Brambleberry House. RaeAnne Thayne

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care about Julia Blair and her children. He couldn’t afford it.

      He had been through enough pain and loss for a hundred lifetimes. He would have to be crazy to sign up for a situation with the potential to promise plenty more.

      When he was ready to let people into his life again—if he was ever ready—it couldn’t be a medically fragile little girl, a boy with curious eyes and energy to burn, and a lovely auburn-haired widow who made him long to taste life again.

      * * *

      SHE DIDN’T SEE Will again for several days. With the lead-up to the start of school and then the actual chaos of adjusting to a new classroom and coming to know thirty new students, she barely had time to give him more than a passing thought.

      But twice in the early hours of the morning as she graded math refresher assignments and the obligatory essays about how her students had spent the summer, she had glimpsed the telltale glimmer of lights in his workshop through the pines.

      Only the walls of Abigail’s old house knew that both times she had stopped what she was doing to stand at the window for a few moments watching that light and wondering what he was working on, what he was thinking about, if he’d had a good day.

      It wasn’t obsession, she told herself firmly. Only curiosity about an old friend.

      Other than those few silent moments, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about him much. What would be the point?

      She had seen his reaction to the news of Maddie’s cancer, a completely normal response under the circumstances. He had been shocked and saddened and she certainly couldn’t blame him for the quick way he distanced himself from her.

      She understood, but it still saddened her.

      Now, the Friday after school started, she pulled into the Brambleberry House driveway to find his pickup truck parked just ahead of her SUV. Before she could contain the instinctive reaction, her stomach skittered with anticipation.

      “Hey, I think that’s Mr. Garrett’s truck,” Simon exclaimed. “See, it says Garrett Construction on the side.”

      “I think you must be right.” She was quite proud of herself for the calm reply.

      “I wonder what’s he doing here.” Simon’s voice quivered with excitement and she sighed. Her son was so desperately eager for a man in his life. She couldn’t really blame him—except for Conan, who didn’t really count, Simon was surrounded by women in every direction.

      “Do you think he’s working on something for Sage and Anna? Can I help him, do you think? I could hand him tools or something. I’m really good at that. Do you think he’ll let me?”

      “I don’t know the answer to any of your questions, kiddo. You’ll have to ask him. Why don’t we go check it out?”

      Both children jumped out of the vehicle the moment she put it in Park. She called to them to wait for her but either they didn’t hear her or they chose to ignore her as they rushed to the backyard, where the sound of some kind of power tool hummed through the afternoon.

      She caught up with them before they made it all the way.

      “I don’t want you bothering Will—Mr. Garrett—if he’s too busy to answer all your many questions. He has a job to do here and we need to let him.”

      The rest of what she might have said died in her throat when they turned the corner and she spotted him.

      Oh mercy. He wore a pair of disreputable-looking jeans, a forest green T-shirt that bulged with muscle in all the right places, and a leather carpenter’s belt slung low like a gunfighter’s holster. The afternoon sun picked up golden streaks in his brown hair and he had just a hint of afternoon stubble that made him look dangerous and delectable at the same time.

      Oh mercy.

      Conan was curled under the shade nearby and his bark of greeting alerted Will’s to their presence.

      The dog lunged for Simon and Maddie as if he hadn’t seen them in months instead of only a few hours and Will even gifted them with a rare smile, there only for an instant before it flickered away.

      He drew off his leather gloves and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans. “School over already? Is it that late?”

      “We have early dismissal on Fridays. It’s only three o’clock,” Julia answered.

      “We’ve been out for a few hours already,” Maddie informed him. “Usually we get to stay at the after-school club until Mama finishes her work in her classroom.”

      “Is that right?”

      “It’s really fun,” Simon answered. “Sometimes we have to stay in Mom’s room with her and do our homework if we have a lot, but most of the time we go to extracurriculars. Today we played tetherball and made up a skit and played on the playground for a long time.”

      “Sounds tiring.”

      “Not for me,” Simon boasted. “Maybe for Maddie.”

      “I’m not tired,” Maddie protested.

      His gaze met Julia’s in shared acknowledgment that Maddie’s claim was obviously a lie.

      “What’s the project today?” she asked.

      “Last time I was here I noticed the back steps were splintering in a few places. I had a couple of hours this afternoon so I decided to get started on replacing them before somebody gets hurt.”

      Simon looked enthralled. “Can we help you fix them? I could hand you tools and stuff.”

      That subtle panic sparked in his eyes, the same uneasiness she saw the day they went for ice cream, whenever she or the children had pushed him for more than he was willing to offer.

      She could see him trying to figure a way out of the situation without hurting Simon and she quickly stepped in.

      “We promised Sage we would pick a bushel of apples and make our famous caramel apple pie, remember? You finally get to meet Chloe in a few hours when she and her father arrive.”

      Simon scowled. “But you said in the car that if Mr. Garrett said it was okay, we could help him.”

      She sent a quick look of apology to Will before turning back to her son. “I know, but I could really use your help with the pies.”

      “Making pies is for girls. I’d rather work with tools and stuff,” Simon muttered.

      Will raised an eyebrow at this blatantly chauvinistic attitude. “Not true, kid. I know lots of girls who are great at using tools and one of my good friends is a pastry chef at a restaurant down the coast. He makes the best brambleberry pie you’ll ever eat in your life.”

      “Brambleberry, like our house?” Maddie asked.

      “Just like.”

      “Cool!” Simon said. “I want some.”

      “No brambleberries today,” Julia answered.

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