Real Men Don't Break Hearts(34)

“You’re so sure I’m bad for her.” It wasn’t a question.

Tightening her grip on her handbag, Jess cast around the room as if searching for clues. “I don’t even know why you’re chasing after Ally. She’s not your type at all…”

His head fizzed with anger at Jess’s assumptions. Ally wasn’t a “type.” She was individual, unique, special. He rested his rear against the back of his couch as weariness suddenly invaded him. It felt as if he’d been fighting an invisible army for so long, and Jess was just another battle. But he’d be damned if he let her win. She was wrong about Ally, about him, about everything, and he didn’t give a toss about her opinion, or anyone else’s, for that matter.

“You’re wasting your time, Jess.” He loped toward the front door and flung it open. “Whatever’s going on between Ally and me has nothing to do with you.”

With a peeved scowl she stomped out the house. “I don’t get you.” At the bottom of the porch steps she paused one last time. “You helped to shatter my sister’s dreams once, and now you don’t give a damn if she gets hurt again. You must be one sick jerk.”

Hot retorts clogged his throat, but none managed to come out, and he could only glower at Jess’s retreating back.



That afternoon Nate took out his frustrations on the Tarletons’ garden, tearing down the rotting old pergola in record time. By the time he’d tossed all the debris into the Dumpster, his muscles were aching, and his ire had subsided to a more manageable level. After discussing with Mr. Tarleton the new arbor he’d be constructing, Nate packed up his tools and left.

As he drove home, he couldn’t help glancing at his mobile phone every so often, wondering if he should call Ally and arrange a rendezvous for later. After her sister’s visit, he felt strangely constrained about seeing Ally again, as if going to bed with her that night would just be confirming Jess’s worst opinions of him. Which was all bullshit, of course, because he didn’t give a damn what she thought, and he wanted to see Ally, wanted it a lot.

He decided he’d take a shower before making the call, but he’d barely arrived home when someone knocked on the door. Hoping it was Ally, he opened the door only to be disappointed when he saw a man and a teenage boy on the porch. The man was a few years older than him, maybe in his mid-thirties. Nate had never seen him before, but the boy seemed familiar. He finally recognized him from the night his briefcase had been stolen—it was the scrawny teenager, the one who’d given Nate the finger. He didn’t look so cocky now. His head was ducked low, his hands firmly behind his back.

“Hi, my name’s Duncan Grey.” The man proffered his hand toward Nate. “And this is my son, Oscar. We live just a few blocks away.”

“I’m Nate Hardy.” Nate shook hands, nodded toward the boy. “I believe I’m already acquainted with Oscar from a few weeks back.”

A red tide mottled Oscar’s pimpled cheeks, and he stared furiously at his sneakers. The father seemed equally embarrassed. “Uh, this is a bit awkward. Oscar has something to say to you.” He nudged the adolescent. “Go on, son.”

The boy jerked his hands from behind his back to hold up a familiar briefcase. His chin trembled as he struggled to meet Nate’s eye. “I—I’ve come to return your stuff. I’m s-sorry for stealing it from your car the other night.”

Without saying a word, Nate took his briefcase. Empty-handed, the boy drooped.

“Oscar, go wait at the gate while I talk to Mr. Hardy.” The father paused until the boy had retreated before turning to Nate, an imploring look plastered on his face. “I’m really, really sorry this happened. I caught the boy with your stuff this morning. He wouldn’t tell me where he’d gotten it from, otherwise I would have been here sooner. I hope everything’s still intact.”

Nate checked the briefcase and relief washed over him when he glimpsed Robbie’s photo. He didn’t care about the rest of the stuff, but everything seemed to be there, including the Mont Blanc pen, the Rolex, and, most surprisingly, the money.

“Yup, looks like it’s all in order.”

“I was hoping we’d be able to sort this out between ourselves without involving the police.” He glanced back at his son, who was lounging against the gatepost picking at his chin. “Oscar’s just turned thirteen. He’s not a bad kid; it’s just that he’s going through a rough patch at the moment, hanging out with the wrong crowd. You know what it’s like being a teenager.”

Nate remembered all too well. He’d been younger than Oscar when he’d started roaming the streets at night, getting into whatever trouble he could find. If he’d discovered an unlocked Maserati, sure as eggs he’d have stolen something from it. Not because he wanted the stuff, but just for the thrill of it. His way of giving the finger to society in general.

“I’ve had my fair share of scrapes,” he admitted.

Looking hopeful, Duncan nodded. “I don’t want Oscar to get into trouble with the police again, but I don’t want him to get off scot-free, either. I was wondering if Oscar could come by and do some chores for you. You know, mow your lawn, wash your car, maybe. That’d be a real punishment for him.”

“And in exchange I don’t tell the police about him?”

“He’s already been in front of a children’s magistrate before.” Duncan grimaced. “I don’t want him going down the same path as his deadbeat dad.”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “But aren’t you his…?”

“Oh, I’m his stepfather. Sorry for the confusion. I’ve been with his mother for eight years, so I think of myself as Oscar’s father, even though there’s no biological connection.”

Nate couldn’t help but be impressed by Duncan. Though he didn’t think the teenager would be much use to him, he liked the way Duncan had handled the situation. He and Oscar could easily have left the briefcase on the front porch anonymously, and Nate would have been none the wiser. But Duncan was trying to teach his son ethics as well as protect him from the law.

“Okay, I’m willing to give it a try on one condition,” Nate said, quickly making up his mind. “You set Oscar an evening curfew, and you enforce it.”

“Consider it done. He’ll hate me for it, but I’d do just about anything to set the boy straight.”

“Oscar can start helping me tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great!” Duncan smiled in relief. “What did you have in mind?” he asked before glancing at the freshly painted house and the neat garden. “Doesn’t seem like you need much help around here. Your place looks shipshape.”

Nate lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun and gazed over the fence at Mrs. Bennett’s weed-choked yard and the peeling weatherboards of her dilapidated house. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve got just the job for Oscar. It’ll keep him out of mischief for a long while.”



Robbie’s photo looked best on the bookcase just above the stereo equipment. Nate stood back and surveyed the living room. Without a weekly cleaning, the place wasn’t exactly pristine. There were crumbs on the cushions, a sweater slung over an armchair, newspapers scattered on the coffee table, but he liked the clutter. It was beginning to feel like home now, a proper home. Not just somewhere to crash or to impress people, but a place where he felt at ease and comfortable with himself. Picking up his glass of wine, he raised it in salute toward Robbie’s picture.

“Hey, big brother. Looks like I belong here after all.”

Is that wine you’re drinking? He could almost hear his brother gently scoffing at him. You must be going soft.

Maybe he was going soft. Because it was after eight, and he’d showered and eaten and had his favorite CD playing, but he felt out of sorts because Ally wasn’t with him. He’d planned to ring her, but the surprise visit from Duncan Grey and his stepson had changed his mind. When Ally saw Robbie’s picture she’d start asking him more awkward questions about his brother. Not that he had any secrets to hide, but he wasn’t used to divulging his inner feelings to another person, let alone the woman he was having incredible sex with.

He had friends, of course. But they were all Sydney friends who’d only known the city him, the smooth-talking, successful Nate Hardy, whereas Ally knew him from way back when. She knew what he’d been like, had suffered firsthand from his youthful arrogance. So if he confided in her about how he felt about Robbie, how would she react? Would she laugh in his face? He didn’t think so. Ally had every reason to hold a grudge against him, but she didn’t. She was generous, open, and…loving.

His chest constricted with sharp longing. Before he could register his actions, he’d already set down his wineglass and scooped up his car keys from the hall table, but then he stopped. What was he doing?

He pulled in a breath and dropped his keys back in the bowl. As he did so, he noticed his hands weren’t quite steady. Damn, he really was going soft. He’d never been this enthralled by a woman before, but Ally wasn’t just any woman. She was special to him. How special, he was only now beginning to realize. When they’d started their affair, he’d been quite happy with the no-strings clause, but not anymore. Casual sex was what the old Nate Hardy had sought, but now he wanted something different, something more permanent and fulfilling. He wanted to share his whole life with Ally, not just his bed. And he wanted to be an integral part of her life, too. He wanted to be the man she was proud to be seen with, the man she’d be happy to take along to her family gatherings.