The Single Daddy Club Boxed Set

by Donna Fasano

  The rest of the man's sentence was choked off as Reece grabbed him up short by his leather vest.

  "I'm going to tell you something for your own good, Buster," Reece growled out. "And you'd better listen up. You stay away from Maggie. And if you ever come near her house again, I will find you and personally beat you to a bloody pulp."

  "I don't know what you're talkin' about, man," Buster blubbered. "I never went near your woman. I ain't been messin' with her. And I have no idea where she lives. You got the wrong man."

  Reece was so close to Buster that he could smell the stench of stale beer on his breath.

  "I guess you're right," Reece said. "Because from what I see, you don't even fit the description of a man." He gave the biker a shove. "Get the hell out of here," Reece said. "You make me sick."

  Buster nearly fell as he stumbled to his bike. He straddled the Harley and kick-started the engine. "In case you're interested," he said, his tone suddenly cocky as though having something powerful between his legs restored some small portion of his lost dignity, "Sally came back home today." The grin he tossed at Maggie could have been described as a sneer. "So consider yourself fired."

  He roared off into the night, his bike loud enough to wake the dead.

  Reece's exhalation was forceful. He needed to apologize to Maggie for questioning her actions, and he needed to do it now. However, when he looked over at her, he frowned at the anger that seemed to pulse off of her like a hot, heavy beat.

  "Listen—"

  "You don't want to talk to me right now," she warned ominously. "I'm furious with you, I'm furious with Sally—and I'm not even going to get paid for all these hours I sat out here tonight." She dragged trembling fingers through her short hair. "I'm so angry, I could spit nails." Maggie opened her door. "Just get me out of here."

  With that, she got into the car, leaving him standing alone in the darkness.

  Chapter 5

  Reece didn't even see the lush, green scenery as he drove north along Chesapeake Bay toward Camp Kimmiwun to visit Jeff. Thoughts of Maggie crowded out everything else from his mind. Reece should have been contemplating and anticipating spending this beautiful summer Saturday with his son, but the woman who had invaded his home now invaded his brain, as well.

  She'd refused to speak to him since the stakeout. He had tried several times to broach the subject, to apologize for his behavior, but Maggie had cut him to the quick with a silent glare. He knew if it were possible, she'd pack her things and leave his house. But lack of money and mode of transportation kept her stranded. And he was happy about that, because having her around was the only way he could protect her.

  He and Maggie might not be on speaking terms in real life; however, his dreams were another story altogether. His nights had been filled with ecstasy... and utter agony.

  The taste of her honeyed lips had been pure paradise, and in his dreams, he'd kissed them again and again. His fingertips had trailed, night after night, along the soft, satin curves of her flesh, and her husky, audible reaction to his touch was enough to drive him stark raving mad. The memory was so vivid in his mind that, even now, his body instantly reacted, and he shifted in the seat to relieve the pressure of his desire for her.

  However, the agony always came. Time and again. Just when he and Maggie were about to surrender completely to the ravenous passion that seemed to eat them alive—he would awaken. He'd sit up in bed, his heart galloping, his body tense and wanting, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat. Reece had decided that there was no worse torture that could ever be endured.

  Until, in the light of day, he suffered her silence.

  What bothered him most was the fact that her anger had seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a huge amount of hurt feelings. Her anger he could have dealt with, but the insult and pain he read in her eyes made him feel terribly guilty. So guilty, in fact, that he'd taken it upon himself to arrange to have her car towed to a garage and repaired. He'd paid for it himself. Oh, she didn't know that. He was certain Maggie Dunlap was too proud and too damned angry to accept his money.

  He expected to be repaid eventually. Once Maggie discovered who had damaged her car, and once she felt safe from that person, she could notify the police, and Reece would be free to make a claim against her car insurance. But right now, he felt it best to simply let her assume the insurance company had taken care of the car repairs. And if he was never repaid, then that was okay, too. He would just chalk it up as a small penance to pay for having thought the worst of her.

  Reece had gained a great deal of respect for Maggie that night. She had done all she could for Buster's wife, Sally. And knowing that her client had gone back home to her physically abusive husband probably worried Maggie a lot. Of course, this was just an assumption on Reece's part. Maggie hadn't confided in him.

  He shook his head, silently vowing once again to fix things between himself and Maggie as soon as he got home this evening.

  Turning onto the tree-lined country road that led to the camp, Reece focused his thoughts on his son. He hoped Jeff was having a good time at Camp Kimmiwun.

  The counselors taught the children to canoe and fish; they learned to swim in the bay, practiced shooting with bows and arrows and told old Chippewa folk tales around a campfire each evening. The privately owned and operated camp prided itself on enhancing youngsters' knowledge of the Native American culture that had once abounded on the Chesapeake peninsula. In fact, the very name of the camp, Kimmiwun, came from the Algonquian Indian word meaning "rain." Reece felt a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips as he remembered the camp director remarking that rain was one thing the campers hoped they didn't see during their stay.

  As Reece passed through the wide wooden gates of the camp, his smile broadened. He'd been busy with Maggie and her problems over the past few days, but Reece realized suddenly just how much he'd missed Jeff during the past week.

  He and his son had formed a tight, close bond over the years since Jen had walked out on them. So tight, in fact, that Reece had felt it important that the boy spend two weeks of his summer vacation at Camp Kimmiwun. Reece thought the time away would help to develop Jeff's sense of self-reliance.

  The large lot was full, but he found a space and parked.

  The first sign of trouble came when Reece was approached by a young counselor.

  "Are you Mr. Newton?" the girl asked. "Jeff's dad?"

  "Why, yes," Reece answered, wondering why he had been singled out from among the other parents who were also just arriving.

  "The camp director would like for you to come to her office."

  Anxiety twisted low in his gut. "Is Jeff okay?" he asked.

  The teenage girl nodded. "Mrs. Walker's office is that way." She pointed along a path through the trees.

  "Thanks."

  Reece hurried down the path a hundred yards or so to the rustic-looking cabin that served as the camp office. He knocked on the screen door and then entered.

  "Hey, Dad."

  The fact that his son didn't get up from his chair and approach him was the second indication that trouble was afoot. Jeff was sitting along one wall, next to another boy who was holding a wadded cloth against his bloody nose.

  Oh, no, Reece silently groaned. Jeff had been fighting. He wondered what the other child had done to incite his son's anger. Surely there was a good explanation.

  "Mr. Newton."

  Reece directed his gaze to the far side of the room where the camp director stood at the door of her inner office.

  "Mrs. Walker," he greeted. Reece was very aware of the fact that the woman hadn't offered him a smile.

  "Come in, please."

  She beckoned him forward, making a clear and obvious point not to glance in Jeff's direction. The situation must be pretty serious.

  "Jonathan," Mrs. Walker said to the boy with the bloody nose, "I've called the nurse. She's on her way."

  Jonathan nodded, continuing to press the cloth against his face.

  The
inner office was small and utilitarian. Every inch of available space was used to its best advantage.

  "Have a seat, Mr. Newton."

  Reece sat down and watched the director round her desk, but she didn't sit down. Instead, she planted her flattened palms on the cardboard blotter and leaned toward him, her face a stern mask of disapproval.

  Boy, he reasoned in his head, things must be really bad.

  "We've had some problems with Jeff," she bluntly stated.

  Reece gave the woman a moment to expound on her comment, and when she didn't, he said, "I've sort of gathered that." His lips pressed into a thin line. "Mrs. Walker, I want you to know that I don't approve of fighting. And although I don't know the specifics about Jeff's fight with that child out there—"

  "Your son's problems have nothing whatsoever to do with fighting," the woman said.

  "Oh."

  "I wish it were that simple." She glanced out the small window and then back at Reece. "I've been the director of this camp for nearly fifteen years, Mr. Newton. Fighting is something I've seen many times before. Fighting, I'm comfortable with. I know how to handle it."

  The tone of her voice became flatter with each sentence she spoke, and Reece felt his dread grow heavier and heavier. What in the world had Jeff done? he wondered.

  "Jeff had nothing to do with Jonathan's bloody nose," the director told him. "The child is just subject to nosebleeds. It's his third this week."

  Reece found himself nodding, but an impatience was brewing inside him. He wished the woman would get to the point of why he was sitting in this office, instead of enjoying Parents' Day with his son.

  Almost as though reading his mind, Mrs. Walker said, "It's Parents' Day. And I really need to be at the opening session, so I feel I can't give you the time I would normally like to discuss Jeff's... problem."

  His irritation got the best of him, and Reece; frowned. "You keep mentioning this problem my son has. Will you tell me what he's done?"

  The woman inhaled deeply, as if she was searching for just the right words to deliver the bad news.

  "Mr. Newton, Jeff—" She stopped, straightened, glanced out the window and then looked back at him. "I'm afraid that he... has a problem."

  "I think we've established that, Mrs. Walker," he said, impatience tingeing his voice as he pressed his back against the chair. "But how can I do anything to make it right, if I don't know what his problem is?"

  Mrs. Walker seemed to steel herself. "Okay," she said. "Let me tell you about this morning's incident." The woman sat down in her chair. "Jeff and the rest of the children in his tribe were scheduled for an archery lesson. Your son disrupted the entire class when he told the counselor, Ms. Davis, that she couldn't possibly hit the target because... because her breasts were in the way."

  Although Reece battled with the grin threatening to twist his lips, in the end he failed. The director scowled deeply, and Reece immediately tried to cover his reaction by scrubbing at his mouth and chin.

  "This is not funny, Mr. Newton."

  "Of course it isn't. And I do apologize."

  However, his expression of regret didn't seem to appease her much. And it might have to do with the fact that he was having trouble containing the smile that threatened to take charge of his mouth. Pressing his knuckles against his lips, Reece leaned his elbow on the armrest.

  "I'd like to point out that Jeff did not use the term 'breasts,' nor did he use the word 'boobs.' The word he chose to use was crude, Mr. Newton. Crude." Her tone lowered as though she were afraid one of the campers might overhear what she was about to say. "He used the t word, Mr. Newton." She leaned forward. "The t word."

  Reece kept his knuckles firmly against his mouth. The t word? His precious, innocent eight-year-old son had referred to the archery instructor's breasts with the t word? He didn't know whether to laugh or to be shocked.

  Where in the world had Jeff come up with something like that? A hazy memory flitted around at the very edges of his mind. He tried to grasp it, but couldn't. Still, the elusive thought cast enough dark shadows that his smile faded.

  "This isn't the first time something like this has happened," Mrs. Walker informed him sternly. "I've been dealing with your son's negative attitude toward the female counselors all week long."

  Reece couldn't help but wonder what other offensive things his son had said or done.

  "Again, I apologize," Reece said. "And I'll certainly apologize to each and every counselor. I'll talk to Jeff while I'm here today. I'll tell him he needs to be on his best behavior this week. I'll make him understand—"

  "Oh, but it's you who doesn't seem to understand."

  The camp director pointed toward the door of her office, and Reece followed with his eyes. He saw his son's packed duffel bag sitting on the floor.

  "Jeff is being asked to leave Camp Kimmiwun," Mrs. Walker continued. "You see, Ms. Davis was terribly upset by your son's comment. She was appalled, actually. She told me that if I didn't send Jeff home—today—then she would pack her things and quit on the spot. Mr. Newton, you must understand the position I'm in. There's an entire summer ahead of me, and I need my archery instructor."

  A sudden compassion and concern softened the woman's muted blue gaze. "We've had other... incidents with Jeff this past week. None as bad as this, I admit, but..." She let the sentence trail, then she tilted her head as she went on, "Your son has a problem. It's clear that he doesn't like women. He doesn't trust them, and he treats them horribly."

  She hesitated, her eyes darting away from him, as though she were deciding just how much of her thoughts to relate.

  "Mr. Newton, I'd like to gently suggest that you get Jeff some... professional help. This attitude of his is not very likable."

  How dare she suggest that his son wasn't likable! Anger welled up inside Reece like hot pokers, prodding him into action.

  "Jeff is a great kid," he said, jolting to a stand. "A bright kid. And I won't sit here and allow you to indicate otherwise."

  The sympathy in the woman's gaze dissolved in an instant. Her brows pulled together, her mouth became tight.

  "You don't have to heed my advice—"

  "You're damned right I don't!" The words burst from Reece's throat. "And if this is how you run this camp, kicking out little boys who make an innocent slip of the tongue—"

  "Innocent slip of the tongue? You have no idea how obnoxious he was—"

  "That's quite enough," he said, not even realizing how loud the argument had become. He stood, and with long, quick strides, Reece moved to the door. He snatched up his son's duffel bag.

  He turned back to face Mrs. Walker, his fury still at a full, rolling boil. "I will expect a refund of fees for the coming week."

  The woman jerked open her topmost desk drawer. "I have a refund check ready for you." She offered him a blue-toned slip of paper. "A full refund."

  For an instant, Reece was taken aback. She was refunding his fees for the entire two weeks? She must really want to get rid of Jeff. For some reason, the idea only inflamed his anger further.

  "Fine," he grated out. He stalked to her desk and snatched the check from her fingers.

  The nurse who was squatting next to the child with the bloody nose looked up at him, curiosity lighting her gaze.

  "Come on, Jeff," he said to his son. "We're leaving."

  The boy hesitated, glancing nervously toward the doorway of the camp director's inner office. Reece's fury turned to out-and-out rage. It was so clear that his son was scared to move off of the seat without the express permission of Mrs. Walker. The woman must be a damned tyrant. And poor Jeff had been in her cold, cruel clutches for an entire week.

  Guilt and a soft-hearted affection for his son mingled with the anger and insult he felt toward the camp director.

  "It's okay, Jeff." His gentle tone drew his son's attention like a powerful magnet. Reece nodded and reached out his hand. "Come on, son. You don't have to stay here anymore."

  Jeff approached hi
s dad. And when his son's small, warm hand slid into his palm, Reece felt his heart expand and stretch, like an overfilled balloon.

  His love for this child was as sweet as heated maple syrup. Thick and heady. Reece savored the powerful and poignant emotions that being a father brought him, day in and day out.

  And although the protective instinct in him was as fierce as that of the wildest, meanest predatory animal, the fury he was experiencing was calmed with one look from Jeff's innocent brown eyes.

  He gave his son a gentle, reassuring smile. "Hey, buddy—" his soft tone was for Jeff's ears alone "—let's go home."

  * * *

  The sound of the front door opening had Maggie freezing where she stood in the upstairs hallway. Claws of fear gripped her gut in a tight fist. Reece had left this morning, and she didn't expect him back until after dinner, so who had—?

  "Maggie?"

  She exhaled at the familiar sound of Reece's voice, realizing that she hadn't experienced anxiety that sharp for days. She might be angry with Reece about what had happened the other night during the stakeout, but she had to admit that she felt safe with him. In fact, she hadn't felt this safe in ages.

  "Maggie," he called again, "we're home."

  We? Reece must not be alone.

  "I'm up here," she said from the top of the stairs. Her curiosity had her quickly descending the steps.

  She followed the short hallway that led to the kitchen. "I thought you—" She stopped in the kitchen doorway.

  The boy looked to be about eight years old. With his deep mahogany eyes and coal black hair, he was the image of his father. The rummaging noises coming from the mud room just off the kitchen told Maggie where Reece was.

  She smiled and lifted her hand in greeting. "Well, hello there. You must be Jeff."

  Maggie expected his angelic face to lighten with a smile, but the boy didn't respond to her at all.

  "Well," Reece said as he joined them, "I put away your sleeping bag, Jeff." He caught sight of Maggie and smiled. "Hi."

  Jeff gazed up at his father. "Who's she?" he asked. "I thought you said we didn't need a woman around here."