Chapter 1
Chapter One
“You’re in my swing.”
Casey stared at the small boy glaring at her. Then she glanced around the empty public playground. Which had a total of four swings.
And he wanted hers?
She sucked on her lollipop as she eyed him. His face was turning red and his cheeks were puffed out. He squinted at her with his hands clenched into fists at his side.
Dude was about to blow.
Casey drew out her lollipop. Yeah, she knew she should probably let him have the swing.
He was a kid. And she was . . . what?
An embarrassment to the family?
A lost cause?
Childish?
Damn. She hated how those words still hurt.
“Your swing?” she asked, wondering where his parents were. He couldn’t be much more than five or six.
He nodded slowly. “Yep.”
“Didn’t know that anyone could own a public swing,” she drawled. “Did you write your name on it?”
“My mama’s name is on the whole playground,” he said, pointing to a sign behind him.
Casey hadn’t been paying much attention to her surroundings as she’d wandered into the playground. So she didn’t know what the sign actually said.
She’d just wanted to get out of her car and stretch her legs after driving for the last twelve hours. Although now exhaustion seemed to be dragging her down.
After yawning, she blinked rapidly. Wasn’t fresh air supposed to wake you up? She pushed the swing to distract herself. “Why is your mama’s name on the sign?”
“Because she died,” the little boy said. “And Papa made this playground in her . . . to be . . . um, I forget the word. But for her. Because she loved playgrounds.”
“I love playgrounds too,” Casey told him. “They’re so fun. Some of my best memories are at playgrounds.”
“That swing is mine and I need it.” He put his hands on his small hips and gave her a mutinous look.
Casey swung back and forth. She wondered when his mama had died. Poor kid.
“Why do you need it?” she asked.
Where was his Papa? Why wasn’t he keeping an eye on this boy?
“It’s my thinking swing. Papa is gonna hire another nanny and I don’t need one. I’m old enough to look after myself.”
“How old are you? Four?” she asked.
“I’m seven!”
“Huh. You seem short.”
“I’m not short!”
The kid was definitely about to blow. She should probably ease off and give him the swing. But Casey always liked to take the hard route. At least that’s what her granny used to say.
“Do you know how to do rock, paper, scissors?” she asked.
“Pfft. Everyone knows how to do that,” he replied dismissively.
“Cool. We’ll play for the swing.”
“Shouldn’t you just give it to me?” he asked. “My mama died.”
“My mama is dead too,” she told him. “I miss her a lot.”
Ever since Mama died, Casey’s life had been chaotic. A father who yelled, brothers who didn’t understand her, and her grandparents had lived hours away.
“Oh, sorry. It’s hard,” he said, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Sure is. You know, I could give you the swing but wouldn’t it be more fun to win it from me?” she asked.
What are you doing, Casey? He’s a sad, lonely kid.
But she was a sad, lonely adult and this was the most she’d talked to anyone in weeks.
Pathetic?
It sure was.
He tilted his head to the side. “You got any more candy?”
She glanced at the lollipop in her hand. “Yep.”
“Grape ones?”
“Of course I’ve got grape. What sort of question is that?” She swore that she saw his lips twitch. But his small face scrunched back into a frown so quickly that she guessed she was mistaken.
Reaching into her jacket pocket she drew out several more lollipops.
“Whoa. You carry candy around in your pocket?” the kid asked.
“You don’t?”
“My papa wouldn’t let me.”
“Yeah, parents are rough like that. Always telling you to not eat too much sugar or your teeth will rot. Pfft.” She showed him her teeth. “See? Perfect teeth. And I’ve never gone to the dentist.”
His eyes widened. “Never?”
“Well, not since I became an adult. And I’m fine. It’s all a myth.”
She did have that one tooth in the back of her mouth that was kind of disintegrating. But it didn’t hurt so she was ignoring it. There was no evidence it was due to her sugar consumption. Maybe she’d hurt it eating an apple.
No one talked about how apples could attack your teeth.
“Cool. I hate the dentist.”
“Who doesn’t?” She held out the grape lollipop to him.
He eyed it like he thought it was a snake about to bite.
“Problem?” she asked.
“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” he told her.
“Good call.” She nodded. “I’ll eat it.”
A calculating look entered his face. “If I knew your name you wouldn’t be a stranger, though.”
Casey had to grin. “I guess that’s right, small man-child. I’m Casey.”
“That’s a pretty name,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said hoarsely. “It was my mom’s name. She was the best person I know. What about you?”
“My name’s Wyatt.”
“Wow. Good cowboy name,” she said as she handed the candy over.
He ripped off the packaging and put it in his mouth.
“Good?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“So what’s your dad’s name? Jesse? Levi? Colt? Always liked the name Colt.”
The boy’s eyes widened. Had she guessed right? Why wasn’t he saying anything?
Shit.
He wasn’t choking on the lollipop, was he?
“Actually, it’s Jeb,” a deep voice said from behind her. “Jeb Wilder. Who the hell are you and why are you giving my kid candy?”