was over, Traci thought numbly. And then it hit her. It was over, she had won, and not only was she going to collect her damages, but that surprisingly admirable, good-looking man was shepherding his two recalcitrant sons toward her at that very moment! She fumbled with purse and file folder and managed to get her hand out by the time he drew near enough to take it, which he did without hesitation, his own much harder, much tougher hand effectively swallowing hers. Good grief, the man radiated heat like a stove, and it was spreading from her hand up her arm at an alarming speed. Unless she was mistaken, it was also glowing upon her cheeks in splotches of bright red.
“Well, what do you think?” he said with amazing cordiality. “Would these hoodlums of mine be a help to you? I wouldn’t want you to agree to taking them on unless you’re reasonably certain they can be of help. God knows we’ve caused you enough harm already.”
Traci licked her lips, wishing he’d let go of her hand, and forced her mind to consider his question. “I—I think they could be of help if they wanted to,” she finally told him.
Wyatt released her and dropped looks on each of his sons. “I’ll leave it to you, boys,” he said. “Do you want to help Miss Temple get her shop ready to open, or would you rather spend your afternoons and weekends alone in your rooms?” One of them shot his eyebrows upward as if to say the choice was no choice at all. Apparently he preferred even actual work to solitary confinement. The other twin scowled and dragged the toe of his shoe across the highly polished floor. “Rex?” Wyatt prodded. “What’s it going to be? Honest toil or deep, protracted boredom?”
Rex sent a look to his brother and got one in return. Clearly, whatever Rex decreed would decide it for both of them. He was a tough little character, and Traci wondered if he had any concern at all for his brother’s preference. Seemingly he did, for he finally dropped his head in a curt nod and mumbled, “We’ll help her.” Not content with acquiescence, however, he jerked his head back up, vowing, “We’re not crooks! That place looked abandoned to us. We didn’t think anyone would care.”
“Rex, that lumber you hauled off was new,” Wyatt said. “Maybe you didn’t know the difference when you took it, but you darned sure knew somebody cared when Miss Temple confronted you, so you lied to cover up and, heaven help me, I believed you. We danced the jig, my boy, now we pay the piper. It’s that simple.”
Rex sighed and shook himself in resignation. “Yes, sir.”
Wyatt Gilley fixed his fascinating eyes on Traci Temple once again. “When do you want them?”
She shrugged, feeling less awkward now that he was no longer touching her. “Um, tomorrow afternoon, four, four-fifteen?”
“They’ll be there. Now if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll write you a check.” He fished a leather checkbook from the hip pocket of his black slacks and reached into his shirt pocket for a pen.
“Oh, wait. That’s not necessary,” Traci heard herself saying. “I mean, the court will send you papers showing the exact amount and where to send it and everything.”
“I understand that,” he said, “but I was thinking that you could probably use some cash right now, and I meant what I said to the judge about making full restitution.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she said, and once again had to backtrack. “I mean, the fifteen hundred dollars should cover everything.”
“Listen,” he argued, “these guys have given me a good picture of things. I know the doorknob was ruined and windows were broken and that torn awning must have cost a pretty penny….”
“It’s all right,” she rebutted. “Honestly, I—I think I may be able to repair the awning instead of replacing it, and having the boys’ help will mean I can spend less for labor costs…and, well, a couple of the estimates I got were on the high side, you know. Anyway, I’d rather not.”
“Take my money, you mean,” he said, smiling when she blanched. “Okay, let’s do it this way, then. I’m a fair to middlin’ carpenter. Why don’t I make some of the repairs myself? That will save you considerably more on labor costs than anything this duo is likely to manage, and I’ll feel better about this mess.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t think—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupted, with a wag of his finger. “I insist.”
Traci could not prevent the breakout of a smile. “That’s kind of you, but I’m still not sure—”
“I am,” he said, beaming back at her. “Please, that’s the way I want it.”
She made him no answer, merely subsided into an uncomfortable smile. So, she was going to get her ice-cream shop open after all. Thank God—and Wyatt Gilley. No doubt about it. She owed him a debt of thanks, but was she wrong to think that the man wanted more than to recompense her for the damage done by his sons? An exercise in faith, she reminded herself, and broadened her smile.
“They’re really not such bad boys,” Wyatt said as they walked toward her car. “They probably didn’t realize they were doing anything wrong in the beginning, then later they were afraid to admit they’d done it. They thought the place was abandoned, you know.”
“And so it was,” Traci admitted. “My grandfather left the shop to me when he died three years ago, but I was living in Dallas then. My grandmother didn’t feel she could run the business alone, but I couldn’t bring myself to sell it, so we just closed it up and let it sit.”
“And?” he prompted.
They had reached her car, a sleek, black, luxury model she really ought to get rid of in order to spare herself the monthly payments, but she wouldn’t, except as a last resort. She opened the door and turned to face him.
“And I decided I’d be happier in Duncan running Grandpa’s ice-cream shop than running the rat race in Dallas,” she said.
He lifted a skeptical brow, blue eyes twinkling. “That’s it? You just got tired of the big city and the high-powered career, so you ditched it for an icecream shop in Duncan, Oklahoma?”
She shook her head, laughing softly. “The highpowered career’ was a rather demanding job as a legal secretary, and I never was really happy in the big city. My parents moved me there when I was in high school, but this has always been home to me. What about you, Lieutenant Colonel Gilley? What brought you here?”
He shrugged. “My boys were born here. I was stationed at Fort Sill then. We decided to live here because my wife—my ex-wife—was developing an aversion to anything military, including me.” He smiled when he said that, but Traci couldn’t help noticing the sadness that darkened his blue eyes. He seemed to sense her thoughts, for he suddenly switched his gaze to the boys, tussling together in the distance as they ran across the parking lot. “It seemed like a nice town, a good place to raise a couple of kids,” he said, “so when I retired last year, we moved back.”
She nodded, pretending to understand, when in truth, any number of questions were on the tip of her tongue. She settled on the one that seemed the most innocuous. “Aren’t you awfully young to be retired?”
