by Lauren Runow
I nod with a slight smile on my face, and she turns, closing my door after she exits my office. I should be focusing on the acquisition of the Gazette or my brother being on the brink of arrest for his street racing or my good-for-nothing father and stepmother trying to sell the company, but all I can think about is Tessa and Charlie.
A few minutes later, my computer dings with an incoming email.
To: Bryce Sexton
From: Jalynn Smith
Subject: Boy Scouts/Cub Scouts
You’re in luck! Sexton Media sponsors the Boy Scouts of San Francisco, and the local chapter has a Lion Den meeting tomorrow. They said you are more than welcome to bring the little boy.
I think it’s pretty cool you would look into something like this for her son. She must be something special.
Jalynn Smith
Assistant to Bryce Sexton
My first reaction is to email back, She is, but I quickly delete the email and go on with my day like nothing new is going on.
Looks like I’m joining the Boy Scouts.
…
“Bryce!” Charlie shouts as he walks into the Lion Den meeting at Dolores Park.
Tessa is close behind. Her hair is down today, reminding me of the first time I saw her.
“Here’s your official Lion’s shirt and hat.” I hand him the T-shirt and ball cap I was given for Charlie and hand the other set to Tessa. “Sorry, they only had a large.”
She takes them from me and holds the shirt open to see the Lion’s logo on the front. The shirt looks twice as big as she does. Her eyes wander to a little boy with his father in the corner, talking with the den leader, who is about to start the meeting, and then they fall back on me.
I’m wearing slacks, a button-down, and a tie. My jacket is in the car with Brantley. I snuck out of work early to attend this meeting, and I have to rush right back and will probably be there past midnight now, but being here, I can already tell is worth it.
“What about you?” she asks me. “Aren’t you going to dress the part?”
“I wasn’t planning on—”
She tosses the shirt at me, which I catch. “I bet you look your age in a T-shirt.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Do you ever wear anything other than a suit?” she asks with a half-laugh.
I look down at my attire—black pants, white shirt, and onyx tie. “I only wear T-shirts when I’m working out or reading in bed.”
Her smile falls with an intake of air. “Well then, you can go run a mile when we’re done here. How old are you anyway?”
“Thirty. You?” I ask as I unbutton my shirt cuffs.
“Twenty-four. What are you doing?” she asks like I’m about to do something wrong.
“Putting on the T-shirt.” I undo my tie.
“Here?” Her eyes widen as she looks around the room.
“Yes,” I answer slowly as I unbutton my shirt and reveal the tank top–style undershirt I have on.
As I push the shirt over my shoulders, her attention fixates on my biceps and then slowly rolls over my chest. As her cheeks redden, I take a mental note to find another opportunity to take my shirt off in front of her. From the way her teeth skim her bottom lip, I can see she likes what she sees.
I put my arms through the sleeves of the navy Lion’s T-shirt and slide it over my head. It’s snug yet decent fit. I look back at Tessa, whose mouth is slightly parted. I open my arms toward her to show off the shirt and see what she thinks.
She clears her throat and throws a ball cap at me. “Don’t forget the hat,” she says.
I look down at Charlie, whose neck is craned back to look up at me. “You could totally beat up Captain America,” he says.
I rub his shaggy red hair. “Most people can beat up Captain America. Come on, let’s go be Lions.”
Even though Sexton Media is a sponsor for the local pack of Boy Scouts of America, I’ve never actually been to a meeting.
Charlie, Tessa, and I take a seat at a picnic table. A gentleman in a matching T-shirt to mine stands in front of the group of tables where the little Lions and their parents are seated and starts the meeting. His name is Cody, and he spends a fair amount of time going over some of the events the pack has planned for the year.
“We meet twice a month and will go on weekly events we have planned to local parks and nature centers, which is a great way to get the kids out of the house and away from the iPads and to appreciate the great outdoors. We also go on three major camping trips throughout the year, plus a sleepover at the California Academy of Sciences, which will be happening in a few short weeks.”
I glance over at Tessa, who is staring wide-eyed at Cody.
Cody continues, “We also emphasize community service. That is why we have teamed up with Sexton Media to orchestrate our Scouting for Service campaign, which allows our campers to do their share to help the people of the city of San Francisco. Since the Lions are a young bunch, their contribution is to stack up the food pantry with any canned goods they can get friends and family to donate.”
“I can do that!” Charlie says with an enthusiastic nod. “My mom can’t cook, so we have a ton of canned goods in the house.”
“Charlie!” Tessa scolds as she runs a hand over her forehead in hiding.
I stifle a laugh.
“Let’s get started with our project for today!” Cody claps his hands together, and everyone starts to unpack their bags.
Tessa’s head swivels in my direction. “Were we supposed to bring something? I didn’t come prepared.”
I pick up my bag and place it on the table. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”
In the bag is a ton of vegetables and fruits. I place carrots, zucchini, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, and some scallions on the table.
“What’s this for?” she asks.
“We’re making an edible race car,” I say.
Charlie’s face scrunches in. “I thought we were going to make fires and go on hikes.”
I smile. “Today’s mission is to make a fruit and veggie car, and then we’re gonna race it to see whose is the fastest.” I reach into my bag and pull out a small box of Legos. “We need a driver, so I had to buy the whole kit.”
Charlie lifts the box and tears it open. “This is so cool!”
Tessa’s face lights up at the sight of Charlie as he takes out the Lego character.
“Let’s win this thing!” Charlie declares with a huge grin, and then it fades slowly. “Wait. Are you any good at this?”
I purse my mouth and consider his question for a moment. “Well, I haven’t raced many cars, nor have I built anything using vegetables, but I have watched a ton of car races with my father and brother to know what kind of cars garner the best speed.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
I lean in and whisper in his ear, “The one with the biggest wheels.” I take out four small pumpkins, perfectly rounded to make the best wheels.
“Where did you get all this stuff?” Tessa asks.
“I have a very dedicated assistant.”
She raises a brow. “Dedicated in what way?”
I grin. “In getting the perfect girl to go out with me.”
Her smile is luminous in the late afternoon sunlight. “You are one shrewd businessman. All right, Charlie, let’s make you a veggie car.”
For the next hour, we fashion our fruits and vegetables into one, dare I say, pretty awesome-looking race car.
We used the carrot as a base since the weight should give it momentum and the narrow part as the front for the best aerodynamic advantage.
With his mom’s help, Charlie cut the cucumbers into perfect circles, and we used them as stabilizers for our pumpkins. I pushed the long skewers through the pumpkins and the carrot, which proved harder than it looked. I destroyed my first carrot, so we had to use the backup.
The look of determination as Charlie decorated his carrot with raspberries and blueb
erries in honor of Superman was a sight to see. The little boy was genuinely into the project. That alone made any work I’d have to make up when I got back more than worth it.
Instead of using our Lego man as the driver, Charlie wants to make a driver with tomatoes, carrots, zucchini, and a strawberry cape. It’s pretty impressive. As is the mom he made wait on the sidelines.
“What are you making now?” Tessa asks as Charlie sticks toothpicks into a cherry tomato.
“Bryce,” he states matter-of-factly. “He’s part of our team.”
I don’t miss the way her brows furrow at Charlie’s mention of us being a team.
“Okay, Lions, bring your cars on up. It’s time to race!” Cody says from a space on the open grass.
Charlie and I walk our car up to where Cody has a plank on a slant.
“Have you thought of a team name?” Cody asks us.
I draw a blank.
“Fruity Rebels!” Charlie declares, impressing me again with his creativity.
Tessa laughs from her spot at the picnic table. Charlie and I are fourth to race and beat the competition by a landslide. They used cucumbers for wheels, for Christ’s sake.
Our car looks like a monster truck compared to our next competitor, who used cherry tomatoes as wheels. We crush it by seconds.
“We’re down to the last two racers,” Cody says in a dramatic announcer voice.
The kids squeal with excitement.
“These last two cars are undefeated, but they won’t be for long. On the left, we have the Cucumber Crushers!”
The father-son team raises their arms in the air to applause as they set down their race car with a cucumber as the base.
“And, on the right, we have the Fruity Rebels!”
I hoist Charlie in the air as he flaps his arms up, asking the crowd to get louder.
Tessa lets out a girlie catcall and shouts, “Go, Rebels!”
“And, now, it’s time to find out who is the fastest edible car in San Francisco Lion Den. Before we race, I want to remind everyone it’s not just about how you handle your loss; it’s also about how you handle your win. Lions practice sportsmanship. No matter whose car is the fastest, you are all winners. You used teamwork and your imagination, and you had fun. That, my friends, is a real win. So, give yourself a round of applause.”
Everyone claps. I look to our competition and see the dad is giving me the side-eye, an evil glare that lets me know he wants his kid to win.
Well, too bad because I want my kid to win even more.
“Racers, line up your cars.” Cody steps to the side and starts his countdown.
Charlie and the other boy hold their cars at the starting line. The other car has apple wheels, and the sturdiness of them starts to worry me.
When Cody says, “Go,” and the race is on.
Charlie lets go of his car, and in five seconds, the race is over with them winning by a hair.
I throw my head back and let out a silent curse. We were so close. And beaten by a pair of apples! I run a hand across the back of my neck and look down to console Charlie.
Except … the kid’s not upset at all.
“Good race! Your car was super cool,” he says to the other boy.
“You, too. Your tomato-head driver is awesome,” the kid compliments back.
I’m absolutely dumbstruck. In my adult life, I’ve lost at … well, nothing. I’m a winner. And, if I don’t get what I want, I work twice as hard to get it. I’m here, seething at the loss, while a five-year-old kid is handling it better than me, a grown-ass man.
“Remember, it’s not just how you handle the win; it’s about how you handle the loss.”
Tessa comes up behind me, and I turn to see her smirking face.
“I believe it was the other way around. He didn’t want the winner to gloat. He never said anything about pouting at a loss,” I say.
Charlie pulls on my shirt. “It’s okay, Bryce. We’ll win the next competition. Cody said we’re gonna do a scavenger hunt next week. You and I will be super sleuths!”
I like how he is already including me in his plans for next week. I don’t have the heart to tell him I won’t be able to make it. I already have a meeting up in Seattle I can’t miss.
“All right, super Scout, let’s get you home for dinner,” Tessa says, grabbing his hand.
Charlie looks up at me with wide eyes. “Come on, Bryce. We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.”
I open my mouth to decline, but Tessa does it for me. “Leave the man alone. He already gave up enough time in his day to hang with us. Bryce has to get back to work.”
Charlie’s eyes fall downward. “Oh. Okay. Well … maybe another time.”
His little face is so sad compared to how he was all day. If he were any other kid, I might think he was being spoiled, unhappy with not getting his way. But he’s not another kid. He’s Charlie Clarke, and he looks like I just broke his little heart.
Me coming to this event was a big deal, both for Charlie and Tessa. He doesn’t have a man in his life, and from what it sounds like, the ones he does know are unreliable or live far away.
I might not have a great relationship with my father today, but I did when I was his age. It’s why I still give the guy the benefit of the doubt and am desperately waiting for him to become a decent human being again.
My mother always said the best thing a young man could have was a great male role model to look up to.
“You know what? Dinner sounds great,” I say.
“It does.” Charlie beams.
“It does?” Tessa asks, confused.
I thumb toward my waiting SUV. “I’ll have Brantley grab my laptop from my apartment. I can do some work while you get dinner ready, and I’ll help clean up. He can just leave the SUV at your place and take the bus home, so he doesn’t have to wait for me.”
Tessa looks to the side and squints in the late afternoon sun. “It’s okay. You have too much going on—”
“Mom, the man said he could come to dinner. Let’s go!” Charlie pulls her arm toward the bus stop.
I run toward them just in time to catch the Muni street car that will take us straight to her house and pull out my wallet. Tessa turns to me in question as I show my monthly pass next to hers when we step on.
“Yes, I do ride every once in a while. I figured this would be faster.”
“Come sit next to me, Bryce!” Charlie yells, patting the seat next to him. “Mom doesn’t like sitting sideways. I love it!”
“Surprise, surprise. So do I,” I say as I wink at Tessa and head toward Charlie.
12
TESSA
For the second time in a week, Bryce Sexton has made his way into my apartment. While my sauce simmers on the stove, I give Charlie a bath and dress him in his Batman pajamas. With his moppy hair combed back, he sits crisscross on the living room floor and turns on the TV to where Wild Kratts is on.
Bryce is seated on the sofa. He changed into a pair of jeans he had his driver bring him and is wearing the Lion’s T-shirt from this afternoon. His suit is in a garment bag in my closet. And—fuck me—glasses. He’s wearing thick black-framed glasses, making him look like a sexy Clark Kent.
I’ve never seen him dressed so casually. With his laptop on the coffee table, he’s hunched over, brows furrowed, as he types away. His thumb runs over his temple, and he takes heavy breaths.
Charlie raises the volume on the television, so I step in.
“Bryce is working. Keep it low.”
Bryce looks up from his computer. “It’s okay. I’ve worked in chaotic situations. The newsroom can get pretty loud during breaking news.”
I step into the kitchen and fill a pot with water for the pasta. Every few minutes, I look into the living room and see the odd sense of normal happening in there. A man working on the couch while a boy watches television in his pajamas. It’s the kind of scenario most families find typical. For me, it’s jarring.
I add salt to the water a
nd peek back in to see Bryce is now on his cell phone, standing by the window. When he’s in business mode, his voice is even deeper, his tone authoritative. He stands up and paces my small living room. With a hand on his hip, he listens on the other end before making some demands and hanging up. Like that phone conversation didn’t happen, he sits back on the couch, going right back to typing.
Is this what life with Bryce would be like? All work, all the time. I know he has made time to stalk me and was available to take Charlie to Scouts today, but how long can that last? Bryce Sexton is a very powerful man. You don’t become powerful from parading around San Francisco all day.
I add the pasta to the water. At this point, I’m kind of obsessed with watching them. Bryce’s attention is now off his computer, and he’s watching the television show.
“What’s their animal superpower?” he asks Charlie.
“They’re skunks!”
“That’s not an animal I ever want to be.”
Charlie turns around. “If you could be any animal, what would it be?”
Bryce answers quickly, “An eagle. You can pick up and fly away.”
Charlie seems impressed with the answer. “You know who can fly?”
“Who?” Bryce asks.
“Superman,” Charlie says as he turns his attention back to watching TV.
Bryce looks over at me standing in the doorway, catching me spying on them. “I’ve been told I’m just as handsome, too.”
I spin around and hide in the kitchen until dinner is ready.
I grab some plates to set the table, and when I turn around, Bryce is standing in the doorway. His strong shoulder is leaning against the doorframe as he stares at me with a sideways grin. His jeans accentuate his long, muscular legs, and his T-shirt isn’t snug, yet it still showcases the toned chest beneath it.
My breath hitches as he pushes off the frame and walks toward me. I wish he weren’t so damn good-looking. An unattractive stalker would be easy to run away from. One who looks like an Adonis and who knows how to make cars out of vegetables? Well, that’s damn near kryptonite.
He takes two strides toward me, his body inches from me, holding my eyes with his intense stare. My knees weaken as my shoulders strengthen. I hold myself upright as my brain begs the rest of me to not turn into a pile of mush.