Jett grunts and squawks.
Beau’s eyes are focused on Jett when he says, “I like him, too.”
I smile at him, assuming he’s looking, and steer the topic elsewhere. Because this gorgeous man liking my son while looking like a ten in a leather jacketisn’tgonna steer me anywhere safe. I know I told Goldie I’d try with Beau, but doing that is so much scarier than saying I’ll do it.
Changing the topic is a must.
“So, what did you do over the weekend?” I swear I’m not asking to find out if he went on a date. I’m just making small talk. Truthfully, if he told me he did yard work and watched sports, I’d still probably want to know about it. I want to know how Beau spends his time. I can’t help it.
He licks his lips, wide dark eyes going somber and hooded. “It was my dad’s birthday. So I took a trip out to the cemetery.”
“Is he buried here in Oakcreek?” I ask around a lump in my throat. Poor Beau. The pain of his father’s loss is clearly so powerful and haunting. I can’t even imagine losing my dad.
He shakes his head, returning Jett’s pacifier to him yet again. “No, over in Willowdale.”
“Was he originally from there? Or… here?” These are things I don’t know… but I want to. He seems a bit nervous, shifting in his seat, tugging at the open leather jacket around him, sending air down his chest.
“No. But he didn’t have any family back where he was from, so I had him buried out here so I could visit him whenever I want.”
“So you plan to stay here forever?” I ask, and why is my pulse zipping with excitement at the likelihood that he’s going to say yes? It doesn’t matter where Beau wants to live.
I live here in Oakcreek with my son, a single street away from my parents. I am where I am going to be, meant to be, am staying.
Where Beau is or isn’t reallyshouldn’taffect me at all.
But when he nods, I bring my legs together beneath the wheel.
“I’m sorry about the anniversary. I know those can be tough.”
He nods solemnly. I notice his gaze doesn’t drift out the window but down to Jett. His lips curl in a soft smile. “I was sad all weekend, Jett, but you and your gorgeous mama are making me feel so much better. Did you know that? Did you?”
“Your dad,” I ask, taking advantage of his sweet and open disposition. I know I shouldn’t; he’s vulnerable if he had a hard weekend. But I can’t help myself. “What, if you don’t mind me asking, was wrong with him?” Beau is so young; his father couldn’t have been that old.
“He was older,” Beau says, challenging my exact thought. “And he had been sick for a year. Lung cancer.”
“Oh, Beau. I’m so sorry.” I want nothing more than to pull his face into my hands and hold him there, dropping kisses on his head as I promise him his heart will be okay.
I can’t help but see how his expression shifts when his gaze goes back to Jett. It’s not a full smile, but there’s some happiness there that didn’t exist before–from looking atmyson.
“Didn’t smoke a day in his life.” He wiggles Jett’s socked-toes then looks at me as I pull into a parking spot at Wrench Kings. At first our eyes meet in the rearview, but then I twist in my seat to face him. “I thought that was some funny, cruel kind of joke.”
I reach back and wrap my hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
He stares at my hand, making me want to yank it away in a moment of uncontrollable and unbridled insecurity. But I keep it there, and god, his leg is hard, all muscled and warm and–
“Thanks. And thank you again for the ride.”
He pops open the door, and I forgot to tell him on the drive over because I was kind of hypnotized by how well he and Jett do together.
“I can’t drive you home from work tonight.”
His face turns to a scowl, and I turn back around, eyeing him in the mirror.
“Okay,” he says slowly like he wants to ask more but doesn’t feel like he can. So I throw him a bone.
“I’m leaving Jett with my parents. I’m going to go tour a space downtown.”
He glances at Jett, giving him a single finger-hook wave goodbye. My chest warms. “What for?” He slides out of the seat and meets me at my rolled down window, closing the door quietly and gently.