Chapter 11-Callie
Blackmail should not be so charming.
“Do we like him, Mama?”
“We like cars when it’s stormy and the bus is late but…”
“Stranger danger,” Wyatt whispers so earnestly I want to hug him.
I’m annoyed that the wounded look in Ezra’s eyes when he catches the phrase almost makes me want to hug him, too. The way he keeps staring at Wyatt… it’s doing things to me.
“No, he’s not stranger danger. He’s Ezra, an acquaintance of mine.”
It’s taking all my willpower to stand here pretending to be civil after what he’s discovered.
It’s taking all my willpower to ignore how fine this man looks even with hot chocolate stains on his pants.
What if he tells Chase? Who am I kidding? He believes his brother deserves to know. He didn’t even believe me when I said I’d told Chase I was pregnant. He was always thinking the worst of me from the start.
“What’s a ‘quaintance, Mama?”
“Like a friend,” Ezra answers.
“Not friends,” I say, sharply before softening my tone for Wyatt. “But, we cannot accept a ride from Ezra as he does not have a booster seat in his car for you so…”
“I’ll get one. That store across the street sells them, right?”
“You’ll go to Target and buy a booster seat for my son right now?” I ask, incredulously.
He stares at me like I’ve asked something silly.
∞∞∞
An hour later, there’s a booster seat in Ezra Sokolov’s fancy Range Rover and I’m sitting in an old-timey pizza parlor wanting to kick myself for allowing this. There’s only a stray pepperoni and bits of crust left on the pan as I watch my son raptly watching Ezra play a pinball machine. He has not yet made the connection that Ezra is the hockey player he knows as the Falcon. I’ll never get him away from him if he does.
“We take turns! I play! My turn!”
“Your turn, Wyatt,” Ezra agrees, moving a chair over for Wyatt to stand on. I start to protest that it’s not safe but Ezra positions his feet on either side of the chair and wraps an arm protectively around Wyatt’s waist. “Pull the plunger to launch your ball. Watch which way it goes when it hits the bumpers.”
“‘Bump, bump, bump. Big old grump,’”Wyatt sing-songs.
“That’s right, Grumpy Bumpy. You know that book?”
“Mama reads it every night. Again!” he shrieks when the game chirps and lights up as his ball immediately goes down the drain.
Again, again, again. Every time the ball goes between the flappers, Wyatt gives Ezra puppy dog eyes and asks, “Again?” I’m losing count of the times they’ve gone to get change now.
I have to stop this.
But, there is a part of me that doesn’t wish to. I’ve never seen Wyatt this way around a grown man other than his pop-pop.
“We need to go home soon, Bump. It’s getting late, you’ve got school tomorrow and I’ve got work.”
He pouts before smothering an enormous yawn and the affectionate smile Ezra gives him melts my guarded heart a little more.
A very little.Remember who his brother is.Remember who he is.
“Your mama’s right. I have work, too.” Ezra picks him up by the waist and lifts him off the chair so high Wyatt squeals with delight, the yawn and pouting forgotten. It’s impossible not to smile. “And, perhaps I’ll see your mother at work tomorrow.”
My smile dies a quick death. Is that a threat?
“Is Ezra one of the bosses, Mama?”
Ezra smirks as I say, “No.” When Wyatt goes to collect the coloring page he was working on while they made our pizza, I cross my arms as that smirk deepens. “You’re a white man wearing an expensive suit just like the partners at Golden Gate so Wyatt assumes. That does not make you my boss.”
“Of course not, just a very important client, right?” Rolling my eyes does nothing to dissuade him from moving closer, brushing up against my arm. Someone needs to tell these damn butterflies to chill out. “I’d like to see you again. Both of you.”
“Ezra, I don’t think…”
He dips his head, drawing even closer. I feel his warm breath on my neck. My stupid goosebumps have got themselves worked up now. “May I see you at least?” he rumbles, igniting a fire inside me.
“There’s no reason for-”
“Tomorrow, Callie.” My wits are scattered as he quickly straightens, speaking louder. “There seems to be a small hiccup with the greeter bots that cropped up at the hockey arena.”
“Hockey arena?” Wyatt asks curiously, returning with his paper.
“The hockey arena your mother and I are working on for my new team.”
Sugar honey iced tea, Wyatt’s a child, not stupid. The gears are turning. “I’ll deal with that hiccup tomorrow. If you would go ahead and drive us home now.” I have to get him away before-
“Do you mean the Fog?”
“Yes, the Fog, Wyatt.”
“You play for the Fog?” My son’s little nose is scrunched up like he’s not sure he believes it.
“No, I don’t play for them. I own the team. I used to play but-”
Nose – un-scrunched.
Eyes – wide open.
Excitement level – astronomical.
“FALCON!! He’s the Falcon, Mama!”
Ezra, for his part, looks mildly embarrassed. “Well, yes. That was me.” Wyatt is so beside himself he’s shaking. Ezra’s eyes cut my way before they’re back on Wyatt. “Would you like to see the arena? I could arrange a tour for you and your mother… if that’s alright with her.”
I don’t even have to look at my son to know I’ll be getting puppy dog eyes times twenty. You. Sneaky. Bastard.
∞∞∞
Despite his excitement and the dozens of questions about hockey which followed, Wyatt falls asleep on the car ride home, giving us a brief opportunity to speak. “That wasn’t fair, Ezra.”
“I didn’t know he knew who I was when I mentioned work.”
“Yet, you just happened to drop the words hockey arena into the conversation in front of a little kid in hockey gear.”
“I just want a chance to get to know him, Callie. He’s my nephew.”
I roll that around, knowing he has a point. A very small point. “You will not tell Chase.”
“You don’t have any hot chocolate to threaten me with now.”
I think he’s trying to be funny. I stare straight ahead, refusing to cry or beg, but resolved to hate this man with every fiber of my being if he threatens to interfere with my child’s happiness. “If you do anything to hurt him…”
“Yes, mama bear. Take me out back and shoot me. I get it. I will not tell Chase, Callie. I’m hoping you’ll decide to instead.”
Not likely. “I’ll let him have his little tour.” I could not break my son’s heart that way and say no. “But, you are not to manipulate another meeting with Wyatt that way again, Ezra. Do we understand each other?”
He grips the steering wheel hard, the emotions locked up in those determined green eyes difficult to decipher. “I understand,” he rasps at last and I wish it didn’t affect me the way it does. He stops the SUV in front of our building, leaning in close to whisper, “But, I cannot make the same promise when it comes to you.”
“What do you-”
“You said you only wished to forget us, me and my brother.”
“I do-”
He silences me with a firm finger pressed to my lips. My heart seems to stop even as my pulse pounds. I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Yet, you keep appearing in front of me, even when I least expect you, darting in and out of my sight and making it impossible for me to forget you, hummingbird.”
I shiver from his words and under his touch. My heart turns over, racing at a furious pace now. His mouth is so close to mine and those lips beckon me. His finger still touches my lips and I cannot stop myself from puckering them ever so slightly. Ezra smiles, realizing it.
“Home?” a sleepy voice asks from the backseat, making us jump apart.
Ezra is out his door opening Wyatt’s before I can remember where the door handle might be. “Up, up, up, Bump,” he says, knowing the book by heart, too.
He throws the bag with Wyatt’s hockey gear over one shoulder and then Wyatt over the other. My son screeches with laughter all the way to my side of the vehicle where Ezra opens my door. I have a hard time getting out. Standing is difficult when you’ve been reduced to a puddle.