Rocky Mountain Hero (Roberts of Silver Springs Book 2) Page 4

  As Zach greeted her and hung her wool coat on an antique coat rack near the door, Spike forgot how to breathe. Her clothes were far from revealing — in fact, she probably would have won a contest for the most appropriate office outfit ever — but somehow she wore them in the sexiest way possible. A thin, pale yellow cardigan covered a form-fitting cream top that made his mouth water. Her light grey trousers might not have been noteworthy on anyone else, but on her, they looked almost sinful. Even her closed-toe, black flats set his heart racing.

  Through the haze of his stupor, Spike watched as Zach showed her around the office and sent sharp glances his way. Spike assumed his partner was also explaining her duties, but a loud hiss drowned out everything. He also seemed to be completely paralyzed, except he knew the real truth. He couldn’t allow himself to move, because if he did, it would be to pull Amy into his arms and kiss her to within an inch of her life. And that wouldn’t do. No, not at all.

  Although it would certainly be nice.

  Once the image was in his head, he couldn’t stop seeing it. She’d be surprised at first, but then her instincts would take over. She’d wrap her arms around his neck and return his kiss. He’d hook a thumb at Zach to get lost, then he’d sweep everything off his desk with one studly swipe of his arm and lay her down on it. She’d look up at him with those big, blue, baby doll eyes of hers and whisper his name.

  “Spike.”

  Remember what Uncle Steve said!

  With more effort than he expended on a Class 5 climb, he forced the fantasy from his brain and tried to recall all the reasons he couldn’t date Amy. She was a mom, and you couldn’t just mess around with moms. It was an unspoken rule, kind of like the ‘bro code’ that says you never date a buddy’s ex. Besides, Spike had always been firmly in the ‘no kids’ camp, preferring the company of adults. She was also his employee, and any kind of advances could ruin their business. If it were only himself who would be affected, he might not have been strong enough to resist, but he had Zach to think about.

  Finally! His senses had returned to normal. He’d only had a momentary lapse in judgment, and then it was only in his head. No harm done, thank God. When Amy turned to him and smiled, the humming quieted and he knew everything would work out for the best.

  “Is there anything else you want me to do?” she asked, those big eyes of hers gazing up at him.

  “Yes,” he said before he knew what he was doing. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Zach’s jaw fall to the never-been-vacuumed floor. Then he slumped into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. Amy’s eyes grew wide and sparkled with the barest hint of a smile.

  “Okay,” she replied in a breathy whisper.

  4

  Spike parked outside Amy’s small apartment complex, gripping the steering wheel so tight he thought it might break.

  What was I thinking!

  That was, of course, exactly what Zach had asked him the moment Amy had left for the day. He didn’t have a response, other than to grin and shrug. But now that he’d had some time away from her intoxicating presence, he wondered the same thing himself. He’d never been one to spend much time regretting his decisions, but this one could be monumental.

  Putting aside the potential for a lawsuit, Spike worried that, if whatever attraction between them didn’t pan out, Amy might be too uncomfortable to stay on as his employee. He didn’t know everything about her situation, but he knew she couldn’t afford to quit a job on a whim. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel awkward every single day. Washing dried egg off plates at Mo’s would probably be preferable.

  Then, there was the fact Spike wasn’t a settle-down kind of guy, and he didn’t know if he ever would be. Amy and her son deserved someone who’d stick around for the long haul, not some vagabond who loved to live life on the edge.

  A grim resolve steeled his nerves as he hopped out of the Jeep. He’d ring her doorbell, apologize profusely for putting her in an untenable situation, and go stag to a family dinner at his parents’ house. As usual. His heart cramped a little at that. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he’d been looking forward to introducing Amy to his family, but it couldn’t be helped. It was the right thing to do — for her, for him, for the long run.

  Sweat gathered on his brow, even though the temperature outside had dropped to freezing. He hadn’t been this nervous since asking Becky Nelson to junior prom, but he took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer next to apartment 8B. When the door swung open, the deep breath he’d been holding whooshed out of him in a white cloud, and he was, once again, left utterly speechless.

  Amy stood in the doorway in a black dress which clung to her body like a second skin. There was nothing particularly revealing about it — the neckline cut across her collarbone, the sleeves covered her arms completely, and the hem touched the top of her knees — but that didn’t stop Spike’s eyes from devouring every inch of her. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy up-do that only added to her appeal, and her sensible black flats had been replaced by strappy, black heels, which would be treacherous if the sidewalks froze. Once his eyes moved up to her face — which took a good long while — her gaze locked onto his like a tractor beam.

  “Hi,” she breathed, and his knees nearly buckled from need.

  An eardrum-piercing shriek sounded from behind her. A small boy with sandy hair ran up and wrapped his arms around her left leg. He looked up at Spike with enormous green eyes and a smile so big it looked as if his face might break in two.

  “I’m Ethan! What’s your name?”

  Spike grinned back at the kid and crouched down to be eye-level with him. “Hey, little man. I’m Spike. Nice to meet you.”

  Spike stuck out a hand to shake and marveled at the way the little boy’s hand disappeared in his own. Terrified of breaking the kid’s fingers, he’d never been so conscious of how hard he gripped in his life. Ethan jerked his arm in a vague representation of a handshake, giggling the whole time.

  “Spike’s a funny name,” he said, retreating to the safety of his mother’s leg.

  “Ethan—“ Amy started to reprimand him, but Spike cut her off.

  “I think so too, which is why I like it so much. I like to make people smile. You do too, don’t you?”

  Ethan nodded, then stuck his fingers in his ears and made a silly face. Spike laughed and pulled his own face. This kid was a crack-up.

  “Okay, Master Ethan,” said a woman who approached them where they stood by the door. She was thinner than Amy and significantly older, but the resemblance was uncanny. She also looked familiar to Spike. “Time for bed.”

  “Aw, but I’m not sleepy!”

  Spike tried not to laugh at Ethan’s exaggerated pout. The woman hoisted him in her arms and smooched his neck, which sent him into a fit of giggles. She turned to Spike and smiled.

  “I’m Martha, Amy’s mom.”

  “Ma’am,” he said with a respectful nod. He would have offered a handshake, but her hands were already very full with a wriggling bundle of energy. She gave him a long appraising look, then returned the nod.

  “Have fun. Be good.”

  The warning glint in her eye spoke volumes. She might as well have told him “Be nice to my daughter or you’ll have to answer to me.” Spike tried to cough away his discomfort, but she caught it. With a satisfied nod, she thrust Amy’s coat at her daughter and gently pushed her out the door.

  Spike helped Amy into her coat, but neither of them spoke until they were in the Jeep. Maybe she was having second thoughts as well, or maybe she could sense his flip-flopping emotions. Either way, the air between them crackled with more than static electricity.

  “Where are we going to dinner?” she finally asked, turning her trusting eyes on him.

  Dinner? Right! Dinner!

  The mere act of thinking seemed more difficult than slogging through a six-foot deep snow pack with a broken ski. The resolve he’d had only a few mi
nutes before vanished, and all he could think was how much he wanted his family to meet Amy. Weird, since he’d never introduced them to any of his previous lady-friends.

  “My folks’ place.” At the alarm in her eyes, he tried to explain. “When I asked you earlier, I’d sorta forgotten about it. It’s no big deal. If you don’t want to go, we can go to—“

  “No,” she said quickly. “That would be nice.”

  Spike had no idea why, but he couldn’t ever remember feeling happier.

  As usual, the Roberts’ family dinner was utter chaos. Wonderful, hilarious, frenetic chaos. The little Spike had learned of Amy’s family by asking around was, in addition to her mom and son, she had a brother and a father floating around somewhere in the world, but they weren’t close. She’d probably never been subjected to such a ridiculously loud and obnoxious meal before, but she seemed to be holding her own against the onslaught.

  Two of Spike’s sisters, Ally and Bekah, lived in Silver Springs and always came when their mother decided to put on one of her random dinners. They were almost always impromptu affairs — maybe a day’s notice, if they were lucky — but well worth canceling other plans for. Tonight, Christina Roberts had outdone herself with Cornish game hens, some kind of gourmet greens with pine nuts and tons of garlic, garlic-Parmesan mashed potatoes, and a three-layer chocolate cake to celebrate the engagement of Spike’s cousin Bri to an incredibly funny contractor named Anthony Black. As far as Spike could tell, Anthony was the chaotic yin to Bri’s organized yang.

  Joining in on the celebration were Bri’s parents, Uncle Ralph and Aunt Angela, as well as Uncle Steve and Aunt Patty. Spike’s mother often complained their enormous home wasn’t big enough to accommodate the entire extended Roberts clan for her last-minute dinners, and Spike suspected they were “last-minute” for that very reason. There were just too many of them. As it was, twelve was as full a house as he’d seen in a long time.

  “Dad, could you pass the mashers, please?” Spike asked, reaching an arm across the table.

  His mother, sitting across from him, slapped it. “Manners!”

  Spike grinned and blew her an air kiss, which she caught and patted it onto her cheek. She turned her attention to Amy, and gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t raise him to be so rude.”

  Amy’s laugh set his nerves on edge. It was all he could do to not reach over and hold her hand. Simple, sweet, innocent. But he was still conflicted between wanting to act on his attraction and wanting to protect her from himself.

  “Mrs. Roberts, any man who saves me from certain death gets a free pass where garlic-Parmesan mashers are concerned.”

  Spike rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You were ten feet off the floor. I’d hardly call that certain death.”

  Amy gazed up at him and his heart started thumping hard in his chest. It wasn’t the first time that happened that night either.

  “You’re still my hero,” she said, so quietly no one else at the table heard.

  Somehow, this tiny woman had such a hold over him he couldn’t look away. He absentmindedly pushed an errant strand of hair away from her face, his fingers barely brushing along her cheek and setting his nerves ablaze. The pandemonium around them was drowned out by the beating of his own thundering heart. He was lost in her, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she felt the same.

  “Hey, Spike? Why don’t you help me clear the table.” Uncle Steve’s voice cut through whatever was happening, and pulled Spike back into the present. “Huh?”

  “Help me clear the table, okay?” Steve’s face was relaxed, but Spike thought he caught a tightness in his uncle’s voice.

  They each carried a load of plates into the kitchen, and as soon as the door swung closed behind them, Steve gave Spike a stern look.

  “You need to tread lightly, my friend.”

  “Huh?” Spike repeated. He wouldn’t deny Amy had turned his brain to mush, but he really wasn’t following what Steve meant.

  “That girl out there…you need to be very careful. Do you understand me?”

  Spike wasn’t sure what to think. His Uncle Steve was the most respected lawyer in Silver Springs, and Spike had always found him to be kind and fair in his dealings with people. He couldn’t possibly think ill of Amy because of her poor upbringing or her past, could he?

  After his brainstorm to hire her, Spike had asked around about Amy. The worst anyone had to say was she’d dropped out of her senior year in high school after she got pregnant. No one he’d talked to knew who the father was, and there’d been some rumors she didn’t even know, but Spike dismissed those as ridiculous. Even if it was true, he didn’t care.

  And neither should his uncle.

  “I really can’t believe what I’m hearing, Uncle Steve. Are you really sitting here warning me off Amy because she had bad judgment as a teenager? Really?”

  Steve leveled a cold, hard glare at his nephew. “You know me better than that, Spike. I’m not warning you off her for anything she’s done. I’m trying to protect her from you.”

  He might as well have sucker-punched Spike in the gut. “What are you talking about!”

  “Shh! She might hear,” Steve warned, pulling him farther from the door. “Listen, Spike. You’re my nephew and I love you, but that young woman sitting out there is a mother. A mother! She’s got real responsibilities, son. Responsibilities you can’t even fathom. You can’t be reckless with this one. And not just because she works for you. Don’t even get me started on that!”

  “Yeah, I’m aware.” He suddenly felt defensive, even though Steve wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.

  “No, you don’t have a clue. You grew up the spoiled son of a wealthy man. You have a family who loves you unconditionally, who wants nothing more than for you to be happy. And that’s exactly what you are, and I admire you for it. You’re happy because you get to do pretty much whatever you want. Who wouldn’t be happy with such a life?”

  A noise on the other side of the door drew Steve’s gaze for a moment, giving Spike time to wonder exactly what the hell was going on. Every word out of his uncle’s mouth sliced at his heart, not to mention his ego.

  When no one entered the kitchen, Steve continued. “Amy, on the other hand…” Steve’s lips pressed into a hard line, and he shook his head.

  Was he tearing up? Spike would never have suspected his stoic Uncle Steve even knew how to cry. He finally pulled himself together and looked deep into the younger man’s eyes.

  “Amy’s had a hard enough life, Spike. Don’t make it worse.”

  Before Spike could defend himself, or tell his uncle he didn’t intend to hurt Amy in any way, Steve walked away and left Spike standing in the kitchen wondering, not only why Steve cared so much about Amy’s happiness, but how he even knew who she was in the first place.

  “So, Amy, what’s it like working for Michael?”

  Amy looked up from one of the most delicious meals she’d ever eaten to find Christina, Spike’s mother, staring at her expectantly.

  “Uh, who’s Michael?” she asked, completely confused.

  Christina and one of Spike’s sisters — Bekah, she thought — laughed, but not in a mean-spirited way. It struck Amy again just how similar they all looked, with that funny crooked smile.

  “Michael is Spike,” Bekah explained. “Or maybe it’s the other way around, I don’t know. But that guy you came here with? That’s him.”

  “Oh, that guy.” Amy laughed, which cause the others within earshot to crack up. “Wait. If he’s Michael and his nickname is Spike, what’s Mike’s given name?”

  “Michaela,” Christina said with a sniff. “Honestly, I thought we gave them perfectly wonderful names, but as soon as they could speak, they started calling each other Spike and Mike. As the woman who spent forty painful hours in labor, I reserve the right to call them whatever I want.”

  Amy wondered how she could have even thought of not coming tonight. When Spike ha
d told her he was taking her to dinner at his parents’ house, she’d nearly panicked and run back into the apartment. Her experience with family dinners was considerably different than how this evening had turned out. No drunken screaming matches, no cops being called, no drama. If Norman Rockwell had still been alive, he could have used the Roberts family as inspiration for one of his paintings.

  Seeing Steve Roberts face-to-face again had almost given her a mini-heart attack, but he — like all the other many, many Roberts in attendance — had welcomed her like family. Almost as if on cue, Steve pushed through the swinging kitchen door and caught her eye. He looked tense, but he gave her a warm, gentle smile that soothed any residual concern she had over dining with him.

  “How old did you say Ethan is?” Christina asked.

  “Five.”

  “Oh, that’s such a precious age. I remember when Michael was that age. What a handful!”

  Amy laughed. “Ethan’s that, plus some.”

  “Does he get to see his father?” Bekah asked, looking genuinely curious, not judgmental.

  “Rebekah Ann!” Christina gasped in shock.

  “What?” Bekah asked, looking at Amy. “I’m sorry. Was that rude?”

  Amy smiled. “Not at all. It’s fine. And no, Ethan’s father isn’t in his life, unfortunately.”

  “Oh dear, that must be so difficult for you,” Christina said, reaching across the table and patting her hand.

  For a brief flash, Amy wondered if they were probing her for information they could use against her later. The people of Silver Springs were mostly good and kind, but a few of the not-so-good-and-kind ones had spread terrible rumors about her, which had made her life a living hell for the past six years. Looking into the eyes of the women sitting across from her though, Amy saw nothing but compassion and acceptance. It was a risk, but she decided to trust them.

  “It hasn’t been easy, but I have my mom. We live together, and she watches Ethan when I’m working and vice versa. Doesn’t leave much time for a social life, I’m afraid, but he’s worth it.”