took in as much as she did. And face it, guys like that were thin on the ground. Maybe nonexistent.
Conall might be attracted to her, too—not might be, was—but he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. He knew how ill-suited they were.
She should be glad. He was temporary. She’d really like not to have to cry when he left.
* * *
CONALL’S INSTINCT WAS to sneak past the living room, where the boys were, once again, watching… He paused to hear a line of dialogue from the movie. Yeah, what else, The Transformers. One, two or three, he wasn’t sure. Only that this could not possibly be healthy for them.
He stifled a groan. Lia was out weeding her vegetable garden. He’d seen her from the window, watched hungrily for several minutes as she looked up to watch a robin, a smile lighting her face with joy he could see even from a distance. Damn it, she should have dragged the boys out with her whether they wanted to go or not.
Stepping into the doorway, he said, “Hey.”
They both glanced away from the TV, which was progress from the first time he’d met them.
“It’s a nice day. Why are you in here? I’ll bet Lia could use some help outside.”
“We don’t want to weed. She said we didn’t have to.”
Well, okay. He guessed that forcing foster children to provide free labor might get her into trouble. Or maybe she thought they shouldn’t have to do chores yet. She was wrong, but that was her business.
He hesitated. He had told her he’d try to spend some time with the boys, and it wasn’t as if he had anything important to do right now. He’d slept for close to six hours—enough for him—and had eaten lunch.
“Let’s do something fun,” he suggested. “We can throw the ball a little.” If there was a baseball to throw. Or mitts to catch with, come to think of it. “Let me check with Lia and see what she has.”
They studied him then looked at each other. It was Brendan who finally said, “Okay.” He didn’t exactly sound excited, but willing was good enough.
Lia was on her knees in the middle of a row of…something. The label at the end said carrots. Did carrots from your own garden taste any better than ones from the grocery store?
His speculation was mere distraction from the woman. She wore faded overalls that would probably be sacky were she standing…but she wasn’t. The denim pulled taut over a tight, firm ass that had already been fueling his dreams. Only one shoulder strap was fastened; the other hung down her back beside that fat, glossy braid. She wore only a thin tank top beneath the overalls, exposing her shoulders and arms, both tanned to a pale gold. He wanted desperately to drop to his knees behind her, shift her braid aside and explore her neck with his mouth while feeling her rump against his groin.
He gritted his teeth and managed to ask his question with only a slight huskiness in his voice to betray him.
She turned in surprise, blinking up at him. “Baseball mitts? Sure, there’s a whole bin full of sports equipment out in the barn. It’s on the left side, made out of plywood, with a lid that lifts.”
“Right.” He remembered seeing it.
“Watch out for spiders.”
“Good thought,” he muttered.
“Thank you,” she said, which left him irritated.
“Damn it, would you quit that? I live here with you, I have time on my hands and I’m decent enough to spend time with the kids. That doesn’t make me a saint, and it’s sure as hell no reason for you to be grateful.” He stalked away without giving her a chance to respond.
Decent. Was he really? He’d been standing there with a damned hard-on imagining taking her from behind, and she was apparently oblivious and probably eager to get back to pulling weeds.
Conall growled a few obscenities under his breath, just to get them out of his way, then commandeered the boys and dragged them out to the barn with him.
There were spiders in the bin, but he brushed them off. Grinning at the boys who’d leaped back in obvious horror, Conall said, “These are nothing. You ever see a tarantula?”
“My third grade teacher had one,” Brendan said cautiously. “He brought it to school a couple of times. In an aquarium.”
“They’re all over in Mexico and farther south. I was taking a shower one time and when I reached for my towel my hand brushed