WAS STILL IN A PISSY mood when he got home, in spite of stopping by the bar first for a beer. His jaw ached where Josh had clocked him and a bruise was beginning to shadow the stubble on his chin. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the fact that he’d deserved that punch or the low to which he’d sunk in his mind. It was as if he was in a downward spiral he couldn’t do anything to stop and everyone around him was trying to help but he was gunning for that fateful moment when he went splat against the concrete. If Dana were here she’d no doubt tell him to quit feeling sorry for himself. A sad smile lifted his mouth, but only for a moment. He couldn’t think of Dana. Maybe if Ian didn’t look so much like her….
He opened the door and was hit with the savory aroma of something he hadn’t smelled in a long time. Apple pie.
Entering the kitchen, the smell triggered a memory that nearly sent him to his knees. He slowed, let his eyes close and sank into the past.
Suddenly, it was September of last year, and Sammy had come home to that same tantalizing aroma.
“Damn, girl, what is that amazing smell?” he’d said, whipping his ball cap off and tossing it to the hat stand by the door. He saw Dana in the kitchen, pregnant, flour in her hair, the room looking as if a bomb had gone off, there was sweat dampening her forehead and one perfect apple pie cooling on the counter. He’d never been so conflicted by his desire to eat pie and make love to his wife. In the end, he did both. Right there on the kitchen floor.
“I thought you might like a pie made from our very own apple tree,” she’d said huskily, her voice retaining the warmth created by their lovemaking. She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him as he lay on his back recuperating. “I had no idea pie has this kind of effect on you,” she teased, her brown hair falling forward to tickle his face.
“You have this kind of effect on me,” he murmured, pulling her down to his mouth, savoring everything about his wife. “But I do love pie,” he added playfully.
“I love you,” she said softly.
The echo of Dana’s whispered sentiment brought him crashing back to the present, and he found Aubrey staring at him, an uncertain expression on her face.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a strangled tone.
“I…took Ian for a walk and discovered the apple tree…and they were just dropping on the ground,” she said, faltering. “I didn’t think you would mind if I put them to good use.”
“Well, I do mind,” he said, shaking with pain. He had a vision of grabbing the ax and chopping the damn tree down so he never had to deal with this happening ever again. But then he noticed that she’d been very busy while he’d been at work. Not only had she baked a pie but she’d made applesauce for Ian and that’s what she’d been doing when he walked in, putting the sauce into small containers for later use. He choked down the angry words that bubbled to the surface as he remembered Dana talking about how she’d hoped to do that very thing for their child. She’d been so excited to be a mother, she wanted nothing but the best for the baby—and apparently the best had included homemade applesauce.
Aubrey stiffened and her mouth tightened as she offered a terse apology. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about letting the apples go to waste. I won’t do it again,” she said.
“Forget it,” he bit out, hating the gruff quality of his voice. “I…” He tried to apologize but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he just turned on his heel and headed to the shower. She was his employee. He didn’t owe her explanations.
TEARS STUNG AUBREY’S EYES but she managed to hold them back until Sammy stalked from the room. It was ridiculous, she thought, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before returning to her task. Did he have to be such an ass? She twisted a lid onto the last container and stuck it in the freezer with the rest she’d made. She wiped down the counter and put everything in its place then prepared Ian for his bath.
She took great care to avoid looking in the direction of Sammy’s bedroom, but she couldn’t help wondering what had caused him to snap like that. She didn’t want to but she saw the pain in his eyes, and it softened her just a little toward him. Oh, stop that. He’s not a stray, injured dog you can nurse back to health. He’s a grown man acting like a spoiled, selfish child. Steer clear. Odd, how that scolding came straight at her in the voice of her mother. She rolled her eyes at herself and repressed a grateful shudder that the voice was only in her head and not being delivered in person.
After a quick bath and a bottle of milk, Aubrey put Ian to bed. As soon as Ian’s eyes drifted shut, she went to Sammy’s bedroom and gave the door a soft knock.
“Mr. Halvorsen…. I’m taking off. Ian—” She was startled when the door opened abruptly and Sammy stood there, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression stark. She straightened and continued. “As I was saying, Ian has had his bath and his dinner. He’s asleep in his bed. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”
He shook his head and she turned. His voice at her back made her stop.
“I’m sorry for…snapping at you,” he said quietly.
She nodded, but the motion was stiff. Still, since he was extending an olive branch of sorts, she’d do the same. “I apologize for not asking first. I realize it was presumptuous of me to assume you wouldn’t mind if I put the apples to use.”
“Does he like the applesauce you made for him?” he asked.
“He does. Very much.”
He ran his tongue across his lip and it was then Aubrey noticed the swelling along his jaw.
“What happened to you?” she asked, appalled at the injury and his apparent disregard for his own care. “Come here,” she instructed, forgetting for the moment that she thought he was the lowest of all men who hardly deserved more than a cursory glance much less her help. She led him to the kitchen where the light was better and then set about putting together an ice pack. “Was this a fight?”
“Something like that,” he answered with a shrug.
“Kiss the wrong girl? One with a husband perhaps?” she muttered and he chuckled darkly as he accepted the ice pack and set it against his jaw.
“Nothing like that. My brother wanted to teach me some manners.”
“Your own brother did this?” she repeated, horrified.
“Yeah.” He paused, then added, “I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“So you deserved it?”
He lifted the ice pack. “Josh wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t feel it was justified. Now, if it’d been Dean…he has more of a temper. And he’s been known to swing a few punches here and there. Just ask Aaron Eagle. He’s felt the sting of my brother’s fist. But he had it coming, too.”
“Who is Aaron Eagle?” she asked.
Sammy tried to grin but the effort cost him and he winced instead. He waved away her question. “Nobody. Just a guy my brother Dean doesn’t much care for. Dean clocked Aaron one day at a construction site. But trust me, the guy had it coming.”
“Sounds like your brothers are a couple of violent ruffians,” Aubrey observed, not quite sure what to think of this information. She
