Emergency: Single Dad, Mother Needed

“Not at all.” Holly subtly looked for pictures of JT’s mother, but didn’t find any. “I’m sure it’s not easy being a single parent.”

“No, it’s not.” Gabe dropped onto the sofa with a sigh. “I don’t know what got into me, but suddenly I was staring down at him, thinking the worst. And then I thought of how stupid I’d look if I took him in for nothing. But if you hadn’t answered your page, I probably would have risked it.”

“Hey, it’s all right. I really don’t mind.” She sat in the matching love seat across from him. “I know it’s none of my business, but where is JT’s mother?”

Gabe stared at his hands for a long minute, before lifting his head, his eyes dark with pain. “She died in a car crash less than five weeks ago.”

“How awful,” she murmured, thinking it was a good thing JT had someone like Gabe as his father.

“Yeah, it’s been a little rough, more so for JT.” Gabe abruptly stood. “Are you hungry? I made some spaghetti for dinner but JT wasn’t hungry. The least I can do is feed you for your trouble.”

His abrupt change of subject caught her off guard, but hearing that JT’s mother had died so recently she supposed she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it.

Gabe headed for the kitchen, leaving her little choice but to follow him. She knew being here with him was like tempting fate to repeat itself, but the spicy garlic and oregano scents drew her forward.

“Have a seat.” Gabe waved at the small, oak kitchen table. “This will only take a few minutes to warm up.”

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loud enough for Gabe to hear. Leaving now that he knew she was famished would be too obvious, so she sat. “Guess I am a bit hungry after all,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

Gabe flashed a grin and opened his fridge. “Let’s see, I really wish I had a bottle of fine Italian wine to offer you, but it seems all I have at the moment are two of JT’s favorites, grape juice or milk. Take your pick.”

She laughed. “Gosh, tough decision. I’ll choose milk.”

“Milk it is.” He pulled out the container and filled up a large glass, setting it in front of her. “The pasta should be done in a few minutes. At least I have home-made garlic bread.”

The butter and garlic scent was already filling the kitchen, mingling with the zesty spaghetti sauce. “Smells delicious. I had no idea you could cook.”

“Pure necessity for two bachelors living on their own.” Gabe stirred the sauce and then pulled out two plates. He dished out the pasta and sauce, adding a large chunk of fresh garlic bread to each serving.

Her mouth was watering as he set down her plate and then sat across from her. He lifted his milk glass and touched the rim to hers in a quick toast. “Thanks, Holly. I appreciate you coming to my rescue.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation before taking a sip of her milk, suddenly glad they weren’t drinking anything stronger. The last time she’d shared a few drinks with Gabe she’d foolishly attempted to kiss him. “You and JT would have been fine. The worst thing that might have happened is that you’d have taken JT to the clinic for nothing more than a virus.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, his gaze holding hers. “But it was still nice to have someone else to talk to.”

The poignant sadness lurking in his eyes made her wonder if Gabe was still in love with JT’s mother. He’d claimed he wasn’t married, but did that mean they were divorced? Or was he a widower of only a month? If so, all the more reason to keep her distance from him emotionally. Gabe was in no position to start a relationship, even if she was willing to risk one.

Which she wasn’t.

“Eat,” he urged.

The sooner she ate, the sooner she could leave. She dug in, nearly closing her eyes in ecstasy when the taste of the tangy tomato sauce exploded in her mouth. “Mmm. This is divine.”

“Glad you like it.” Gabe grinned, and instantly the flash of sorrow was gone. “It’s an old family recipe from my mother’s side. She’s a great Italian cook.”

She widened her eyes in surprise. “I didn’t know your mother was Italian.”

“Absolutely.” Gabe gestured with his fork. “Her maiden name is Fanelli. She’s living with her new husband down in Florida.”

“And your dad?” she asked, before she could think.

His expression closed. “He’s been out of the picture for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, realizing she’d touched a nerve. Yet it was a bit surprising to realize she and Gabe had something in common. Apparently neither of them had been close to their fathers.

He held her hand in his for a long minute. Her heart thudded in her chest as the light-hearted mood turned into something more serious.

“Uncle Gabe?” JT’s plaintive cry broke the moment. “My tummy hurts.”

“Uh-oh, maybe he’s going to throw up.” Gabe jumped up from his seat at the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Confused, she sat back in her seat, staring after Gabe as he disappeared down the hall to JT’s room.

Uncle Gabe? She’d assumed JT must be his son, but obviously the boy was really his nephew. Still, he was caring for JT, so he must have custody. She knew she should admire the close bond they shared, but couldn’t help feeling resentful.

Somehow it didn’t seem fair, that Gabe had the joy of love and caring for JT while she’d lost her daughter.

Gabe sat beside JT but the boy didn’t vomit. The bed was damp, though, so he helped JT change his pajamas and then stripped the sheets off the bed, replacing them with a spare set from the hallway closet.

“Hey, buddy, maybe you should try to eat. Your tummy might hurt because you’re hungry.” Gabe tried not to wince at the mountain of laundry growing larger by the minute. It seemed as if he had constantly been doing laundry since JT had moved in. Not that he was complaining, but in the battle between him and the washing-machine, he rarely emerged the winner. “I can make you some chicken noodle soup, your favorite.”

“No, I don’t think so.” JT scrunched down into the covers, blinking owlishly against the light. “Is the pretty lady still here?”

“Dr. Holly?” Unable to squelch a flash of guilt, he settled on the edge of JT’s bed. Since taking custody of his nephew, Gabe had never invited a woman over. Until now. Logically, he knew JT was too young to understand the potential implications, but he intended to set a good example for the boy, anyway. “Yes, she’s still here. Why, did you want to ask her something? Does your throat hurt now?”

“No.” JT shook his head. “But I like her. She seems nice.”

“She is nice.” Oh, boy. They were treading on dangerous ground here. Gabe tried to think of a way to prevent JT from getting the wrong idea. “She’s a good doctor. She often takes care of sick kids, just like you.”

“Oh.” He could see the wheels turning in JT’s mind. In a disappointed tone the boy asked, “She’s a real doctor?”

“Yep. She’s a real doctor, just like me. We work together at the hospital.”

JT bit his lower lip, his gaze wistful. “Do you think she’d come back and visit once I’m better?”

She would, he knew, if only for JT’s sake, but the knowledge made Gabe hesitate. He’d give anything to help JT deal with his nightmares. At the same time he wasn’t willing to start something he couldn’t finish. “I don’t know, she’s pretty busy. Why don’t you get some sleep, hmm?”

JT nodded, pulling his green and yellow stuffed dinosaur close, the one Claire had given him. The toy had been his constant companion over the past few weeks. Gabe brushed a kiss over JT’s forehead before getting up to leave.

“G’night, Uncle Gabe,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, JT.”

Outside JT’s room, he leaned back against the door and stared at the ceiling. JT was seeking a mother substitute because he missed his mother. As JT’s grandmother lived in Florida he didn’t get to see her that often. Obviously, JT approved of Holly.

He couldn’t blame the kid. He did, too.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Gabe dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. There was no way to explain to JT that bringing a woman into the mix was the wrong idea. He knew from experience that not all women were willing to raise someone else’s son.

Heck, he was struggling a little with the reality of being a parent and he already loved his nephew.

It would be better for both of them if he and JT stuck it out alone. Maybe he should move to Florida? JT’s grandmother could fill the motherly role.

Using Holly wasn’t an option.

Strengthening his resolve, he hustled back to the kitchen, where he’d left Holly. When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was that she’d cleaned up his entire kitchen. Very nice, considering he wasn’t exactly a neat cook.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” he protested.

She lifted a shoulder, avoiding his gaze. “It’s all right.”

He hesitated, realizing Holly was upset. Was she upset that he’d put JT first, rushing off to take care of his needs? No, he couldn’t believe Holly was that much like Jennifer. She looked more upset than angry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as she carefully folded his dish towel and hung it on the drying rack.

Holly turned to face him, her eyes full of reproach. “Why didn’t you tell me JT was your nephew?”

Damn, he’d forgotten. He hadn’t wanted to push JT to call him Dad, not when he’d known him all along as Uncle Gabe. “JT is Claire’s son.”

His sister’s name caused her expression to soften. “Oh no, Claire? Claire is the one who’d died in a car crash?”

Holly had only met Claire once, so it wasn’t too surprising that she hadn’t jumped to the right conclusion right away. If he was honest, he’d admit he hadn’t tried very hard to clarify the truth either. “Yes. I took custody of JT the same day.”

“I’m sorry.” Remorse filled her face. But then she frowned, her expression more hurt than puzzled. “But, Gabe, why didn’t you tell me? You must have known that I’d assume JT was biologically your son.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.