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Joe gently squeezed his son’s small shoulder and addressed his friend and fellow firefighter. “I brought along a candidate for that Junior Fire Marshal position. His name is Bobby.”
“It’s nice to meet you, son.” Sam extended a hand in an adult greeting that caused the boy to beam with pride. Then he cast an appreciative eye on the attractive woman at Joe’s side.
“This is Kristin Reynolds,” Joe explained, “Bobby’s mother.”
After pleasantries were made, Sam gave Bobby and his entourage a full tour of the station, the trucks and equipment.
The guys Joe thought of as brothers kept glancing at him and Kristin with knowing looks. Joe could tell by the way they grinned at him—and winked when Kristin wasn’t looking—that they assumed his interest in the boy had more to do with the pretty mother.
Maybe, to an extent, they had sensed something. Being this close to Kristin again was having an effect on him. And try as he might, he couldn’t seem to keep from gazing at her, appreciating the attractive woman at his side.
She wore a turquoise silk blouse that set off the color of her eyes, made them glimmer and sparkle. The slinky material dressed up a simple pair of black jeans that hugged her hips. Kristin had always been attractive, but the years—or maybe motherhood—had done something to her. Made her blossom.
As her shoulder brushed against him, he fought a natural urge to take her hand or to slip an arm around her and pull her close. To go back in time and take up where they left off.
It was a stupid thought. What they had before had been special—but the situation had been hopeless. And now, eight years later, they’d both grown up. Changed more than either of them could probably guess. And if that weren’t reason enough to ditch the sappy urges, there were too many secrets between them. Too much pain. Too much reality.
Kristin was destined for bigger things than a small-town life with an average Joe.
No. His interest was in his son. And Joe looked forward to the day he could announce that relationship to the world.
After the tour of the fire station, Joe took Kristin and Bobby to lunch at Burger Bob’s, a nearby hamburger joint with an indoor playground to attract kids and families.
Bobby zipped off to play until their order was ready, while Kristin waited with Joe at a corner booth.
It felt funny sitting across from her old teenage lover, waiting for a meal of cheeseburgers, fries and chocolate shakes—fare that had once been their favorite.
And it felt even stranger to go out to eat with their son, something other families did on a routine basis.
“Thanks for letting me take Bobby to the station,” Joe said.
She smiled, remembering how much time Joe had spent with the fire department when he was a teen, how the firefighters became the family he didn’t have. She supposed it was a way for Joe to introduce his son to his world. And she was glad she was able to share the day. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“You’re welcome.” He shrugged. “It was no big deal. Just a visit to the fire station. Kids like that sort of thing.”
She suspected it was much more than that. Unless things had changed, the department was Joe’s life, his family, his home. And taking Bobby to meet his buddies and see the station was an attempt to share himself with his son. But Kristin didn’t comment.
Nor did she mention the fact that he’d once shared his life at the station with her. And that she’d been honored when he had.
She remembered how his eyes had lit up when he told her about the camaraderie he found with the firemen. In fact, his anecdotes had made the guys down at the station seem so real, so extra-special, that she’d really wanted to meet them herself.
He’d taken her to the fire department once to introduce her to his friends. Most of the guys had been out on a call, but the ones she’d met had made her feel welcome. And special.
The aroma of burgers and fries filled the air, as they sat at the white Formica table, the past hovering too close, the future just out of reach.
When one of Burger Bob’s employees brought a tray of food and set it down, Kristin called Bobby to eat.
“Aw, do I have to?” the boy asked.
Kristin was ready to begin the usual argument, whenever her son wanted to continue playing instead of going to bed, brushing his teeth or eating dinner, but Joe stepped in.
“Bobby, a fireman has to eat when the chow is in front of him, since he never knows when he’ll be called out on an emergency that could keep him away from the station for hours.”
The boy nodded, then joined them at the table, taking a seat next to Joe. More than once, his eyes flitted back and forth between his messy, ketchup-laden burger and the man he’d obviously come to admire.
“Do you have a family?” Bobby asked Joe. “You know, kids and stuff?”
Both adults paused, hands half-raised or half-lowered, jaws frozen.
“The guys down at the fire station are my brothers,” Joe said. “And I’ve got a friend named Harry, who has included me in his family.”
Joe shot a glance at Kristin, and she bit her bottom lip.
She could read the pain in his eyes, the accusation. The disappointment. He wanted her to tell Bobby now, to use this as an opening to explain. But she couldn’t allow it. Her son might tell her father.
No more lies, she’d promised herself. But she couldn’t help this lie of omission.
What a web she’d woven.
As Joe munched on a double bacon cheeseburger, Bobby studied him while sucking chocolate shake through a straw. “For an adult, you’re pretty cool.”
“Oh, yeah?” Joe answered, a grin tugging at his lips. “Thanks.”
“You’re even more cool than Dr. Dylan.”
“Dr. Dylan?” Joe asked. His eyes traveled to Kristin, and she felt her cheeks warm.
Her fiancé, Dylan Montgomery, was better known as Dr. Dylan. And it was no surprise to her that Bobby would like Joe better. Dylan hadn’t taken Bobby on any outings—yet, although she was sure he would one of these days. Dylan’s book tours and speaking engagements took up a lot of his time.
“He’s not a shot-and-medicine kind of doctor,” Bobby said. “He’s on TV.”
“A movie star?” Joe asked.
“No,” Bobby interjected before Kristin could explain. “Not like that. Dr. Dylan just tells other people what they’re doing wrong.”
Joe looked at Kristin, then questioned the boy. “Does your mom take you to see Dr. Dylan?”
“Nope. He comes to our house, sometimes. He’s my mom’s boyfriend.”
“I see,” Joe said.
So, pretty Kristin hadn’t been a hermit. Or celibate. But then, neither had Joe. But for some reason, it prickled him to know she had a boyfriend.
Because of his son, he told himself. That’s the only reason.
But maybe he was just plain envious of the guy who’d captured Kristin’s heart. Envious because Dr. Dylan represented the kind of man Thomas Reynolds approved of as a son-in-law.
Bobby popped a French fry into his mouth. Between chews, he said, “Dr. Dylan is stuffy.”
“Stuffy?” Joe asked.
“That’s what Megan, my sitter, says. I’m not sure what it means, but I think it’s because he reminds her of my stuffed walrus.”
Kristin choked on a fry—uncomfortable with the table topic?—then cleared her throat. “Looks like I’m going to have to talk to Megan. I don’t think Dr. Dylan looks like Wally the Walrus.”
“He has that funny mustache,” Bobby reminded her. “And his chest and neck get all poochy when he talks.”
“You’ve always liked Dr. Dylan,” Kristin said. A blush on her cheeks suggested the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn.
“I do.” Bobby looked at Joe and laughed. “I like Wally the Walrus, too.”
Joe couldn’t help but chuckle. He wondered whether he should correct the kid, but for what? Being honest? Having an opinion? Heck, he didn’t need to lay eyes on the guy to share the stuffed-walrus opinion.
Bobby pushed the remnants of his burger aside. “Can I go play now?”
“One more bite,” Kristin responded.
The boy complied, then dashed toward the multicolored climbing structure, leaving Joe and Kristin alone. Joe took the opportunity to learn more about Dr. Dylan, to find out how Kristin felt about the man. How deep their relationship went.
But only because the man might become his son’s stepfather, Joe told himself. That was the only reason. Yet he couldn’t ignore a tinge of envy.
“So, tell me about Dr. Wally.”
Kristin clicked her tongue. “Stop that. His name is Dylan. And he doesn’t look like a stuffed walrus.”
“Okay. Tell me about Dr. Dylan.”
She arched a brow. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“Just curious.”
She scrunched her nose, and Joe assumed she felt awkward discussing her new lover with her old one.
He supposed it felt kind of weird to him, too, but like a puppy with a brand-new slipper in his mouth, he couldn’t seem to leave it alone. “Is he good to you?”
She nodded. “And he’s good to Bobby, too. Although he says I’m too easy on him.”
“Are you?”
“Bobby seems to get into a lot of trouble, but sometimes I find it kind of funny. Or clever. The other day, he took the closet doors off the runner, leaned them against the shelf and made a slide in the bedroom.” She fiddled with the straw in her drink. “I scolded him, of course, but didn’t give him time-out.”
Joe’s old man would have found that reason to bounce Joe across the room. Kristin’s method of discipline seemed in line with his own.
“Dylan thought Bobby was being destructive. But the doors had already been broken, and I was waiting for the handyman to fix them. I thought Bobby was just bored. And a little creative.”
“I agree.” Joe reached across the table, took her hand in spite of his resolve not to get too touchy-feely. “Bobby’s a great kid, Kristin. You’ve done a good job raising him by yourself.”
He didn’t mention being sorry that he couldn’t have been there for her. Or that he placed a lot of the blame on her dad.
It was all water under the bridge now, he supposed, but the fact was, Joe didn’t like Thomas Reynolds any more than Thomas liked him. And Kristin would have eventually resented Joe for coming between her and her father.
As they nursed their chocolate milkshakes, drinks they’d shared in the past, Joe couldn’t help wondering how their lives would have turned out had he not buckled to her father’s demands and let Kristin go.
Would she have told him about the baby? Would they have run away and gotten married? Lived in a crummy apartment, the only place he would have been able to afford?
He shook off the curiosity. Kristin, who’d only known wealth and privilege, wouldn’t have been happy with the simple life Joe could provide. And even though his paycheck was now considerably larger than what it would have been eight years ago, what they once had was over and done.
His only concern was Bobby. For the boy’s future. And making sure he got to spend as much time as possible with his son.
“How long will you be in town?” Joe asked her.
“For the summer, I think. Assuming my dad’s health improves, I’ll return to the east coast when the new school year starts.”
That gave Joe some time to bond with his son, time to get to know him. Time to introduce him to the people who’d become his family. “The Logans are having a barbecue on Saturday. And I’m not working. Would it be all right if I took Bobby?”
“Of course,” she said. “The Logans are nice people. And I know how much they mean to you.”
“Great. I’ll pick him up about noon, if that’s all right.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll bring him to your house, if you don’t mind.”
Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in the red vinyl seat. So that’s where she was coming from. Obviously, she still didn’t want Joe at her house, still didn’t want to chance him running into her dad.
Had time with his son not been at stake, Joe would have told her just what he thought of that damn suggestion to meet him. As it was, he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and wrote the directions to his condominium complex on a napkin.
Her keeping things a secret wasn’t going to last for long. Joe wouldn’t let it. One of these days he’d force the issue and insist they tell their son the truth. Tell Bobby that Joe was his father. And that, from now on, his dad was going to be a big part of his life.
Then they’d tell Thomas Reynolds.
The blustery old goat might get red in the face and cuss a blue streak, but he didn’t scare Joe. Not anymore.
Joe didn’t want to see Thomas Reynolds suffer a heart attack but, quite frankly, the man should have learned to control his temper and his blood pressure years ago.
Bobby was a Davenport.
And as far as Joe was concerned, Kristin’s father could put that in his fancy pipe and smoke it.
Chapter Four
K ristin sat behind the wheel of her father’s white Town Car and glanced at the directions Joe had written on a crumpled napkin.
“How long will it take to get there?” Bobby asked from the back seat.
“Just a few more minutes, I think.” Kristin spotted the Playa del Sol condominiums up ahead and turned into the complex. She followed the roadway until it forked, then turned left, as Joe had instructed, and parked the car in one of the few visitor spaces she could find. “Well, this is it.”
She studied the white stucco building, the red, Spanish tile roofs.
“Which one is his?” Bobby asked.
