Timber Creek
Page 19

She forced herself to stay calm. Laura had been away for years, living it up or doing whatever she did in the big city, while Helen had been here, helping the Baileys and stashing her bag in that very cubby. “I’ll move my purse. That’s it?”
“It also means that now, more than ever, it’s important for all of us to be on time.” Laura gave her an insincere smile—in a few short months, the woman really had mastered the passive-aggressive boss tone. “That sort of thing.”
Inside, she fumed. All of us. She was always on time, and those few times she wasn’t had to do with her kids, not because she was out gallivanting around town.
Edith hated conflict and piped in cheerily, “Helen’s always on top of things. Don’t you worry.”
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” Laura told her. “We just have one other problem.”
She braced, but Bear barked a laugh from the end of the bar. “Just the one?” He rustled his newspaper, folding it to the next page. “You ladies let me know when it’s all worked out.”
With a moan, Laura limped toward a booth. “I’ve gotta sit down.”
Only then did Helen spot the angry patches of red along the woman’s legs. Momentarily forgetting her irritation, she asked, “What happened to you?”
“Poison oak.” Laura gingerly sat down, sticking her feet out so as not to touch her skin to the seat.
Helen fought not to roll her eyes. That was her problem? That she’d been out hiking and having fun, and she’d gotten a little poison oak? Poor thing.
Not.
“Is that the one other problem?” Because if it was, boy could she tell Laura about problems.
People who had family didn’t get it. They talked about troubles, but how bad could it be if you had family around to share it with? People who loved you and could catch you if you fell.
She wanted to smack the girl upside her head, to make Laura wake up and appreciate what she had. Because all she had was a no-good, no-show of a husband and a mom who got in touch only when she needed cash.
She had her beautiful kids, sure, but she refused to share her burdens with them. If anything, she protected them more than ever. Especially Luke—as her eldest, he was trying to act like the man of the house, and rather than comfort her, mostly it made her feel shame. Her children should’ve been able to act like children, not taking on adult concerns before their time.
That there was a problem. Not an itchy rash that’d pass in a few days.
“I need you to do my shift,” Laura said. “I can barely move with these legs.”
Edith’s face pinched with concern. “You need calamine, honey.”
Laura nodded. “I’m going to put some on and get back in bed.”
What Helen wouldn’t do for a day in bed. Instead she said, “Sure thing. I’m happy to pick up an extra shift.” What else did she have to do, anyway? She didn’t need to rest. Unable to look at Laura anymore, she went to her station at the end of the bar and began to refill the ketchups.
“Cool, you can just stay on.” Laura glanced at the clock over the bar. “The early birds should start trickling in soon.”
“Actually, I’ll need to run out and get the kids. Drop them at home.” She hated leaving them to fend alone for dinner. Hated leaving them alone at night. But she knew Luke would hold down the fort. He’d make sure everyone took their baths and did their homework. She’d splurge and give him cash enough to order a pizza.
“That reminds me,” Laura said. “I made flyers.” She caught her mom’s eye. “Would you grab them? I think I left them in the house kitchen.”
“Flyers?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a petition going to stop construction at the old ranch. I’d love it if you put them up at your kids’ school. Or, wait, they’re in two schools, right?”
“Day camp for summer.”
“Same thing, right?”
She nodded tightly. Why explain?
But it did put her in mind of the fall. Two schools meant twice the work. Until next year, when Emmett would start middle school, and she’d need to figure out how to get them to three different schools.
She supposed she could put them on the bus, though in a rural school district as sparsely populated and far-reaching as theirs, it’d mean getting out the door a full hour and a half earlier each morning.
Either way, soon they’d need to scrap all their extracurricular stuff until Luke was old enough to get his learner’s permit. Just the thought of that gave her chills.
“Even better. Thanks, Helen.”
She didn’t recall saying yes, but she didn’t see as she had any other choice. But that was how Helen operated. She was a hard worker—always had been.
Unlike Laura, who was a wuss. Laura, who’d been taken care of her whole life. Laura couldn’t deal with a little itchy skin. A week off in bed, well good for her.
The bell dinged as a good-looking stranger walked in. What she wouldn’t do for a week in bed with a fine man like this.
With her husband.
She gulped back the pang and greeted him, grabbing a menu and gesturing to a booth in the corner. Helen gave him her biggest smile, thinking she knew all about itches she couldn’t scratch.
Fifteen
Laura had spent the past couple of weeks scratching, writhing, fuming, but mostly she’d been hiding. Not that she couldn’t deal with a stupid thing like poison oak, but she couldn’t bear to see Eddie—at least not until she could wear shorts again without worrying that she resembled a leper.
She’d felt a nightmarish riot of feelings last time she’d seen him. First, there’d been embarrassment at the whole wandering-through-a-field-of-poisonous-weeds thing—she’d felt so stupid. But Eddie’s tender ministrations had somehow pierced the guard she usually erected whenever he was around. Sitting on the edge of the tub, hearing the genuine concern in his voice, she’d thought for a moment that maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe they could find common ground.
And then he’d touched her. How he’d touched her. The man worked with his hands, and wow, did he know how to use them. Her face flushed hot at the memory.
Under the touch of those hands, all broad and strong, she’d instantly forgotten her nervousness, her aggravation…as one itchy sensation was replaced by a whole other itch.
One that she hadn’t had scratched in far too long.
Her chat with the Kidd sisters had haunted her. There were sparks, sure enough. The old attraction between them was stronger than ever. His touch on her had been too hot. He’d had the upper hand—literally—and she’d almost forgotten why she’d gone to his work site in the first place.
But then he’d gotten that phone call, and overhearing his conversation had instantly pulled her back to reality. A pool? Whose bright idea was it to put an outdoor pool in the mountains? Though she was sure Fairview would figure out a way to heat the thing. More than that, they’d probably install hot tubs, a slide, diving boards…her imagination had gone wild in the days since. How could their family lodge ever compete with a diving board?
When he’d hung up, she could tell he felt guilty. She’d seen in it his eyes. It was the look of a dog who’d known he’d done something wrong.
“Dog,” she grumbled. He was a dog just like the rest of them. She had plans, and never again would she let a guy get in the way.
Unfortunately, there was no denying those sparks. Her chat with the sisters had planted a seed she hadn’t wanted to consider, though she found she wanted to poke at it, anyway. To tease and test, seeing just how far she could push these sparks. To use them to her benefit.
She studied herself in the mirror. Her rash had faded into faint pink swatches, her legs once more ready for prime time. She stepped into her lucky skirt—she was off to battle, and her hot little denim mini was her secret weapon.
The skirt had gone out of style a few years ago, but Eddie wouldn’t know fashion if it hit him over the head. Men had always responded well to the way the jeans skirt clung to her hard-earned shape, and she donned it like armor.
She had her petition in one hand—it’d garnered dozens of signatures—and grabbed her strappiest sandals in the other. She was off to work it.
Eddie would be open to seeing her, too. She’d heard reports of how he’d come around the tavern looking for her. As if. He’d probably come around to rub her nose in his triumph. Well, after she was done with him, he wouldn’t know what hit him.
“Dirty, no-good dog,” she said with a smile, eyeing her backside one last time in the mirror.
“You okay in there?” Sorrow knocked on her bedroom door. “Laura?”
She swung open the door, a general ready for assault. “I’m good.”
“Wow.” Sorrow took a step back. “You are good.” She glanced down at Laura’s freshly shaved legs. “Your legs look great. But why so dolled up? You headed out?”
“Yup, errands.” She breezed to the stairs, and Sorrow followed her down. “I’ve got some business.” She waved several pages of signatures triumphantly. “Jessup business.”
“You go, girl.” Sorrow paused on the landing. “But…”
“But?”
“Do you think you could help out in the tavern today? Helen is starting to pull some attitude about you taking time off.”
“What is with her?” Laura had worked hard all her life—was the woman going to begrudge her a little rest? And it wasn’t even restful—there’d been times that first week she thought she could’ve clawed her skin off. “I wasn’t exactly sitting around watching soap operas. I’ve been doing a ton of stuff from my computer. Just because I’m not at the tavern pouring iced teas—”
“I know, I know.” Sorrow put up a hand to mollify her. “I get it. But until Hope comes up to speed, having an extra employee is more work than not.”