*
DURING HIS TIME at Lost Springs and in the years since, Scott had met some kids who were serious trouble. Seething, volatile—dangerous, some of them. Jeffrey was angry and sullen, which was perfectly understandable for a boy who’d been abandoned by nearly everyone he’d counted on. But he was far from a hopeless case. He was still very young and obviously bright, and it was apparent that he’d been given fundamental training in manners, though he didn’t go out of his way to display them. He expressed his unhappiness in small ways—sulking, grumbling, moodiness—but hadn’t yet taken it to extremes. Scott thought he was basically a decent kid, just one who was hurting and needed a way to work out his feelings.
He found it all too easy to identify with young Jeffrey Townsend. After all, he had been just like him, only worse. Who knew where he would be today, how far his rage would have taken him, if it hadn’t been for the guidance he’d received at Lost Springs?
Jeffrey wasn’t nearly as far gone as Scott had been. And Scott hadn’t had the benefit of a committed, concerned Aunt Blair.
Leaning one shoulder against the rough bark of a pine tree, he watched Blair and Jeffrey as they stood side by side, looking into the stream for fish. They weren’t touching, but they leaned slightly toward each other—as if they wanted to touch, but didn’t quite know how. Jeffrey wasn’t the only Townsend who had issues with family, he mused. He’d heard a lot of bitterness in Blair’s voice when she’d talked about her father and brother and some distance when she’d spoken of her mother.
Scott had never claimed to be an expert on family relationships, considering how long it had been since he’d had any personal experience with such things, but it looked to him as though Blair and Jeffrey needed each other. Maybe there was something he could do to bring them closer together this weekend.
And, speaking of getting closer...
He looked at Blair again, aware of a renewed tug of attraction. He remembered the moment when their gazes had met across the bed in the loft room. He’d found himself wondering then what it would be like to share that bed with her. Would she make love as primly and methodically as she seemed to do everything else? Would it be as difficult for her to express her feelings there as it had been for her to say how she felt about her young nephew? Or would the latent spark of impulsiveness that had made her bid on him at the bachelor auction reassert itself in the bedroom?
He was surprisingly eager to discover what it would be like between them. And when she turned, noticed him watching her and sent him a quick, slightly shy smile, he knew it was inevitable that he would try to find out. Yet he doubted that Blair would be quite as cooperative about that as she’d been about the other plans he’d made for them thus far.
He definitely had his work cut out for him.
*
BLAIR WAS QUITE s
urprised when Scott somehow enticed Jeffrey into racing him back to the cabin. They scrambled over rocks and limbs, skidded perilously on slick spots, stumbled in occasional holes, shouted challenges at each other. And while she wanted to warn Jeffrey to be careful, Blair bit her tongue to remain silent for fear of ruining the moment. Just then, Jeffrey seemed like an average little boy, loud, boisterous, reckless, carefree. He had forgotten to be sullen and angry. And it was all because of Scott, she thought, watching as he dashed down the hill with much the same abandon as the boy. Scott was a bit eccentric and definitely unpredictable, but twice today he’d been able to connect with Jeffrey, giving Blair hope for significant progress during the remainder of the weekend.
Scott didn’t hold back to allow Jeffrey to win their impromptu competition. Though the boy gave him a good race, Scott’s longer legs were an advantage. He reached the cabin several seconds before Jeffrey.
“No fair,” Jeffrey protested loudly, his breath ragged. “You’re bigger than me. I should have gotten a head start.”
Blair’s smile turned to a grimace. Jeffrey was not known for being a gracious loser. Maybe Scott should have...
“Who ever told you life was fair?” Scott drawled, leaning against a porch post without even looking winded from the race. “And what made you think you’d be getting head starts whenever you wanted them? In a race, it’s every man for himself, kid. The trick is to give it your best shot—and to take advantage of your natural strengths. My legs are longer than yours—I took advantage of it. And I won. Don’t expect an apology, but I will congratulate you on running a good race. You gave me quite a challenge.”
Blair half expected another bout of sulking. Instead, Jeffrey only stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, but without the belligerence she had come to expect from him when he was thwarted. “What are we going to do now?”
“You and I are going to do some maintenance work,” Scott replied cheerily. “Your aunt Blair is going to relax with a good book for a while. Something tells me she hasn’t spent enough time relaxing lately.”
“All she ever does is work.”
“Very admirable.” Scott was obviously speaking tongue-in-cheek. “But everyone needs to take some time off once in a while.”
“I am still here, you two,” Blair reminded them dryly.
“Of course you are.” Scott patted her head, very much as if she were a favorite pet. “And very pretty you look, too, with your cheeks all rosy from your walk.”
Her cheeks immediately flamed hotter.
“What kind of maintenance are we going to do?” Jeffrey asked warily, unconcerned with his aunt’s plans.
Scott looked up. “I noticed some loose shingles on the roof. We need to get up there and nail them down so it doesn’t leak during the next heavy rain. You aren’t afraid of heights, are you, Jeff? Or hammers?”
“I’m not afraid,” Jeffrey answered immediately.
As hard as she had been trying not to interfere, Blair couldn’t help asking Scott rather nervously, “You aren’t going to let him get on the roof, are you? Please remember that he’s only ten years old.”
“Ten? Heck, I was building houses from the ground up when I wasn’t but five,” Scott drawled, wicked dimples flashing.
“No, seriously, Scott...”