Chapter 11
When the pilot finally announced their arrival at Portland International, Jillian figured she’d sublimated her emotions enough to manage the rest of the trip to Cape Hope alone with Zane without giving herself away. Getting back to work, staying busy would help.
The plane landed, taxied to the gate and braked to a stop.
Mia unbuckled her seatbelt. “The minute I get to the office, I’ll file the marriage certificate and the petition for you and Zane to receive custody of Casey, as well as a petition to curtail Richard’s visitation. I’ll also include the confidentiality clause about Zane’s paternity that he requested. I’ll call him when I receive a response.”
“Okay, great.”
“Jillian, if you ever need to talk—about anything —call me anytime. Day or night.”
“Thanks, Mia.” She and the other woman exchanged hugs. “For everything.”
Gray clouds glowered ominously over Portland, threatening a summer storm. The closer they got to the coast, the gloomier the day became. Jillian didn’t say much during the helo flight to Cape Hope or the short drive to the Center.
Major, life-altering decisions loomed ahead of her.
Zane stopped for a red light, glanced over. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I have a lot on my mind. Are we going to talk about last night?”
Dark eyes narrowed. “No.”
Yeah, there’s a newsflash. “Okay, but despite what Mia advised, I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.”
“Damned straight.”
The relief that edged his voice saddened her. “I meant sleep in the same bed at the house. Because of Casey. I don’t want to confuse him. We can move your clothes into my closet and dresser and your toiletries into the master bathroom so when the caseworker makes their surprise visit it appears we’re living as husband-and-wife. It’ll be inconvenient for you to have to fetch your stuff from there when you’re sleeping in the guestroom, but necessary.”
The light turned green, and he accelerated. “Whatever we need to do.”
“Zane.” She refastened a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid. “Ah … but … if you want to have more no-strings-attached, earthshaking sex, I’d be up for that.”
The wheel jerked beneath his big hands, and the car nearly veered into the other lane before he quickly righted it. He swore beneath his breath. “You are direct, aren’t you?”
“No reason not to be. We’re both here together for now, we both desire each other. So why not?”
“Why not?” he gritted. “A half-dozen warnings come to mind.”
She achieved a nonchalant shrug. “Well, the offer stands.”
His sensual lips pressed together and he didn’t utter another word the rest of the short drive to the Center.
Jillian used her key to gain entrance to the employees only door, and they walked to the main office.
Tala, who rotated stints at the desk as their receptionist along with other students who wanted office experience, turned from the computer behind the counter. “Hi, welcome back Ms. Ramsay.”
I’m Mrs. Wolfe now.
Jillian’s pulse tripped. But she had to drop that little bombshell on her family privately.
The pert student flashed Zane a smile brimming with undisguised female appreciation. “And hello, Agent Wolfe. Listen dude, if you need someone to show you the ropes around here, I’m totally available.”
“I think I can manage,” Zane said wryly.
“Can I ask you something? I see Native American blood in you, right?”
“Yes. My mother was Cherokee.”
“So’s my Grandma! She’s given me a whole lotta books and stuff about our heritage since I was a little kid. If you want to borrow any of ‘em, I can bring ‘em in.”
Zane smiled at the eager girl. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
Jillian looked around the deserted office. Loucinda was certain to notice her wedding band, and starting with her would be easier. Then she’d track down her dad and tell him, and call any of her brothers who weren’t incommunicado on active missions. “Where’s Loucinda?”
“In the addition, writing up purchase orders for the new kitchen.”
“All right, we’re heading over there, too.” She passed Tala her purse. “Could you put this in my bottom desk drawer, please, and then lock my office?”
“You got it.”
When Jillian and Zane stepped into the corridor, he frowned. “Jillian, you just handed your purse containing your ID, credit cards, and your money to a teenager. Without a qualm.”
“I did, yes.”
“Someday, sweetheart, that trusting nature is going rebound and bite you on your luscious ass.”
She grinned. “I prefer to give everyone the benefit of the doubt until they’ve proven they don’t deserve it.”
“Miss Jillian is a dreamer.”
“Mr. Zane is a cynic.”
“Being cynical protects you from being hurt.”
“Does it?” Her pensive gaze searched his. “Does continually staying on guard, always expecting the worst, make your life better? Or bitter?”
A cacophony of men’s shouts, whining power saws, and thudding nail guns echoed through the dim corridor, cutting off whatever reply he might’ve made.
Jillian unlocked the temporary steel fire door that separated the school from the ongoing construction. Inside what would eventually be the new expansive kitchen, huge industrial floor lamps threw the room into freaky angles of fluorescent light and shadow. A crew of six men moved in smooth tandem cutting and hanging sheets of drywall.
Brooke clicked around in a navy power suit and three-inch heels, her avid gaze darting to the clipboard she clutched.
Wonderful. Brooke was here, too.
And oh, crap, in the far corner, Dean Ramsay faced off with another worker, her dad’s waving hands punctuating his booming opinion.
Loucinda stood calmly amidst the melee wearing a flowing black skirt printed with neon green ferns and a matching chartreuse blouse, circling items in a catalog and jotting notes. The reigning Queen of Pandemonium.
Jillian swallowed hard.
Not exactly the way she’d envisioned making her announcement.
Loucinda glanced up. “Jilly!” she called. “We got word Reynolds was ponying up for the kitchen expenses a month ahead of schedule, and your dad finished the Martin job sooner than expected, so he and his crew were able to get started immediately. Isn’t that fantastic?”
Yeah. Fantastic. That explained Brooke’s presence. Brooke served on the Center’s board as treasurer.
Yippy skippy, the gang’s all here.
Loucinda hurried toward her. “And Lynn Reynolds sweet-talked her hubby into promising a buttload more money than we asked for. Come see all the loot we’re buyin’!”
Jillian flicked an uneasy look at her dad. Dean hadn’t noticed her yet. “How about if I just meet you back in the office, and look at it then?”
As she turned to leave, her wedding ring must have reflected off one of the lights, because Loucinda lunged and grabbed her hand, stopping her. “What’s this?”
“Loucinda—”
Her friend’s inquisitive gray gaze assessed Jillian—who couldn’t stop a flush from creeping up her neck into her cheeks—then shot to Zane, who stepped closer to Jillian and rested a warm, protective palm on the small of her back.
“Hot damn! Slather me with honey and handcuff me to the headboard,” Loucinda yelled over the din. “Jillian Ramsay, you little sneak! You ran off and eloped!”
Brooke froze mid-stride, jaw dropping.
Dean Ramsay’s head shot up. Violet-blue eyes very much like her own lasered into Jillian’s. “What?” he bellowed.
Jillian cringed.
A dangerous shade of red surged into her father’s face, and the stocky bald man stalked to where they stood. “What in the Lord Almighty have you done, daughter?”
The power tools died into a thick silence. Every eye in the place locked on her. Her body flashed hot. Instantly chilled to ice. She couldn’t make her tongue work. She twitched her braid over her shoulder.
Zane addressed the construction workers watching with avid interest. “Take five, guys.”
Dean fired a killer glare at Zane, then gave an abrupt nod, and the other men reluctantly drifted out the rear exit.
Like two wary dogs claiming the same territory, her father and her husband stared one another down.
Dean frowned. “You’re our little guy’s daddy. The resemblance is as plain as the nose on your face.”
“I’m Special Agent Zane Wolfe, and I am Casey’s biological father.”
“Well I’ll be a sonofabitch,” Dean said.
Zane’s arm slid around Jillian’s waist, his solid heat comforting. “This isn’t how we planned to tell you, sir, but Jillian and I were married in Tahoe yesterday. And my lawyer has filed for full custody of Casey.”
Brooke gasped and her clipboard clattered to the floor.
“Where have you been the past six years, Wolfe?” Dean demanded.
“It’s complicated. And I’m warning all of you …” He looked at Loucinda and Brooke. “To keep my paternity confidential, especially from Casey. My lawyer is also filing a confidentiality clause to that effect.” He turned back to face Dean. “I assure you, sir, I’m looking out for Casey and Jillian’s best interests.”
“You hurt either that little boy or my daughter, and I will break you in half.”
Zane nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Pop.” Breathing choppy, Jillian touched her father’s arm. “Zane is two-hundred percent reliable.”
“We’ll see.” Her father’s stern look pinned Jillian. “You both have a lot of explaining to do.”
“You’ll get a full explanation, sir.” Zane’s low voice was calm but firm. “Later. In private.”
Dean sized up Zane, who steadily held the other man’s nuclear-powered glare for a nerve-wracking sixty seconds. Finally, Dean gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ll be talking to you later, then.” He stuck out a square, work-toughened hand. “Drop the ‘sir’ nonsense. Call me Dean.”
With amazed relief, Jillian watched the men shake hands. Her father had terrified every guy she’d dated since high school. Her prom escort had been so freaked by Dean’s “treat-my-daughter-with-respect-or-lose-your-balls” lecture, he’d barely spoken to her all night. And when they’d danced, he’d stood so far away, she’d had to shout to make herself heard.
Loucinda clapped. “This is so excitin’! I’m gonna throw a huge reception for y’all.”
“Hold it.” Zane’s hand went up. “No parties. I told you, we keep this on a need-to-know basis.”
Brooke elbowed her way into the group. Green eyes slitted, she thrust her face close to Jillian’s. “That child belongs to me.”
“No.” Zane said low and lethal. “He doesn’t.”
Loucinda scowled at Brooke. “You and uppity Dr. Dick don’t own—or deserve—that little darlin’.”
“You all heard her.” Brooke whirled on Loucinda. “You disrespected me and my husband. This is none of your affair. And if you get in my way I will have the board throw you out of your job on your fat lily-white ass.”
“Brooke.” Dean’s quiet lash of cold fury was a startling icy contrast to his usual hot bluster. “Unless you want me clamping my vise grips to your tongue, don’t speak to Ms. Wallis that way again. Go finish your business elsewhere.”
As Brooke’s face flushed a mottled magenta that clashed with her red hair, Jillian studied her dad. Then her gaze traveled to Loucinda, who beamed at Dean as if he were Sir Galahad. An unexpected, surprising nuance shimmered in the air between the older couple.
Jillian blinked. Loucinda and Dean had been spending a whole lot more time together lately since Dean started construction on the Center. Had Cupid given them an extra push in the form of a little boy and a clever cat while Jillian was eloping? What a kick it would be if Loucinda and her dad got together. She couldn’t imagine a more fitting pair.
Brooke stomped to where her clipboard lay on the floor. “You’re all fooling yourselves,” she snarled. “Casey is mine! ”
Loucinda snorted. “Not unless the judge rides the short bus to work, sugar.” She turned to Jillian and Zane. “Forget her. Want to see the primo appliances I’m orderin’ for the new kitchen?”
Jillian inclined her head. Wiser to let their lawyer handle Brooke. Mia was more than up to the task. “You bet, but let’s go to the office where it’s quiet, and allow Pop and his crew to get back to installing the drywall.”
After a last appreciative glance at Loucinda, Dean’s lips quirked in a farewell smile and he strode toward the rear door.
Jillian and Zane headed for the outer corridor with Loucinda behind them.
Halfway there, Jillian heard Loucinda’s feet stumble, and then a yelp burst from her friend as she fell.
“Loucinda!” Jillian spun, dropped to her knees beside her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Loucinda moaned. Rocking back and forth, she gripped her right calf. “I tripped over a power cord and fell right out of my damned shoe. My ankle smarts somethin’ fierce.”
As Dean barreled across the room, Zane also knelt beside Loucinda. “I’ve had field medical training. Let me take a look.” Dean hovered in guard-dog mode while Zane gently palpated Loucinda’s ankle. “It might be broken. At the very least, it’s a bad sprain. Better get her to the hospital for x-rays.”
Dean shoved Zane aside and scooped Loucinda into his arms.
“Dean Ramsay!” In spite of her obvious pain, Loucinda laughed. “Put me down this instant! My weight will strain your back and then we’ll both need x-rays.”
“Hell, woman, you’re as light as foam insulation.” Dean’s grin shone with the glint of mischief Jillian had so rarely seen since her mom died. “Not a burden at all.”
Despite her worry for her friend, happiness sang through Jillian. She was getting her father back after years of living with a faded copy. She reached to retrieve Loucinda’s chartreuse shoe from the snarled cord, and froze.
Brooke crouched in the middle of the floor, clipboard in hand. The eerie light illuminated half her face, shadowing the other in darkness. She stared at the group, a venomous sneer twisting her elegant mouth. Curving along the floor suspiciously close to her was the thick industrial extension cord to the power saw, which had been plugged in on the opposite wall but now lay as limp and lifeless as a dead cobra.
Jillian’s pulse drummed in her ears. Had Brooke deliberately tripped Loucinda?
Brooke shifted and saw Jillian staring at her. The fluorescents lit her full-on and concern washed her expression. “Oh, dear, what a terrible accident.”
Jillian frowned. “It better have been,” she warned as she stood and handed Loucinda her shoe.
She really wanted to accompany Loucinda to the hospital. But that would leave the center without anyone in charge and Dean insisted he’d oversee Loucinda’s care. Jillian and Zane escorted the couple as far as the parking lot, where Zane opened the door to her dad’s truck and Dean tenderly lifted Loucinda into the seat.
Her friend was smiling in admiration at her father as the two drove off.
Jillian turned to Zane. “Did you see anything odd after Loucinda fell?”
His lips curved. “I think it’s kinda cool that your father’s got a jones for her. Go Pop.”
“I think so, too, actually. I didn’t mean them. I meant Brooke. I— It looked like she might have tripped Loucinda with the cord.”
Raven brows lowered. “I didn’t see that. I was focused on Loucinda’s injury. You believe Brooke has it in her to purposefully injure Loucinda?”
“She’s self-involved and can be thoughtless, but … No, I was upset and because I don’t like her, I probably just jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Jillian licked suddenly dry lips. “Speaking of injuries … about what my dad said in there … He’ll hit you directly between the eyes with his honest opinion—”
“I noticed. Now I know where you get it from.”
“He’s a blustery force to be reckoned with, but Zane, I’ve never in my life seen him lift a violent hand to anyone. He didn’t even spank my brothers or me, not once. He wouldn’t really physically attack you.”
“Yeah, he seems like he has his head on straight.”
“So you’re not afraid of him?”
“Of course not. Any man in his right mind wouldn’t be thrilled about his daughter marrying a stranger. He obviously loves both you and Casey.”
“He terrifies most people when he gets riled.”
Grimness sharpened his chiseled features. “Not much scares you when you’ve survived the devil himself.”
“Zane,” she said softly as her stomach lurched. “Did your father beat you?”
His mouth tightened. “He smacked us around on occasion—until I got old enough to stop him. But fists weren’t his usual weapon of choice.”
He pivoted and strode toward the door. “We have work to do.”
Chest aching, she caught up and walked beside him toward the building. She’d always been able to depend on Pop for comfort and encouragement. Couldn’t imagine how alone and vulnerable and afraid she’d have been growing up without her father’s devout love and protection.
Rather than trek around to the side entrance, they paused outside the public front door, which Jillian had explained to Zane was always kept locked so visitors had to be buzzed in. Jillian contacted Tala over the intercom, requesting entrance. Inside the office, Jillian paused to speak to the young pregnant girl. “Loucinda’s had a minor accident and hurt her ankle. Please route any phone calls for her to me.”
“Oh that sucks! I will, Ms. Ramsay.”
Zane followed Jillian into her office, where he sat at what used to be Deb’s desk and booted up the computer. He needed to get his mind off his wife and back on work.
She made it a lot tougher by resting both palms on the desk and leaning toward him. His gaze lifted of its own volition, lingered on the creamy skin beneath her pearls. Her scent tantalized his senses, brought the memory of the honeyed taste of her passion-dampened skin, her rapid pulse throbbing beneath his lips. Every cell in his body went on alert.
He’d wanted to mark her, and he had. But it wasn’t enough.
He battled the urge to sweep everything off the desk and take her. Possess her.
He went painfully hard. He could have her. She’d offered him no-strings sex.
But with a warm-hearted woman like Jillian, there would always be strings. They’d get tangled and then she’d get hurt.
Besides, he didn’t desire just sex with Jillian. He inhaled sharply. He wanted the impossible.
He wanted to stay with her.
“Zane?” Jillian’s sweet voice pulled him out of the swirling blackness.
Zane shook his head. “What?”
“You zoned out on me. You didn’t get much sleep last night. If you want to go home—”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“If you say so, Champ. I need to go make rounds of the classrooms and say hi to Casey.”
She left, and Zane forced his attention back to the computer. He’d been meticulously searching through months of Deb’s retrieved emails and phone records, both business and personal, but so far had found nothing remotely implicating her involvement with Reynolds. They’d been damned careful.
While she was gone, the capricious Oregon weather changed yet again, and sunshine bullied its way through the dark clouds, eventually vanquishing them.
Thirty-or-so minutes later, Jillian rushed in, closing the door behind her. “I can’t find my cell phone. Did Pop call the office?”
“Not yet. But you know what a zoo the ER can be.”
She patted her pants’ pockets. “I had my phone in my pocket this morning, I don’t know where … Oh, wait.” She hurried her desk drawer and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer. “I had to turn it off on the plane and I stashed it in here. Whew. I thought I was going to have to call myself again.”
Zane sat up straighter. “What did you just say?”
“You know, when you lose your cell phone and have to call yourself, and pray you left the ringer on so you can find it?”
“Holy shit, that’s it.” His fingers flew over the keyboard seeking re-entrance to Deb’s phone records. He’d combed through hundreds of calls going back six months previous to her death, but nothing had blipped on his radar yet. “Deb’s private cell Reynolds gave her was missing, but if there’s any chance she couldn’t locate it even once and called it from her everyday cell, we’ll have her private number and can access those call records.”
She gasped. “And connect Deb to Reynolds!”
“Maybe. It’s still a long-shot, and won’t prove anything except they exchanged phone conversations, and only if we can link the other number she called to Reynolds.”
“But it’s a start.” Jillian turned on her phone, scowled. “No messages or texts from Pop. One unknown voicemail.”
She held the phone to her ear. “Another two mouth-breathing hang-up calls. Damn, I’m going to phone Pop.” She pressed a speed-dial number. “Pop? How’s Loucinda?” Frowning, she listened in silence. “Okay. Oh no, in all the confusion I forgot about that. No, don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Just take care of Loucinda, and give her my love.” Biting her lip, she hung up and pocketed her phone.
“Loucinda okay?”
“She’s still in a lot of pain. They’re stuck in emergency, waiting for someone to take her down for x-rays. Then they’ll have to wait for a radiologist to read them, so they won’t know for a while if her ankle is broken. Dad’s planning to stay and take her home afterward.” She heaved a weary sigh and dropped her head into her hands. “But that creates a whole new problem.”
Her unhappiness stung Zane. He rose and rounded the desk. “Which is...?”
“Dress rehearsal for the musical is right after school. Since Loucinda doubles as our theater director and she’s down for the count, I’ll have to stay to supervise it.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “No way can we cancel. The debut performance is tomorrow, and it matters so much to the kids and the community.”
He wrapped his arms around her, massaged the tight muscles at her nape. “How can I help?”
“I don’t suppose I could talk you into wrangling a stage full of teenagers while they’re singing and dancing in a contemporary urban production of ‘ Les Miserables ?’”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“I didn’t think so.” She leaned into him. “Pop and Casey made the amateur primary-age finals of the battling kites competition at the festival yesterday. The playoff for the championship is tonight, but since Pop is at the hospital and I’ll be tied up here, Casey doesn’t have anyone to take him.”
Uh uh.
He couldn’t entertain a little boy for an entire evening. Other than Stoneheart’s despicable example, he had no flight plan. “No.”
“It won’t be more than a couple hours, three at the most. Once I finish with the rehearsal I’ll meet you on the beach. Please, Zane.”
What if he lost his temper and yelled at the kid? Or worse, said something cruel—something permanently damaging? The thought made him want to puke. “No.”
“I’ll be too busy to watch him during rehearsal and he won’t be safe around all the stage equipment. The Ray family, my usual babysitters, will be at the festival, as will practically everyone else in town. I can’t send Casey with them, Danielle will be hanging with her own friends, Officer Ray will be working, and believe me, Mrs. Ray will have her hands full with Donnie and Robbie in the crowd. Tala’s my backup sitter but she’ll be here.” She drew away slightly and anxious eyes silently pleaded with him. “There’s no one else.”
“I don’t—” He shook his head.
Jillian sighed again. “Okay. It’s okay. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I hate it, but I guess there’s no choice but to call Richard and Brooke.”
Zane swallowed a hot ball of denial.
He swallowed again, so hard it hurt all the way down.
But no way was he letting Dickwad and Psycho Bitch get their hands on the kid. “I … I’ll do it.”
Jillian stood on tiptoe and petal-soft lips caressed his cheek. “Thank you! Aragorn can stay at Pop’s until tomorrow, so you won’t have to worry about him.”
Intoxicated by her sensual curves pressed against him, her bewitching fragrance swirling around him, he gripped her upper arms and captured her mouth in a hot, fast kiss that tilted the world upside down.
Then he quickly let her go before he was unable to. “Tell me what …” His voice emerged graveled and he cleared his throat. “What exactly do I do with him?”
She blinked. “Who?”
He grinned. “The kid. Casey.”
“Oh. Right. Um, take him home and feed him first. The kite is on the back patio. Bring his light jacket, too, because even though the sun came out, the beach can get breezy at night.” She fished in her purse and handed him her keys. “Take Pink Cooper. Loucinda didn’t have time to retrieve her purse with her car keys before Pop swept her off to the hospital. She told Pop to ask me to drive her Corvette to my place, she doesn’t want it sitting here overnight.”
She glanced at the wall clock. “You’d better get a move on. Casey’s last class is over in two minutes.”
Woo-fucking-hoo. He reluctantly headed for the door.
“Zane?”
He turned back, and she smiled. “It’s good to have someone I can depend on.”
Her radiant confidence kicked him in the gut. “Only until the custody hearing is over.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Don’t embroider fantasies with happily-ever-after-endings.” He yanked the door open. “Don’t set yourself and the kid up for heartbreak.”
She simply smiled at him. “Casey is in room twenty.”
“Jillian, do you understand what I’m saying?”
Her warm velvet gaze held his, much too discerning for comfort. “I understand a lot more than you realize, Champ.”
Stomach churning, he strode out of the office. Between the kid and the woman, he was ready to check into a padded cell.
He walked down the hallway, a condemned man prodded irrevocably toward the electric chair. Outside classroom twenty, he stood apart from the knot of eager parents, dreading the moment the bell would clang and shove him into a firefight totally unarmed.
A trickle of cold sweat dribbled down his spine and he rolled taut shoulders. Jesus, Wolfe, it’s just one little kid. Suck it up.
The bell jangled, and he jumped. The door blasted open and a screaming horde of midgets streamed out. The kids shoved, giggled, and yammered like miniature jackhammers. Shouldering backpacks, they shouted greetings.
Casey spotted him and a wide grin creased his face. He hopped a skip of pure joy. “Hi, Zane!”
An odd flutter squeezed Zane’s chest. Probably anxiety. “Hey, kid. Your aunt is tied up, so we’re on our own for the afternoon.”
“Awesome!”
During the ride home, Casey jabbered about his day. Zane understood about half the torrential blitz. Luckily, Casey seemed satisfied with occasional noncommittal replies, sparing Zane lame attempts at conversation.
When they reached the house, Zane sent the kid to wash his hands. After an amused inspection, he sent him back with instructions to use soap. He’d pulled the same trick many times as a child.
Casey returned to the kitchen trailing water from dripping fingers. He stared up at Zane expectantly. “What’s to eat?”
“What do you usually eat?”
“Ice cream with sprinkles?” the little boy asked hopefully.
Zane laughed. “I’m a rookie at this, not Jar Jar Binks. Try again.”
The child found that hilarious. “Okay, how about a peanut butter samwich?”
Apparently, the kid didn’t have sky-high standards. Zane’s knotted shoulders relaxed. “I can manage that.” He found a container of peanut butter in the cupboard next to the fridge.
“With strawberry jam and pickles, please, Zane?”
Pain sliced through him, and Zane nearly dropped the peanut butter. That’d been Trev’s favorite after-school snack. He gulped, fighting for control. “You like pickles, strawberry jam, and peanut butter mixed together?”
“Yep. It makes Aunt Jelly gak, though. Why?”
Another buried memory surfaced and Zane smiled. “As I recall, the kids at our grade school had the same reaction.” He fixed Casey’s sandwich and a couple for himself, minus the pickles. He poured two glasses of milk, put everything on the table, sat down. “One time my brother made twenty bucks on a dare by eating seven peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.”
The kid slid into his chair across from Zane. “That is epic! What’d he buy with it?”
“Candy bars and a stack of superhero comic books.” Zane and Trev had been fond of superheroes back in the day. Zane had wished for years for a hero to rescue him and Trevor. An imaginary superhero to battle a real-life monster. But by the time one finally showed up, his little brother lay bloody and broken.
No longer hungry, he pushed aside his plate.
“I don’t got a brother. Or a sister. Robbie Ray has a bigger brother called Donnie Ray. What’s your brother’s name?”
Zane gulped. The name hadn’t passed his lips in over a decade. “T-Trevor.” As he finally choked it out, unexpected, bittersweet relief washed over him.
The little boy cocked his head. “Where is he, your brother Trevor?”
“Uh ... he’s ... in Heaven.”
“Oh, he’s a angel, like my mommy.” Casey bestowed a confident smile on him. “I bet they know each another. They prob’ly both watch over us, huh?”
The thought was oddly comforting. “Yeah.”
“I like gummy worms. Do you like gummy worms?” Casey stared down at his plate. “Aunt Jelly always cuts my samwich into four halfs.”
Zane firmly slammed the door to the past. “Okay.” He retrieved a knife and quartered the sandwich. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” Casey scarfed his food with gusto.
As Zane watched the little boy relish his simple meal, his own appetite returned. He ate both his sandwiches, and at Casey’s request, searched out dessert. He discovered a cache of homemade brownies in the ceramic cookie jar shaped like a cat. Speaking of cats, he was grateful he didn’t have to deal with snooty Aragorn at the same time as the rambunctious boy.
He returned to the table and bit into a soft, chewy brownie, rich with dark chocolate and studded with crunchy walnut halves. A groan of delight slipped out. “Holy smokes, kid, do you know how lucky you are?”
His mouth smeared with crumbs, Casey wrinkled his nose. “Huh?”
He waved the remains of the brownie. “Your aunt is one terrific lady.”
“Yeah. I love her,” Casey stated.
Zane closed his eyes against a stinging rush of longing. Jillian was a remarkable woman. Intelligent, compassionate, courageous, generous and kind.
She deserved everything.
He could give her nothing.
Stoneheart had taught him how to push, how to criticize, and how to destroy. Zane didn’t know how to love.
“Look Zane, my tooth is even looser! ”
He opened his eyes to see Casey wiggling a chocolate-coated bottom front tooth. “That’s loose all right. How much money will the Tooth Fairy bring you?” The old man had scorned childish rituals of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy as foolish bullshit. Knowing Jillian, she did the whole shebang and then some.
“I don’t know yet. This is my very first one. Why does that fairy want all them teeth, anyways?”
Good question. “Not a clue. What do you think she does with them?”
The little boy wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. “Well … I think the people who got teeth and lose ‘em, like me, puts them in a glass of water, and the Tooth Fairy pays for them and takes them away.” Big brown eyes went wide and earnest. “Then the people who don’t got teeth, like my Grandma Anna, puts out a plain glass of water, and the Tooth Fairy gives the teeth to them.” He nodded solemnly. “My Grandma Anna—she’s my mommy’s mommy—has a whole bunch of teeth all hooked together in a glass of water by her bed at the old people’s home where she lives. I seen it with my very own eyes.”
Not only an intelligent theory, but altruistic as well. Pride swirled warmly through Zane. “You’re a nice kid. And smart, too.”
Casey beamed at him. “Ya think?”
“Yeah. I think.” He returned the little boy’s smile. “But you have chocolate all over you.” He found a washcloth and wet it with warm water. Casey obediently tipped his chin up, but cringed and scrunched his eyes shut.
“You don’t like getting your face washed?”
“No. It feels slimy.” Casey shuddered. “But go ahead.”
“Sorry.” Honored by the child’s trust, Zane knelt and gently cleaned the smudges off Casey’s small face, careful not to irritate his tender skin.
Casey’s lids popped open. Their faces inches apart, the little boy stared into Zane’s eyes. His expression was openly admiring. “I like you lots, Zane.”
He swallowed the scalding lump in his throat. “Uh, thanks. I … like you too.” Pull back, Wolfe. “But you know, I won’t be around very long. I’m only in town for a short visit.”
Casey’s face fell. “Oh,” he said in a low voice.
The child’s crestfallen expression upended Zane’s equilibrium, and he sucked in a fortifying breath. “Hey, we can have fun while I’m here. Let’s grab that kite.”
At the beach, buzzing swarms of people milled around, eating ice cream, hot dogs, and cotton candy. Gulls wheeled overhead, occasionally dive bombing a stray tidbit with screeching delight. Tangy ocean breeze ruffled Zane’s hair. Holding Casey’s silver kite, he followed the kid’s surprisingly accurate directions to the competition site, his sneakers scrunching through warm sand.
A barrel-chested man reined over the registration table. “Kite name?” His shiny bald head gleamed in the late afternoon sun as he consulted a clipboard.
“Some men don’t wear hair,” Casey confided in a piping tone that could’ve carried clear to the California border. “Like this guy and my Poppy.”
Zane bit back a grin. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “But they don’t usually like it when other people advertise that fact. What’s your kite’s name?”
“The Millennium Falcon .”
Of course it was.
Not appearing to hold a grudge over Casey’s tactless observation, the burly man handed Zane a page of rules and two large labels printed with the number fourteen. Zane stuck one on his shirt and one on Casey’s.
Casey puffed out his scrawny chest. “We’re a team, Zane.”
Ambushed by the oddly appealing idea, panic jittered through him. Once again, he mentally pulled back. “How do we do this?”
“You never flied a kite before?”
He shook his head. Kite flying wasn’t competitive and cutthroat, and therefore of no value to his old man. “I won’t be as skilled as your Grandpa Dean. We’d better practice.”
Casey shrugged. “Don’t worry, you can do it.”
By the time the competition started, Zane felt at least adequate with the tricky maneuvers. The object was for each team to attempt to knock the other kites out and be the last kite in the air. Team members had to both hold onto the string and work together.
Halfway through the match, he had to admit it was the most fun he’d ever had standing up—well, okay, except for the scorching session at Tahoe with Jillian. Casey stuck close to his side, giggling like a fiend whenever they knocked out another kite.
They finished in fifth place and received a white honorable mention ribbon. “Not bad for a couple rookies, kid.” He ruffled Casey’s silky hair. “Did you have fun?”
Casey grinned up at him. “ Epic fun.”
“You did good.” He remembered Stoneheart’s credo: The world hates losers. Win at all times, at any cost.
Brent had embraced the brutal philosophy. His well-learned perfectionism had alienated two wives and driven his teenaged son to drugs.
Zane had wanted to please his father as a youngster, but as he grew up, he’d eventually figured out it was impossible. When he turned fifteen, he’d resolutely chosen his own path. And although he’d tried to ignore his father’s continued verbal tirades over the years, the harsh taunts had still struck as hard as physical blows, leaving scars on his spirit.
Trev, as the youngest son who felt he had the most to prove, had strived more and more desperately for the old man’s approval. But failed miserably.
And Zane had failed his little brother … in the worst possible way.
Throat painfully tight, Zane focused on the child at his side who was chortling with enthusiasm. Maybe the past had taught him something worthwhile after all. Something valuable he could pass on.
“Be proud of yourself, Casey. Proud of this.” He gently tucked the white ribbon into Casey’s jeans’ pocket. “And don’t ever let anybody tell you that not coming in first is a bad thing. Enjoying what you do in life is what really counts.”
Casey nodded vigorously. “Okay, Zane.”
Zane shifted the kite under his arm. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. No sign of Jillian. He didn’t like the idea of her hanging out alone with former gangbangers, no matter how rehabilitated. “How about some cotton candy while we watch the other events?”
“Yay! I want pink!”
Eating wispy pink candy that melted in his mouth, Zane strolled along the beach with Casey, entertained by the child’s eagle-eyed, lively commentary.
He checked his watch again. Thirty more minutes, then he was taking the kid to the Center and looking for her.
“Aunt Jelly!” Casey shouted, jumping up and down. “Over here!”
Zane looked up and saw Jillian gracefully strolling toward them. Relief, mixed with an emotion he refused to name, whipped through him.
“Hi guys, having a good time?”
“The best ever, Aunt Jelly!”
Zane sucked in oxygen. Weird, breathing had never been difficult before. “Everything go all right?”
“You know what they say …” She smiled, but the shadows beneath her eyes revealed growing fatigue. He knew she hadn’t slept much last night, because he hadn’t slept at all. “Rocky rehearsal, good opening night.”
“I have no doubt it’ll be great. Did you hear from your dad about Loucinda?”
“Yes, one of the small bones in her ankle is broken, and she’ll be out of commission for at least six weeks. They’re going to hang out and have a movie marathon tonight.” She laughed. “Little does Pop know, Loucinda has an ongoing love affair with all things Keanu Reeves.”
Zane grinned. “Oh, isn’t Pop in for a treat.”
“Don’t diss Keanu, Champ. He’s one of the nicest, most generous guys in Hollywood and he’s survived a number of tragedies in his life … including a rough childhood.”
Damn, not only had she neatly put him in his place, she’d piqued his interest, and guaranteed he’d be spending some time on Google later.
Casey skipped over to give Jillian a hug. “Can we go watch the kite dancing? Huh? Can we?”
Jillian bent and kissed the top of Casey’s head. “You bet we can. It’s my favorite event.”
They headed to the far end of the beach. The kid really got into the kite dancing, where the competitors maneuvered their kites in time to songs played over a set of loudspeakers. Casey twirled and spun along with the changing music, the exuberant child and graceful kites dancing side-by-side in the salty breeze, vivid splashes of color against the deepening blue horizon.
Jillian smiled up at Zane, and his pulse stuttered. Casey’s innocent delight and Jillian’s open-armed embrace of life had shown him the world through fresh, eager eyes, unclouded by cynicism.
And he admitted, he liked the new view.
Twilight descended, cloaking the sand in sapphire and frosting the murmuring ocean with silver. The trio stopped at a canopied booth to order steaming hot dogs with the works.
Watching Jillian, Zane ate his hot dogs, while a whole different kind of hunger gnawed at him.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “We’d better head out. I managed to find a parking spot close to where you parked Pink Cooper. You’ll have to drive Casey home, though, because the ‘Vette doesn’t have a backseat and small children shouldn’t ride in the front with airbags.”
She slipped her hand beneath Zane’s arm as they walked to the street above the beach. Feeling unnervingly like part of the family, Zane slowed his stride to accommodate the child’s slowing pace. “You getting tired, Casey?”
“Nah. My teacher always makes us take a nap after lunch.” The scorn in his voice indicated how he felt about that indignity.
Zane laughed as he opened the back passenger door of Jillian’s Cooper. “When you grow up, you’ll appreciate those naps, pal.”
Jillian sauntered toward Loucinda’s lipstick red Corvette two cars behind them. “Loucinda gave me the loan of her car for the duration, since she can’t drive it and we might need more than one vehicle while you’re around. See you two at home.”
The little blonde girl from the school skipped between the parked cars, accompanied by an older look-alike teenager. “Hi Casey.” Amused, Zane watched the little girl bat her lashes at Casey in flirtatious adoration.
“Hi Jen,” Casey answered with a lack of enthusiasm that put flirting on a par with creamed spinach.
“I saw you with your kite. You did super-duper. Is this your daddy?”
Jillian pivoted, her stricken gaze colliding with Zane’s.
The air jammed in Zane’s lungs as cold, jagged fear ripped through him.
Casey slipped his hand into Zane’s. “Zane is my friend.”
A flood of emotion weakened Zane’s knees … followed by the startling recognition of the tiny warm hand enfolded within his much larger one.
He looked down at the slender fingers cradled in his palm, gilded by the glow of the Cooper’s dome light. So small. So fragile. So precious.
A chance meeting, an hour of pleasure had created this child.
Not a mistake.
A miracle.
Zane stood immobile, stunned by awe.
“We gotta go now, Jen. Bye.” Casey let go of Zane’s hand and clambered into the backseat.
The little girl frowned in disappointment and trudged off.
Zane silently buckled Casey in, shut the door and rested his forehead on the cool ragtop. Shaken to his soul, he fought for composure.
Jillian hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he managed to choke out.
She patted his arm. “Casey didn’t think anything of it. No harm done.”
This time.
On wobbly legs, Zane stumbled around the car and slid inside. Casey hadn’t made the connection, hadn’t realized the truth. He hadn’t been hurt.
Zane sat clutching the wheel, burning with the newfound knowledge of how far he’d go to prevent that from happening.
And exactly how much he would have to give up to protect his son.