Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments) by Pat Warren Page B

vowed to never again give in to.
    Despite all that, she looked down at hands that trembled and acknowledged that right this minute, she wanted to feel his strong arms around her more than her next breath.
     
    Early the next afternoon, Alex went looking for Megan and finally found her in the laundry room off the kitchen. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a screwdriver handy?”
    Straightening from the dryer, she sent him a puzzled look. “A screwdriver?”
    Reluctantly, Alex brought his hand forward from behind his back and held out the doorknob to his room. His key was still in the lock. “This came off a few minutes ago. I thought I had a screwdriver in my glove compartment, but I don’t. It’ll only take me a minute if you have one.”
    Embarrassed and annoyed in equal measure, Megan reached for her toolbox. “I’ll take care of it.”
    “No, I didn’t come here for that. I can do it if you’ll lend me a screwdriver. Please.” She was wearing her stubborn face and he was getting exasperated. It had been that kind of day.
    He’d met with old man Parsons’s son for over an hour this morning and the kid had been arrogant and obnoxious. Alex had half a mind to tell him to take his land and shove it. But then, his reason for staying in Twin Oaks would be gone. Still, he was in no mood for yet another round of sparring.
    Grabbing the handle of her toolbox, Megan walked past him and headed for the stairs. “Just bring it with you, please.”
    “No.”
    She stopped in midstride, turned around and saw the hand holding the doorknob slither around behind him. “What?” she asked, hanging on to her temper by a thin thread.
    “This is such a minor repair, Megan. Why are you turning it into a major altercation?”
    “I make minor repairs around here and hire someone to do the major ones. If you fix it, I’ll have to pay you.”
    Damn fool stubborn woman. Two could play this game. “All, right, what do you think would be fair payment for five minutes work?”
    Megan wished with all her might that she’d have handed him the damn screwdriver, but she was in too deep now. “Five dollars.”
    Alex raised both brows. “Five dollars? You pay a dollar a minute for minor repair jobs? I may quit my job and come work for you.”
    “Yes, I’m sure that’s far more than you make.” She was so rarely sarcastic, yet he’d pushed her. Hadn’t he?
    Slowly, Alex brought his hand around, walked over and gave her the doorknob. “Here, you win. Are you happy now?” He walked past her through the swinging kitchen doors.
    In the hallway, Megan leaned against the wall and breathed out a rush of air. What had she done to deserve Alex Shephard here in her own home tormenting her? When would he finish his business and go back where he came from?
    And why did everything he said and did get under her skin?
     
    By four in the afternoon, Megan was dragging. She hadn’t slept well the night before after that close encounter with Alex in Pasquale’s parking lot. Her restless dreams had awakened her repeatedly and irritated her mightily. To top it all off, her washer had broken down again after only six loads. This time, no matter what she did, even resorting to giving it a swift kick, it refused to start again.
    She’d given up and called Eddie Jenkins, the repairman.
    Fortunately, she’d finished most of the essential laundry including Ryan’s clothes. Climbing up to the third-floor family quarters, she wished she could indulge in a nap.
    Walking past Grace’s room, then her own, she stopped halfway down the long hallway. There were voices coming from Ryan’s room. That alone was odd, for he never invited anyone in to his private sanctuary. She usually had to struggle to get him to allow her to vacuum it. The door was ajar. Megan paused, listening.
    One voice was definitely Ryan’s, but the other didn’t belong to his friend, Bobby, the only person who visited occasionally. No, it was a deeper voice and much older.