To Be a Dad (Harlequin Superromance) (4 page)

A mess
. She sighed and ran her hand through her son’s sleep-mussed hair. “It’s bigger than this place. I’m not sure, but you may each get your own bedroom. Maybe not right away, because the house needs to be fixed.”

Sarah stood up on the bed. “I can help him fix it. I got my hammer and saw.”

“Perfect. Okay, we have to figure out what you need for tonight and tomorrow, and then we’ll go to Dusty’s.”

“I hope I like it there.” Sarah climbed down off the bed and headed for the shelves that held her toys.

“Me, too.” Brendon drooled, a beatific smile lighting up his face.

Teressa held her baby to her chest and kissed the top of his head. “Me, too,” she whispered.

An hour later, her hands shaking on the steering wheel of her old minivan, Teressa and the children followed Dusty’s truck. She was leaving home. Really leaving. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Excited? Maybe. Definitely scared. What if Dusty decided he didn’t really want them? Nice went only so far, and then there was reality. He had to be as scared as she was right now.

There had always been a push and pull between her and Linda, and yes, from now on she was Linda, not Mother. Linda was headstrong, wanted things done her way, and she... Dear God, was she really like her mother?

She’d complained nonstop the whole time Sylvie had been remodeling the café a few months ago, not that it had made any difference. At least she’d been big enough to admit to Sylvie that she’d been wrong, something Linda would never do. People loved coming to the café now. They’d liked it before, but now they loved it, because Sylvie had painted the constantly changing wall mural on the back wall that chronicled their lives, and installed Wi-Fi and comfy chairs surrounded by stacks of books and newspapers. Sylvie nourished their minds and Teressa nourished their bodies with good food. So maybe there was still a chance that she hadn’t grown as rigid in her opinions as her mother.

She’d had to toughen up quickly when she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah. Lots of women had children by the time they were twenty-two, but she hadn’t been prepared for suddenly being cut out of the small social scene in the village. Although having Sarah had helped compensate for almost everything she’d lost.

She glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Brendon’s eyes were closed.
Please let him stay asleep
. Sarah looked wide-awake, her gaze glued to Teressa’s reflection in the mirror, as if afraid that if she took her eyes off her mother she might disappear.

“Hey, honey bun. Are you okay?”

“Grammy hit you,” she whispered, her eyes round with disbelief.

How to put a positive spin on that? She’d hoped Sarah and Brendon had somehow missed that bit. “Sometimes when people are angry they say or do things they don’t mean.”

“Why are we going to Dusty’s house?”

Great question. Her daughter was nothing short of brilliant. “Because Dusty’s a good friend, and he wants us to live with him for a while.” All true. She’d wanted to delay the news of having another baby sister or brother until her first trimester was over.

“Is he going to be our daddy now?”

Teressa groaned. How did life get so complicated? “Corey’s your father, Sarah.”

Sarah pushed against the back of the seat in front of her. “I like Dusty better.”

So did Teressa. She hadn’t heard from Corey for two years since he’d gone out west to work. His parents were dead, and he only had one brother, who moved around a lot, as well. She had no idea how to locate either one. Corey wasn’t a bad person, but neither had he been interested in being a dad. A few months after Sarah was born, he left and had come back only a couple of times to say hello. As for any financial support, it was hard to tap someone’s pocketbook when you didn’t know where to find them. Corey had been a fun guy, and he loved the good times and the parties.

Much like Dusty.

She blinked back tears. She was setting herself up for another fall, wasn’t she? Only this time she had two—make that three—kids to drag down with her. She should turn the car around and go...anywhere but Dusty’s. She clicked on the turn signal and pulled into his driveway. Maybe tomorrow she’d find somewhere else to live. Except she knew as well as Dusty that the only homes available to rent were drafty summer houses that were impossible to heat. She was backed into a corner with no way out. God, she hated her life.

* * *

D
USTY
CLIMBED
OUT
of his truck and welcomed the cold as he waited for Teressa. He’d never in his life wanted to hit a woman before, but he was ashamed to admit he’d come close tonight. What kind of mother talked to her daughter that way? It burned a hole in his gut wondering how long Teressa had been putting up with that crap.

Collina was a small village, and if Teressa had ever been promiscuous, he’d never heard about it. And he’d always paid attention when the gossip involved her. He had no patience for the women-are-sluts, guys-are-studs bullshit. People were people, and normal people needed sex.

He leaned against the truck fender and crossed his ankles. Okay, so he hadn’t liked it when she went out with Corey, but he’d been dating... He frowned and tried to recall who he’d been dating at the time. Patricia? Sherry? Point was, he wasn’t a saint. But when she got pregnant... Yeah. Whole different ballgame. As far as he knew, Teressa had only had two boyfriends, and Stan, Brendon’s father, had been more a bad idea than a boyfriend.

The point was Mrs. Wilder had no business talking to her daughter that way. Teressa was a good mom and a good woman. Earlier tonight, when her mother had bad-mouthed her, Dusty had watched something die in Teressa’s eyes. She seemed to shrink right in front of him. That was so wrong. She worked hard to keep her little family together and to make a success of the café. He knew she’d always wanted to be a chef somewhere fancy, but he rarely heard her complain about being head cook at his family’s café.

He’d been so proud of her a couple of months ago, about the same time their child had been conceived, when she’d managed to come up with the funds to buy a third share of the café. Adam had decided to buy in to the deal as the second partner, but then Sylvie realized she needed to hold on to a part of the café that had been originally bought for their mother, and became the silent third partner. Dusty smirked. Silent, as in not working there daily. She was pretty damned vocal about her vision for the future of the café.

He straightened away from the truck and pulled up a smile as Teressa drove into the yard. She was going to have a fit when she saw the shape his house was in. He should have gone inside and tried to straighten stuff up.

“Want me to get Brendon?” he asked when she got out of the car.

“Could you carry Sarah instead? It’s dark out here and she’s heavier.”

“Sorry. I’ll get an outside light hooked up tomorrow.” Right after he renovated the entire house.

He leaned down into the car. “Hey, Sarah. How about a piggyback to the house?”

She looked at him suspiciously. “What’s a piggyback?”

“I’ll show you. You get out of the car, and I get down like this. Now, you put your arms around my neck, and up we go.” He grabbed her legs and pulled them around his waist. Sarah squealed as he stood, and she grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Look at me, Mommy.”

Teressa pulled out of the backseat with a sleeping Brendon in her arms. She gave her daughter a weary smile. “You have to let go of Dusty’s hair, honey, but hold tight to his neck.”

Sarah released her death grip on his head to clamp a tiny hand right on his larynx. Dusty tried to breath, but his throat was blocked. He galloped to the house, anxious to get her off his back.

He put her down as soon as he reached the back stoop, took her hand and went inside, switching on the kitchen light. Teressa followed on his heels. They stood, silent, surveying the gutted house. The cold, gutted house. He’d been so excited that Pops had given him money to work with that he’d forgotten to start a fire before going to Teressa’s to tell her the good news.

“I know it’s a mess,” he began. Sarah let go of his hand and slipped behind her mother. Teressa looked everywhere but at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“We’re going to fix it up,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ve hired Josh to work on the house instead of coming out on the boat with me. Cal said he’d help when he could, and Adam will, too. And me, of course. And you.” He sent a silent plea to Teressa. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Of course it is,” Teressa said in a too bright voice. “Where are the bedrooms? Sarah and Brendon need to be in bed.”

He cleared his throat, feeling like a total loser. “Um...the bedrooms are crammed full of stuff right now. But I’ve got a king-size bed, and there’s lots of room for you and the kids.”

Teressa’s mouth hung open. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said and waved vaguely around the living room. “Just let me change the sheets on my bed.” And pick up the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor after his shower. And, hell, that magazine Andy had given him as a joke for his birthday last month.

He left them standing in the middle of the living room, looking like shell-shocked refugees. What was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t leave them at Teressa’s mom’s, and the closest hotel open at this time of the year was sixty kilometers away.

You could have taken them home.
Although his father had given the old family house to Sylvie, he still thought of the house as home. Sylvie was living with Adam in his tiny house next door to the family home, because they planned to start renovating the old house soon, if they hadn’t already.

The truth was he needed to take care of Teressa and the kids himself. Which was stupid and selfish and proved he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.

Sarah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her doll to her chest.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In the bathroom, crying.”

Hell. “Brendon?”

“He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stepped into the room. “You’re a bigger slob than Brendon.”

“I can change.” He tucked the edge of the bottom sheet under the mattress corner.

“How come Grammy hit Mommy?”

Because she was an evil witch. Dusty punched the pillow before he put it back on the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t know your grammy very well, but it’s wrong to hit people.”

“You hit that man at the bonfire.”

The annual bonfire, a couple months ago. He couldn’t remember if he’d hit the SOB who’d been sniffing around Teressa that night or not. He’d been so drunk he doubted he’d done any damage, and he’d been too embarrassed afterward to ask. He’d gotten the idea that he and Teressa were going to the bonfire together. Sort of like a couple. But she’d turned up with that tourist who’d been hanging around her, and when one of his buddies had passed Dusty the rum, he’d gotten a glow on.

No wonder Teressa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying him. At thirty-two, he still acted like a kid. He had to grow up fast.

“Are those your pajamas?” He threw the comforter over the clean bed.

“Yes.”

“Okay, climb in bed. I’ll get your brother.”

“What about Mommy?” she asked after crawling under the blankets. She looked so tiny in the middle of his bed.

“I’ll get her after you guys are settled.”

Two minutes later he carried Brendon to the bed and tucked the sleeping boy in beside his sister. “Is he supposed to go to the washroom or something?” The last thing he needed was kid pee on his expensive mattress.

“No, silly. He wears diapers at night.”

“Right. Okay. So, lights. Want them off or on?”

“Off, but leave the door open.”

He switched off the light and edged toward the door. “I’ll get your mom now.”

“Dusty?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re supposed to kiss us good-night.”

He felt a weird snick inside, almost as if something was clicking into place. He strode back to the bed, dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then leaned over her and kissed Brendon. “Good night, funny-face,” he said from the doorway.

Sarah giggled. “That’s not my name.”

Dusty smiled in the dark. “It is now.”

His smile slipped as he faced the closed bathroom door. He stared at it for a couple of minutes like the dumb idiot he was, then turned and walked back to the living room. Teressa had once told him she’d never caught a break in her life, and now here she was, stuck with him, a place she’d never wanted to be. He needed a beer.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and popped the lid. He didn’t know what to say to Teressa to make her feel better.
Your mother’s a bitch, forget about her? Everything’s going to be okay?
Was it? He and Teressa squabbled on a regular basis, and that was with not nearly as much at stake. He had feelings for her, but were they enough to sustain them through having a child together?

He took a swig of beer. And yeah, he resented that she had children with two other guys. She’d have been smarter if she’d hung out with him. Except he’d been busy with...Suzy? Julie? He was such a shit. How could he be mad at Teressa for doing exactly what he’d been doing at the time? He put his beer on the counter and called Sylvie to let her know what had happened and ask for a favor. When he hung up, he went back to the bathroom. He had to at least try to make Teressa feel better.

He knocked softly on the door. “You okay?”

“Um, yes, of course.” He heard her run the water in the sink.

“We need to talk, Teressa.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

He stared at the door, waiting for her to say something else. Something smart-ass, like she usually did. After a couple of minutes he went back to his beer in the kitchen. He was out of his depth, and he wished someone would give him a checklist.
Crying woman locked in bathroom—break down door. Check.
All that would do was wake up the kids.

He tensed when he heard the bathroom door open and close. It took a few minutes, but Teressa finally walked into the kitchen. Shuffled into the kitchen. Hell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop from hauling her into his arms. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.