addy bent and started stacking shards of pottery in the plastic rolling bin she used for compost. Her action directed the attention of both males to the task at hand.

      Chris carefully set down the bike outside the greenhouse while Lucas shifted unbroken pots of delicate blooms to a concentric area in the one sturdy corner of the house. Wordlessly he picked up broken boards and handed them to Chris, jerking his head toward the two empty trash cans sitting behind her house. He moved elegantly for such a large man and the trepidation Addy had felt earlier returned. She didn’t like being penned inside with him.

      “Better get moving. Sun’s about to set.” He moved the cans beside the rent plastic and got to work in a businesslike manner that chased away her fear. She pulled a rake from the small cupboard on which part of the damaged greenhouse rested and did as he suggested.

      After so many words spoken, silence was welcome, allowing each to his or her own thoughts. They worked easily together to clear away the mess and restore some order to the broken greenhouse.

      “Luckily we’re not expecting frost,” Addy commented, placing the final ruffled pink-and-green orchid in the rows sitting shiva over the pile of poor unsalvageable plants.

      Lucas agreed, picking up her ring of keys that held the small canister of pepper spray. He eyed it before passing it to her.

      “I’m a single woman.” Her declaration wasn’t an invitation. Wasn’t a status update. It was explanation—she protected herself. Lucas was damn lucky she hadn’t had the keys in hand when he’d burst through the plastic earlier.

      “Smart,” he said.

      Chris sighed, obviously bored with the adult talk. “Can I take my bike home now?”

      Lucas nodded. “I’ll take this pile out to the bin.”

      A disturbance at the torn entrance drew Addy’s eye. Blond curls followed by one blue-green eye studied her.

      “And then we can have chocolate chip cookies.”

      “Don’t both—” Lucas turned as he saw Charlotte emerging in the opening. Her big eyes were fastened on Addy and she looked hungry...maybe for more than chocolate chip cookies.

      Addy was accustomed to being around kids—she had a dozen nieces and nephews—but she’d hardly said “boo” to the kids next door, though her aunt Flora liked to chat them up occasionally. Charlotte looked a little lost under her uncle’s care, and an invisible string inside her heart plinked at the girl in her juice-stained T-shirt and mismatched pants.

      Holding out a hand, Addy beckoned the girl. “You ready for some cookies?”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Charlotte nodded, reaching small grubby fingers toward Addy. “I wike cookies.”

      The adorable speech impediment cemented the intent in Addy’s heart. Lucas needed help. “I like cookies, too.”

      “Uncle Wucas don’t wike cookies. He wikes beer.”

      Addy couldn’t stop the smile. She heard Lucas grunt as he bent to scoop the discarded plants into the rolling bin. “Please don’t tell Sister Regina Maria. She already thinks I’m the very devil,” he said, pushing the bin out into the encroaching darkness. Michael stood at the end of Addy’s drive, tapping on his cell phone, but casting glances toward where Lucas tugged the plastic sheeting closed.

      “Sister Regina Maria is my principal,” Charlotte said, looking at Addy with eyes the color of sea glass. Clear blue mottled with bottle green. Beautiful and trusting. But not when she looked at Lucas. Something about the big man scared the girl. Normally, Addy would agree. As a former victim of violence, she avoided large men. Even though she knew it was wrong to judge a man on his size, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Lucas was an oak tree.

      “Sister Regina Maria sounds like a good principal. Is she nice?”

      Michael joined them. “If dragons are nice.”

      “She’s not a dragon,” Charlotte admonished, her plump lips straightening in a line, her brow wrinkling into thunderclouds. “You a fart head. Chris said so.”

      Michael laughed. “He’d know.”

      Charlotte didn’t seem to know what to say. But Lucas did. “Michael, did you finish your schoolwork?”

      The boy gave his uncle a withering look.

      “Did you?”

      The boy still didn’t answer, but instead tugged Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s go home, Lottie.”

      “Nooo,” the toddler screeched, pulling away from Michael. “I want cookies.”

      “We got cookies.” The boy leaned over and picked his sister up, shooting Lucas a funny look. “If you don’t come with me, I’ll leave you with Uncle Lucas all by yourself.”

      The little girl froze and slid her gaze to her towering uncle. “Nooo! He eats little kids’ fingers. Did he eat Mommy?”

      Michael’s eyes sparked. “Probably. He hates Mom and Dad.”

      Charlotte started crying, but her older brother didn’t seem to care. He charged toward the gap in the camellia bushes, not bothering to listen as his uncle shouted “Stop!”

      “That little—” Lucas bit down on the expletive sure to explode from his mouth. He shoved the rolling bin to the side and started toward the gap.

      But Addy did something unexpected.

      She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

      And Lucas stopped, turned to her and arched a dark eyebrow. “What?”

      “Let him go.”

      The man shrugged off her touch. “He’s being—”

      “Lucas Whatever Your Name Is, I think you need to tell me what’s really going on.”

      Chapter Two

      LUCAS FINLAY LOOKED at the small woman staring expectantly at him with eyes the color of aged wheat—not quite golden but not wholly brown—and stilled himself.

      What was really going on?

      How about total incompetency in dealing with kids?

      Or helplessness?

      Or guilt?

      Or all of the above?

      All those would likely cover the past forty-eight hours spent in the company of three kids he knew nothing about, a house that creaked and moaned and had weak pipes, and pets that needed constant feeding and walking. He’d encountered more poop in the past two days than in his entire lifetime...and he raised cattle on his ranch.

      Not to mention, Michael had been correct.

      Not about eating small children. Lucas might be tall, but he’d given up devouring tiny tots long ago...when he’d sold the golden-egg-laying goose. But the boy had been right about him hating his brother and sister-in-law. Unequivocally correct.

      “It’s a long story.”

      Addy hooked a dramatic eyebrow. “Yeah?”