Susan Andersen - Burning Up

Stepping back, she added briskly, “But not today. Today, you’re all mine. Stick around while I put the groceries away and get the pork chops going. Have you seen your Uncle Bud yet?”

“No. Janna said he went in to pick something up at the Feed and Seed.” She cocked her eyebrows at her aunt. “You two ever considered carpooling?”

“Aren’t you the smart-mouthed little missy!”

“A smart-mouth, maybe, but hardly little. I’m way bigger than you are, Madam Short Stuff.” Stepping close, she wrapped an arm around her aunt to showcase the disparity between her five-eight and Lenore’s five-four, then had to hide a frown when she realized her aunt had lost weight since she’d seen her at the hospital in Spokane just five weeks ago after Janna’s encounter with a hit-and-run driver. The new frailness suggested an even greater discrepancy between their heights now—and she was barefoot while her aunt wore her usual sturdy clogs.

Lenore was almost seventeen years older than Macy’s mother. But she’d had Janna just a month before Macy was born. She and Uncle Bud had always been closer to grandparent age than that of a parent, but Macy had never invested much thought in the difference between them and her classmates’ folks when she was a kid. Her aunt and uncle had provided her a stable place to escape her mother’s perpetual wanderlust and had been, in her estimation, simply the best parents any kid could hope to have.

She rubbed her aunt’s upper arm. “What can I do to help?”

“Just what you came here for, sweetheart. Help Janna all she’ll let you and take the burden of worry off her by looking out for Ty.”

“I meant right now, for you,” she said with a laugh. “But I’m definitely here for Janna. How is she doing, Auntie? She looks so pale.”

“She’s improving. You already know what a rough go she had of it at first, and she certainly didn’t love rehab in that interim nursing home after they sprung her from the hospital. But she’s home now and improving a little every day. The doctor expects her recovery to pick up its pace once she starts physical therapy.”

“Good. I was so excited to see you when you got home that I kind of raced off and left her. Let me just run down the hall to see if she has everything she needs, then I’ll come back and peel potatoes or do whatever other KP you need. You want me to set the table in the dining room first?”

“No, that’s Ty’s job, but I think I just heard him thunder up the stairs. Dinner’s not until six, as usual, but if you wouldn’t mind going up and asking him to come down and do it now I’d appreciate it. And tell Charlie if he’s eating here he can lend a hand, as well.” She shook her head. “Those two,” she said gruffly. “I swear they’re permanently joined at the hip.” But Macy saw the smile that curved her lips as her aunt turned away.

She went up and passed on the message to Ty and his friend, smiling when the boys complained loudly, yet immediately clattered down the stairs to do as they were bid. Sauntering behind them, she paused for a second outside her and Janna’s old room. Then she turned the knob and let herself in.

The two twin beds they’d slept in had been replaced by a queen with a sleigh headboard she remembered from Old Mrs. Matheson’s room. But the illusion curtains the breeze blew into the room were the same, as was were the dotted swiss tiebacks that framed them. And it smelled the same in here—a combination of floor wax, fresh linens and a hint of the cheap girlish cologne they’d applied so lavishly it must be imbedded in the very walls. There was a world of memories associated with this room, both of the good and the bad variety.

Mostly, though, they were good.

Her cousin was asleep sitting up in the chair when she let herself into the converted study several minutes later, and Macy debated waking her to get her into bed where she’d be more comfortable. Deciding the pain of the move probably wouldn’t be worth what Janna would gain in exchange, she left her where she was. Gently, however, she straightened Janna’s head and propped a pillow alongside it to keep her cousin from getting a nasty crick in her neck on top of everything else. Then she grabbed an ancient pair of jeans out of the suitcase she’d yet to finish unpacking and exchanged her tap pants for them before going back to lend a hand to Aunt Lenore.

Her uncle got home a short while later, and they sat at the worktable catching up as she shucked peas into a bowl. At a quarter to six, she went back to the study and found Janna leaning on one crutch, peering into the mirror as she tried to fluff up the wig where it had flattened on one side. Fixing it for her, she then handed her cousin the lipstick to refresh her makeup and ushered her in baby steps down the hall.

Voices could be heard coming from the dining room, along with the sound of chairs scraping back from the table as her relatives’ boarders gathered for dinner. Macy smiled to herself at the discovery that she was still every bit as curious and fascinated to see what the dynamics would be of the current group Lenore and Bud had taken in as she’d been as a kid.

But when she reached the doorway she stopped in her tracks, causing Janna to bump her crutch’s rubber tip against her heel. “Seriously?” she demanded incredulously.

Because there, seated midtable, his big shoulders taking up a small person’s worth of space on either side of him, a slight smile on his face as he placed a napkin on his lap and listened to a young man she didn’t recognize, sat the very last man she expected to see.

Freaking Fire Chief Gabriel Donovan.

GABE HEARD MACY’S VOICE and for a second everything stilled.

Then the planet recommenced its rotation, platters clattered onto the table as Lenore transferred them from the cart and he got his game face on before turning away from Mike Schwab, one of the three boarders studying farming methods at AAE, the experimental agricultural project outside of town. Because what the hell? Women didn’t stop his world. Not to mention it didn’t say a helluva lot for his deductive abilities to be caught flat-footed at finding O’James here. He knew she was the Watsons’ niece; this was the only logical place for her to be.

But, observant wonder boy that he was, he looked across the table and didn’t even recognize her at first. His gaze went straight to that sassy blond hair, only to realize it didn’t jibe with the face of the wearer. Janna’s full-leg cast probably should have been his first clue, and he looked away from her to the woman holding Janna’s crutches while she eased onto a chair.

Heat promptly streaked down his spine.

He ignored it by focusing on the reasons he hadn’t copped to Macy being Macy right away, because, face it, she wasn’t exactly a woman who was easy to ignore. Yet except for the sailor shirt she still wore, nothing about her looked the way it had out on the road.

Her hair was a different shade of blond—actually more the amber-brown of good ale—and its long style and blunt-cut bangs emphasized her cheekbones while the short platinum wig had been all about her eyes. Which, he saw in the early-evening sunshine pouring through the windows, were hazel, not green. Well, part of her irises were a clear green, but they were ringed in a darker shade and striated with amber near the pupils. As for her clothing, she’d ditched the shorts for worn, snug jeans and was currently barefoot. She looked more farmer’s daughter than forties pinup. Same woman, different fantasy.

Maybe that was why she did so well on all those music videos—she was a chameleon, able to change her look at will without losing her ability to remain the average guy’s dream girl.