Real Men Don't Quit(25)

“My shift’s almost over,” Tyler said as she rang up his purchase. “If you hang around for ten minutes, we can all head back in your car.”

A while later he found himself driving home with Tyler sitting next to him and Chloe strapped into her booster seat in the rear. Since she’d been borrowing his car, Tyler had tuned the radio to a rock station, and as they swooped over the undulating lanes, she cranked up the volume and sang along to the music blaring from the speakers. Chloe joined in, bouncing her feet in time to the music. At first just Luke’s fingers tapped along on the wheel, but eventually he joined in, and they sang all the way home.



Luke jabbed the off button on his phone and tossed it aside. The problem with mobile phones was he didn’t have the satisfaction of slamming down the receiver. Instead, he had to pace around his living room, seething as he relived his agent’s call. Elliot was displeased Luke had been ignoring all his e-mails. Elliot was also displeased that no manuscript was forthcoming and the deadline was looming perilously close. Elliot would have hit the roof if he’d known exactly how unfinished the contracted book was.

To hell with agents and contracts and deadlines. To hell with writing, too. Maybe he should chuck it all and do something else. Something useful. He could teach. That would be more useful than wringing another Kingsley Jeffers book from his soul. Though if he became a teacher, he’d have to remain in one place, put down roots. Somehow the idea wasn’t the complete anathema it once was, but it was still enough to give him the heebie-jeebies.

Deciding he needed a distraction, he picked up the can of teak oil he’d purchased and went next door to stain Tyler’s outdoor furniture. Earlier that day, he’d popped in to find both her and Chloe under the weather. Tyler had a migraine, while Chloe had a stomach bug. They were both resting inside in front of the television, and he didn’t intend on disturbing them while he worked on the wooden chairs.

He was almost finished when a sleek black car pulled into the driveway. The woman who got out was in her sixties and dressed in a prim beige suit and matching polished shoes. Her severe face soured at the sight of him.

“I’m here to see my granddaughter,” she announced as if she were addressing the hired help.

Luke stretched up to his full height. “You must be Gretchen Stafford.” After Tyler’s vivid description, who else could it be?

“I am.” She flicked a disdainful glance at his stained T-shirt. “And you are?”

“Luke Maguire.” He considered offering his hand but doubted she’d shake it. “I’m the next-door neighbor.”

“I see.” Her flinty eyes narrowed. “I suppose you pop over all the time.”

He slitted his eyes, too. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” She tightened her jacket around her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the front door.”

He shifted his stance so he was blocking her path fully. “As a matter of fact, I do mind.”

Her head jerked up. “I beg your pardon! I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m Chloe’s grandmother. I have every right to enter that house.”

“Strictly speaking, that’s not true.” Folding his arms across his chest, he glowered at her. “Tyler and Chloe aren’t well today. They’re resting and not up to having visitors. You should probably come back in a few days’ time.”

She took a step closer until she was glaring straight into Luke’s eyes. “This is none of your business.” She was steaming like a bull about to charge, but he stood his ground, his stubbornness rising.

“I’m making it my business. Tyler told me about you and your demands.” He shook his head. “You can’t just take a young girl away from her mother simply because you want her. It’s” He tried to think of the mildest adjective. “It’s completely selfish.”

Her mouth flapped open and shut a few times as Gretchen struggled to speak. “I’m d-doing it for Chloe,” she spluttered. “She’d be better off with me. I-I have so much to give her.”

Luke jabbed his finger in the direction of the house. “She has everything she needs right there—a loving home and a terrific mother. All you’d give her is money and a warped outlook on life.”

He’d spoken without thinking, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted his harshness. Gretchen wilted before him, blinking back tears. “You don’t understand Chloe, she’s all I have left in the world”

Damn, now he felt guilty for being so hard on her. “You still have a son, don’t you?”

“Oh, Damien, yes.” She looked away. “But he’s overseas. I don’t see him much.”

“And you blame Tyler for that, too, I suppose.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, they were both rebellious. She was just as obstreperous as Damien. They egged each other on; they were bad for each other.”

“But Tyler changed after she had Chloe. You may deny it till the cows come home, but she’s a good mother. She’d do anything for her daughter.”

“And what about me?” Gretchen’s expression grew cantankerous. “I should be allowed to see my granddaughter. And Chloe deserves to have a grandmother.”

Maybe the woman had a point. At least Gretchen wanted to be in Chloe’s life, whereas Tyler’s mother appeared to positively shun the little girl.

“But you don’t want to visit your granddaughter,” Luke pointed out. “You want to take her away. Is it any wonder Tyler doesn’t like you coming around?”

Gretchen huffed out her cheeks and glanced at the garden, seeming unwilling to meet his gaze.

“If you persist in backing Tyler into a corner,” Luke added, “you’ll never see your granddaughter at all.”

She shook her head and studied him as though seeing him for the first time as a person and not just an obstruction. “You seem to know an awful lot about Tyler and Chloe.”

“I’ve gotten to know them well.”

“And you’re really just a friend?”

At her suspicious tone, he clamped his jaw. “As opposed to what, exactly?”

“Boyfriend, paramour?”

“No.” Her nosiness made him clench his teeth. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh. Well.” Unrepentant, she lifted her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re making yourself useful at least.” She nodded at the freshly stained chairs nearby. “It’s difficult for me seeing my granddaughter forced to live in such squalor.”

Luke feared his head would explode. “You’d better leave. Now.”

His peremptory tone caused her to start. “But I want—”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse what you want. You’re leaving.”

Her expression curdled. “Really! There’s no need for such language—”

“If you don’t like hearing bad language, then you’d better get going.” He was all but snarling now.

Clutching her handbag, she backed away. “This isn’t the end of things. I’ll be back,” she warned him shrilly.

He sketched her a mocking bow. “I look forward to it.”

He continued scowling at her until she’d gotten into her car, reversed out, and driven down the road. Only then did he release a long breath and flex his shoulders. All the muscles in his back were pulled tight from the tension. One run-in with Gretchen Stafford was enough to give a man ulcers.

He’d been a boor toward her, but she clearly wasn’t the type to give up easily. She’d be back just like she promised, and next time Luke might not be around to ward her off.





Chapter Ten

Sunday dawned fine and sunny. At eleven thirty, Tyler, Chloe, and Luke set off for Helen’s party. The drive from Burronga to Goulburn took less than an hour, traffic was light, and the trees along the roadside were coming into their autumn glory. It should have been a pleasant drive, but as Tyler glanced across at Luke, she couldn’t help noticing his fidgety fingers and tense jaw.

“Hey, it’s just your sister’s birthday party,” she said. “We’re not going to the Oscars.”

Smiling vaguely, he made a visible effort to relax in the driver’s seat. “I’m hoping Helen won’t bring up the subject of my mother’s house again.”

Tyler hoped that too. She didn’t want Luke moving back to Goulburn. She liked having him next door. Maybe a bit too much. Even though they’d agreed not to act on the sizzling attraction between them, that didn’t mean her imagination had gone to sleep. Now, sitting next to Luke, it didn’t take much for her fantasies to heat up again. His thigh, encased in denim, was temptingly close to hers, so close she could easily slide her hand over it and give him a squeeze.

“Plus,” Luke continued, “I’m not looking forward to bringing up the subject of my father. Helen is sure to flip out when I mention him.”

She gripped her hands together. Fondling Luke’s leg was not on the agenda. “Wait until near the end. Let her enjoy her day first.”

“Yeah, except I’ll be dreading the moment all afternoon.”