Ten Acres and Twins (10 page)

“Of course not. I'm talking to Wyatt.”

Glancing back, she noticed Jack staring at her bottom before he left again. She patted a hand back there to make sure she didn't have a cracker stuck to her pants, and then turned her attention to a more manageable male.

Smiling at Wyatt's cackling enjoyment of the water, she reminded herself that this little boy was worth a tiny nick in her self-esteem. Before Jack had moved in, she hadn't felt great about her relationships with men, anyway. He merely confirmed what she already knew.

She managed to contain her emotions as they switched babies, and even acted normal as they worked together to ready the babies for bed.

But Jack didn't leave after the babies were in their pajamas, and her feelings were too close to the surface for Abby to face him.

“All right,” he said. “Now will you show me your magic for laying them down?”

“Of course.”

Jack watched over her shoulder as she laid Rosie in her crib. When she tucked the blanket around the baby's body, he moved closer. His breath hit Abby's neck in warm waves, making her very aware of his nearness.

“Rosie goes without a struggle,” she said softly as she squeezed between him and the crib. “She always seems happy to snuggle down to sleep.”

Taking Wyatt from his arms, she crooned to the boy as she walked the four steps to the other crib. Barely breathing, she nestled him onto his mattress and folded a blanket around him. “Wyatt is trickier,” she whispered. “You have to tuck him in
securely and let him get settled. He may complain for a few minutes, but he's usually too tired to resist long.”

Wyatt's bottom lip trembled as he stared through the cage-like bars of his crib. Until he found his thumb. Once that was in place, his eyelids drooped quickly into sleep.

Abby backed up and bumped solidly into Jack's chest. His hands sprang up around her middle—she supposed to help her catch her balance. But when she was steady on her feet, his hands remained. He brought his chest tight against her back and rubbed his face against her hair.

She closed her eyes and tried not to react. As much as she hungered for his touch, she knew encouraging it would be a mistake. But she couldn't find the will to stop him.

She did resist the urge to turn around and taste his hot, male lips again. But when they touched the nape of her neck in a barrage of nibbles, her contrary spine bent like a willow, until his solid body was supporting her flimsy one.

His hands roamed up from her belly, and he gently cupped a breast in each hand. She felt a moan escape, and when his breath hit the side of her neck, she stole a glance at his face. He was looking over her shoulder, watching his thumbs trifle with nipples that stood out brazenly through her shirt, inviting contact. She forgot to breathe, until Rosie cried out in her sleep, and his hands dropped away.

Abby glanced over to the crib, satisfying herself that Rosie was okay. Then she walked on rubbery legs to the door of the nursery, with Jack following.

When they got outside the door, Abby closed it softly and turned to look at him. He looked back, but offered nothing more than a gulping swallow. She supposed he didn't know what to say. She sure didn't. She also didn't know whether to step into his arms or run away from them.

She puffed out a shaky breath and watched in horror as he reached for her again. Was he going to gather her in his arms and whisk her off to bed? What should she do?

She shouldn't have worried about it, even for a second,
because he only yanked at the bottom of her shirt to pull it down smoothly over her belly.

“Good night,” he whispered, and walked quickly down the steps, leaving her alone to deal with her unruly desires.

She went to her room and sat on her bed, thinking. She must have let weeds take over in her head and crowd out every sane judgment.

Here she was, spending her days wearing dirt-encrusted clothes and pointing out the hardships of parenting so Jack would get restless and leave. Like Tim.

Yet at the same time, she was battling a persistent fantasy that this doggedly confirmed bachelor, and Wyatt's legal guardian, would fall head over heels in love with her and stay. As no one had. Ever.

It was all complete lunacy.

J
ACK OPENED BLEARY EYES
to the luminous red numbers of his alarm clock. He noted the time and closed his eyes again. Ten-thirty. Good, he had plenty more time to sleep. Last night had been hellaciously long. He'd spent most of it wrestling with knotted sheets and…

Wait, had that said
ten
-thirty?

He looked again and rolled off the bed with a groan. Abby probably thought he was a lazy bum, sleeping the day away.

After stumbling over last night's clothes on the way to the door, he grabbed his robe from the doorknob and tossed it around his shoulders. He needed a shower and shave, and then he'd be out there to help.

Sweet mercy, he was tired. He'd spent hours in front of his computer, at some point even nodding off there. At five in the morning, he'd peeled his forehead off the keyboard and stared at the onslaught of equal signs and brackets that had taken over his computer screen.

He'd made himself wake up enough to repair the damage, and must have gone back to sleep on the way to his bedroom. He had no recollection of removing his clothes or hitting the bed. If Rosie or Wyatt had cried last night, he hadn't heard them.

Fifteen rushed minutes later, he ventured into the main part of the house, prepared to apologize and offer to baby-sit for the rest of the morning. But the house was suspiciously quiet, and a glance out the back door to note the absence of Abby's truck saved him a trip upstairs.

There was half a pot of cold coffee sitting near the sink, and a note on the refrigerator from Abby. She'd written that she had taken the babies with her to deliver a load of flowers to market. She would be home by noon.

He warmed up a cup of the coffee and headed for his office, deciding to use his free time to get some work done. He clicked on his mouse and maneuvered through the steps of his program, but he couldn't make his mind start to work.

For days now he'd only been able to think about Abby. He'd nearly made a catastrophic mistake. Again.

He'd managed to stop himself in the nick of time, so he shouldn't be feeling so out of sorts. He'd done the right thing. It was just that the thing he'd
wanted
to do kept barging into his thoughts, making him miss sleep and sabotaging his attempts to work.

Paula's visit hadn't done any good at all. In a couple of weeks, she'd gone from being an interesting companion to being someone he had no interest in ever seeing again.

He needed to plan another date, with someone else. This time he would return to Kansas City. If Diane and Zuzu were still upset with him, there were usually plenty of willing women in the bars. An evening with one of them should solve his problem.

He took a gulp of coffee, winced at its bitterness and reread what he'd saved last night. Scowling, he read it again. He seemed to have missed a few crucial elements. He'd obviously been tired out when he'd written it. The whole thing was pure garbage. Fingering the cursor to the middle of the screen, he deleted most of last night's work.

The phone's ring jangled his nerves and interrupted what little concentration he could muster. It was a repeat client needing help with a glitch that she'd been trying to straighten out for weeks. Jack spent a half hour talking the young woman through the problem, and hung up.

Picking up his mug, he walked back out to the kitchen and flung its contents down the sink.

It didn't make sense.

He'd been single forever, and had lived alone since Brian got married four years ago. Jack had been here with Abby and the twins for less than a month. But somehow, being alone in the silent old house made him lonely. He missed the babies.

He missed Abby.

He wandered over to the French doors to look out at her flowers. As usual, life was thriving out there. Abby had a knack for taking care of things.

Plants. Babies. Probably men, if she let herself.

He admired her energy, and her honesty, and it bugged him that he'd confused her last night. He'd seen it in her eyes when they were on the landing. It had taken everything he had to walk away from her, but she wasn't the kind of woman he could dally with. She needed more than he could offer.

Besides, she hadn't given him reason to believe she'd be interested in more than a platonic roommate. He knew all the signs of a woman inclined toward romance—he'd been studying them for years.

Women on the prowl behaved differently from Abby. They dropped hints, fiddled with their hair and looked at him from under fluttering lashes.

With Abby, those signs were missing.

Except for a couple of returned kisses and a misplaced moan here and there, she dealt with him in the same brisk manner that she dealt with everything else. She didn't flirt, fiddle or fuss. Even a dim man could figure out that she wasn't asking for more.

He plodded back to his office and sat in front of his computer, doubting that he'd get much done on his program.

His mind wasn't clicking along at its normal pace. The only thing he could see right now was Abby's somber gaze, cast upon him as if he'd done something terrible.

Maybe he just needed a break. Back home in Kansas City, he'd call a buddy and go play handball, or maybe take a lady friend out for a lunch date. But what did a man do to work
off a foggy-brained morning when he was in the middle of nowhere?

Ignoring the pile of paperwork next to his computer, he changed into shorts and running shoes, crammed his cap on his head and headed out the front door. The crisp warm clash of sun and north wind sharpened his senses, at once cooling his face and toasting his limbs.

Fully awake now, he raced away from the farmhouse, only slowing when he neared the edge of the property and realized he could hear the vibrating songs of a pondful of frogs.

He veered off toward the sound, and circled once around the pond's perimeter. Slanted light glinted across the choppy waves, catching his attention. It soothed his thoughts and brightened his mood.

He'd never had a dad around to take him fishing, but it sounded like fun. He made a mental note to stock the pond with fish and buy a couple of fishing poles. He and Wyatt could learn to fish together.

The idea of sharing a lifetime of discoveries with the boy pleased him. Jack wanted to be the dad he himself had never had.

When he remembered that his year at the farm would be nearly finished by spring, the morning's gloom settled back around him. He couldn't fish with Wyatt here because the farm essentially belonged to Abby.

And rightfully so. She loved the place—even that creaky old house. She would take care of it. But surely she would allow him to visit with Wyatt. A boy would learn a lot from spending time in a place where there was plenty of dirt to dig around in.

Jack traveled a stretch at a steady jog before he saw Abby's truck emerge through the gates. As soon as he saw it, he gave a robust wave and made an immediate turn toward the house. Although he'd already jogged at least a mile, he sprinted home, glad beyond reason that she and the babies were returning.

He reached the garage just as she was getting out of her truck. “Hey,” he hollered. “Let me help with the twins.”

She gave a quick nod as she reached in the back seat for Rosie. Jack jogged around to the other side and discovered that Wyatt had been lulled to sleep by the ride. Releasing the straps, Jack pulled the warm baby against his chest.

Wyatt gave a soft little sigh, snuggling down. Jack ran his hand gently along the back of the baby's silky brown curls, feeling an emotion so strong it could only be described as love.

It hadn't taken long for that attachment to grow, and he looked across at Abby, understanding her need to keep the boy with her.

But she wasn't looking at the babies. She was looking at him and biting her lip. “I assume you found my note,” she said as they carried the babies inside the house.

“Yes, I did. You must have gotten up pretty early.”

She shrugged. “Rosie and Wyatt slept through until six, so we all just got up then.”

He walked up the stairs alongside her, allowing her to place Rosie in her crib and then take Wyatt to put him down, too. Following her back downstairs, he stood in the middle of the kitchen, which managed to be cheerful despite its size, and waited as she trotted back out to the truck and returned with a plastic grocery sack.

Abby's emotions were usually so evident that he knew at a glance when she was happy or sad. Now she was so carefully composed he couldn't read her, but the tooth marks on her bottom lip implied a worry she wasn't expressing.

He knew it had to do with him.

“I do intend to help in the mornings,” he assured her. “Guess it's just taking me awhile to adjust to the changes.”

Abby began to remove items from her bag. “I'm completely willing to do it all alone, remember?”

He frowned, watching her fill her arms with garden sup
plies and retreat toward a separate pantry that stood near the door to the greenhouse.

He picked up a box of bone meal and followed her. “Of course I remember,” he said as he handed her the box. “I'm sorry about the other night in the nursery, too. That was a mistake.”

“I didn't stop you, did I?” she said immediately, looking up from under her lashes with reproachful eyes.

The sun filtered in through the greenhouse windows, hitting her face with full force. He nearly gasped in surprise. Her honey-brown eyes were gorgeous in the light, and she had the lightest spattering of freckles all over her face. Her skin was beautifully flushed and seemed to glow with good health.

He wondered if she was as freckled and glowing all over, and decided just as quickly not to pursue that thought. “No, you didn't,” he murmured. “But you barely had time to react, Abby. I overstepped my bounds.”

She turned back to the cupboard, moving boxes and bottles around to fit in the new supplies. “Despite what you must think, I'm a normal woman. I can get turned on, just like you. It didn't mean a thing.”

She snapped the cupboard door closed and stalked away.

But as she left the kitchen, she said, “You're right about us getting out, though. I have a date Saturday night.”

 

S
O, THE RECLUSIVE
A
BBY
had a date. Maybe he was a good influence on her, after all. He should be happy for her.

But the news plucked at Jack's nerves all week long.

He spent a lot of time in his room working. Most days, he ate a stack of buttered toast in his room. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. A few times, he drove four miles into town to eat his evening meal at a local diner, leaving Abby and the twins to manage without his company.

He even took an afternoon off to go buy that new car, but as he drove it back to the farmhouse, he knew most of the thrill had been coaxing a bit of spontaneous fun from Abby.

She seemed to be avoiding him, too.

She spent more time upstairs, and would leave terse notes that requested he watch the twins for an hour or two, while she took flowers to market or tended to the trees or greenhouse.

At night, when one of the babies cried, he waited downstairs. He stared at the ceiling and worked through his current program. And forced himself to stay away.

Usually, she had the baby calmed within minutes. His help simply wasn't required.

By Thursday, he knew it was time to head for the city. A client had called, needing on-site instruction, and he'd jumped at the chance to escape. He'd arranged a help session for that very weekend, and told Abby that he had to go on an important business trip that would require several days away from the farm.

When he'd offered to pay for a sitter to help her manage alone, she had only shrugged, eyes snapping, and said that her mother and Sharon would each be glad to baby-sit anytime at all, absolutely free.

He supposed this new distance was more normal in a roommate situation. The fact that he didn't enjoy it as much was just something more to deal with. So what if he was attracted to the wrong woman? He knew how to cope with something like that. He just needed to find someone more appropriate to engage his attention.

This weekend should provide the perfect opportunity.

He and Abby managed to remain civil until Friday morning—but just barely. By that time they were shooting covert missiles at one another with a regularity that had him wondering why he'd ever found her intriguing at all.

Her shrewish behavior was the perfect complement to his brattiness, except her usual sarcasm had taken on a sharper edge that no longer seemed cute. Since he no longer felt like teasing her out of it, the tension was mounting.

As he packed for the weekend, he felt relieved to be leaving. He needed to get to the city and let off steam.

He thought he might have put a permanent dent in his forehead from frowning in the past few days, and his nerves were wound so tight he thought he might explode.

Before he left, he cornered Abby in the greenhouse. She was watering the plants, looking as serene as he'd ever seen her. “Abby, I'm leaving,” he announced from the doorway. “I'll be back late Saturday night or early Sunday morning.”

She looked up from her plants and smiled indulgently, as if he were an obedient child. “I hope things go well with your client,” she said before turning her attention back to her flowers. With the twins off visiting her parents, Abby must be anticipating a few hours of complete freedom.

Whatever the case, that polite coolness was worse than her most cutting comment. “Oh, but I won't just be helping my clients,” he sniped. “My nights are free to do as I please.”

She glanced up again. The only way he knew his dart had hit the target was from the tiny wrinkle in her brow. “Okay, have a
fruitful
trip,” she said, a little more sharply.

He wasn't satisfied with the knowledge that he'd won, and he still didn't leave. He lingered inside the doorway, watching her. Wondering why he wasn't diving for the door as fast as the class troublemaker on the last day of school.