“He could stay with your aunt for a few hours, couldn’t he? Isn’t that where he goes now when you have other obligations?”
“Yes. But...”
“He gave me permission to date you, you know.”
That made her blink. “I beg your pardon?”
“The subject came up somehow when I took him fishing. He said he thought I should ask you out.”
“I can’t believe you discussed this with Jeffrey! Scott, he’s only ten years old.”
“And he sees nothing wrong with us having dinner together. Neither do I. How about it?”
Blair was torn between being annoyed and amused. It embarrassed her that Scott and Jeffrey had discussed her in such a way, but it had been a long time since she’d had a pleasant, grown-up dinner with an attractive man. She was definitely tempted....
“Saturday evening?” he added enticingly.
She took a deep breath, then answered rashly, “Okay. Fine. Saturday evening.”
He sounded just a bit smug when he replied, “Great. I’ll look forward to it. I’ll call you later in the week to set up a time, okay?”
“Yes, that will be fine,” she murmured, hoping she hadn’t made a serious mistake. She reassured herself that she was only agreeing to dinner. A simple date. How big a mistake could that be?
“I suppose I should let you get back to your nephew.”
“Yes. I promised to help him with his homework.”
“Then I’ll talk to you later in the week. Good night, Blair.”
“Good night, Scott.”
It occurred to her as she hung up the phone that she now had a date with Scott McKay on Saturday evening.
And she hadn’t had to pay for this one.
*
THE WEEKEND with Scott had not, of course, accomplished miracles. When Blair stopped at her aunt’s house to pick Jeffrey up Wednesday afternoon, she could tell immediately from Wanda’s expression that something was wrong. She braced herself. “What happened?”
“Jeffrey got into a fight after school. He’s been suspended for the rest of the week.”
Blair was horrified. “He got into a fight? What happened? Who did he fight with? Is he all right?”
As if in answer, Jeffrey slipped into the room, looking braced for trouble. He sported a colorful bruise beneath his left eye, accenting the scabbed-over scrapes on his chin from his fall at Scott’s cabin. The pocket of his knit shirt had been ripped at one corner. His expression was a mixture of dread and defiance.
Blair moved to his side, tilting his chin with her finger to examine his injuries. Satisfied they weren’t serious, she leveled a frown at him. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
“I got into a fight with Jason Pritchard. One of the teachers reported us, so now we’re both suspended for the rest of the week,” he muttered.
“That’s hardly enough information, Jeffrey. What was the fight about? Who started it?”
“He shot off his mouth.”
“And who threw the first punch?”
Jeffrey’s lower lip jutted outward. “He wouldn’t shut up.”
“So you hit him?”