neck. The look was appreciative, but not harmful. There was something else—a tingly awareness that made her swallow the misery of the situation and avert her eyes from the broad shoulders and hard jaw. Her thoughts needed to stay away from the overt maleness of Uncle Lucas.
“I’m sure you don’t have the time what with taking care of the children.”
“I need to help.” His eyes relented in hardness, giving her a glimpse of something else within the depths. Was it desperation? “In fact, I’ll get Michael to help, too. We can make short work of the cleanup.”
“He’s not going to like it,” Chris muttered. “He doesn’t like helping with anything. He’s lazy.”
Addy smiled. Most thirteen-year-old boys were lazy when it came to chores. Michael was not lazy, however, when it came to lacrosse. The boy tossed balls all over his yard. And Addy’s and Mr. Linnert’s and every house within a one-hundred-yard radius. “I don’t care what he likes or doesn’t,” Lucas said, toeing a piece of wood hanging haphazardly from the metal framework of the shelves. “He’s helping us rebuild Miss Toussant’s shed.”
“Greenhouse,” Addy said, accepting the fact she’d have three males and a sometimes pantless toddler invading her world...whether she wished it or not. Lucas didn’t seem the sort to take no for an answer, which was somewhat alarming. But Addy couldn’t deny it would be good for Chris to learn how to right the wrong he’d created. And something about the pleading in the man’s voice had her conceding to what would likely be more trouble than aid. “And you might as well call me Addy since we’re embarking upon a project together.”
“And I’m Lucas.”
“Lucas,” she repeated, holding out her hand again.
This time he took hold of her small hand with something roughly the size of a grizzly paw. But his grasp was warm, friendly even, for a man who seemed made of hard corners.
No zaps of attraction.
No weird tingly crap like in all those movies. Just heartfelt and firm. She inhaled slowly and exhaled with a smile.
Something about his handshake allowed for respite, for some measure of conviction. She knew Courtney and Ben Finlay well enough to know they wouldn’t leave their children with anyone who wasn’t trustworthy. She pulled her hand from his. “I don’t have time this week to rebuild the greenhouse, but I work only until noon on Saturdays. Should be home by one o’clock. I’ll make a list of materials, and if you can get them from a home improvement store...”
Lucas’s eyes traveled over her again. “I can and will. I’m sorry this happened to your greenhouse. I should have made sure he didn’t get on the bike. From here on out, until his mother returns he will not be terrorizing the neighborhood because the bike will be in the garage.”
“But I gotta ride in the Nola Classic in a couple of weeks. I gotta practice.”
Lucas gave the boy a look that should have been hard, but somehow looked sympathetic. “Not while I’m here. Take that up with your—”
“Like that’s going to happen. Why won’t Mom come home? Why won’t you tell us where she is?”
“That’s not my call, kid. My job is to make sure you don’t kill yourself before she gets back...something in which I’m obviously close to failing. Take up complaints with her when she calls.”
“All she does is ask how our day was. She don’t say nothin’ about nothin’,” Chris grumbled.
The whole conversation sounded tense and personal, so Addy bent and started stacking shards of pottery in the plastic rolling bin she used for compost. Her action directed the attention of both males to the task at hand.
Chris carefully set down the bike outside the greenhouse while Lucas shifted unbroken pots of delicate blooms to a concentric area in the one sturdy corner of the house. Wordlessly he picked up broken boards and handed them to Chris, jerking his head toward the two empty trash cans sitting behind her house. He moved elegantly for such a large man and the trepidation Addy had felt earlier returned. She didn’t like being penned inside with him.
“Better get moving. Sun’s about to set.” He moved the cans beside the rent plastic and got to work in a businesslike manner that chased away her fear. She pulled a rake from the small cupboard on which part of the damaged greenhouse rested and did as he suggested.
After so many words spoken, silence was welcome, allowing each to his or her own thoughts. They worked easily together to clear away the mess and restore some order to the broken greenhouse.
“Luckily we’re not expecting frost,” Addy commented, placing the final ruffled pink-and-green orchid in the rows sitting shiva over the pile of poor unsalvageable plants.
Lucas agreed, picking up her ring of keys that held the small canister of pepper spray. He eyed it before passing it to her.
“I’m a single woman.” Her declaration wasn’t an invitation. Wasn’t a status update. It was explanation—she protected herself. Lucas was damn lucky she hadn’t had the keys in hand when he’d burst through the plastic earlier.
“Smart,” he said.
Chris sighed, obviously bored with the adult talk. “Can I take my bike home now?”
Lucas nodded. “I’ll take this pile out to the bin.”
A disturbance at the torn entrance drew Addy’s eye. Blond curls followed by one blue-green eye studied her.
“And then we can have chocolate chip cookies.”
“Don’t both—” Lucas turned as he saw Charlotte emerging in the opening. Her big eyes were fastened on Addy and she looked hungry...maybe for more than chocolate chip cookies.
Addy was accustomed to being around kids—she had a dozen nieces and nephews—but she’d hardly said “boo” to the kids next door, though her aunt Flora liked to chat them up occasionally. Charlotte looked a little lost under her uncle’s care, and an invisible string inside her heart plinked at the girl in her juice-stained T-shirt and mismatched pants.
Holding out a hand, Addy beckoned the girl. “You ready for some cookies?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Charlotte nodded, reaching small grubby fingers toward Addy. “I wike cookies.”
The adorable speech impediment cemented the intent in Addy’s heart. Lucas needed help. “I like cookies, too.”
“Uncle Wucas don’t wike cookies. He wikes beer.”
Addy couldn’t stop the smile. She heard Lucas grunt as he bent to scoop the discarded plants into the rolling bin. “Please don’t tell Sister Regina Maria. She already thinks I’m the very devil,” he said, pushing the bin out into the encroaching darkness. Michael stood at the end of Addy’s drive, tapping on his cell phone, but casting glances toward where Lucas tugged the plastic sheeting closed.
“Sister Regina Maria is my principal,” Charlotte said, looking at Addy with eyes the color of sea glass. Clear blue mottled with bottle green. Beautiful and trusting. But not when she looked at Lucas. Something about the big man scared the girl. Normally, Addy would agree. As a former victim of violence, she avoided large
