“That boy really doesn’t like you, Mac,” Wade said when the teens had left, with Trevor’s almost-seven-year-old son tagging eagerly along.
“It’s just taking him longer than most people to respond to my natural charm,” Mac drawled in return, making Wade chuckle.
“Mac thinks Brad is a bit threatened because Mac and I have become friends,” Sharon said, looking concerned about her brother’s behavior.
Trent shrugged. “Makes sense. Teenagers don’t like change.”
“That’s what I told Mac,” Sharon agreed quickly. “All Brad needs is some time and understanding—”
“And a good swift kick to the butt,” Trent murmured.
Mac chuckled at Sharon’s expression. “That’s what I told her.”
“Sympathy and understanding only go so far with teenagers,” Wade advised Sharon. “Sometimes it takes a tougher approach.”
Sharon sighed and lifted a hand to her temple. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Brad’s a good boy,” Emily said firmly. “Don’t let them upset you, Sharon.”
Sharon looked only marginally reassured.
One of the younger children—either Emily’s Claire or Tara’s Alison, Mac tended to mix them up—toddled up to him and set a stuffed toy on his knee. She looked up at him with enormous blue eyes, apparently waiting for him to make a comment. “That’s, uh, real nice. Claire,” he added, figuring the odds were pretty good that he was right.
“That’s Alison,” Abbie informed him with a haughtiness that was rather pronounced considering she wasn’t even four yet. “Claire’s over there.”
He really wasn’t faring very well with the younger set here today, Mac thought resignedly as the little girl he’d misidentified bustled happily away.
The child looked healthy, he mused, watching her chubby little legs pumping along. All the McBride descendants looked downright robust. He fervently hoped the same would prove true of any future off-spring. No parent deserved the kind of heartbreak he had been through.
He glanced at his watch. The afternoon was well advanced. Shadows were lengthening in the yard. The kids were starting to look tired. And so was he, he imagined. He neede
d to get away.
Sitting next to him, Sharon leaned closer, masking her voice beneath the lively chatter of the others. “You look as though you’re getting ready to bolt.”
“I need to run by the house,” he said. “The electricians were there this morning and I like to make sure everything’s locked up after the crews leave.”
Sharon stood as he did. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”
Looking only at her, he smiled a little. It calmed him to focus on her at the moment. Helped him concentrate on the present rather than the past.
Mac took his leave of the others, all of whom assured him they’d been delighted to have him there.
“I’m so glad you could come, Mac,” Emily said, her hand in his. “Please visit us again.”
He looked into her friendly blue eyes, seeing nothing but warm sincerity in her expression. A very nice woman, he thought. Would he ruin her comfortable life if he pursued his private investigation, if he made it publicly known that her father could be his, as well? He hadn’t really cared when he came here who might be hurt or embarrassed if the truth was revealed, but that was before he’d met the McBrides. Before he’d been welcomed so graciously among them.
Whether they knew it or not, they were his family—and he didn’t know how much, if anything, he owed them because of that coincidence of genetics.
Sharon was still thinking of her brother as she accompanied Mac around the side of the house. “Brad really will come around, Mac. He just needs time.”
Time. He considered that a moment. It would be several months before the renovation was finished. While it wasn’t absolutely necessary for him to oversee every day of the work, it was his practice to be very actively involved in his projects from beginning to end. He enjoyed the work, and took great satisfaction in watching the daily progress.
It was not his practice to get involved with a woman in town during his jobs. There had been the occasional encounter since his divorce; he hadn’t quite lived a monk’s life since his divorce. But not far from it. And none of the few other women had made him question what he wanted or where he was headed the way Sharon did.
They paused together beside his truck. Sharon reached out to touch the deep scratch across the door. “You’re going to have this repaired, aren’t you?”
“Eventually.”