"What happened?" she asked frantically. "Are you okay? Lindsay said you were bleeding. Oh my God, look at your face." She clutched his chin and stared at the darkening bruise. "You've been fighting."

Blake tried to smile, then he winced. "Kyle's been teaching me to do better, so next time Gary won't get in a cheap shot."

"A what? Never mind. Are you hurt anywhere else?" She ran her hands along his chest and sides, then down his legs. Blake giggled when her fingers tickled him. "Nothing's broken?"

"He's fine," Kyle said. "The other kid got off one good hit. That's all. I saw it happen."

The back door opened again. Lindsay came in. She wouldn't look at him. Sandy stood up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Lindsay, take your brother back to the house and put some ice on his face. I'll be right there. After I speak with Kyle."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Look, Sandy, it's not what you think."

She ignored him. "Now, Lindsay." Her daughter grabbed Blake by the hand and led him out the door. Sandy followed them and stood by the screen, watching until they were out of earshot. Then she turned on him.

"What the hell were you thinking? I leave my child in your care for a half hour and he gets in a fight. He's bruised and bleeding and I walk in on you trying to teach him how to do it again. Are you crazy? Where was your brain in all this? Your common sense? I don't want Blake starting fights."

He held up his hand to stop her. "Sandy, it wasn't like that."

"Sure it wasn't. Let me guess. You weren't thinking at all. You were too busy playing daddy."

"I was trying to teach him to defend himself."

"Against whom? You let him go play with children who are dangerous? I trusted you, Kyle. You said it was okay, and I believed you. You have to be more responsible than that. This isn't a game. The well-being of my children is at stake here."

She paced across the kitchen and back toward the door. "I can't believe this."

He couldn't believe it, either. She wasn't giving him a chance. "If you would let me explain."

She stopped in front of the door and spun to face him. Her chest heaved with each breath, anger darkened her eyes. "Explain what? That you were too busy with your car or your tan to supervise Blake? My ten-year-old son is bleeding and bruised from a fight. You're the one who let him go off with those other boys. You even admitted you saw what happened. Did you try to stop it?"

"Of course I did."

"Not hard enough."

"Dammit, Sandy, if you would shut up and listen to me, I can tell you what happened. You're jumping to conclusions."

"No, I don't want to hear it." She approached him and raised her arm until she was pointing at the center of his chest. She stopped when she was less than a foot away. "Your problem is you won't take responsibility for your actions."

He couldn't believe she was being this unreasonable. Maybe it was a parental thing he couldn't understand. He tried to hold on to his temper, although she was making it damn hard. "Your problem is you spend so much time being responsible, you've forgotten what it's like to live."

She glared at him. "Maybe I have. So what? I've learned the hard way that I can only depend on myself. My dad walked out before I was born. My mother was an alcoholic. I spent the first twelve years of my life looking after her. When she died, I moved here to be with my aunt. It was the first time I got to be a child. Maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe I couldn't stop acting like a grown-up, but I'm glad. Because I'm going to make it work. Despite you, and despite Thomas, who instead of being a husband was worse than any kid I could have had. Do you know how he died? Do you?" Her voice was shrill.

He shook his head. He didn't know anything anymore. He'd never had a clue about Sandy's mother.

"He fell off a mountain. He'd gone away, like he did every summer. He usually disappeared for two months at a time. He'd wanted to take Lindsay, but I wouldn't let him. Thank God. He was careless, or unlucky, and he fell to his death. Now there's only me. I've got a mortgage and three kids. They're depending on me. So don't you tell me that I've forgotten how to live. Just getting through the day is a victory for me. My children are happy, healthy and warm every single night. The bills are paid and I'm keeping it all together."

He reached toward her and touched her face. "I'm sorry."

She jerked away from his hand. "Sorry doesn't cut it. You're used to getting what you want without having to work for it. Nice for you, but not realistic for the rest of the world. I don't know what kind of game you've been playing with me, but it has to stop. I don't want to get involved with you. I can't afford to be one of your conquests."

He felt as if she'd stabbed him in the gut. "It's not like that. I haven't been playing a game with you. Just because I'm not like you doesn't mean I'm a jerk like Thomas. You're judging me on my reputation and what you remember about my brothers. I've been here for you, Sandy. From the moment you arrived in Glenwood, I've made it easier."

Emotions chased across her face. He watched as she wrestled with the truth of that statement. Her mouth straightened and he knew he'd been judged and found guilty.

"So you've been neighborly. I appreciate that. But it doesn't mean I want you in my life. You're not Thomas, but you're just as dangerous."

"How?"

"Have you ever once had a long-term relationship?"

She had him there. "Define long-term."

She sighed. Her shoulders slumped. "That's the whole point, Kyle. I shouldn't have to. I don't want to have to deal with any more adult children, Peter Pan types or charming flirts. I'm tired of being in charge. I want someone to take care of me for a change. We both know you're not that person. I want you out of my life." She walked to the door. "I hope you understand, and even if you don't, I hope you'll respect my wishes."

Chapter 9

Sandy left without giving him a chance. Kyle walked to the window and watched as she strode purposefully to her house. Once there, she climbed the three stairs, crossed the porch and went inside, all without once looking back at him.

She'd told him to stay away from her. Just like that. No explanations, no second chances. She'd made her decision and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

He crossed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. Several steaks sat on the second shelf. The vegetable crisper was filled with corn. So much for the barbecue. He told himself he didn't care. Sandy and her family had been taking up too much of his time, anyway. Now he would be able to do what he wanted, instead of hanging around with them. The words sounded great, but he knew he didn't mean them. He liked her, he liked her kids. With them, he was able to pretend it was real-that he had a chance at a family of his own.

After twisting off the cap of his beer, he took a long swallow. Was she right? He didn't want to consider that, but he had to. Was he irresponsible and immature?

"Hell, no," he said aloud, then wondered if he was just whistling in the dark.

Sandy was right about one thing. He didn't have a record of long-term relationships. He'd never been willing to risk committing before. In the back of his mind had been the fear that the woman he gave his heart to would walk out the door. People he cared about left. It was a fact of life.

But he wasn't a charming flirt who got by on his looks. At least he tried not to be. As a teenager, it had been convenient to take the easy way out. Most things in life had come to him without a lot of work. But that didn't mean he was irresponsible. He usually didn't care about the things that came easily. What he remembered the most was what he'd had to work for. Or what he'd never gotten. Like Sandy. Sixteen years ago, she'd trampled all over his male pride, and here she was, doing it again.

He walked into the living room and sat in the large chair in front of the fireplace. The leather was cool against his bare back. He closed his eyes. He knew for a fact he didn't act like a kid. He had a responsible job. He'd worked hard at the police academy, graduating third in a class of a hundred. He'd taken a job in San Francisco for a year, and he'd been the top rookie. But he'd missed life in Glenwood, and when Travis had offered him a job in the county sheriff's department, he'd been glad to come home. He knew deep inside that he could have made it in San Francisco, or in any other big city, if he'd wanted to.

He shifted on the chair and tried to look at it from Sandy's point of view. She'd been gone less than an hour and had come home to a bleeding kid. That would be enough to send anyone into a tailspin. She'd overreacted. He was pretty sure she would see that she'd been unreasonable and apologize. He'd been trying to help Blake by teaching him how to protect himself. Could a woman understand that? He smiled. He doubted Sandy would appreciate that particular question. Walking in on him teaching Blake to defend himself had only made it worse for her. In time, she would see that lesson was important to the boy.

He took another swallow of beer and settled the bottle on the floor. He was rationalizing because he didn't want to face the truth. Sandy could be right about everything. After all, he was a Haynes. Four generations of failed marriages and broken families were hard to argue with. So far, the only brother that was making his relationship work was Travis. He wondered how he'd gotten so lucky.

Kyle didn't know what a happy marriage looked like. His old man had been gone more than he'd been home. His father's idea of good parenting was to smack the boys up the side of the head every now and then, whether or not they needed it. He always said, if they hadn't gotten into trouble, they would. To consider it punishment in advance.