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I could’ve made up an excuse. I could’ve lied.
“Avoiding you,” I said honestly.
“Why?”
“I may not be the best neighbor, but I haven’t done anything to deserve that snub, and I’m not interested in friends who only acknowledge me part of the time.”
“Friends.” He repeated the word in an odd tone, like it was a word from a foreign language that he’d heard once but couldn’t place.
“What did you think we were?”
A confused laugh huffed out of him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I studied his face and he truly seemed apologetic. His hot-and-cold game was puzzling, but I didn’t think he meant to be difficult. “Just...explain and we’re cool.”
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam hadn’t met you, and in the car, he was saying he had to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. I didn’t want him to pee at your feet as a first impression.”
From the tension in his shoulders, it was more complicated than that, but I didn’t demand more. I’d worked at the day care long enough to know that public urination was the least of the problems that could crop up, dealing with a kid Sam’s age. So he was most likely telling the truth about that, if not about why he’d acted like we didn’t know each other at all.
“He’s cute,” I said, giving him a get out of jail free card.
“I think so.” His smile became 50 percent more natural. He downed half his coffee in a single gulp, giving the sense it was his life support, necessary for survival.
“You must’ve been young when you had him.” Okay, so now I was totally digging. It was possible that Sam was his little brother, but I didn’t think so.
“Twenty when he was born.”
Yikes. Younger than me. I couldn’t imagine being a parent at my age. It was such a vast relief to leave Rainbow Academy once people reclaimed their offspring. When I went home, there was nobody relying on me for safety, comfort, wisdom, food or shelter. But for the past four years, Ty had been all of those things to Sam. Which meant he was twenty-four or so.
So out of your league. With a mental sigh, I added him to the list of delicious guys who were out of my reach, mostly celebrities. Damn. No prospective parent had ever tempted me during a tour. Usually, the fact that the guy had a kid was enough to put me off, but something about Ty... My gaze dropped to his artistic hands curled around his coffee mug. For a few seconds, I watched his fingertips play around the rim. My lips tingled.
Stop that.
“You’ve done a great job with Sam,” I managed to say.
“Thanks.”
“Will your partner want a tour before you decide if Rainbow Academy’s the right fit?” Somehow the question came out casual and professional when I was dying to know about Sam’s mom, mostly as pertained to Ty’s relationship status.
“No, I’m making the decision on my own.”
Single dad, check. I bet that’s a story. I wondered if Sam’s mom was out of the picture entirely, and if so, why? Did she leave or...die? Sad, either way. I quelled my curiosity.
“Will our hours work for you? We’re only open until six.”
“Not a problem. My parents look after him during my night classes.”
He works during the day, takes classes in the evenings. When exactly does he sleep? Well, that explained the constant exhaustion.
Ty must’ve seen something in my face that he took for disapproval because he snapped, “I always spend Sundays with Sam. Always.”
I raised a brow. “I heard you reading Goodnight Moon. And I saw the way that kid looks at you. I have no doubt you’re an amazing dad.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if I’d stroked him in an unspeakably intimate place. My fingers curled against the urge to touch him, brush the bright hair away from his brow or test the gold bristles on his jaw. A rush of longing hammered at my composure, a visceral attraction unlike any I’d ever known. He rubbed his palm over his mouth, and I could’ve sworn he whispered something like, Make it stop, I don’t have time for this right now, but it was more of a breath or a sigh, and it could’ve been my imagination.
To cover my confusion, I checked my watch. “Why don’t you touch base with Mrs. Keller? She should be ready. I’ll get Sam, wash him off if necessary and bring him to the front.”
“Okay. Thanks, Nadia.”
God, I had no idea what it was about him, but every time he said my name, it went through me like gasping, shivering sex. And the thanks hit me just about as hard because I had the feeling he didn’t say it often.
Blushing, I whirled to do as I’d suggested. Circle time was wrapping up when I got to Mrs. Trent’s class. Sam was clapping along with the other kids, then he followed instructions politely, piling his rug on top of the others. He spotted me and lit up, as if we were old friends. His openness spoke volumes about his sunny nature. I imagined he was a lively kid, full of energy and boundless curiosity.
“Do I have to go?” he asked, his chin drooping when I opened the door.
“I’m sorry, yeah. Your dad’s waiting for you. But once he fills out the papers, you can come to school with the other kids.”
“Like Daddy goes to work.”
“Exactly like that. And your job will be learning.”
He nodded at me firmly. “It’s a deal.”
My heart quivered at how seriously he was taking this. He put his hand in mine, trustingly, and I led him to the front office, where Ty was already filling out forms. Rather than bother them, I sat down with Sam and we built an awesome block tower in the play area nearby. By the time we finished, they were wrapping up, and Ty came out with his paperwork. From experience, I knew we needed certain medical records and proof of vaccinations, but he could email that stuff later.
“Congratulations,” Mrs. Keller told Sam. “You’re our newest student.”
He grinned at her. “My job is learning.”
“I like your style.” She offered Sam a low five, and he nailed it.
I was itchy, unsure if I should walk them out or go back to the kitchen, and Mrs. K didn’t help by dashing off to answer her cell phone, buzz-ringing away on her desk. For a few seconds, I fidgeted. Pushed out a nervous breath. And that was stupid because I was the one who said we were friends. Friends didn’t make me feel like this, but I couldn’t admit that to Ty.
“He starts on Monday in Mrs. Trent’s class. I’m going to call the parents she gave me for reference, but I don’t expect any problems.” He shifted, eyes on mine.
Heat shimmered up my spine. So completely inappropriate.
“Awesome.”
Then Ty gave me a smile that surpassed his son’s in both sweetness and intensity as he turned for the door. “So...see you tonight.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_7630aed9-33e6-57af-8487-230b56ae069d)
That could’ve meant nothing, I told myself. It could’ve meant anything, just a casual comment, like people say “see ya later” when they don’t expect to run into you again for years.
But that didn’t keep me from being excited as I skimmed the fridge message board. Angus had written, Out with Josh, don’t wait up, in red marker. Lauren’s scrawl read, Fine arts department dude is fine, let’s hope he’s interesting, too. Back late! Since we’d both worked full-time over the summer, it seemed like forever since we’d talked.
She’s not avoiding me, right? Nah. That’s silly.
Max studied me as he stood in front of the fridge, devouring a leftover sub. The girls he dated would doubtless find him less charming if they knew he left his underwear in the bathroom and Angus had to yell at him about it, and that he was prone to drinking from the milk carton, then putting it back. But he had a fantastic bod and a brooding, dark-horse stare. In their eyes, that might make up for the rest.
“So what’re you doing?” I asked.
Friday night, I should probably have something social going on, but the first week of school, job and practicum wiped me out.
“Eating.”
“Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”
“I’ll get my bike running if it’s the last thing I do. I won’t have a chance to work on it for a while. Don’t make any plans tomorrow, by the way. The party is most definitely on.”
“Cool. Who’s coming?”
He listed a bunch of mutual friends, people we hung out with in the dorm and then some names I didn’t recognize. Bottom line, at least thirty people would be here. I had mixed feelings about it. At the best of times, I wasn’t a party animal, though I had barfed in the bushes a few times my freshman year. Ironically, on one of those occasions, I hadn’t been drinking at all; instead I’d sucked down too many energy drinks and caffeine pills cramming for midterms. Now I didn’t let myself get more than a buzz on, mostly because I hated hangovers so much. Recovery could kill the whole day.
Max was looking expectant. “Aren’t you gonna tell me how awesome I am?”
I stretched lazily. “Nope. There’s no point. You say it as part of your daily morning affirmation, anyway.”
“Can’t argue with my own mirror.” He smirked.
“Good luck with your bike.”
“Thanks.” He tousled my hair and headed out.
A glance at the clock told it wasn’t remotely late enough to sit on the balcony and expect company, so I worked on coursework for an hour and a half. After that, I lost interest in being virtuous and rummaged through my mom’s care package. She’d maximized value from flat-rate, priority shipping, as I’d also received homemade gingersnaps, a handmade scarf and a poster she thought would look nice on the living room wall.
On a whim, I dug a small basket out of my closet. I’d gotten a bath set in this, and it was light enough to serve. Next I located a ball of yarn, left over from my failed attempts to learn to knit. My mother was so good at it, and she’d tried so hard to teach me, but I never made anything that didn’t look like a cat had killed it. I threaded the string through the straw on four sides, and then let it out, guessing how long it needed to be for Ty to reach it. Finally, I tied the strands off on top, creating a messy sort of handle.
By this time, it was after eight, nearly dark. I cracked the balcony doors for a breeze; it wasn’t hot enough to run the air conditioner, and it would only get cooler from here. Through the sliding glass doors, the last of the sunlight glimmered over the treetops, like a farewell, and I watched until the shadows lengthened completely. As soon as they did, I made a cup of tea, but I was a wild woman and chose orange Ceylon spice instead of the usual infusion. I also took a pack of peanut butter cups from the Mom stash. With the doors open and ears straining, I heard when Ty stepped out.
Smiling, I lined the basket with a paper napkin, then set a tea bag atop it, along with a gingersnap and a peanut butter cup. Maybe I should’ve acted like I wasn’t waiting for him so obviously, but I had never been good at pretending I didn’t want things when I did. So I stepped out onto the balcony, maneuvered around the lounge chair and carefully lowered the basket toward him. He was just staring, as if willing me to appear. Sparks crackled to life inside me.
“What’s this?” he asked, steadying the gift drop as it came to him.
“My mom sent treats. I’m sharing them, so we’ll both have delicious things.”
To my surprise, he didn’t argue, and his smile flashed, visible in the shadows. Part of me wondered why he didn’t ask me downstairs to talk, but his reticence must relate to Sam somehow. The basket lightened when he took his share of the goodies.
Then he said, “Let me heat some water. I could use a cup of tea.”
“Sure.”
I settled into the Adirondack, waiting for him to return. Peace stole over me, along with gladness that we hadn’t gone with a place closer to campus, all full-time college students. I would never have met Ty. Because it seemed polite, I didn’t eat any sweets and only sipped at my tea, cooling on the arm of my chair. He must’ve used the microwave because it didn’t take long enough for a kettle to boil.
“Back.” The wicker love seat creaked as he settled onto it.
“Cookie first.”
In silent harmony, we devoured them. I loved the combination of sweetness and the spicy bite on the tongue afterward. I could taste the molasses, remember the scent of the kitchen while Mom was baking. A pleasant homesickness swept over me. This summer, I was so busy, saving up for lean times through the fall and winter, I hadn’t gone home at all since it was a sixteen-hour drive. I’ll make sure to see them at Thanksgiving. With any luck, the Toyota had a few more road trips in her.
“Phenomenal,” he said.
“Gingersnaps are my favorite, though at Christmas she does a peppermint-and-white-chocolate cookie that’s a serious contender.”
“Sounds like you miss your family.”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you from?”
Ah, an actual question. That means I can ask one back.
“Nebraska, toward the South Dakota and Wyoming side, if that helps.”
“I’ve never met anyone from there.”
Michigan was a long way from home. “I usually get ‘not in Nebraska anymore’ jokes, and then I have to decide if I’m going to remind them that’s Kansas or play along.”
“What do you usually do?”
“Play along.”
“You don’t like conflict, huh?” He sounded normal tonight, as if talking to me wasn’t an unpleasant chore anymore.
That was a relief since I’d come to look forward to these moments with him so much. More, maybe, than I’d like to admit. Right. Friends. I distracted myself by considering his question. “Not if it can be avoided. I’m not what you’d call pugnacious, no. But I like to think I don’t back off important issues. What about you?”
“No.” His voice was bleak and quiet. “I don’t. Even when I should.”
Wow, that took a dark turn.
If I could’ve jumped onto his patio without breaking an ankle or waking Sam, I’d have been down there like a shot. The distance between us seemed intolerable, and from the knot in my throat, I didn’t see how I could live another second without touching him, finding out if his hair was as soft as it looked or what he smelled like. I wanted him in a way I never had before.
In high school, I had a boyfriend who played basketball, and we broke up when I left the state. It was a rational decision, and I didn’t miss him that much once I was gone. My freshman year, I went out with a lot of different guys, one date here, two dates there, but I never clicked with anyone enough to focus on them. Sometimes there were hookups with no strings, no expectations. Classes, friends and work seemed a lot more important. The intensity of this attraction was foreign and frightening, if exhilarating. I might already be backing off if I had the faintest sense that Ty was jerking me around on purpose.
Wish he didn’t make me feel this way. It’d be so much simpler if I could friend-zone him.
I realized I still hadn’t touched his verbal grenade. “We all have things we’d do differently in hindsight.”
“What is it about you?” he asked in a wondering tone.
“Huh?”
“You make me...better. Calmer.”
“Like a sedative?” I snickered. It was the least sexy thing a guy had ever said to me, including a junior high squeeze who said my face wasn’t actually that bad.
He laughed, too, a sheepish sound. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just...I’m worried pretty much all the time that I’m dropping the ball somewhere, about to face-plant, but when I come out here and hear your voice, everything backs off, like, ten steps. I can breathe again.”
