Soldier, Handyman, Family Man

It brought back a slew of memories for Mark, of him and his brothers when they were young kids, squirming and trying to behave. And later when they’d all become touchy teens, ready to pounce on each other at the drop of one wrong word, or unwanted glance.

Other than Mark occasionally catching Laurel’s gaze, and a special zing that took him by surprise whenever he did, they weren’t able to communicate much at all. He was okay with that, since his goal was to keep the distance.

“So tell us about your surfing lessons, Peter,” Laurel asked.

The kid said just enough words to qualify for an answer, then shoved more meat into his mouth. He seemed to have a healthy appetite, and Mark assumed it was from the beating he’d taken in the ocean that afternoon.

“Have you been doing those exercises I told you about?”

“Some.” More eating, this time potato. “I’m gonna do more later.”

“After your homework, right?” Laurel added between bites.

“Can we be excused?” the twins said in unison.

Laurel made a big deal out of checking their plates to make sure they’d eaten enough. “One more bite each.”

They both crammed another tiny bite into their mouths, washed it down with the last of their milk and rushed off for the family room.

Peter had to be asked to clear the table, but he didn’t protest too loudly, which surprised Mark. Maybe he wasn’t such a problem all the time after all. Or maybe that was Peter on good behavior because of Mark being there.

Mark wanted to help, too, but Laurel wouldn’t let him. “I’ll clean up later. While the girls watch their TV show and Peter finishes his homework, I thought we could have some coffee or whatever you’d like to drink in the front sitting room.”

An invitation for time alone? No matter how complicated the Prescott family’s situation was, Mark couldn’t resist the chance to get to know Laurel a little better. “Sure. Coffee’s fine.”

“I’ll meet you in there,” she said.

So he meandered into the front of the house. Rather than sit on the pillowed-out and overstuffed couch, or the matching ornate curved armchair beside it, he chose the classic paisley upholstered straight-backed chair across from the sofa, and waited for Laurel.

After looking around the room, he glanced out the front window toward the decidedly vintage-styled Drumcliffe and smiled, a few more ideas for perking up the place popping into his head. He also thought about Laurel and how having a brooding teen must stress her out, especially while juggling the twins and the hundreds of duties of the B&B. And the place wasn’t even open yet. And once it was, would it even support them? He wouldn’t suppose her situation, but figured there was probably life insurance meeting some of their needs.

He wondered what profession her deceased husband was in.

Then stopped himself. Enough already.

She brought coffee on a tray, like they did in old movies, and he got a kick out of all the effort she’d gone to for him. But this was a B&B, and she was the proprietor. Of course she’d do this for the guests. In fact, she was probably practicing on him. That was all.

He poured cream into his coffee and soon enjoyed the hint of vanilla and cinnamon. If this was only practice, he was happy to be her guinea pig, because it made their sitting alone together in a fancy room feel less intimate.

“I wanted to personally thank you for your help these last two days. Peter told me what happened at the beach yesterday.”

“No big deal. Those kids were up to no good.”

“It was a big deal. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Well, I did, and Peter got some surfing lessons out of it.”

“I hope he keeps it up.”

“He says he wants to.”

She went quiet for a moment. “I never thought he’d get bullied simply for being the new kid in town.”

“In a perfect world, it shouldn’t make any difference, but...”

She primly sipped her coffee from a pink patterned cup that probably came from England. The one inside the box he’d first carried yesterday?

He didn’t want to, but couldn’t help noticing her mouth, how the top lip was slightly plumper than the bottom. Rather than get caught staring again, he took in how tonight her hair was tamed with a conservative hair band, and how she looked like a proper bed-and-breakfast owner. Then he glanced down at her bright tangerine toenails, enjoying the contradiction.

She caught him staring, too, and he didn’t even try to look away. Why pretend when he liked what he saw? So he smiled, and judging by the twitch at one corner of her mouth, she didn’t mind.

“So what are you going to call this place?”

“The Prescott Bed-and-Breakfast. I’ve got a sign, just haven’t put it up yet.”

“I can do it.”

“Would you?”

On impulse, he decided he might just help out from time to time. She was a widow with three kids and needed all the help she could get. Not because he found her attractive, and she interested him, and he felt good around her. But as backup. Only to help her out, as a handyman, because she could use it. That was the main reason.

Right. And Grandda didn’t believe in selkies.

“Sure. The sooner you start to advertise the better.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

He refilled his coffee. “Absolutely.”

For now, he’d buy the little white lie about helping her out because she needed it. Otherwise he might get uptight about making another excuse to see her tomorrow, and he didn’t want to be tense when having her all to himself in the sitting room right now felt so right.

* * *

Laurel sipped coffee and watched Mark’s big hands as he grappled with the teapot made for ladies. She hid her smile behind the antique china cup. He’d obviously ogled her pedicure, and she wondered if there was anything else he might like about her. It had been a long time since she’d seen appreciative gazes from a man, and, being honest, she’d missed it.

Was that why she kept asking him to come back?

Or was it because, beyond his all-man appearance, he was nice? He’d intervened on her son’s behalf. He was a man and her boy needed male mentoring? Lord only knew she was out of her depth on that one. She hadn’t a clue that Peter, gangly and new in town, would be the subject of teasing. From what Peter had said, the teasing had been heading in a much more serious direction when Mark showed up.

What kind of mother was she? One who seriously needed to make time to read some books on parenting teens. Maybe if he was more confident, hadn’t been devastated by losing his father...

Her mind drifted back to the present. Instead of required reading, she was sitting in the parlor with a man who emitted more sex appeal than the last three seasons of bachelors combined. Did he have a clue?

Yesterday he’d hinted at needing a life coach as much as she did, so that was something they had in common. With his time in the Middle East, and her husband’s losing battle with cancer, they’d both been through hell. There was one other, more positive thing they had in common, too: they’d both been raised in a small beach town.

She could hear him swallow. Deep in thought, it’d grown too quiet. “So tell me about the history of The Drumcliffe.”

An easy subject to tackle, he did so with ease, giving her the story from all the way back when his grandfather came from Ireland. As he spoke, she enjoyed the sparkle in his blue eyes, darkened by the parlor lighting, and how tiny the teacup looked in his hands. His lower lip curled out the tiniest bit, and she wondered how it would feel to kiss him.