Man with a Past (8 page)

Ashley's arm tightened around Max's rump. Did she dare? A singles club versus a gardening club full of older women…gee, which to choose. Weren't all old women supposed to like babies?

She licked her lips and imagined she tasted Joe.

No, no,
no.
Joe was not the answer to her problems. She had to use her head here, figure out how to insinuate herself into the town's workings like Wilson said.

She kissed Max and sighed. She really did need to know how to landscape and garden because it would have to be done before she opened for business. Decision made, she braced herself.

“Come on, Max.” She locked the car door again and walked to the curb. “Let's go see if we can figure out what a geranium is.”

Two minutes later Ashley endured the stares the best she could, waiting for the ladies to look their fill. Several immediately turned their heads and began to whisper.

“May we help you?” A silver-haired woman with money written all over her smiled weakly. “Are you looking for someone?”

Ashley inhaled and tried to gather her scattered nerves. “I heard the garden club was meeting and I thought I—I might sit in.”

“Oh. Oh, well—”

“We don't offer babysitting,” one woman snapped loudly.

So much for her theory of them liking kids.

“And we're quite a bit older than you,” another added.

She stiffened at their tones. “There's an age requirement?”

A few of the dozen or so ladies exchanged glances and Ashley figured they were searching for some excuse to send her away. She wasn't one of them, they'd made that clear.

“Nonsense, dear. Rita simply means you might find us old biddies boring. We're open to one and all as our charter says.” The lady to Ashley's left wore thick black frames that dwarfed her eyes, and dress in a blinding shade of purple, reminding her of the poem regarding age and purple clothes.

But she didn't want to force herself on anyone. What good would that do?

Hearing Wilson's voice in her head, she opened her mouth to say she'd remembered another appointment, some excuse that would get her out of there
even if it was the coward's way out, when she caught a woman giving her a nasty nose-in-the-air glare.

“Well, dear?” the woman in purple asked. “Would you like to sit down with me? Betty's so excited about the geranium she found on the computer.”

Ashley glanced around at the women's varying expressions and swallowed. Some of them obviously didn't want her there for whatever reason, but the lady in purple seemed kind, genuine.

“Thank you,” she murmured, slipping into the empty seat beside her, Max on her lap. She got him settled while a matronly woman got up and began distributing copies. Sure enough, Betty ran out after giving the lady in purple hers.

“Not a problem, Betty. We'll share,” the woman said quickly.

“No problem,” Ashley repeated, trying to smile as Betty walked away. She turned her attention to the woman beside her, and in response the older lady scooted the sheet of paper into the middle of the table. “So,” she said softly, “that's a geranium?”

W
HEN
J
OE ENTERED
the house that evening he was hungry, beyond worn out, smelled of sweat and tar—and he'd never felt better. Working outside free of supervision or armed guards had a way of making a man appreciate the little things in life.

“Dinner's almost ready. I got a late start and—” Ashley broke off with a gasp, her eyes wide.

“What's wrong?”

“You're burnt to a crisp! What were you thinking?”

She rushed toward him, the concern in her eyes softening the bite of her words. One hand held a spoon with some sort of creamy concoction dripping off the end, but her other hand was clenched at her side as though she wanted to reach out and touch him but wasn't about to.

Smart girl.

“It's fine. I've been sunburned before.”

“But…this is bad. I've got burn cream. You can put it on after you take a cool shower.”

“What're you sayin', missy? Don't fix nothin' for me, I'm leavin'.”

Ashley turned her head toward the living room. “I know, Wilson, you told me.”

Joe watched her with a frown. “He's not eating with us?” He didn't want to sit alone at the table with her and Max. It was too cozy. Too tempting.

Reminded him of the quiet aftermath following the kiss they'd shared on the roof.

“No, he's—”

“Goin' to bingo at the hall,” Wilson informed him as he came into the room dressed in tan pants and a short-sleeved striped shirt. “Used to go every Friday night until I had my surgery.”

“To see his girlfriend,” Ashley teased.

“She ain't my girlfriend,” Wilson grumbled. “Myrtle's just pretty to look at.”

A car horn sounded from outside and Wilson continued on toward the kitchen door faster than Joe had ever seen him move.

“That's my ride. Saw them comin' up the drive. Two widows from Baxter.” Wilson pushed the screen door open with his walker, pausing long enough to wink at Joe. “You two have fun.”

Joe stared at the old man in confusion.

He waited until the car had pulled away then turned and walked over to the screen door. He groaned. Sure enough, just looking up put the side of the roof Ashley and he had slid down in perfect
view. Wilson must have seem them on the roof today. But instead of ordering him to keep his distance like before, Wilson was now leaving them alone?

What had caused the change of heart?

“He was so excited about going out tonight I hated to give him a hard time. He hasn't gone anywhere except the doctor since his surgery.”

Joe grunted. “I'm sure he'll be fine.” Wilson had crossed the floor in such a hurry, the only danger he'd faced was going so fast he might have tumbled over the walker in his haste. “I'll go shower.”

Ashley nodded, now back in front of the stove. “Take your time. Dinner won't be ready for about twenty minutes or so.”

Joe headed up the stairs off the kitchen instead of walking through to the front of the house. He passed a lot of doors along the way, but paused by one in particular. The one belonging to Max.

An oak crib sat angled in the corner, a rocking chair beside it. A colorful round rug covered most of the wood floor, and ended at the base of a dresser and chest of drawers. An old-fashioned wallpaper border of antique toys wrapped around the cream-colored walls. All in all the room wasn't fancy, but he thought it suited the woman who'd decorated it. Airy and simple, warm and homey. The perfect room for a baby boy to grow and learn and live.

Scowling, Joe turned on his booted heel and continued on down the long hallway to his room.

 

A
SHLEY HAD JUST FINISHED
putting everything on the table when she remembered she hadn't given Joe the burn cream. She found it in the medicine cabinet, then peeked in on Max and saw him sleeping contentedly in his downstairs crib.

She'd leave the cream on Joe's dresser. That way he'd see it as soon as he came out of the bathroom. With that thought in mind, she rushed up the stairs to Joe's room and had just walked inside when the bathroom door opened. Joe stepped out dressed in jeans and holding his shirt in his hand.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, unable to take her gaze from him. “I—uh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I thought I could leave this here before you got out,” she said in a rush.

Joe didn't comment as he moved forward to take it from her. Her attention strayed and landed on the scar that trailed from his neck to his chest. With his sunburned skin, the scarred, raised flesh stood out even more than it had before.

She motioned with her hand. “Your back's really bad.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“Joe, about today—”

“It shouldn't have happened.”

“Yeah.” She hated their stilted conversation considering they'd exchanged jokes and laughter on the roof before the kiss had changed things. “So
if we both agree that it won't happen again, you won't take it the wrong way if I offer to help put this on your back. Right?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she called herself an idiot. What was she doing?

Joe hesitated a long moment, glanced at his back in the mirror and grimaced when his sunburned skin stretched with the act. “Thanks.”

He turned for her to apply the cream, which left her having to get even closer.

She flipped the cap open and squirted some of the cream into her hands before setting the bottle on the dresser. Ashley rubbed her hands together, then paused, nerves attacking her good intentions.

A little late now, don't you think? You've already kissed him.

Afraid she'd run from the room like a coward, she inhaled and flattened her hands to his shoulders. Joe flinched.

“Oh—Sorry.” She eased the pressure. “I didn't— I haven't— This is really going to hurt later.”

“It'll be fine. I tan pretty easily so even though it's red now, it'll turn.”

Joe's voice was husky, filled with a tension she identified all too easily. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was something between them. Attraction, interest. Something.

And a part of her couldn't help but feel torn. She'd loved her husband. Truly loved him. He'd been her
best friend, her confidante. Her safety net when things got bad. She wasn't ready to let go of that.

So why was she reacting so strongly to Joe?

Exposed to air and the dryness of his skin, the cream disappeared and she reached for the tube once more. Joe stood still, tense, his breathing a little rough.

She smoothed her hands lower to his midback, and felt every tendon and muscle, the smooth, soft skin that hid the strength beneath. Up along his spine over the name encircled by a heart. She stared at it, only then realizing that the tattoo was in honor of his daughter. Josie. Her fingers spread the cream higher, to the base of his neck where a white scar trailed to a jagged end.

“Where did you get this?” When he didn't comment, she grabbed the tube again, keeping one hand on his back in case he thought she was finished and tried to pull away. Asking him a question while his back was turned was one thing, but staring at him face-to-face? No thanks.

“You know, I knew boys at the home who'd spent time in juvey.” She smoothed her coated palms over his shoulders, down the back of his arms, hoping he might open up and volunteer some information on his own. “Some had fathers or brothers in prison. Some just liked the look.” Her hand slid up again until it came to rest on the second tattoo.

Joe pulled away from her and yanked his
T-shirt on over his head. “I can be out of here in five minutes.”

“Why?” she asked, confused, more than a little bit fearful of his answer.

Joe crossed the room and pulled his duffel from the closet floor. With it in hand, he turned to face her. “That's what this is about, isn't it? You know about this,” he said, lifting his elbow to indicate the barbed-wire etched on his bicep, “and you want me gone.”

“I'm just trying to figure out some things,” she said bluntly. “Like why you got the tattoos.”

A long pause followed her comment, but he didn't look away. “Don't you mean where?” he finally murmured. “I got them in prison, Ashley.”

The last of her hope died. He'd just confirmed the one reality she hadn't wanted to consider. “For what?”

He didn't pause. “Drunk and disorderly, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer and—”

“Did you learn anything?” she demanded, cutting off his litany of offenses.

Silence. Other than locking his jaw he didn't react, didn't seem to breathe.

“Joe, talk to me! You owe me that much, don't you think? Are you sorry? Will you ever do anything to go back?” she pressed. “Or are you one of those guys who's only sorry you got caught?”

He jerked his head in a negative motion. “I don't ever intend to go back.”

She inhaled and sighed. She
hated
being judged. An orphan. A kid nobody wanted. Even the stupid gardening club members had given her the cold shoulder. Not all of them, no, but most. She hated it. And who was she to judge him because of stupid, past mistakes?

A mother. Max came first. Always.

Drunk and disorderly. Resisting arrest. Assaulting a police officer could mean anything from a shove to a punch, and without being told she knew these incidents had taken place after his infant daughter's death. Who wouldn't react strongly to that?

“Are we in any danger from you?” she asked point-blank. Ashley watched for a sign that he lied. A flicker of an eyelash. A smirk. Anything.

Joe's gaze never wavered from hers, if anything it softened with understanding and she tried her best to harden herself against the sight.

“Absolutely not,” he rasped huskily. “I've never harmed a woman or child, and I never will.”

She stared at him a long moment, still undecided. Joe stared right back. Her mind raced but no matter what questions she asked herself, she always came back to the same conclusion—she understood wanting to pick up the pieces. Wanting to leave the past behind. Understood what it was like to be thought of as different or less than desirable.

Joe had made mistakes, costly ones, and paid the price. One that would haunt him forever once people knew he'd served time. He wasn't defending his behavior, wasn't excusing it. He'd stated it bluntly and offered to leave.

What if Wilson had taken one look at her alongside the road and kept driving? Hadn't pulled over to help her, or sold her his house or given her the chance of a lifetime?

She pointed a finger at the closet, swallowing, praying she wasn't making a mistake. “Put your bag away, and come eat before dinner gets cold.”

 

J
OE FROWNED
at the little face staring at him. Max grinned in response, his sparkling eyes identical to his mother's. Unable to stop himself, Joe felt his lips pull up in a smile before he caught himself and looked away.

“He doesn't bite, you know. He's curious about you, that's why he's always watching you.”

Silence followed Ashley's comment. He didn't know how to respond. Didn't quite know what to make of her giving him a chance to prove himself when his thoughts were consumed with the guilt he felt at
letting
her cut him off before he'd completed the list of charges that sent him to prison.

He wondered if he'd ever know how to talk to a woman again. If he'd ever manage to casually insert into a conversation that he'd been impris
oned as a baby killer. Ashley had made it easy by bringing the tattoo question up first. Still, the most serious of all the charges stood between them.

“We never did take that tour of the house. You know, to go over all the changes I want made.”

Definitely a safer subject.

“We can tonight.”

“You're not going to see your dad?”

The last couple days he'd foregone his morning visits to Ridgewood to start work on the roof, then waited until late so he could arrive at the nursing home at dusk, when most of the visitors and staff had either already left or were busy.

Mrs. H. always saw him though. Gave him a nod of approval each time he passed.

“Not tonight. I'll call him later.” Max banged his hand on the high chair and garnered Joe's attention once again. “Max doesn't look like you. He takes after his dad?”

Ashley stood and carried her dishes to the sink. “Yeah. Blond and light. Mac's genetics won out over mine, a good thing since he's…gone.”

Joe didn't want to go there. “The girls will love him when he's older.”

“I don't want to think about that yet.” Ashley turned on the faucet and prepared to wash the dishes. “So…have people treated you, um,
differently
since you…you know? Got out of prison?”

He nodded, realized she couldn't see him with
her back to him and stood to walk over and stand beside her. He picked up the dish towel she'd pulled out of a cabinet drawer in preparation, and dried the glass she'd washed and placed into the second sink to drain.

“Oh, you don't have to—”

“I know.” But he kept drying anyway. He remembered when his dad dried the dishes every night while his mom washed. It had been their time to talk about the day, good things and bad.

“Thanks.” Ashley slid him a glance from beneath her lashes. “I guess it would be hard. Being raised here and facing everyone.”

He shrugged. “What was it like for you growing up in the children's home?”

She chuckled. “That's subtle, change the subject.”

A grin caught him unaware. “Whatever works.” He put a glass away in the cabinet, and they shared a smile like…lovers.

In your dreams, man.

The glasses and plates washed, Ashley scrubbed a pan with a vengeance, her expression thoughtful. “Believe it or not, it was…okay. Not great but…decent.” She smiled. “For as much as it could've been better, it also could've been worse.”