Caught Between a Lie and True Love (Caught Between series Book 1) (8 page)

As Harry headed toward the table, Brody turned his attention toward Delores who putter around as though she belonged there. He kept his voice quiet so only she could hear. “Del, what are you doing?”

She gave him one of her big, reassuring smiles, the one he was pretty sure she practiced every day in the mirror. “Making sure you and Hope eat a well balanced diet.”

He gently took the can opener out of her hands. “It gives people the wrong impression.”

The hurt of his rejection was evident in the fading of her smile, but then she regathered herself—and the smile—and facing the sink, turned on the tap. The water came out steaming hot and she shoved her hands under the flow as though she didn’t even notice.

“Well, of course you’re right, Brody,” she babbled as she scrubbed her hands together under the near scalding water. “We’ve been friends for so long, it never occurred to me that people would see anything more than what’s at face value.”

He turned off the tap, grabbed a towel, and held it out for her. “I’m sorry, Del.”

“Sorry?” She took the towel from him and began to blot the water from her temperature reddened hands. “Pish posh, you can’t help how other people perceive your actions.”

Brody smiled to take the sting out of his words. “You’re a good sport, Del.”

She turned back to the counter to set down the towel, then stopped cold and stared out the window. “Who is that on Olivia’s porch?”

Brody followed her gaze and saw Paige. He shrugged and turned his back on the window as though he didn’t care.

“Olivia’s granddaughter. What was her name? Patsy? Peony?” He eyed Delores’s death grip on the edge of the countertop. Her normally pale complexion had turned whiter than her blouse. “Del, are you okay?”

“Of course.” She blinked and released her grip, not quite looking at him. “Meet me down at the bakery tomorrow at two and we’ll get those nomination papers signed.”

“Sure.”

Pushing past him, she headed into the dining room, her expression strained, her voice wobbling. “Harry, don’t you be changing any of those signs without talking to me first.”

The Judge grunted, his face sour.

Brody felt his spirits lighten.

For the first time since he’d returned to the island, he had hope that Matilda might be forced to give up on the custody battle for Hope.

Maybe there was a future for them after all.

If the Judge and Delores said he was a shoe-in, then nothing could get in his way.

His battle with Matilda would finally be over, and she’d have to accept him into the family fold.

CHAPTER TEN

After her infuriating encounter with Brody—and the equally infuriating surprise of running into that jackass Harry Malone—Matilda wandered through the empty house with a dust rag in her hand, tidying, dusting, cleaning, until she inevitably ended up in her daughter’s bedroom. Memories of all that she’d lost swept over her and sadness claimed her.

Anger, too.

Why had the courts awarded custody of her granddaughter to Brody? She’d been the better choice—the only choice—to raise the girl. For the umpteenth time that morning, she grabbed the phone and thumbed in the number to Hope’s cell, only to have the answering machine pick up.

Well, if she couldn’t talk to Hope, then how was she supposed to form a relationship with the girl? It was bad enough that her mother had kept her away, but now the courts and Brody were doing the same thing.

And yet, no matter how many times she broke into Brody's house to look for ways to prove he was an unfit father, she always found the house clean, the fridge well stocked, the laundry done.

Even Hope’s room had been clean and tidy. And her report card showed improvement since her last one.

It was aggravating and maddening and worrisome. Because if she couldn’t dig up some dirt on that man, Hope could be lost to her forever.

When Matilda couldn’t stand being cooped up alone any longer, she headed outside to do some of the work that Harry used to take care of for her.

It was strange how she’d allowed him into her life when she’d intended to remain alone once her first husband had passed away. But she hadn’t really allowed him in willingly. He’d prodded and pushed and sexed her up until he’d become a regular part of her weekly routine.

In fact, he was the only man she’d ever let clean out her gutters besides her husband.

Pulling on work gloves, Matilda manhandled the large ladder out of the garage and leaned it against the front of the house. She climbed up to the gutter where she proceeded to scoop out the leaves with her gloved hand, mulling over Harry’s ridiculous request.

Give up her real estate office. Accept Brody as Hope’s legal guardian. Travel the Mainland in a motorhome for months on end.

The thought of living in the cramped quarters—although, she had to admit, Harry hadn’t scrimped on size, yessiree, everything about Harry screamed
big
—brought back memories of camping in a tent with her parents. With only the campfire as their cookstove, and no shower within miles, she’d spent the better part of her youth dreading their family vacations. Smoky and stinky and feeling as though the campground dirt had invaded every pore on her body.

No way would she spend a single night in the motorhome. And no way was she giving up on gaining custody of her only granddaughter. She’d die lonely before she ever gave in to his request.

Scooping out a particularly unpleasant clump of leaves, she dropped them into the garbage can at the base of the ladder. As she scraped the mucky mess off her gloves, she peered across the street, trying to see movement in Brody's house.

Nothing.

But she knew Harry was still over there. She’d have noticed when he’d left.

Okay, so she might miss Harry a little, but once Hope came to live with her, the girl would fill her house with laughter and cheer. She wouldn’t need Harry.

She didn’t need Harry now.

And although she was already missing what he used to do for her, both in bed and out, she’d always known their affair couldn’t go on forever. It would set a bad example for Hope and no matter how careful Matilda was, it wasn’t worth the risk of the girl finding out. Because if she knew her grandma was sleeping around like the town tramp, it would subliminally give the girl permission to do the same.

According to rumors, Matilda’s daughter had slept with the entire senior football team. No way was she going to let her granddaughter follow in her footsteps.

Harry could just find someone else to warm his bed and cook in his motorhome.

With a determined set of her mouth, Matilda shifted her attention back to the leaves in the gutter and off the man who rocked her world every Tuesday and Thursday night. As she stretched one arm to further her reach, and clung to the ladder so she wouldn’t topple off it into the flowerbed, she heard the sound of a foot scraping across the cement behind her.

She caught her breath and closed her eyes, giving a silent hallelujah as relief weakened her knees.

Harry was back.

He’d seen the error of his decision. He was here to clean her gutters and inform her he’d return that big, ugly motorhome.

Beneath her, she felt the ladder tip to the right. She snapped open her eyes and grabbed onto the metal gutter, feeling it give way to the pull of her weight and the ladder combined.

And then she felt a pressure against her butt—Harry’s familiar touch—and the ladder steadied and straightened.

With her heart thundering beneath her breast, she took a deep breath, willed her expression into a chilly unwelcome mask, glanced over her shoulder at the man standing below…and blinked.

The nice looking man with concern furrowing his brow wasn’t Harry at all.

“Excuse me, Miss, are you all right?”

Miss? She blinked again, momentarily confused, and glanced across the street toward Brody's house. Disappointment warred with anger. Couldn’t Harry see her cleaning the gutters? He knew how much she hated dirt and heights.

“Do you need me to climb up there and help you down?”

Matilda forced the emotions down deep before they raged out of control. She stuck her gloved hand back into the gutter and mucked out another disgusting handful of leaves. “Whatever you’re here to sell, I’m not interested.”

“I’m not here to sell anything. You looked like you needed assistance, so I’m here to offer it. No strings attached.”

“I don’t—” She felt something caress her butt and realized the hand she’d thought was Harry’s was really a stranger fondling her ass. She stiffened and gave him her best glare. “Please remove your hand from my body.”

The man moved into her line of vision, smiled up at her, and she caught her breath. Dimples formed deep grooves on his cheeks and a warm amused light shone from his light blue eyes.

“It wasn’t deliberate, you know. I was seriously concerned that you might fall and hurt yourself.”

She turned her back on him and carefully stepped down the ladder, only releasing her breath when her feet were planted squarely on the sidewalk. “I’m quite fine. There’s no need for concern.”

“I see that now. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

His voice sounded familiar too. Facing him, she realized she had to look up to see his face. He was almost as tall Harry and nearly as broad in the chest. “Do I know you?”

He reached out one hand. “Jeb Calhoun. I’m here to check on my mother.”

Olivia’s son.

As relief swept through her body, he took her hand in his.

His palm whispered against hers, warm and soft and smooth, and desire pulsed in her womb. Nerves that she hadn’t experienced since she was thirteen and experiencing her first crush sizzled through her body. “Oh my, Olivia’s son. Where are my manners? I’m Matilda Hannibal.”

He gave a half bow over their joined hands, then kissed her hand, which was very sweet and gentlemanly and so old fashioned, she felt a tug somewhere deep inside. Her mama would have liked this man…right before she locked her daughter in her room.

As he straightened and gazed into her eyes, the hardness around her heart melted. “At your service, Ma’am.”

She laughed softly, and touched her throat with one hand while she extracted her other hand from his, and on shaky legs, backed up a step. “I owe you a huge thank you.”

“No need.” He grinned down at her, the dimples deepening. “Damsels in distress are my specialty.”

She almost giggled, but before she could embarrass herself further, a door in the house across the street opened. Without thought, she grabbed Jeb’s arm and pulled him into the alcove near the edge of the house.

“Someone you know?”

“What?” Realizing the movement must have seemed strange to him, she sent Jeb what she hoped looked more like an apologetic smile than a grimace. “Someone I don’t want to talk to.”

Matilda pushed back a cedar branch to get a better look at Brody’s house. Behind her, Jeb did the same.

“Do you always hide from the whole town or just a few select neighbors?” he whispered into her ear.

Matilda stemmed the shiver of pleasure that threatened to course through her body. Damn Harry. If he’d bedded her before derailing her with his stupid motorhome, she wouldn’t be reacting like a weak-kneed trollop. “Shhhhh.”

As silence fell around them, Brody came out of the house and headed next door to Olivia’s.

Jeb sneezed. “Is it safe to get out of the trees now?”

Matilda sidestepped so she wouldn’t have to brush up against him, faced him, and felt her face heat. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a total nutcase.”

“Attractive. Intriguing. Those are the words I’d use instead.”

She felt herself fall into his gaze, then when he pulled her gloves off her hands, and took her gently by the shoulders to shift her aside, she blinked back to attention. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing those gutters for you. I’m not taking a chance that you’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

“There’s no need—”

He placed his index finger against her lips. “I wasn’t giving you an option.”

Matilda narrowed her eyes and watched him pull on the gardening gloves and climb up the ladder. For just a second, her gaze drifted across his back end, nice in a pair of jeans, before she jerked her attention to the back of his head, stepped forward, and grabbed both sides of the ladder. “I’ll hold this steady for you.”

Eat your heart out, Harry Malone
, she thought with a delicious squeeze of her heart. She hunched her shoulders and tried to peek over them to hide the fact that she was checking out Brody's house. With any luck, Harry would come out in time to see he’d been replaced by someone who was handsome, refined, and knew how to treat a lady like a lady.

But Harry didn’t come out shouting in a jealous rage, and the silence fell over Matilda like a sodden blanket.

What was she supposed to do now? Had she made a mistake last night? Turning Harry down in a huff without taking time to at least discuss the situation like a rational person?

No. Harry wanted her to chose between him and Hope, and as far as Matilda was concerned, there was no choice to be made.

She turned her head away and lifted her chin so she could look up the ladder. She watched Jeb work and took note of the ease of his body movements, his obvious comfort with heights, his knowledge of what he was doing up on that ladder and in her gutters.

As the silence lengthened, she forced herself to make conversation. “How long are you in town for?”

“A few days.” He paused, swept some leaves out of the gutter, then added, “Maybe longer if there’s something to keep me here.”

Matilda felt the full weight of his look as she stood there ogling him before he turned back to the gutters and cleaned them out. The silence between them grew until the only noise was the sweep-sweep of the hand broom and the rustle of his plaid shirt against his shoulders and back. The silence became too much for her and she finally broke it. “So what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m retired.” He stopped sweeping and smiled down at her again. “If there’s anything else you need doing around here, just say the word.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” Matilda watched him work in silence for a while, then said, “Some people tell me I should retire, but it seems like I would lose my identity.”