To Love An Older Man

“This is a tough time for you,” he added quickly. “Uncertainty is difficult to face under the best circumstances and now you have a baby to consider.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for being so understanding. I’m really not such a wimp.”

The sincere gratitude in her eyes got to him and he touched the tip of her nose. “I don’t doubt that for a moment.”

The rest of her face got as red as her nose. “You’re treating me like a child again.”

“What?”

“Don’t deny it.” A teasing smile started at the corners of her mouth. “But that’s okay. I’m used to it. I look young for my age, plus my brother and his friends were so much older that they’ve always treated me like a kid.”

“Is that why you won’t go back to Idaho?”

Any trace of a smile vanished and she hunched her shoulders. “Not exactly.”

“I’m prying. I apologize.” He knew little about pregnancy but enough to understand that a woman’s body and mood changed. And boy, did he just get a sample of it. If she started crying again it would be his fault.

“You have a right to know. After all, you’ve taken me in.”

“Just for the night.”

Embarrassment rose in her cheeks. “I understand. I’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I didn’t mean that. What I was trying to say in a very bad way was that you don’t owe me any explanations. My offer wasn’t conditional.”

“I know.” She sighed. “My brother has a notoriously bad temper. If he finds out about Tommy taking my college money—” She pressed her lips together, panic flickering in her eyes, as if she’d said too much. “Anyway, Junior and his wife work the farm now. They have three children. There’s really no room for me there.”

“And your parents?”

“They died when I was fifteen. Junior took over my guardianship.”

“He’s your only sibling, I take it.”

She nodded. “Even though he’s twelve years older than me we’re very close, but he wouldn’t understand me getting pregnant. He never liked Tommy.” She stared down at her hands. “I guess Junior was right about him.”

“Nevertheless, surely your brother wouldn’t turn you away.”

She looked up, her eyes troubled. “Oh, no, of course not.” She blinked, looked away. “It’s complicated.”

“And none of my business.”

She gave him a tiny apologetic smile. The discussion was closed. He respected that, and to reassure her, he laid a hand on her clasped ones. They were cold and fidgety, and she was so small his one hand covered them both.

Her eyes widened, slightly, just enough to spark an awareness in him that made his mouth go dry, his chest tighten. Trust…gratitude…were both there in her unguarded expression. He pulled away and raked a hand through his hair.

“I’m sure you’re tired.” He stood and disposed of his half-eaten apple. “Let me show you to your room.”

She got to her feet, her gaze following him with a wariness that unsettled him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not. I just figured you wanted to rest.”

She pushed back the sleeves of her coat. “I’m going to do the dishes first. Is the soap under the sink?”

David grunted. “You are not going to wash the dishes.”

“I’m certainly not going to leave them.” She brushed past him with her bread plate and bowl.

“We have a dishwasher.” His gaze scanned the room. He knew they had one somewhere…. Ah, he spotted it to the right of the sink.

“I’m sure Ida has already run it for the night. It won’t take me long to wash these up.” She placed the dishes in the sink and turned on the water. Her coat sleeves slid back down and she pushed them up again.

David shut the water off, and when she turned to him he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are not going to wash dishes. You are going to bed.”

He’d expected her to comply but she surprised him by tilting her head back and narrowing her gaze. “Says who?”

The forgotten childhood taunt startled a laugh out of him. “Says me.”

They stood staring at each other a moment, and then a shy smile tugged at her lips and she moved back. “Really, I can wash up everything in no time.”

He lowered his hands. She had such slim shoulders a peculiar protectiveness stirred inside him. “You’re a guest in this house. If I let you so much as lift a finger, my mother and Ida will run me up a flagpole.”

She made a face. “I’m not exactly a guest.”

“I suggest you follow me, or you’re on your own to find the guest room.”

He headed out of the kitchen, hiding a smile when she scurried after him. Halfway across the dining room he heard her gasp and he made an abrupt about-face.

“Wow, this house is really something.”

Her gaze swept the two-story white marble foyer with the crystal chandelier his mother had found in Rome. The living room was decorated in a simple but elegant contemporary style, the real focal point the city beyond the wide expanse of glass. San Francisco twinkled like a hundred-carat diamond.

David watched the wonder light her eyes and suffered a surprising pang of envy. He remembered how excited he’d been over the architectural plans, and how he used to stand on the hill before the house was built and just stare at the city below, waiting, anticipating.

Now it seemed all he did was work. Which reminded him…he still had to get his briefcase out of the car and start in on that brief….

“Your room is right down this hall,” he said with more impatience than he’d intended.

“Sorry.” She threw one final admiring look around and then hurried after him.

The bedroom was already made up. Ida kept it in top shape for unexpected guests. He’d already put Beth’s bag on the luggage rack near the closet. The tote was so light he wondered what she had in there. Clearly she had to have more clothes stashed somewhere.

“There’s a bathroom behind the door to the left, the one on the right goes out onto a balcony. Let’s see, there are hangers and an extra blanket in the closet, bottled water over in that small fridge in the corner.”

She stood in the doorway, as if afraid to come all the way into the room.

He casually stepped back to give her space. “Can you think of anything else you might need?”

She shook her head, her eyes looking suspiciously bright again. Definitely his cue to leave.