All Shook Up Read online

  It wasn’t nearly as quiet this morning as it had been last night. He barely dodged three noisy pubescent boys who barreled around a blind corner in the lake trail, and already shrill voices from out on the water pierced the air. Reaching the dock, he saw the fluorescent floats Dru had lectured him about bobbing on the lake’s placid surface from dock to float, and kids churned the water between the two berths. One rowboat remained in the roped-off area, one was tied up at the float, and the rest had been moved to the motorboat side of the dock.

  He continued on to the Lawrences’ private dock and climbed the short switchback trails to the oversized log cabin on the bluff, where he saw Sophie in one of the flower beds that framed her front porch. Her back was to him and a small pile of weeds to her right testified to her activity. At the moment, however, her gardening gloves lay in a heap by her right hip and her bottom rested back on her heels while she vigorously flapped her shirttails, exposing half her back. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

  She jumped and swore. Swinging around to face him, she snapped, “What are you, a damn cat? Give a gal some warning!”

  “Sorry,” he said mildly. He watched her drop the shirttails and blot her face with the back of her hand. Her face was flushed.

  Then she dropped her hand to her thigh and sighed. “No, I’m sorry,” she said and struggled to rise to her feet. He stepped forward to assist her as she admitted, “I was having another hot flash, but that’s no reason to take it out on you. I’m jumpy as a bowlful of Mexican beans these days, and bitchy to boot.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “You call that bitchy? In my neighborhood, we’d call that downright hospitable. I ought to introduce you to a woman named Gina Dickson someday. Now, she has bitchy down cold.”

  She blinked at him in silence for several seconds. “Wow,” she finally said. “You should do that more often.”

  “Huh?” Had they skipped to a different frequency here?

  “You should smile like that more often. You’ve got a terrific smile.”

  He felt it drop away from his face. Dammit, he hadn’t come here to get all chummy. Until he knew more about these people, that would be plain stupid. He thrust the little custard dish out at her. “Here.”

  She took it. But when he immediately turned away, she snapped, “Oh, get the stick out of your rear. Come sit on the porch with me and have a cup of coffee. Contrary to what you seem to believe, we’re not the enemy. And if you truly think we are, then wouldn’t the prudent thing be to infiltrate our camp, to learn what nefarious schemes we plan to hatch?”

  Okay, so now he felt like a raving paranoid. That didn’t mean they still weren’t out to get him. All the same, he turned back, climbed the porch steps, and said gruffly, “That crème stuff was really great. You cook like that all the time?”

  “I used to. I’m a pastry chef,” she said and patted the old wicker rocker next to hers. When he’d seated himself, she gently set her own chair to rocking. “I used to be the evening pastry chef in the restaurant here, but last year Ben and I decided to cut way back on our hours to get an idea of how we’ll handle retirement. So now he only does the buying for the gift and sport shops, and I bake the breads for the restaurant and the Eagle’s Nest, and occasionally a few of the desserts. I miss it sometimes, and every now and then I get a wild hair to whip something up.”

  She leaned forward to pick up a cup from a tray on the small wicker table, and held it under the spout of a thermos pump. Fragrant steam wafted in the slowly warming morning air as she handed him the coffee. “How are you settling into your cabin?”

  “Fine.”

  “I apologize for the porch roof. We’ve had a great deal of difficulty in the past couple years finding and keeping reliable help for the repairs. The most competent workers invariably end up leaving for Wenatchee or Seattle.”

  “Not a problem.” He shrugged. “I picked up the materials to fix it while I was in town yesterday. I’ll get started on it as soon as I figure out what I’m going to use to cut the wood. I didn’t bring my circular saw.”

  “You’ll fix it?” The smile she flashed him was so warm, he quit rocking and blinked. “Oh, my God, you’re the answer to a prayer. I’m not sure what a circular saw is, but Ben has all sorts of power tools in the garage. It’s never locked. And be sure to keep track of your receipts, dear, for reimbursement.”

  Tate burst into the yard just then, followed an instant later by Dru. J.D. straightened in his seat. She looked crisp and efficient this morning in her neat shorts, polo shirt, and Keds, but he got a glimpse of the image he’d taken to bed with him last night: Dru braless and barefoot, with damp, rumpled hair and flashing eyes.

  Tate raced up the steps. “Hey, J.D.! We didn’t know you were here, did we, Mom?”

  J.D. didn’t miss the irony in her voice when she stopped at the foot of the stairs, looked up at them, and replied, “No, I can honestly say we didn’t know.”

  Or you wouldn’t have come anywhere near here, would you, sweetheart?

  “So what am I, darling, that I don’t even rate a hello?” Sophie demanded. “Chopped liver?”

  “I was gonna say hi, Grandma, but I got sidetracked when I saw J.D. was here.”

  “And you’re always pâté in his book, anyway,” Dru assured her.

  “Oh, well, pâté. That’s all right, then. For a minute there, I was afraid I was the stuff they turn into cat food.”

  J.D. watched the two women grin at each other.

  “Can I watch the big screen for a while, Grandma?”

  “That’s entirely up to your mother.”

  “Mom?” Tate showed her a winning smile.

  “I suppose. Keep in mind that we won’t be staying long, though. I don’t want to hear any whining about being pulled away in the middle of a program.”

  “’Kay.” The screen door slammed behind him as he ran into the house.

  Sophie turned her attention back to Dru. “I’m surprised to see you this time of day—but delighted, needless to say. C’mon up. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks; I’m afraid I don’t have the time. I’ve actually come to beg a favor.”

  “What’s that, dear? Oh, but first, I don’t believe you’ve said hello to J.D.”

  Rocking back on her heels, hands thrust in her shorts pockets, she leveled a cool-eyed gaze on him. “Hello, J.D.”

  “Drucilla,” he said, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes narrowed at him, becoming a great deal less cool in the process.

  She tilted her face up to her aunt. “Would you watch Tate for me for a couple of hours? Candy canceled at the last minute, and I’ve got a walk-through with that conference-site committee for the Spokane Dentists Association.”

  “When?”

  “Now, actually. The representatives are due in about twenty minutes.”

  “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I have an appointment at ten with Dr. Case, to go over some new strategies to get these damn mood swings and hot flashes under control. And Ben went to Wenatchee for the monthly Gun and Rod meeting; he won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Maybe…let me think…oh, dear, who could we get to fill in?” Then a brilliant smile lit her face. “I know!” She turned to J.D. and his gut did a little twist. “Didn’t you say you were going to work on the porch roof this morning, dear?”

  “You are?” Dru demanded at the same time that he said warily, “Yeah?”

  “Well, there’s our solution. Tate can stay with you; he’s a good little helper. And it will only be for, what did you say, darling, two hours?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Perfect,” Sophie said with satisfaction.

  J.D.’s rocker came to a dead halt. “I don’t know about perfect,” he said flatly. “You’ve only known me for one day. You want to leave a ten-year-old kid in my care? Hell, for all you know, I could be a card-carrying member of Pedophiles R Us.”

  Sophie laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear.”

  “He’s not being r
idiculous,” Dru said. “We don’t know him from Adam, and I don’t know that I want to entrust my child into his keeping.”

  Though she was only agreeing with what he’d said, for some reason it put his back up. “Oh, get a grip,” he snapped. “I don’t lust after little boys, and I’m not going to hurt your kid. I don’t have a lot of experience with boys his age, but we can sure as hell muddle along on our own for a couple of hours.”

  “And what are your other options, darling?” Sophie inquired with gentle reason.

  “I could always—” Dru looked at her watch. “No, I guess I couldn’t.” And after all, his police record had been totally clean. She blew out a gusty sigh. “All right, fine.” Tacking on a grudging “Thank you,” she climbed the porch steps and pulled open the screen door, poking her head into the house. “Tate, I’m going back to work. You’re going to stay with J.D. for a little while.”

  “Cool,” came the distracted reply from the great room. The volume on the television rose a notch.

  “I can tell he’s real concerned,” J.D. said, deadpan. Then he shrugged. “’Course, I haven’t gotten him alone yet.”

  Dru stopped dead and J.D. could practically see sparks from the electric-blue gaze she locked on him. “Don’t even joke about that,” she snapped. “I’m taking a huge step here, leaving my son with someone I barely know. I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to any sick wisecracks on top of it.”

  Because he could see she was genuinely upset and he would’ve killed for a mother with half her concern when he was Tate’s age, he said, “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry. Go do your sales thing. We’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t screw up,” she commanded and, turning on her heel, crossed the yard with long-legged strides. A moment later she’d disappeared down the switchback trail.

  He slowly unclenched, muscle by muscle. He’d never met anyone who could turn him into one big nerve ending with so little effort the way that woman could. Blowing out a breath, he turned to see Sophie observing him. “I guess I’d better not screw up.” Somehow he managed to keep his tone light.

  She rewarded him with an approving smile. “She might sound a tad overprotective—”

  He snorted. “She sounds downright hostile.”

  “Perhaps. But you must understand that Tate’s the light of her life.”

  “Yeah, I’d have to be an idiot not to have figured that out.” He rose to his feet and stood looking down at her. “I guess I’d better go collect the kid and let you get ready for your appointment.” Squaring his shoulders, he sternly slapped down the consternation that nudged him at the thought of having sole responsibility for Tate for the next couple of hours. What the hell did he know about ten-year-olds? It’d been a long time since he’d been one.

  As if she’d read his mind, Sophie said briskly, “I’ve been in the inn business for nearly thirty years, and it’s taught me to be a pretty good judge of character. You’ll do fine, dear.”

  J.D. found Tate stretched out on his stomach on the floor in front of the television set. “Time to go, sport.”

  “Ten more minutes, okay? The show’s still on.”

  “Didn’t I hear you promise your mom you wouldn’t use that excuse if she let you watch TV?”

  Tate shot him a toothy grin over his shoulder. “Yeah, but that was her. I didn’t promise you—”

  “Turn off the tube, kid. We’ve got a porch roof to build.”

  “No foolin’?” Tate hit the remote and the screen went dark. He jumped to his feet. “Let’s go!”

  They stopped by the garage and J.D. selected a number of tools, including a Skil saw, which sent Tate into a paroxysm of delight.

  “Can I saw something?” he demanded, dancing around J.D. as they made their way back to his cabin. “When do we get to cut something?”

  “Later,” J.D. said. “First we have to get rid of the damaged portions. Then we’ll build a framework.”

  It felt good, getting back to doing what he did best. He’d always found building satisfying, whether it was starting from scratch or taking something old and defunct and transforming it into a thing of function and beauty. As birds called to each other from the trees and the sun rose higher over the clearing in front of the cabin, he tore off the destroyed sections of the roof and tossed them down into the yard. Tate collected them and carted them to the spot J.D. had designated, stacking them in a pile.

  By the time he swung down from the roof, sweat had spread wet patches under his arms, across his chest and stomach, and pooled in the small of his back. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Amusement tipped up the corners of his mouth when Tate immediately followed suit, exposing a narrow, perfectly dry little chest.

  “You’re doing excellent work,” he said, wiping a trickle of sweat out of his eyes with the back of his forearm. “Let’s take a break, whaddaya say?”

  Tate swiped his arm across his eyes. “You bet.”

  J.D. opened the refrigerator a few moments later and looked inside. He glanced over at Tate. “So what d’ya think, kid—a beer?”

  Tate’s eyes lit up and he offered that big-toothed, megakilowatt smile. “Sure!”

  J.D. fished out a couple of Thomas Kemper root beers and popped the tops. He handed one to Tate and clinked the neck of his own bottle against it. “Here’s mud in your eye, sport.”

  They brought their drinks out into the yard and sat on the grass in the sun. J.D. took a deep swig from his bottle, then lay back and closed his eyes, cradling the cool glass against his bare stomach. He felt Tate do the same and couldn’t prevent the wry smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  They lay quietly for several moments. Then Tate said, “J.D.?”

  He was aware that the kid had sat up and was now looking at him, but he kept his eyes closed. “Yeah?”

  “Are you a bastard?”

  J.D. jackknifed to a sitting position, cold anger coursing through his veins. He pinned Tate in the cross hairs of his displeasure. “Is that what your mother says I am?”

  “No!” Tate scrambled back. His pop bottle tipped over and rolled twice, root beer glugging out into the grass. His eyes grew huge, but although his chin trembled once, he thrust it out in a way that reminded J.D. of the kid’s mother. “It’s w-what I am, and I just thought maybe, uh, you were, too.”

  J.D. froze. Good going, Carver. Maybe you oughtta take that temper down to the swimming area, where there’s a whole bunch of little kids you can terrify.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently and reached out to right the pop bottle. He winced when Tate flinched away, and carefully extended the drink to him. “I am sorry, Tate. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “’Kay.” A beat of silence went by; then Tate said tentatively, “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

  “Huh?”

  Tate settled himself cross-legged and took a sip of his root beer, visibly regaining his usual ebullient confidence. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Tate. Usually you say ‘kid.’”

  “Is that a fact?” J.D. studied the boy. “What the hell makes you think you’re a bastard?”

  “I heard Kathleen Harris say it once to Marylou Zeka when I was down at the Pack ’n’ Save in town, and when I asked Mom what it meant, she said that was just a rude word for ignorant people to label me because she wasn’t married when I was born.” He tilted his head to one side. “So are you? A bastard like me?”

  “I’ve been called one often enough, but my folks were actually married.” And he was still reeling that Dru hadn’t been. “For about five minutes, that is,” he amended. “You know, don’t you, that there are a lot worse things you could be? Your mom’s crazy about you, and so are your grandma and grandpa.”

  Tate shrugged, as if that were a given. “Sure.”

  “Well, I hope you appreciate it, because that’s not exactly small spuds, kid. I might as well have been a bastard, because my father is just a name on a birth certificate to me. He and my mom were b
oth drug users and he disappeared before I was even old enough to remember him.”

  “Yeah, my dad did that, too. He left when he found out Mom was going to have me. Mom says he was just a kid himself, and that sometimes kids panic at the thought of that kinda responsibility.”

  Pretty damn generous of her to make excuses for the guy, considering the jerk had left her high and dry to shoulder the share of both parents.

  Tate wiggled his butt into the grass. “Uh, J.D.?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell Mom I told ya that, okay? When I told her what Mrs. Harris said, she explained about my dad leavin’ because he was scared and all, but she looked kinda sad.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me, buddy.” J.D. rose to his feet and extended a hand to pull Tate to his. “I saw a glass-recycling container in the mudroom. Let’s go toss our bottles in it. Then what d’ya say we take a few measurements, so we can get down to the serious business of cutting wood?”

  6

  Dru rose from one of the leather love seats bracketing the fireplace and shook hands with the delegates from the dentists’ association. She calmly watched as they filed past the long, timber front desk and out through the front door, but the minute it swished closed behind them an exultant smile spread across her face.

  Jenna, the banquet coordinator, whooped. “Way to go, Dru! I’ve never seen a conference sold so smoothly.”

  Dru shrugged, but the grin didn’t leave her face. “This place sells itself. Where else you gonna find views like this to go along with such an impressive package of meeting rooms, meals, and activities? Especially during ski season.”