Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [62]
“You’re serious?” he said, not bothering to hide his astonishment.
“You’d probably break it—”
“I’m not talking about the coffeemaker. I’m talking about the fact that you apparently trust me more than David and Stephen Henry when it comes to your daughter.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” she said in a neutral voice. “Besides, she likes you. A great lapse of judgment on her part, but there it is.”
“If you think it’s such a lapse of judgment why are you sending me back there? Why don’t you tell me why you don’t trust David and Stephen Henry?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped, goaded.
“Then why do you trust me?”
“Because I’m crazy!”
Silence. He looked at her, long and hard. “But you do trust me, don’t you?” he said in a low voice. “Don’t bother denying it. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” He pushed open the door before she could refute it. “I take my coffee black and strong, full of caffeine.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be in the habit of getting you coffee.”
He grinned, and for a brief moment the darkness that had settled around her heart lifted. “You just might be surprised,” he said.
Caleb strolled into the living room. David looked up, a frown on his face, but a moment later it was gone.
Stephen Henry was the center of attention, as always, regaling his captive audience with stories of his youthful follies that somehow always seemed to reflect well on his taste, wisdom and talent. Sophie was curled up in a chair, her legs tucked underneath her, looking like the picture of rapt attention. Rachel had done a damned good job of raising her alone. She was smart, she was sweet, and she knew how to hide it when she was ready to scream with boredom.
He deliberately moved between David and Sophie, pulling a chair up beside her. “Rachel kicked me out. She said I was more trouble than I was worth.”
“That’s what I used to tell your mother,” Stephen Henry said fondly. “But she wouldn’t hear a word of it. There were times when I think she loved you even more than the fruit of her loins.”
David didn’t blink.
“Gross,” Sophie muttered.
“Heavens, no, Sophie dear,” Stephen Henry intoned. “The phrase comes from—” Before he could go off on a philosophical rant Rachel reappeared, bearing a tray with four miniscule cups of coffee. She set it down on the table and brought each cup over—Stephen Henry first, David second, and Caleb’s extremely milky brew last.
“Just the way you like it,” she purred.
“Nonsense, child,” Stephen Henry said. “Caleb is lactose-intolerant.”
She laughed heartlessly. “How can the big bad wolf be lactose-intolerant? That really doesn’t fit the image.”
“Don’t tease him, Rachel,” David said, putting a fond, possessive hand on her arm. “He went through misery with it when he was young. And even though Mother did her best, he’d get the most awful stomach attacks.”
Caleb leaned back, still holding the tiny cup in his hand. “It was strange how milk products managed to get into things.”
“That’s why you didn’t order a milkshake,” Rachel said.
Everyone turned to look at her. “When would he have had a milkshake?” Stephen Henry demanded.
She was flushed. She had pale, Irish skin to go with that red hair of hers, and she’d probably have freckles as well if she ever lived someplace with sun. He’d always been a sucker for freckles.
He watched her, wondering if she was going to lie. David had a faint half smile on his face, enjoying her discomfiture, thinking no one had noticed. Caleb noticed everything about his baby brother. Had she told him they’d gone out—she must have. If she didn’t, lying would play directly into his hands.
“David invited me over for dinner last night and then forgot to show up or tell Rachel. I ended up kidnapping her and taking her to the In-N-Out Burger