The Family She Needs. Sue MacKay
family? Yes, she certainly knew how to twist the knife. As he opened his mouth to explain that his nephew was better off being with her, she cut him off and added to his distress.
‘I will never sign any sale agreement you draw up. Never. Get it?’
Her forefinger stabbed his chest—hard. Strange how he wanted to wrap his hand around that finger and kiss the tip.
She hadn’t finished. ‘This is Mickey’s home until the day he doesn’t need one any more.’
She couldn’t have put it more bluntly than that. Yet he sensed a well of emotion and need behind her statement. What for, or why, he had yet to figure out. He’d also have to work harder on persuading her that his way was best for all of them. And the reasons she believed were not necessarily behind his thinking. Though she wasn’t entirely wrong about those either.
OF ALL THE stubborn, thoughtless, selfish men in the world, Logan Pascale had to be top of the pile. Karina bit down on the words threatening to spill off her tongue and headed out to the shed to find Jonty. The stubborn, thoughtless, selfish man followed her.
‘I need to replace that dressing for you,’ she informed the older man down on his knees trying to unscrew the broken handle of a spade. She’d do her best to ignore Logan for now.
‘They don’t make these handles like they used to,’ Jonty grunted.
Beside the old man Mickey sat on his butt in spilled potting mix. ‘I’m helping Mr Grumpy.’ He reverently held a pair of pliers in his hands.
Jonty didn’t look up as he said, ‘I don’t need the dressing changed. There’s nothing wrong with this one.’
The bolt suddenly flicked free and spun across the floor.
Mickey crawled after it. ‘I got it.’
Karina squatted beside Jonty. ‘You don’t want to get an infection.’
‘Pish. I’m healthy. No infection’s coming near me.’ The second bolt was giving him as much trouble as the first.
Logan hunkered down on his haunches opposite them. ‘How’d this break?’
Go away and leave us be. Her teeth snapped shut, sending vibrations through her skull.
‘Damned rocks,’ Jonty griped.
Karina wasn’t giving in. ‘Let me see that arm, please.’
The old man glanced at Logan. ‘Women, eh? Bossy creatures—think they know best.’
Logan laughed: a warm sound that briefly lifted her black mood.
Then he won points by saying to Jonty, ‘I know what you mean, but in this instance I think Karina’s right. An infection in your arm could be debilitating for some time. You might have to delay finishing that digging.’
Jonty’s knuckles were white as he tried to budge the bolt. ‘I guess.’
‘Here. Can I get that?’ Logan asked in an offhand manner that made it easy for Jonty to accept his offer.
‘You do that while Miss Bossy, here, does her nurse routine.’
Smothering a smile, Karina removed the dressing and cleaned Jonty’s wound. It would have been better doing it inside, but Jonty would never agree. ‘It’s looking good. You were very lucky not to have that spike go any deeper.’
‘I got two dozen eggs this morning,’ he muttered.
Good, there’d be some spare to trade for fresh bread at the bakehouse down the road. ‘They’re laying well, considering it’s winter.’
‘There you go.’ Logan handed back the screwdriver and a few screws.
‘You look like your brother.’ Mr Grumpy squeezed Logan’s shoulder. ‘Sorry about James, lad. We miss him and Maria around here.’
Weren’t men supposed to be reticent? Mr Grumpy had said more words in the last ten minutes than he often uttered in a whole day.
Karina taped on the new dressing and gathered up the old one. ‘There you go.’
‘Thanks, lass.’
‘Is Mickey okay with you until I’ve got lunch ready?’
Jonty rolled his eyes and took the spade minus its handle back from Logan.
‘That’s a yes, then.’
She thought Logan would remain in the shed, but he was quickly on his feet to go with her.
The problem with walking towards the house after having heard Logan mention maintenance was that she looked hard at the weatherboard walls and window frames. The paint was peeling in places, and some of the boards did show signs of rot. The putty around the glass panes had cracked and in places had fallen out completely.
‘Yeah, it does need an overhaul,’ she admitted grudgingly under her breath.
The guy had supersensitive hearing. ‘A major undertaking, involving a lot of time and effort to restore the whole building.’
She spun around, skidding on the sodden grass. His hand quickly caught her arm, steadied her, then instantly dropped away.
Rubbing the place where those strong fingers had gripped, she raised her head and told him, ‘Think about how wonderful this old building could look with a new coat of paint and those windows picked out in a shade of green to fit in with the grounds.’
The large grounds in which the lawns were mowed once a month, whether they needed it or not, summer and winter. And in which the trees should have been pruned and the wayward hedge needed cutting off at the roots.
Logan’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing under that mop of dark hair. His flat mouth quirked up into an annoying smile. ‘You have a wonderful imagination.’
‘What are your plans? Are you in town for long?’
‘As long as it takes to make you see reason and get this place on the market.’
He didn’t half labour the point. The breath she dragged in chilled her bottom teeth. ‘Then you’ll be here a long time.’
Could she ask him to leave his half of the money in the property as a loan to her? No, she couldn’t. She’d only just met him, but she was over his incredulous glances already.
‘I’ll buy a lotto ticket tomorrow.’
‘Why not go easy on yourself and accept that selling is the right thing to do?’
Logan held open the back door and indicated she should go ahead of him. Heading directly to the bathroom, she dropped the small bag containing Jonty’s old dressing into the bin. Her head spun with retorts but she managed to keep the brakes on her tongue. He didn’t—and wouldn’t—have a clue how important a refuge this house was to her. Here, she was in charge and her opinion counted. Here, her family and her ex didn’t tell her what to do with her days.
Back in the kitchen, she got out the bread and margarine, some hardboiled eggs and lettuce, and began making sandwiches. The clock didn’t stop for Logan. She needed to get back to work.
When he parked his butt on the corner of the table, looking as if he had no intention of moving until he got his point across, she knew a moment of fear. What if he won this crazy battle and the house was sold out from under her? Would it be so bad to live in another house in Motueka? Yes, it would. Jonty wouldn’t be next door, griping and grumbling at her while he watered her vegetables, or complaining that he hated boiled carrots more than tinned peas and yet eating every last mouthful on his plate whenever she cooked his dinner—which was most nights else he’d starve. He’d never learned to cook; his late wife had