Everybody's Hero Page 2

  "Sounds like a Hallmark TV movie, doesn't it?" Taylor said, and Joe's chuckle gave way to, "Just what I was thinking," which was about the time some outlandish idea bubbled up out of his brain about how he wouldn't mind standing here the rest of the day shooting the breeze with this woman. The bubble popped, though, as bubbles always do, and he returned his attention to filling out the card.

  His mouth, however, had apparently missed the bulletin about the bubble-popping.

  "I'm pretty much a city boy myself. Never spent any time to speak of in a small town."

  "Me, either, before I moved here a couple years ago."

  "Oh, yeah? Where from?"

  Small talk, is all this was. Just something to fill the silence while he finished filling out this card, the kind of stuff you asked to be polite, not because you were really interested. As long as he didn't look at her, he was safe.

  "Houston," she said, which immediately got Joe to wondering how on earth she ended up in tiny Haven, Oklahoma. Why she'd ended up here. But asking her would indicate he was really interested, which he wasn't, so he didn't.

  Sure made him curious, though.

  The card finally finished, he handed it back, running smack into the woman's sympathetic gaze.

  "And if there's anything, um, out of the ordinary about his situation we should know about?" she said softly, and he realized he wasn't the only curious one here. As he would be, too, in her place. Wasn't every day a grown man came along with an eight-year-old brother in tow, he imagined. With Seth standing right beside him yesterday, Joe hadn't felt comfortable discussing many of the particulars with the pastor's wife. But there was nothing stopping him now.

  Just as there was nothing stopping him from getting his own gaze tangled up with Taylor's. As a rule, Joe didn't have much use for sympathy, since sympathy had a bad habit of degenerating into pity, which he had no use for at all. But this wasn't about Joe—it was about a little kid who right now needed all the comfort he could get. The kind of comfort Joe wasn't sure he knew how to give.

  "Seth and I didn't even know about each other until three weeks ago," he said quietly, seeing in her concerned expression the comfort he sought. For Seth, that is. "We met for the first time about a week after my father and Seth's mother were killed in a car crash."

  "Ohmigod," Taylor said on a soft exhale, her eyes darting to the men's room door. "I figured it was something serious, but…" Her lower lip caught in her teeth; she shook her head and then looked back at Joe, her expression one big question mark.

  "There was a will." Joe's mouth flattened. "After a fashion. For reasons known only to my father, he'd appointed me guardian in case anything happened to both him and Andrea."

  "Even though you and Seth didn't know each other?"

  Joe crossed his arms over his chest, as if that might somehow armor him against her incredulity. "Apparently, there's nobody else," he said, then added, "This has been real rough on the kid."

  Her steady gaze momentarily threatened the composure he'd fought like hell to hang on to from the first moment he'd laid eyes on Seth, especially when she then said, "I don't imagine it's been any picnic for his brother, either."

  Inside Joe's head, a warning bell sounded. He'd never allowed sentimentality to color his feelings or decisions, and damned if he was going to start now. A humorless smile pulled at his mouth. "You play the hand that's dealt you, you know?"

  The dulled sound of a toilet flushing, followed seconds later by Seth's reappearance, derailed whatever she'd been about to say. Even though it nearly killed him, Joe realized he had to make a clean break. Now. Before his brother's big brown eyes sucked him back in.

  Before Taylor's soft green/gray/gold ones made him forget how crowded his life already was.

  "Okay, you're all set," he said, cupping Seth's head. "I'll see you at four."

  Tears welled up again in the little boy's eyes, but Joe ruffled the kid's hair and strode outside, where he was free to let his emotions beat the crap out of him, even if he wasn't exactly on a first-name basis with most of them. His gut churned as he got into his middle-aged Blazer and twisted the ignition key, that he had to go to work when he knew the kid needed him right now. But if he didn't work, all the other people who needed Joe would be screwed.

  And no way in hell was he going to let that happen.

  * * *

  As befitted anyone who'd lived through as many first days of school as she had, Taylor wasn't particularly surprised that Seth's tears dried up as soon as Joe left. That didn't mean she was particularly relieved, however. On-the-surface acceptance was not the same as being at peace with the situation.

  An observation which she imagined applied equally to the child's big brother, she thought with a little pang of…something.

  Except for the occasional tremor in his lower lip, the boy was doing a bang-up imitation of a statue, standing right where Joe had left him and staring blankly at the open door. His attachment to someone he hadn't even known a month wasn't all that odd, considering how desperately he probably wanted something, anything—anyone—solid and real and alive to hang on to. Not that losing a parent was easy at any age, but eight was particularly difficult: old enough to fully understand the extent of the loss, but not old enough to understand, let alone believe, that things would ever feel "right" again.

  "Seth?" Taylor said gently. After a long moment, the child turned, but his gaze was shuttered, provoking a twinge in the center of her chest. Although his hair was so clean it shimmered, tears had ploughed crooked tracks down dust-filmed cheeks. He looked so vulnerable and frightened Taylor briefly entertained the idea of throttling his big brother. "I know you're probably pretty unhappy right now, but I promise I won't say a word about how everything's going to be fine, because you wouldn't believe me, anyway. Would you?"

  A burst of laughter from outside bounced in through the open window; Seth's eyes veered toward the sound for an instant, then back to Taylor. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

  Her heart knocked against her ribs. At times like this, all those child psychology courses seemed about as practical as mittens in July. What on earth do you say to a child whose world had just been ripped apart? God knows, nothing anyone said to her after how own father died had made a lick of sense.

  "Okay, let's try this," she said, squatting in front of him. "We usually do all sorts of stuff—play games, arts and crafts, go for walks, swimming…" She smiled. "Do you like to swim?"

  A shrug.

  "How about Slip 'N Slide?"

  Another shrug.

  "Well, why don't you just hang out today and get a feel for the place? If you want to participate in anything, fine. Go ahead and jump right in. But you don't have to do anything you don't feel like doing. No pressure. How's that?"

  That got a little nod, but nothing else. Not even a glimmer of relief.

  "Okay, then." Taylor stood. "You'll be with the other seven-and eight-year-olds, which means Blair's your counselor. I'll introduce you when she comes back in with the other kids—"

  "I can't stay with you?"

  How could one little face be so sad? "Oh, sweetie…I'd love to have you with me, but I've got the fives and sixes." She made a face. "You really want to be with—" she lowered her voice "—the babies?"

  Taylor could see the struggle going on underneath all those curls, but eventually, he shook his head. Amazing how early the old male pride kicked in.

  "I didn't think so," she said as the kids began trooping back inside. "Besides, Blair's totally cool."

  She led Seth over to Blair's group and introduced them, whispering just enough in the teenager's ear to clue her in, even as she caught Wade Frazier's and Noah Logan's intrigued perusal of their new campmate. But as she returned to her own group of eager, rambunctious little ones, the conflicting feelings slamming around inside her head stunned her silly.

  Not once that she could remember had she ever felt reluctant about falling in love with a child. For good or ill, that's just what she
did, who she was. And already, little Seth Salazar was worming his way into her heart, big time. The problem was, though…this kid, she didn't want to fall in love with. Because falling in love with the kid would mean dealing with the kid's big, handsome, hormone-agitating brother on a regular basis.

  And if that didn't have Bad Idea written all over it, she didn't know what did.

  Chapter 2

  Despite his personal worries heckling Joe from the edge of his thought like those two old Muppet dudes, he could always count on the adrenaline rush from starting a new job to make him feel in control again. This one was a walk in the park in comparison with most of the projects he oversaw, but that also meant he'd only be spending the summer in this two-bit town. A fact for which he was even more grateful after his encounter with Taylor McIntyre, Joe thought grumpily as he steered down the road leading to the Double Arrow office. Not that Haven didn't have its charms. Everyone he'd met so far certainly seemed friendly enough—although that, Joe thought with a tight grin, might have something to do with the dearth of strangers passing through—but there was that whole everybody-knowing-your business thing that rankled the living daylights out of him.

  Joe never had been much on sharing his personal life with all and sundry. Not that he had anything to hide, he just didn't think it was anybody's business but his own, for one thing. And for another, he figured most folks only showed an interest out of politeness. Either that, or they got that oh-you-poor-thing look in their eyes that Joe detested. Especially since those eyes so often belonged to the kind of woman who was easily hurt. So the way he saw it, keeping to himself just saved everybody a lot of trouble.

  And saving people trouble was what Joe did best, he mused as he pulled up alongside one of a series of dusty pickups in the small parking lot. He supposed he had a bit of a rep as somebody you could count on to follow through on his promises, which didn't bother him one bit. Not considering how hard he'd worked to earn that rep.

  His cell rang, rousing him out of his ponderings.

  "Joe?" said a gruff voice. Wes Hinton, his boss. "Got a minute?"

  "Sure. What's up?"

  "You know that lot on the north side of town we bid on last month?"

  "You mean the one we didn't get?"

  "Yep. Sale fell through, agent called today, asking if I wanted another shot at it. I said, hell, yes—you know I thought a strip mall would be perfect in that part of Tulsa. So I made another offer right on the phone, agent said it was as good as done."

  Joe frowned. "Thought you were up to your butt with that new condo development in Albuquerque. You think you can swing this?"

  "No guts, no glory, son. I've always landed on my feet, don't plan on changing my stripes anytime soon. But why I called is…I want you on the job."

  "Well, yeah, I suppose, after I get this one squared away—"

  "No, I mean while you're overseeing the Double Arrow. I've already got tenants lined up, but we'll lose 'em if this isn't ready to roll as soon as possible."

  "I don't know, Wes…with the commute between here and Tulsa, that might be tricky."

  "Oh, the Double Arrow project is small potatoes and you know it. You could oversee that one blindfolded and with both hands tied behind your back."

  "Yes, I know, but—"

  "And there's a real nice bonus in it for you, too. And with you now having more family responsibilities and all, I figured some extra cash probably wouldn't hurt. I know only too well how expensive kids can be."

  Joe's mouth stretched into a wry smile. With three teenagers, two of them in college, Wes knew all about hemorrhaging bank accounts.

  "Of course," Wes was saying, "if you don't think you could handle it, I suppose I could always hand it to Madison."

  A robin landed in a birdbath a few feet away; Joe distractedly watched it splash around as his boss's veiled threat reverberated inside his skull. For the past several months, Wes had been making noises about taking semiretirement at the end of the year. And about appointing Joe as his successor—a position which would not only mean a damn good income for somebody who'd been doing well to graduate from high school, but also a chance to stop bouncing from job site to job site all over the Southwest. But there was a fly in the ointment: Riley Madison, a hotshot business school grad who'd come to work for Wes a couple years ago. That Riley was also jockeying for the position was no secret, especially to Wes, who wasn't above playing the two men against each other every chance he got.

  "That wouldn't be you blackmailing me, would it?" Joe said quietly.

  "I prefer to think of it as…laying out the options. Joe," Wes said before he could respond, "you're my first choice. Not just for this job, but future opportunities, shall we say. But I gotta have someone I can count on, someone able to juggle several projects at one time. Riley might not know construction as well as you, but he sure as hell is eager and available. And that counts for a lot." A pause. Then, kindly, "Don't let me down, son. Be who I need you to be. You hear what I'm saying?"

  Yeah, Joe heard, all right. When Wes was still in construction, he'd taken Joe on as a seventeen-year-old high school senior suddenly saddled with the responsibilities of a man. A kid who knew squat about building, but figured it was something he'd be good at. As Wes's business evolved and grew, so had Joe. He'd learned from Wes's mistakes, but he'd learned.

  And he owed the man an immeasurable debt.

  Joe shut his eyes and massaged his forehead for a moment, then let out a sharp breath. "Fine, I'll do it. Somehow."

  "Glad to hear it. Knew I could count on you."

  Joe snapped shut his phone and blew out another breath. Well, hell—he'd spent most of the past fifteen years making sure everyone could count on him. Guess he had nobody to blame but himself for accomplishing his goal.

  He got out of the car and walked over to the office, where Hank Logan stood outside with a mug of coffee in one huge hand and a grin spread across a face nobody in their right mind would call handsome. Joe guessed the lodge's owner to be around forty, although you sure couldn't tell it from the flat stomach and impressive biceps evident through the plain white T-shirt. Taller than Joe by a good two or three inches, the intimidation factor was nicely rounded out by nearly black, straight hair and a nose that looked like it was no stranger to a barroom brawl.

  Joe had liked, and trusted, the ex-cop practically on sight, which was anything but his usual reaction to people. By nature, he preferred to take things slow when it came to getting to know a person. Not that fostering friendships was something he'd had much time for in the past several years, in any case. But now, seeing that grin, he let himself entertain an idea he rarely did, which was that it might be nice to put down roots someday. Have a friend or two to shoot the bull with now and then.

  To have something resembling a normal life.

  "Just made a pot of coffee," Hank said. "Want some?"

  "Hell, yes."

  The two men walked into the lodge's office, which, with its tired fake wood paneling and cast-off furniture, had seen better days twenty years ago. Soon it—along with the rest of the original utilitarian motel—would be transformed into a "rustic" counterpart to the individual cabins farther up the road, nestled here and there in the woods blanketing most of the property. Hank had bought the place cheap a few years back, apparently figuring he'd fix it up and sell it. Enter Wes, who'd run across the motel and wanted to buy it. But from what Joe had been able to glean through the grapevine—one rooted firmly in Ruby's Diner in town—the addition of a wife and daughter to the former recluse's life had changed his mind about selling outright. Since Wes had still believed the property had a lot of potential as a small resort, he suggested he and Hank become partners in the venture.

  Which is where Joe came in.

  "So who all's here?" he asked, taking a swallow of coffee strong enough to wake the dead.

  "Plumbers, mostly, deciding how to get water up to the lots where the new cabins are going. And the grader got here right after you l
eft, started leveling the lot closest to the lake." Another grin etched deep creases in the weathered face. "Told the guy he took out so much as a sapling, there'd be hell to pay."

  Joe chuckled. He was usually wary of hands-on property owners, since more often than not they either got in the way or botched things up—if not both—which ended up costing everybody time and money. But not only were the renovations that Hank had done himself on the original cabins top-notch, Joe got the definite feeling Hank Logan was not a man who tolerated stupidity. In himself or anybody else.

  Not only that, but he made coffee with serious cojones.

  "The electrical contractor should be here, soon, too," Joe said.

  "He already was," Hank said. "Since you weren't back yet, I suggested he go on to Ruby's for breakfast."

  Joe grimaced. "Sorry."

  "Don't worry about it," Hank said, frowning into his empty mug, then going back for a refill. "Breakfast at Ruby's has a way of mellowing a man." He poured his coffee, then glanced over at Joe. "How's the boy doing?"

  Other than thinking I'm slime? Joe thought, then said, "He wasn't too sure about things. But they seem like nice people over there at the camp."

  "They are that. Seth's in good hands, believe me. Hey," he said, apparently changing the subject. "You see my kid? Blair? Kinda tall, long red hair?"

  "Maybe. For a moment. Until the other one shooed everybody outside."

  "The other one?"

  "Taylor? Another redhead. Said she ran the place with Didi."

  "Yeah, that's Taylor." Hank took another swallow of coffee. "She teaches kindergarten up at the elementary school, went in with Didi when Bess Cassidy moved to Kansas to be with her kids two summers ago." Nearly black eyes seemed to assess him. "From what I hear, Taylor's got a magic touch with kids. They're crazy about her, and she's crazy about them. One of those women you figure would like nothing more than to have a batch of her own."