Lone Star Dad. Линда Гуднайт
“Why?”
Derrick slumped and shook his head in disgust. “Dude. Haven’t you ever heard of research? Somebody knows what to do. Google it.”
The kid was likely right, but company in his cabin was not Quinn’s favorite thing.
He carefully replaced the crying kitten, sympathy tugging at him. They were pitiful little creatures. He weighed their struggle against his own and gave in. “My laptop’s on the table inside.”
Derrick didn’t hesitate. With a gentle hand that belied his don’t-care attitude, he settled the kittens onto the warm pad, murmured reassurances and rose. “Let’s go. They’re starving.”
“Maybe Gena would know what to do.”
As he shuffled to the doorway, Derrick glanced to one side, eyes avoiding Quinn’s. “I doubt it.”
“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
The kid looked up and scoffed. “Are you kidding me? She’d ground me for years.”
“I must have made a great impression on her.” He’d been less than friendly, which he figured was justifiable. They’d trespassed. Not him. But Gena’s attitude rankled him. He didn’t want people hanging around, but he wasn’t Jack the Ripper, either.
“She gets all twitchy and weird when I mention your name.” The kid shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “Did you, like, know each other back in the old days or something?”
The old days. Right.
Quinn led the way out of the shed and took care to secure the rickety latch. Darkness blanketed the yard except for the pale light from a white moon. The kid shouldn’t be here this late. Home was a long walk in the cold and dark. “We both attended Gabriel’s Crossing High School but didn’t run in the same circles.”
“Yeah, you were Mr. Big Shot. She was nobody.”
Quinn cut the kid a sharp look. “Did Gena tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to. Your picture is plastered in the trophy cases and on all kinds of plaques. Hers isn’t.”
A hot pain slid up Quinn’s elbow and into his shoulder. “Still?”
“Yeah. Kind of weird.”
It sure was.
Quinn fell silent. Old memories made for long nights. Forget the past. Move on.
Inside the house, he turned his attention to the kittens. “Laptop’s there. Have at it.”
The boy lifted the lid and said in a reverent tone, “Touch screen. Sweet.”
“I’m an architect. High tech comes in handy.”
Derrick’s fingers raced over the keyboard. “You do graphics and stuff?”
“Yeah. Stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.”
“Plenty of sites about orphaned kittens.” The boy clicked on one of them.
Quinn leaned over his shoulder to watch. In minutes, they’d learned the rudiments of caring for the kittens. “Looks like we’ll need milk replacer from the vet. Too late for that tonight.”
“We can try this homemade stuff.” Derrick pointed at the screen and rattled off the list of ingredients.
“I have the eggs but not the condensed milk.”
“We could go to the store.” Derrick’s voice was hopeful, though his expression said he expected Quinn to turn him down.
“You need to go home.” His mom would be getting worried by now.
“And let the kittens die?” Derrick slammed out of the chair in a fury, fists tight at his side. “Creep. If you won’t take me to town, I’ll walk.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Calm down there, tiger. Call home for permission first. I don’t want her on my case.”
Derrick didn’t ease off. “That makes two of us.”
Quinn tried to remember where he’d left his cell. “Phone’s in the truck. Be right back.”
As he stepped outside, Gena’s SUV broke through his protective line of trees. She jerked to a stop next to his pickup and stormed out, slamming the door with vehemence.
“Is Derrick over here?”
No use getting testy with him. He hadn’t invited the little twerp. “In the house.”
She shot him a hard glance and marched to the front door. She waited there in her jaunty knitted cap with her arms crossed over a blue coat as if unsure whether to barge into his cabin or wait for his permission. Feeling obstinate, he didn’t give it. Instead he took his sweet time finding his cell phone, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye.
She was steamed, whether at him or Derrick or both, he couldn’t say and didn’t care. They were trouble. Pains in the neck. He didn’t need them or their intrusion on his peace and quiet.
He forced a leisurely stroll across his own front yard. The air seeped through his shirtsleeves, but he refused to rush. She made him want to get under her skin. “You know anything about feeding orphaned kittens?”
She uncrossed her arms, pursed pink lips easing open. “Did something happen to the mother?”
“Appears so.” He reached the porch and pushed open the door, motioning her inside. She crossed in front of him and he was surprised that she smelled nice, not like the antiseptic medical scent he’d expected. Something subtle, spicy and warm wrapped around his senses.
She was average height, reaching him about chin high. And beneath her coat she wore turquoise scrubs, a good color with her green eyes.
He gave an inner laugh. Stupid thought process. What did he care about the color of her eyes? He just wanted her and her little twerp out of his house.
Gena strode directly to Derrick. “You could have left a note.”
“You knew where to look.”
Derrick shrugged her off and turned back to the laptop. Gena shifted on her Crocs, uncertain. She wasn’t assertive enough with the kid. She let him get away with too much.
The room pulsed with silence, not that Quinn minded. He liked quiet. The woman and boy weren’t his concern.
He moved to the fireplace, crouching to add a log. Behind him Gena said something to Derrick about the kittens and they discussed the milk replacer.
He heard her say, “They’ll need to be fed at least every six hours.”
“I can do it. I’ll come before school and right after. I’ll even come in the middle of the night.”
Quinn pivoted around, quiet and watching.
Gena was shaking her blond head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Derrick, come on, be sensible. You have school and I have work.”
“It would only be for a little while.” His expression went from sullen to impassioned. “I can’t let them starve to death!”
She seemed to contemplate the determined, disobedient kid along with the problems inherent with feeding animals orphaned this young.
“I suppose we could take them home with us. That’s a better solution anyway. Then you won’t be over here bothering Quinn.”
“Can we?”
Quinn pushed up and away from the fireplace. “No.”
Both woman and boy turned to stare at him. “Why not?”
He hitched a shoulder, feeling obstinate. What right did she have to come into his