Man with a Past (7 page)

Wilson took a sip of his coffee and swallowed. His expression changed from evasive to sad in a split second. “Now, missy, I don't like to tell tales—”

“Since when?”

The old man scowled. “All right, fine. Joe's had a hard time in life, but he's okay now. And that's all you need to know.”

“That doesn't tell me why he's here instead of working for one of the construction companies in town.”

“Some men like to work for themselves.”

“And some men have problems that make them unsuitable when it comes to holding down a job,” she stated pointedly.

“You heard him, he's qualified.”

“I wasn't talking about qualifications and you know it.”

Wilson took a couple more sips and Ashley knew he did so only to avoid her probing stare.

Finally he set the cup down and sighed. “He's a good boy, missy.”

“You've said that already.” Stepping closer, she sat down on the edge of the love seat and dared him not to continue. “Tell me why you don't want me to check his references. What am I going to find? Does he drink? Not show up for work?”

“You're too suspicious.”

“That's not an answer.” She placed her hands on her knees to shove herself to her feet. “You leave me no choice but to check him out and discover what the problem is myself.”

“Don't—”

She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. Wilson glared at her, his mouth pulled up into a sour, pouting expression much like Max wore on occasion.

“He lost his baby girl not long after she was born.”

Ashley gaped at him. Shock overrode every thought in her head. Of all the things she'd expected Wilson to say, that wasn't it. “What?”

Wilson's wrinkled hands trembled slightly as he grasped the cup and turned his attention to where Max sat on the floor playing. “She died,” he confirmed. “Joe never got over it and—he's just had a rough time, missy. He and the mother weren't married, but that doesn't keep a daddy from lovin' his baby. Anyway, Joe just…”

His words trailed off, but it didn't take much for Ashley to fill in the blanks. She knew loss. Knew what it was like to love and lose, but what about a child? How did someone cope with losing their
baby?

“He doesn't like talkin' about it.”

She wouldn't, either. How could anyone discuss such a thing without bringing the pain to the surface again and again?

“He's tryin' to move on with his life, missy. Give him a chance and don't be bringin' up that I told you.”

“I—I understand,” she whispered, still dazed.

Wilson ran a hand under his nose. “Parents shouldn't have to bury a child. I've been through it. But my boy was older, six. But Joe's little one, she never got to live. Never got to say her first words. There are things that don't make sense in this world, but we just have to have faith that they're in a much better place.”

Ashley swallowed. She understood what Wilson said, but she wasn't sure whether she'd ever be able to take that leap of faith if it were Max they discussed.

It made sense now. Wilson's admission revealed why Joe had stared at Max so. Why he'd acted so startled, looked so haunted. He'd accepted the job as her handyman not knowing she had an infant and when he'd discovered the truth—

“Poor Joe,” she whispered, feeling his pain.

“Now don't be pitying him, missy. He don't want that.”

“No, but—”

“No buts about it,” Wilson insisted. “You keep what I've told you to yourself. Wouldn't have said nothing except you wouldn't let it go so I wanted you to understand and give Joe a fair shot at this job without concentrating on his mistakes.”

She hesitated, smoothed her hand over her hair
before she speared her fingers into her long ponytail and finger-combed the length. “I get it now. His work history is rough because of being unable to deal with his daughter's death. That's why you didn't want me to check his references.”

Any reply Wilson might have made was drowned out by the squeal Max released. Her son smiled at her and held up the toy in his hand as though wanting to share. Such a small thing but so very sweet.

She smiled, teary-eyed. “How old was Joe's baby when she died?”

“Well, don't remember for sure, but younger than Max.”

Max went back to mouthing the toy in his hand. Low sounds came from his throat.

Younger than Max
. Her son had only recently begun making the little noises. Squeals and laughter, musical, nonsensical chatter that went on and on while he played. Joe had missed that. All of it.

She cleared her throat, overwhelmed by the stab of loss she felt for him. “I'd better fix breakfast,” she murmured, hurrying from the room. Inside the kitchen she paused and leaned back against the cool refrigerator door. She'd lost her husband, but Joe had lost his daughter.
A baby
. And Wilson was right, no parent should have to suffer through that.

What if something happened to her? No matter
how long a person lived, life still seemed fleeting. Max would be all alone, and did she really want him growing up in orphanages or foster care?

No.

Imagining Wilson's scolding voice in her head to get out there and make friends, she nodded to herself. She'd put it off long enough. Used excuse after excuse to keep her distance from the townspeople.

Letting down the protective barriers wouldn't be easy, but for Max's sake she had to learn how. She had to become one of them.

 

H
AL STEPPED INTO
the police station and grabbed his messages from the box by the desk. He thumbed through them, conscious of several people looking his way as he read that Joe's father had called four times.

He crumpled the rectangular sheets in his hand and continued on into his office. He didn't have time for Ted Brody's shenanigans. His claims that his son was innocent. A baby was dead, had been dead ten long years, and no amount of wishing would bring her back.

He picked up his phone to return a call to the mayor when a knock sounded at the door. “Yeah?”

Officer Bradley stuck her head in the door. “George Thompson just called and said he saw Joe Brody walking along Old Mill Road.”

“Was he sure it was him?”

Bradley shrugged. “He said he was off the road a ways, but seemed pretty confident.”

Hal tossed the phone aside and stood. “I'm going to go out and take a look. If the mayor calls tell him we'll let his wife off on the ticket, but she'd better do something about the lead in her shoes. Next time she pays.”

 

J
OE SMELLED BACON
when he stepped up onto the back porch. His stomach growled noisily in response and after the walk to and from the nursing home located on the outskirts of town, he craved more than the single piece of toast he'd accepted from his father's breakfast tray.

He spied Ashley through the screen door, and hunger of another kind took over.

Heat filled him. She was dressed in cut-off shorts and a dark pink tank top. Simple clothing, but with her naturally tan skin and long dark hair once again pulled back in a band she looked…incredible.

Ashley murmured something to Max and then glanced toward the door as though feeling his scrutiny. She blinked, hesitated, then smiled a little too brightly. Joe wondered at the rapidly changing expressions crossing her face.

“Breakfast is almost ready if you want to come in and wash up.”

A low whine caught his attention and he glanced
beyond the porch railing where a big brown retriever mix stared at him with soulful eyes. The canine's tail was low to the ground, but wagging slowly back and forth. The dog took a step forward and sniffed the air.

“Hey, buddy, what's up?” The dog's scrawny butt twisted from side to side so hard it shook its whole body. “She forgot to feed you, huh? The little guy in there gets first dibs, you know that. Hang on and I'll be back with something.”

He pulled open the screen door and stepped inside. “Your dog's hungry. Where's his food? I'll feed him.”

“He's not mine and if you feed him, he'll never go away.” She slid a frowning glance toward the door.

Joe looked behind him to see the dog right where he'd left him. “Looks like a nice dog. Might make a good watchdog.”

She didn't comment and Joe scowled, feeling sorry for the mutt.

“Oh, fine—give him this, but if he hangs around, he's your problem, not mine. I don't need a mangy dog to feed.”

Joe turned to face her, his response dying on his lips when he noticed she'd already thrown together a slop dish of food as though she'd seen the animal before he'd told her. A little lunch meat, bread, some of the bacon and biscuits. More
than she could've tossed into a bowl in the last few seconds.

He stifled his smile, remembering Wilson's comment about her pretending to be tough.

Joe ignored the look he received for his efforts and took the hard plastic plate outside. The animal dug in and Joe went back into the house to wash up. Like before, Max looked up at him with wide eyes, but he ignored the little boy and entered the utility room to wash his hands.

After spending his first night in a real bed tossing and turning and dreaming of Josie, he wasn't quite ready to face Ashley's son. Wasn't ready to stare into little eyes that reminded him of what he'd lost.

“Come sit down, boy, so we can eat!” Wilson's voice broke into his thoughts.

Unable to postpone the moment any longer, Joe dried his hands and did as ordered. He entered the kitchen and chose the seat farthest away from the highchair where Ashley's son now sat. His stomach rumbled.

“Where ya been this morning?”

“Wilson, it's none of our—”

“Ridgewood.”

Wilson nodded and dug into the food Ashley ladled onto his plate. “I thought so. Sure your daddy enjoyed that.”

Awkward silence filled the air, broken only by
the guttural baby sounds Max made as he picked up Cheerios in his tiny fist and tried to get them into his mouth.

“Joe?”

He jerked to attention only to belatedly realize Ashley had asked him to hold out his plate. Once again, he did as ordered, but a glance into Ashley's eyes made him frown. She looked sad.

Wilson had already begun eating, but Joe waited until Ashley had served herself before picking up his fork.

“She's a good cook, ain't she?”

Joe looked up and noted a flush rising in Ash ley's cheeks. “Absolutely,” he mumbled around his first bite.

“Thanks.”

“Comes from cookin' all those meals at the home.”

After eating with guys the last ten years, he remembered his manners and swallowed. “The home?”

Her flush deepened and she shot Wilson a quelling glance. “I'm not from around here,” she murmured, breaking a biscuit in half. “I grew up in a children's home just outside Columbus.”

“Oh.” Joe knew he ought to say more, but he didn't know how to respond. Especially since his childhood had been next to ideal. Father, mother,
friends. It wasn't until his senior year of high school that he'd screwed up so royally.

“Yup, the missy here can cook for a bunch of people with no problem. After she had to leave the home, she waitressed until she got on at a hospital as a cook. She won't have no trouble handling her guests' meals, but first she's gotta get this house of mine back to right.”

Joe latched onto the change of subject. “Do you already have the supplies for the roof?”

“I didn't want to buy something and not be able to use it. I thought if you could give me a list, I'd run to the Home Depot in Baxter. The weather shows no rain for the next seven days.”

“No time to waste then.” Wilson wiped his mouth with the handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

“If you're up to it,” Ashley added, her golden eyes warm with concern. “You know, after falling.”

He was sore as all get out, but everyone knew the best way to cure muscle soreness was to use the muscles more. “I'm fine. I'll get started as soon as I eat.”

Ashley smiled and squirmed in her chair at his words. She looked excited, happy that her house was going to be a priority. His lips quirked up in response. Maybe once he proved he knew what he was doing, she'd forget about her quest for references. Give him the benefit of the doubt, as Wilson said.

He hoped so anyway.

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
passed in an exhausting blur. Ashley tried to put her worry over not checking Joe's references aside and help where she could. While she ripped the shingles off, Joe repaired the moisture damage to the sheeting below. By day four her hardworking handyman was ready to begin putting on the new shingles, and she wondered how she could ever have doubted his ability.

Since she wasn't strong enough to carry the heavy bundles up the ladder, Joe had to do that himself. Every load. He'd start the morning off in a T-shirt, but as the heat of the day got worse, the shirt would come off.

And the sight of him working on her dream house was nearly more than she could handle when combined with the guilt she felt at finding him so attractive.

She glimpsed a woman's name encircled in a heart on his left shoulder and a barbed-wire tattoo on his arm.

A fashion statement? She was surprised because Joe didn't seem the type to go for fads.

“Thanks for the help getting the rest of those shingles off. Go back down now. You've been up here a while.”

She had to squint her eyes behind her sunglasses because the sun was so bright, but that didn't stop her from watching a droplet of sweat snake its way down his muscled chest. “Oh, um, aren't you ready for the new shingles now?”

Joe used one gloved hand to rub the do-rag covering his hair down over his forehead to wipe the sweat away before sliding it back into place. “Yeah, but you're so tired you can't see straight, and it's getting hotter.”

“I'm fine.”

“You'll fall off the roof again.”

“We only fell off the ladder,” she grouched. How could he stand wearing long pants with the sun beating down on him? She wore shorts and a T-shirt and was roasting.

“How many times did you have to get up with Max last night?”

Her laugh lacked humor. “You're beginning to sound an awful lot like Wilson.”

“Go back inside, Ashley. Cool off if you can. Rest. If you want to help me, then bring me something cold to drink. I've nearly finished off the ice water.”

She tossed aside the metal bar she'd been using
to pry up the shingles and nails, and stood. “Fine, I've got plenty more to—”

She vaguely heard Joe curse, the bundle of shingles he carried slam onto the roof, and then abruptly she was in his arms, sliding down the incline toward the ground at rapid speed.

They skidded to a stop near the edge of the roof, and Ashley dazedly realized he'd saved her life once again.

“You all right?”

She ought to be asking him that question. Yet all her overly heated mind could think about at the moment was that her knees were on either side of his and she was sprawled all over the chest she'd just been admiring.

“Ashley?”

She nodded and winced when her forehead bumped his chin. The move jarred her brain. “Fine.” But her head pounded and if she drank the Ohio River dry, it wouldn't be enough water to quench her thirst.

Joe rolled over and carried her with him, the touch of his hands gentle as he pushed her sweaty hair off her face. “You're too hot.”

She squinted up at him—where were her sunglasses?—and liked the little lines that fanned out from his eyes. The way his body was hard all over, muscular and firm to her soft and not so toned.

“Let's get you cooled off before this turns into heat stroke.”

Joe started to pull away but she stopped him by lifting her hand and curling her fingers over the bicep braced so close to her head, over the blue-tattooed skin. He smelled of hard work, sweat and the hot, burnt smell of asphalt from the shingles.

And while she knew the last thing she needed to do was think about kissing Joe, a part of her wondered. Hoped?

What? That he'd kiss her? That for a few moments she wouldn't feel as if it was her against the world? That she wasn't alone?

Joe didn't move. He leaned over her, his face concerned, and she watched, somewhat out-of-body, as her hands palmed his jaw and drew him down to her. Her lips closed over his and she sighed.

She hadn't been a virgin when she and Mac married. Not many girls remained virgins after growing up in a group home, where the right kind of male attention was hard to find. Six years her senior, her husband had been the one to make Ashley understand the difference between sex and love. But that hadn't come until later, after Mac had left the home and joined the service, leaving her to finish her schooling, graduate and find her way on her own for a while.

Joe's tongue licked at her lips, gentle and sweet as though he savored the experience, as though she
wasn't the only one intrigued. But all at once a growl escaped his throat, shot straight to her core, and she shoved the memories aside and parted her mouth for him. Let him inside where he kissed her with such passion he seemed ready to combust.

She knew the feeling. It had been a long time for her. The night Max was conceived. Her husband had shipped out the next morning and she'd never seen him again. Never allowed herself to go back to the old days of seeking comfort and love from the wrong men. Nothing could fill the void unless it was the right kind of passion. The right person.

And Joe?

The kiss deepened, lingered. Warmth and texture and hot, hot need. Her body burned and it wasn't from the sun beating down on them, but from Joe. His taste, his touch.

Joe shoved himself to his knees and left her lying there on the roof, staring up at a cloudless sky and wondering what on earth she'd been thinking. She was a widow. One who'd loved her husband, mourned him and dreamed of him still.

But not as often. No, her dreams the last few nights hadn't included Mac.

“Here.” Joe placed a lukewarm bottle of water into her hand. “Drink some of that and sit up slowly. As soon as you feel up to it, I'll help you down the ladder.”

That was it. No mention of the kiss. No apology, either. Although if anyone should apologize it would be her so she was glad he chose to ignore the moment entirely.

Ashley didn't look at him, but did as ordered. She gingerly raised herself up on an elbow and closed her eyes when her brain beat like a drum against her skull. The water did nothing to soothe the trembling inside her, but after a moment and several more sips, she pushed herself to a sitting position and crept toward the ladder on her own.

“Don't even think about it.”

“I'm fine now.” Embarrassed, but fine.

A rough laugh erupted from his chest. “Haven't we been through this once already?” Joe stepped closer motioned for her to take his hand. “Come on. I'll help you down.”

She didn't look at him. If he brought up the kiss, her response was simple. She'd blame it on the heat, on her dizziness. Nothing else.

Who knew, maybe it had been a figment of her imagination. He certainly didn't act like a man who'd recently had his tongue in her mouth.

Or hers in his.

Ashley reluctantly placed her hand in his and allowed Joe to pull her to her feet, allowed him to hold on to her arms when her head whirled once again and she wavered back and forth where she
stood. She had to get off the roof. Go inside and cool off, check on Max and Wilson.

Get away from Joe.

 

J
OE WAITED UNTIL
the hottest part of the day to take his lunch break, then stayed outside under the shade of the willow trees to eat the sandwiches and drink the tea Ashley had left on the table for him.

The thought of her brought a rush of desire so strong he gritted his teeth. She'd looked up at him, so sexy and pretty and natural, and he hadn't been able to stop himself when she'd pulled him toward her. What a kiss, too.

He leaned his head back against the bark of the tree. She'd tasted good. Like honey and musk and the sweet tea she favored.

And he'd wanted more. So much more. But he needed a job and a roof over his head just as badly. Self-preservation made him end the kiss and distance himself from her.

The screen door opened and shut with a gentle slam. Joe watched as Ashley exited the house with long, loose strides, Max on her hip and a determined expression on her face. An overly full baby bag bounced off her thigh as she walked, but she ignored the nuisance and kept going.

She was dressed in pants that stopped at her calves, sandals and a pretty purple shirt. Her long straight hair was pulled back in her typical ponytail
and if he wasn't mistaken she wore a little makeup. Her lips seemed darker than before, shinier. Her eyes bigger.

Even Max was dressed nicer than Joe had seen him before, sporting a Hawaiian-style shirt and shorts, his thick feet bare. Wherever Ashley and her son were off to, she wanted to make an impression.

Joe wondered if she knew he watched her. Or cared.

One-handed, she removed Max's car seat from the truck and carried it to the small Honda parked beneath the carport attached to the garage. A few minutes later she was gone.

He sat there a little while longer, long enough for the big brown dog to make an appearance and join him under the shade tree. When he didn't move, it flopped down beside him.

Joe patted the dog's head, gave him some water and then got up, determined to put the energy generated by the kiss into something constructive. Who knew what the future would bring—but Joe knew what it wouldn't.

 

“T
HANK YOU SO MUCH
for your help. That copy machine was giving me fits and the gardening club is meeting in the diner right now. I just had to have the information about the new ivy-leafed geranium.” The woman behind her called out a goodbye and then the door to the library opened and closed.

Ashley didn't turn from her perusal of the latest releases until she heard someone walk up to her.

“Can I help you?”

Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to stop imagining the pinpricks of awareness she'd felt when she'd carried Max from the house to the car, and pasted a bright smile to her face. She turned to the librarian and her smile faltered, because instead of an older woman in sensible shoes and glasses as she'd imagined, she saw a teenager in the process of blowing a bubble who didn't bother making eye contact when she began straightening the books on the shelves.

“Oh, uh, hi,” she said awkwardly. “I hope so.” She swallowed again and hefted Max higher. “I'm, um, here to check on classes.”

“The GED class begins on Monday, seven to nine.”

Ashley shifted her weight from foot to foot. “No, I—I want classes for my son.”

The girl looked at Max. “Oh.”

Max grinned and ducked his head shyly, one little fist shaking as though in greeting.

“We've got a couple kiddie classes,” the girl stated as she walked back to the desk and searched the top until she held up a piece of paper. “Here's the list.”

Ashley accepted the sheet and checked it over. “Do I need to bring anything for him?”

“No. We have apple and grape juice, cookies
and the moms usually hang around to take care of any problems.”

That meant she'd be standing there with a group of strange women. “These look…nice,” she said. And they did. There were puppet shows and reading hours according to age, held in the morning and early afternoon. For adults there were continuing education classes and book clubs during the evening.

“A singles book club?”

The teenager popped her gum again. “Yeah, they meet once a month.”

The library door opened behind her and Ashley watched as the girl's cheeks filled with color before she lowered her lashes.

“Hi, Doctor B. This, um, lady's interested in the book club. Maybe you could tell her about it?” She spun around and practically ran down an aisle toward the back.

Ashley stared after the girl and wondered at her response, then turned and wanted to smack herself for being so oblivious. The blushing, the stammering. How could she have forgotten Max's new doctor was a hottie? Dr. Booker also had “good stock” roots—he'd taken over his grandfather's medical practice and had spent the summers of his youth visiting.

“Mrs. Cade?” He smiled. “I thought that was you. Finally getting around to checking out the
town, huh?” He reached over and ruffled Max's curly hair. “Hey, Max. You get that tooth in yet?”

Max's head immediately fell to her shoulder and the doctor chuckled. “So, you're interested in the book club?”

“I don't know.”

“Come on, why not?”

“I'm kind of busy. I just asked about it.”

The doctor's green eyes softened with compassion. “It might be a good way of getting out there again,” he murmured, reminding her that he already knew her marital history thanks to filling out Max's paperwork. “We're harmless. Single in a small town. Mostly we hang out and eat while we talk about the latest bestseller, but occasionally a couple members will hook up and wander off to do their own thing.” He gave her a smile. “So how about it?”

So how about what? Getting Max into a class was one thing, but did she really want to join a bunch of small-town singles? The pressure to fit in and knowing she wouldn't—she honestly didn't know how—had her backpedaling fast. “Right now, I'm just interested in getting Max out with other kids. We might come to story hour.”

And pray Max wasn't the only one to make friends.

The doctor patted Max on the back, still smiling, and earned a smile of Max's in return. “I suppose that'll work to start. I hope to see you around.”

“Maybe. I'd better get going.”

“Don't work too hard on that house.”

Ashley managed to hold a smile tacked to her lips until she left the library. Head down, she walked to where she'd parked and unlocked the car door only to look up and see the older lady who'd been making copies in the library finish speaking to a man outside the barber shop. Three steps later she entered the diner.