Rose
With my mind full of terrifying images of a stranger stuffing my innocent son into the trunk of their car while I was being a terrible mother, I nearly run past Ben sitting at our booth opposite a large blond man in a navy t-shirt.
My back stiffens. “Get away from my—” Mid-yell, it hits me that Ben is quietly sipping his juice box through a straw, while the man who looks to be in his late twenties gazes out the window.
Two sets of surprised eyes snap to me. Ben’s light-green, and the man’s a darker shade.
Pretty.
The man flashes me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to have scared you. Ben was just sipping his juice box and pointing out red cars while we waited for you.”
“He’s a fireman,” my son announces in the excited tone that warns me I’m going to be hearing about this for weeks to come.
I sink into the booth beside Ben, eyeing the man warily as I pull Ben closer to my side in case I need to grab him and run.
“Firefighter,” the man gently corrects Ben. “We don’t have any women on our team yet, but when we do, we want her to feel included.”
Ben bounces in his seat. “He said he could show me his truck.”
The firefighter must be reading my growing suspicion to fish his wallet out of his pocket, flip it, and lean toward me, giving me a waft of potent alpha pheromones.
Black cherry and wood smoke. He shows me his ID and another card with Rios Fire Department in large red letters at the top.
Both pictures match the man sitting in front of me.
Joel Jane Shaw.
Jane?
“I really am a firefighter,” he says, tucking his wallet away and running a hand through short dark-blond hair. “I told Ben that if it’s okay with you, I’m happy to show him around the firehouse.”
Ben’s grin is megawatt, and the puppy-dog eyes he shoots me would melt the hardest of hearts. This is a lifelong dream for him, and I can’t deprive him of it.
“We’re only in town for a little while,” I say.
“Just let me know when, and I’ll speak to the fire chief about it.”
“I asked Joel to keep an eye on Ben for you,” Lina says, approaching our table with a fresh glass of water with ice and a straw, which she places in front of me. “Sorry to worry you. I planned to tell you, but you ran out before I could mention Ben was hanging around outside the restroom.”
I raise an eyebrow at Ben. So much for his promise to stay put.
He looks away, cheeks pink. “Sorry, Mommy. I was bored.”
Of course he was bored. I should’ve known he wouldn’t last five minutes before he went looking for entertainment.
If I hadn’t been so sick, I would never have left him alone for as long as I did.
Guilt tunnels into me. Someone could have taken his hand and led him right out the door, and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late.
Knowing it’s my fault, I turn to Lina. “It’s okay. Thanks for stepping in.”
Ben bounces in his seat, turning his attention back to Joel as Lina walks away, called by another customer. “Are you really a firefighter?”
Joel nods. “I am. My older brother, Noah, is a firefighter, too. He’s actually the fire chief. We both wanted to be firemen when we were little.” He glances down at himself. “Obviously, I’m not so little anymore.”
Naturally, my eyes are drawn to those heavy, muscled shoulders and large, tanned hands. My face might be green and my stomach queasy, but I am neither blind nor indifferent to this handsome alpha’s good looks.
I’m torn between the need to protect my son from a man I’m not sure I can trust and my curiosity about why he became a firefighter. When he catches me looking, a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
“Rose Hayes,” I blurt out, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
His grin is all kinds of gorgeous. “Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m from Rios, born and raised just like Lina.
” He points his chin at Lina, busy with a customer as a bell rings at the hatch behind the front counter.
“We went to school together, and I’m her son’s godfather.
” He shifts his gaze to Ben. “Harry’s about your age.
If you’re sticking around town for a bit, he’s always looking to make more friends. ”
My God, this man is dangerous. Every word out of his mouth is winning my son over. If Ben were a puppy, his little tail would be wagging so hard he’d be in danger of taking flight. The only thing worse would be—
“His sixth birthday is coming up in a few days. Lina always has a party for him and his friends from school, and there will be an ice cream cake.”
Yep. That’ll do it. I briefly shut my eyes as Ben sucks in a breath and immediately chokes on his spit. I clap his back until he’s recovered from his coughing fit. He is literally dying of excitement.
Fire truck.
Firefighter.
New friend.
Cake.
It’s going to require a crowbar, brute force, and promises I don’t intend to keep to get Ben to leave before that birthday party. This is his best day ever, and I’m swallowing repeatedly to avoid vomiting over this gorgeous firefighter.
“Are you okay?” Joel asks me.
“Mommy threw up over her shoes,” my son feels compelled to tell the handsome firefighter.
My cheeks burn as Joel's attention swings to me.
From Joel’s sparkling eyes and his twitching mouth, he’s fighting for his life to contain his smile. “Is that right?”
“Ben,” I say mildly.
A few miles away, nausea hit hard, forcing us off the road.
I hunted down the closest town to get water to clean the sick off my shoes and find a place to stay for the night.
I got us checked into a motel down the street, and since our room wasn’t ready yet and Ben was hungry, we headed out for food at a place called Nico’s.
Ben blinks innocently at me. “You’re that same funny green color. Joel might need to get out of the way. If you throw up on him, he might not show me his truck.”
He sounds so genuinely terrified he’ll miss out on a lifelong dream that I can’t help but smile. No one can prepare you for the blunt honesty of a five-year-old. If they tell you they can, they’re lying to you.
Joel chokes on a laugh, turning it into a cough. “I would not change my mind about the fire truck. Sick or no sick.” The smile fades from his eyes as he looks at me. “But you’re okay now?”
“Fine,” I say, as if my stomach isn’t gurgling right this second, a sign that another bathroom break is imminent.
Joel slowly nods, tilting his head to the side as if he smells my lie. He’s distracted when Lina hurries over with Ben’s burger and fries. Nothing for me. I’m just trying to get by on plain water.
“You sure you don’t want anything, honey?” Lina asks me as Ben digs into his meal, the smell turning my stomach.
One glance at the ketchup on Ben’s plate has me swallowing hard. “No, thanks.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just shout if you need anything, Rose.” Joel scoots to the side of the booth and gets to his feet with a smile as Lina moves to another table when a man lifts his arm to get her attention.
“Sure.” It takes everything I have not to stare at how much bigger he is out of the booth. Easily six-three and not a hint of softness to be found anywhere on him.
With a grin at me and a wave at Ben, he walks toward the red stools at the front counter. His combat pants are navy, and the back of his navy shirt has ‘Rios Fire’ in yellow lettering, more proof that he really is who he said he was.
Lina soon returns, thankfully distracting me. I should not be staring at Joel’s ass. I should be grieving Simon and focusing all my attention on my son.
“He wasn’t lying,” Lina says.
I wrinkle my nose. “Who wasn’t lying?”
“Joel.” Lina glances at Joel, who’s sitting on one of the red stools at the counter, while a tall, dark-haired man rests his elbows on the kitchen hatch, talking to him.
“We went to school together. There will be cake and games at Harry’s birthday, and Ben is invited if you want to stick around town.
Sorry again for worrying you before. I should have told you right away that Joel was watching Ben. ”
“I had other priorities at the time.” Namely, hugging a toilet and regretting ever setting off on this road trip.
Her gaze dips to my barely touched water. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Ginger ale or…”
After what happened the last time I dared to sip ginger ale? No thanks.
I shake my head. “Water is fine.”
“Just shout if you change your mind,” she says and leaves to check on another customer.
I don’t know how she does it, but that woman is single-handedly managing every table in this place, and there are at least twelve with people at them.
As Ben digs into his burger and fries, I sit back, breathing through my partially open mouth.
We have barely started this road trip. How am I going to make it through the next three weeks of cross-country driving when I can’t go an hour without throwing up?