The Cottage on the Corner (8 page)

Charlotte hurried around to the back of the station wagon, shooting a quick smile in his direction. A bright pink apron hugged her slim waist and a black long-sleeved T-shirt pulled taut over full firm breasts. She had the kind of body men drooled over, and he'd seen more than one local guy make a fool of himself over Charlotte. She never seemed to notice. She opened the back of the station wagon and leaned in to grab something. She had a nice ass. Pert and round and just about perfect. He'd noticed it before. What man in Apple Valley hadn't? But he wasn't into ogling women unless they wanted to be ogled. Charlotte was definitely not the type that enjoyed long lingering looks.

He got out of the cruiser as she lifted a tray of cookies.

“Need help?” he offered, taking the tray before she could respond.

“Not unless you're here to get Zuzu. In which case I'll take all the help you want to give,” she responded. No smile.

“Has the kid been screaming all day?” he guessed.

“No, but between her and Zim, I'm having trouble staying on schedule.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “I have about seven minutes to get the table set up for teacher appreciation day.”

“Then I guess you do need my help. Since I'm working a double and can't pick up the kid, I'll give you a hand setting up.”

“Great,” she muttered, lifting a second tray. “What time will you be done tonight?”

“Eleven.”

“I usually do all my prep work in the evening. How am I supposed to get that done with Zuzu and Zim under my feet?” She sounded appalled and looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pallid. She'd forgotten her coat. Not good when the sun was going down, the temperature dropping. He would have taken his off and dropped it around her shoulders, but she was already hurrying to the building.

He glanced in the station wagon, saw Zimmerman Beck sitting in the backseat holding a teapot filled with flowers. Great. Perfect. The guy had a mouth, and he loved to use it. He'd be talking nonstop about little Zuzu from now until the cows came home.

Max tapped on the back window, and Zim rolled it down and put a finger to his lips.

“Shhhhh! The little one is asleep,” he whispered. “Best to let her stay that way.”

Max peered past the elderly man. Sure enough. Zuzu was out like a light, her eyes closed, her lips pursed, her thumb hanging just to the right of her mouth. She must have been sucking it when she fell asleep. She still had no shoes and no coat, but she didn't look like she was about to die from kidney failure. That was good.

“I have some clothes and things for her in the cruiser. I'll get them after I help Charlotte.”

“I hope the stuff you brought includes a coat and shoes. It's a poor excuse for a father who forgets important things like that,” Zim huffed, his rheumy blue eyes filled with judgment.

“I'm not a father,” Max pointed out. He didn't owe Zim an explanation, so he didn't add that he'd never laid eyes on the kid until the previous night or that her loser of a mother had dropped her off so she could interview for a job.

“That's for sure,” Zim replied, thrusting the teapot into Max's free hand and rolling up the window with a speed that defied the guy's advancing age.

He'd been dismissed, so Max set the teapot in a box filled with napkins and plates, set the tray on top and carried it to the building. Bitter wind whipped through his coat and sliced through his uniform slacks. Zim was right. No father worth his salt would forget a child's coat on such a cold day. Not that Max had forgotten. He just hadn't had time to wrestle Zuzu into it. A blanket had seemed like a better solution. He probably should have grabbed shoes to go with it, but he hadn't. Which was exactly why he wasn't and never would be a father.

The delivery door swung open as he approached and Charlotte appeared, her glossy brown ponytail sliding in a silky rope across her shoulders. She looked pretty and just a little frazzled as she gestured for him to hurry.

“They're almost ready, Max. We've got to run.”

“It's what? A PTA meeting? I'm sure they can wait for a couple of minutes.”

“No, they can't,” she snapped. “I promised the table would be set up at four-thirty. It is now”—she glanced at her watch—“four twenty-six. That gives me exactly four minutes to get things ready.”

“What happens if you take five? Is the school going to implode?” he joked, and then wished he hadn't.

Charlotte didn't look amused.

She looked pissed off, her full lips pressed together, her eyes shooting daggers. “It's not funny, Max.”

“I don't think I said it was,” he responded as he followed her into the school cafeteria. Four round tables had been set up and covered with blue tablecloths. Yellow vases filled with blue carnations stood in the middle of each one. Blue and yellow were the Apple Valley Panthers school colors, and someone had apparently wanted everyone to know it.

A long table stood at the back of the room, empty but for the large tray of cookies Charlotte had already carried in. She lifted it, gestured with her chin. “Can you take the tablecloth out of the box and spread it out on the table? If not, just set the box on one of the tables, and I'll handle it.”

“I just corralled twenty head of escaped cattle, Charlotte. I think I can handle a tablecloth,” he responded.

He set the stuff down on one of the round tables and hunted through the box until he found the tablecloth. It was yellow. Apparently Charlotte had gotten the memo about the theme. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have gotten the memo about the table size. No matter how much he stretched and maneuvered the fabric, it wouldn't cover the entire table.

“Shit,” Charlotte said so softly he wasn't sure if she'd actually cussed or if he was just hearing an echo of his thoughts.

“The table is too big.” She sighed, smoothing her hand over the yellow cloth.

“Or the tablecloth is too small,” he said, and was rewarded with a hot glare.

“The PTA president gave me the measurements. I made sure the tablecloth would fit. That”—she pointed at the tablecloth—“does not fit. Not only am I running late, but I don't have what I need. I'm going to look like an idiot.” Her voice wobbled, and he thought there might be tears in her eyes.

He hated to see women crying. As much of a loser as his mother had been, it had always torn him up to listen to her sob after her latest conquest left for greener pastures.

“Don't cry, Charlotte,” he said, because if she cried, he was going to have to find a way to solve the problem. He really wasn't in the mood to search the cafeteria for the correct size table or a bigger tablecloth.

“I'm not.” Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck and blinked rapidly, doing everything in her power to not let the tears fall.

No way was she going to break down in front of Max.

“Okay,” he agreed easily, but he looked irritated, his brows pulled low over sky-blue eyes. His hair was ruffled from the cow wrangling he said he'd been doing, his uniform wrinkled and stained. His hands were clean though, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even messy and unkempt, he looked better than any man had a right to.

Not the time to be noticing.

She had a table to set up and about a minute and a half to do it.

“Here,” Max said, grabbing the cloth and folding it into thirds. He spread it down the center of the table, making it into a runner.

“We'll just stick this here”—he plopped the teapot and flowers into the center of the cloth—“and these here.” He put a tray of cookies on either side, set a pile of napkins on the left end of the table and the dark blue plates she'd chosen on the right.

It actually looked . . . nice. Planned even. As if she'd intended all along to set the table that way.

“Good to go,” he announced as the cafeteria door opened and Wanda Mallory stuck her head in, her bleached blond hair teased to within an inch of its life.

“How is it going, Charlotte? The teachers are lining up outside. We did say four-thirty.” Wanda smiled, but she had snake eyes—cold and unwavering.

Brett eyes.

Charlotte shivered and stepped away from the table. “We just finished.”

“Wonderful! It looks great.” Her gaze shifted and landed on Max. A single mother with three kids, she had a reputation. Not a very good one, either. According to people who said they knew her, Wanda collected men like other women collected shoes.

It wasn't Charlotte's business, but Wanda was looking at Max as if she were starving and he was a food-laden buffet.

“Hi, Max!” She gushed, rushing forward and taking both his hands in hers. “What a nice surprise! Were you here to see me? I called you a couple of times after our date—”

“I'm here with Charlotte,” he said.

“Oh. I see.”

“I don't think you do,” Charlotte began. Max had used her at the wedding. She wasn't going to let him do it again. If she did, she'd end up with half the town thinking she was actually dating the man. “We're not—”

“Did you need to collect a payment or anything, Charlotte?” Max cut her off, his hand settling on her lower back. She felt his palm, the pad of every finger, felt the warmth of his hand seep straight through her shirt and zip right up her spine. It lodged in her head and made thinking nearly impossible.

Which was too bad, because Max and Wanda were both staring at her like they expected an answer.

“Because I'm still on duty, and I'm sure you have plenty of work to do at home. So if we're done here, I think we should go,” Max prodded.

“Of course.” Wanda agreed a little too enthusiastically. She handed Charlotte an envelope. “Here's the other half of the payment and a tip from the PTA. We really appreciate you doing this for us on such short notice.”

“It was no problem.” Charlotte finally managed to put together a coherent sentence. “If you pack the teapot and tablecloth in the box and leave it in the office, I'll pick them up tomorrow.”

“No need for that. I'll be happy to drop it off on my way home.”

“I wouldn't want to put you out, Wanda.” And she really didn't want her stopping by, because dropping off the teapot and tablecloth weren't going to be the only thing on Wanda's agenda. She probably planned to pick Charlotte's brains, find out what was going on between her and Max.

Which would be exactly nothing and would continue to be that way. Forever.

“You won't be. I live right around the corner. Well, not quite that close, but what's a short drive between friends? I have to go get the teachers. They're going to love these cookies! See you later!” She waved and hurried back out into the hall.

“Wow!” Max murmured as he urged her outside.

“Wow what?”

“Just . . . wow. That woman is a piece of work.” He led her to his police cruiser.

“A piece of work that you dated,” she responded, and regretted it immediately.

“We went on one date a year ago.”

“No need to explain.”

“I'm not explaining. Just stating a fact.” He opened the passenger side door and pulled out a pile of what looked to be little-girl clothes. “I brought these for Zuzu. I figured she probably needed something besides pajamas to wear.”

It was a little late in the day to be worried about that, but it was kind of sweet that he'd gone to the trouble. “We had her all over town in those pajamas. Don't be surprised if you get a few phone calls about it.”

“Phone calls? I have about ten tons of girl stuff in my office at work.” He grinned and snagged a rag doll from the passenger seat. “The good women of Apple Valley think I'm pretty inept as a babysitter.”

“They're just trying to help.”

“Help a man who they think doesn't know what he's doing.”

“Do you?”

“Probably not. I've been thinking about tracking down Zuzu's mother. It's not right that the kid is staying with a stranger.”

“So why don't you do it?” She put the pile of clothes in the back of the station wagon and took the doll. It had a sweet face with stitched blue eyes and a cute little pink dress.

“I guess I worry about who she'll go to next.” He glanced at the car. “I'm not the best choice, but I'm not the worst either. At least I'll make sure she eats, bathes, and stays safe.”

“How long is she going to be with you?”

“Until Morgan comes back or until I decide to bring Zuzu to her. Whichever comes first.” He looked a little confused and a lot annoyed. She almost felt sorry for him.

Maybe she
did
feel sorry for him.

He could have said no, sent his ex away with Zuzu, and let whatever happened happen. He hadn't, and she couldn't fault him for that or for caring about a child. “Have you heard from Morgan since she left town?”

“No. I'm hoping she'll call tonight.”

If she didn't, Charlotte would question her parenting skills. After all, what mother dropped her daughter off with a man she hadn't seen in years and didn't check in? Charlotte would have been calling every hour, making sure things were going okay.

Then again, Charlotte wouldn't have left Zuzu with Max or anyone else.

“What if she doesn't?” she asked, cold wind spearing through her T-shirt. She'd been in such a hurry, she hadn't grabbed her coat. A mistake that she was regretting more with every passing moment. She rubbed her arms and clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. The station wagon was still running. With any luck, Zim had the heat turned up high.

“You're freezing.” Max shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It smelled like musky cologne and felt as warm as his hand had.

She wanted to snuggle into it, but that seemed like a really bad idea.

“Now
you're
going to be cold.” She tried to shrug out of the jacket, but he tugged it closed, holding the edges of the collar together.