Sunflower Lane Page 5

  Grinning, he grabbed a handful of grapes. “Can I have pie when I get home from Jimmy’s later? I really like your strawberry pie. It tastes just like Mom’s.”

  “That’s because your grandma taught us both how to make it.”

  “I know. Mom used to tell us that all the time, too.”

  For a moment a little silence fell in the kitchen. Michelle glanced up from her book, and her lip quivered. Annabelle touched her hand, and smiled at Ethan.

  “Your mom made much better cherry cupcakes than I ever did. But my fudge was always better than hers. And we were equally good at baking strawberry pie.”

  “Mom always talked to us about you,” Ethan said in a low tone. “How you were living your dream. She said you almost made it onto So You Think You Can Dance!”

  “Not exactly,” Annabelle said as lightly as she could, relieved when they both started to eat again. “I was close, but not that close.”

  “Weren’t you, like, in the top thirty?”

  “Yes, but you needed to make the top twenty to get on the show.”

  “But you’re good!” Michelle set down her book with a thunk. “You’re the best dancer ever! Everyone’s jealous that we get to have dance lessons at home whenever we want.”

  “And you were in a movie.” Megan sounded breathless as she dashed into the kitchen. Annabelle hadn’t heard her come down the stairs, but her tomboy niece slid into her seat like a baseball player sliding home, her straight, dark blond hair poking out from beneath a ball cap. “A movie with Jack Black!”

  “I was just an extra.” She shrugged, but Megan took a bite of her bagel and spoke with her mouth full.

  “But you danced. In a real movie! You did a pirouette, and then that guy dancer threw you in the air!”

  For a total of fifteen seconds on-screen, Annabelle thought in amusement. “Listen, if we don’t make it to class on time, some angry mothers of your friends are going to throw me, all right. They’ll throw me to the wolves. So no more talking—just eating. We’ll talk in the car!”

  She barely got the words out before there was a knock on the back door.

  Charlotte. A smile burst across her face. She’s probably too excited to wait until later to show me her ring. Or maybe it’s Tess.

  Tess Stone, her other best friend, was a petite, practical redhead who worked as an accountant and lived on Absaroka Drive, right at the edge of town. She and her husband, John, were expecting a baby in July. By now Charlotte must have told Tess she’s engaged, Annabelle thought. Tess must want to talk wedding shower plans. . . .

  “Keep eating,” she told the kids, hurrying to the door. “We need to leave in under two minutes.”

  But when she yanked open the door, it was neither Charlotte nor Tess who stood there.

  Wes McPhee loomed over her. He looked hunkier than ever in the crystalline morning light in faded jeans, a white tee, and sunglasses. Along his jaw was the sexiest stubble she’d ever seen in her life.

  “Morning.”

  That killer smile might send countless women to their knees, but Annabelle locked hers in place.

  “Uh . . . g-good . . . morning. I . . . didn’t expect you so early.”

  As he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, she was nearly blinded by the intense green of his eyes. Now that there was daylight, she could see flecks of gray and gold in them. It was impossible not to stare.

  “Bad time?”

  “Um, yes. We’re leaving for town in . . . about thirty seconds, I’m afraid—”

  “Dance class,” Megan piped up. “We’re gonna be late.”

  Megan was the social, talkative one of the twins, but Annabelle saw that Michelle had actually set down her Harry Potter book and was gazing at Wes as well.

  Ethan popped a couple more grapes in his mouth, chewing while he watched Wes with interest.

  “My class starts before yours.” Michelle flipped her book closed and smiled shyly at Wes. “I take tap and ballet. Ballet is very hard. But I like it.”

  “Cool.” Wes nodded gravely. “My niece, Ivy, took ballet once, I think.”

  “Oh, shoot. Be right back, Aunt Annabelle!” Shoving back his chair, Ethan bolted toward the stairs. “I forgot my treasure book and my basketball!”

  “Hurry, please!” Annabelle called after him, but her nephew was already gone, his feet pounding up the steps.

  “Girls, leave your dishes in the sink and run out to the car, buckle yourselves in. Wes, sorry, but we have to leave now.”

  She suddenly realized she felt flustered, not only by the prospect of being late for work, but by the fact that Wes looked just as good this morning as he had last night. He looked even bigger today, if that was possible. Maybe because instead of that leather jacket, he wore that white tee that clearly revealed those sculpted biceps.

  Good Lord, he really could have been a beefcake model in a commercial.

  But this man was no pretty-boy model. The man standing in her kitchen looked like he could handle anything that came along. Cyclones or motorcycle gangs. Drug dealers, blizzards, or escaped murderers.

  Rough and tough were understatements when it came to him. He wasn’t just insanely handsome; he looked . . . edgy.

  Dangerous.

  Sexy as hell.

  Even if she was interested in going out with a man—which she wasn’t—he was so out of her league.

  Not that it mattered. He certainly wasn’t interested.

  She couldn’t read anything in his expression other than patience as the girls streamed past him with their dance bags hitched over their shoulders. The kitchen screen door slammed behind them.

  “I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to let you know I’ve made a list of repairs. Going to town for supplies soon and I’ll get started today.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She started shoving dishes in the dishwasher as fast as she could, and speaking just as rapidly.

  “Hope everything was good in the cabin last night. Did you have what you needed? No, don’t tell me now; we’ll discuss later. I’ve got to get to the community center. I’m teaching almost a full morning of dance classes and working in the office all afternoon. But I’ll be home after that.”

  “No problem. Catch you later—”

  But he broke off, stopping in his tracks. He stared across the kitchen, and Annabelle followed his gaze.

  He’d spotted the half-full coffeepot and the strawberry pie sitting on the counter.

  “You know, I’m not quite ready to face my whole family for breakfast this early in the morning,” he admitted, then shot her a grin. “Don’t have even a crumb of food in the cabin yet. Any chance I can steal a cup of coffee and a slice of that pie?”

  “What . . . Oh. Sure.” Slamming the old dishwasher closed—the only way to get it to latch properly—she thrust a cobalt blue mug at him. Hurriedly she grabbed a plate and slid a wedge of pie onto it. “You’ll have to take it with you. We need to leave right now—”

  “Ready!” Ethan yelled, racing back into the kitchen, his treasure book sticking out of his backpack and a basketball clutched within one skinny ten-year-old arm.

  Suddenly, though, he skidded to a stop as he saw Wes holding the plate of pie.

  “Aunt Annabelle, you said no pie for breakfast!” Ethan spun toward her, his eyes sharp with accusation. “That’s not fair.”

  “You can have pie when we get home later, Ethan. Right now, Mr. McPhee is our guest. And we have to go.”

  “But it’s not fair!”

  “Why can’t the kid have a piece of pie?” Wes asked her.

  “No pie for breakfast. That goes for you, too.” She grabbed the plate away from him even as he raised the fork toward his mouth. Scooping up a muffin from the basket on the table, she tossed it to him.

  “Here, take this—and your coffee. And go. Ethan, ge
t in the car and buckle up. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Ethan!”

  The boy shot her a frustrated glance and raced out the door.

  Wes shook his head. “Bossy,” he muttered. “Maybe I don’t want to work for you, after all.”

  Her mouth dropped open before she saw the glint of humor in his eyes.

  “You’ve already slept in my cabin and accepted the job, so you can’t chicken out now.”

  Snatching up her purse and her own dance bag, she slung both over her shoulder and flew toward the door. “Just keep a list of whatever you need and how much it costs and slip it under the door.”

  He followed her, taking a bite of the muffin.

  Since he gripped the steaming mug in one hand and the muffin in the other, she held the door for him, then closed it firmly behind them both.

  “I might want to rework our arrangement,” he said.

  The words stopped her in her tracks. She whirled to face him.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Any way we can agree on room and board? This muffin’s great. So’s the coffee. How about including breakfast? I can come by every morning, pick it up, take it back to the cabin, and get to work.”

  “Done. So long as you don’t expect a five-course buffet.” Darting to her Jeep and tugging open the driver’s side door, she wondered why she still felt flustered, and resolved not to let him see it. “I’ll leave it on the porch for you if you’re not here when we have to take off.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Nodding, she slid into the Jeep, refusing to allow herself to peek into the rearview mirror as she roared away up the lane.

  “Who was that man?” Michelle asked.

  “He’s kind of scary looking,” Megan declared.

  “Why were you going to give him some pie?” Ethan demanded.

  “Calm down, guys. You know Sophie Tanner from A Bun in the Oven? That’s her brother. He’s visiting Lonesome Way and he’s staying in our cabin for a few weeks.”

  “That place? It’s a mess!” Ethan looked startled. “You won’t even let us play in there.”

  “He’s going to fix it up for us in exchange for free rent. And breakfast,” she added, making the turn onto Squirrel Road. “Then we can try to rent it out.”

  “If we rent it out, we’ll have extra money, right?” Megan was beaming.

  “Some extra.” Annabelle slowed as a deer and two of the tiniest fawns she’d ever seen strolled across the road.

  “Enough money to get a horse?” Megan asked.

  “Two horses?” Michelle chimed in hopefully. “I really wish I could have my very own.”

  In the rearview mirror, Annabelle saw the twins’ eager smiles and her stomach twisted a little.

  “I don’t know if we’ll have enough for horses, but there should be enough to buy all of you some new school clothes for the fall.” She knew their dad had promised them a few years ago that he was saving up to build a new barn and to get them a couple of horses so they could ride regularly. But that wasn’t going to be possible now.

  Her own salary and savings didn’t include building a barn or the upkeep of two horses.

  “If Jimmy and me find the treasure, I’ll buy us a whole barnful of horses,” Ethan announced.

  “Well, that sounds great.” Annabelle managed to hold back a laugh. But something tore at her heart. Her sister’s kids had lost their parents, and if she could give them the world—horses, barns, treasure—she would. Let Ethan have his dreams. And let the twins have theirs.

  Her dream was to raise them the way Trish would have wanted them raised. Loved, safe, healthy.

  Instead of two parents, they now had one measly aunt. An aunt who knew more about pliés and arabesques and an awful marriage than she did about homework, rules, and schedules. But she was learning. Adjusting. One step at a time.

  “Everyone out. Hurry.”

  Annabelle rolled into a parking spot in the lot flanking the community center at exactly two minutes before nine. The kids raced for the building, and she started to follow.

  She was just breaking into a run herself when suddenly a green SUV roared into the lot like a tank and nearly mowed her down, swerving at the last second. Her heart skittered in a hundred different directions. Shaken, she watched the driver slide into a parking spot and spring out of the car.

  Her chest tightened. Clay Johnson.

  She should have known.

  The scumbag who’d ruined her reputation in high school for sheer sport was in his mid-thirties now, a divorced father, but from what she’d seen and heard since she’d come back to Lonesome Way, all the arrogance of the rangy blond captain of the wrestling team was still intact. And the boy who’d lied about her and boasted how easily he’d supposedly gotten her naked in the back of his truck out at Cougar Rock still lived on in the man.

  She spun away and kept walking, focused on getting to the community center gym where eleven little girls were waiting for their first day of summer dance class.

  “You need to look where you’re going, Annabelle,” Clay called out, his voice every bit as smug as she remembered.

  “You need to slow down behind the wheel.” She spoke crisply without glancing backward but felt her spine stiffen.

  Ignore him, she ordered herself. That was what she usually did when she ran into Clay. He’d become one of the wealthiest men in Lonesome Way after taking over his father’s string of automobile dealerships across Montana and Wyoming, and he was on the town’s planning board, tight with the mayor, and a big donor to the upcoming Fourth of July fund-raiser, which was intended to raise enough money to add an indoor basketball court and track to the community center.

  Since she always had the urge to punch him in the stomach—or kick him squarely in the balls—she tried to avoid running into him. But avoiding a power player like Clay wasn’t easy in Lonesome Way.

  His son, Connor, a year younger than Ethan, was on Ethan’s basketball team this summer. He was small for his age, with a sallow, subdued face, and looked the exact opposite of his strapping, broad-shouldered father. The boy had also climbed out of the car, and now stood uncertainly beside the SUV.

  “Go on inside, Bear. You don’t need me to walk you in. I have a meeting at city hall with the mayor,” Clay said dismissively, waving the boy away.

  Bear. The most unlikely name for the small, timid-looking boy, but then, Clay no doubt nicknamed him that because that was what he wanted his son to be. A bear. Big, bold, mean.

  Like him.

  Annabelle smiled at the boy who trotted past her, eyes downcast, then ignored the man behind her, until he suddenly lengthened his stride and deliberately blocked her path the moment his son disappeared ahead of her inside the one-story brick community center.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Halting, she stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Get out of my way. Now.”

  “Every time I see you, you’re always in a hurry.”

  “You’re right. In a hurry to get away from you.” She veered around him, half expecting him to try to cut her off, or follow, but instead she heard his low, curt laughter trailing after her, the same laughter that had followed her in the halls of Lonesome Way High when he and his buddies were trading lies about her, calling her an easy lay. A slut.

  Don’t stop, don’t look back, don’t pay any attention to him, she told herself, but she couldn’t keep her heart from thumping with a combination of anger and wariness.

  The man was a bully. Always had been, always would be. And Annabelle detested bullies. She felt sorry for his son, who was only in town for the summer. Patty Ann Benson, who worked at her father’s drugstore on Main Street, had mentioned at one of the parade committee meetings that Clay’s ex-wife moved to Helena after their divorce. Though she had full custody of the boy throughout the schoo
l year, he spent the summer months with Clay.

  Poor kid.

  Annabelle knew a thing or two about bullies. Zack was a bully, too—not that she’d realized it before she married him. All smiles and charm on the outside, but beneath the veneer he was jealous and suspicious. He’d begun shoving her around early in their marriage if she even spoke to another man—belittling her, bullying her, trying to control her.

  Oh yeah, I know how to pick ’em, she thought, bursting into the community center. Good thing she’d sworn off men even before she moved back to Lonesome Way.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she sprinted down the hall to the gym.

  “We’ll start with a warm-up first,” she told the class of young girls lining up along the barre. Michelle was already there, shifting into first position as Annabelle punched on the warm-up music.

  “First position,” she called breathlessly, and kicked off her sandals, then stripped down to her leotard. “This will be our starting point every day.”

  Pulling on her ballet slippers, she darted toward the barre.

  “Like this, ladies.” She raised her arms in a graceful arc. “Arms bent at the elbow, feet turned out. Chin up, everyone. Now hold. That’s it. Tummies in, girls, backs straight, heads up. Stand tall, as tall as you can. Keep those feet turned out. Beautiful! Moving on now. Second position . . .”

  The tense rush of the morning slipped away. She gave herself up to the joy of teaching dance.

  Years ago, in a tiny Livingston dance studio, she and Trish had been just like these young girls, their eager faces tight with concentration, as they fulfilled their own need and longing to dance. Now it was her turn to teach little ones with eyes full of stars how to leap and spin and fly.

  Chapter Five

  “Tell me the truth. Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  Charlotte was seated beside Annabelle at a table in A Bun in the Oven, holding her engagement ring finger up to the afternoon light.

  The square-cut diamond on a slender silver band sparkled like a summer star. With her dark brunette hair pulled up into a long smooth ponytail, and her eyes alight, Charlotte gazed at her ring, clearly enraptured by the diamond glittering with cold fire on her finger.