by Aleah Barley
“I need a favor.”
“A favor?” She laughed. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s an emergency at work. A sprinkler system backed up at the town hall. It’s flooding the police station. Everything’s going insane. Please,” There was more than an edge of desperation in his voice. “Can you watch Adam?”
“Adam.” Her voice was tight. “That’s a mighty big favor. Can’t I just loan you a cup of sugar? Give you some neighborly consideration?”
“He’s got a sleepover scheduled tonight, but that doesn’t start for another couple of hours.”
“Sure,” Anna’s voice shook. “It could be fun. There are some cards in the kitchen. I’ve got an old box full of board games in the basement. I can watch the kid.”
“Thanks, this is really helpful.”
Now that she’d agreed to his request, his entire body relaxed. He took a step forward, invading her personal space.
“I wasn’t kidding before.” A hand reached out to rest on her hip, pulling her even closer. The motion was determined, possessive. Where her button down shirt pulled away from the waistband of her shorts, his fingers were lengths of fire against her skin. “You look fantastic.”
Anna shifted as if self-consciously. “I’m not wearing any makeup.”
“Sweetheart,” a rough utterance. “All you need is a smile. If I didn’t have to go, then I’d be happy to show you my neighborly consideration.”
He bent slowly, his lips barely grazing hers. Hot air moved against her cheek. The kiss was chaste, friendly, but that didn’t stop Anna from letting out a deep moan. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her upwards. Kissing her even deeper.
Forget slow and chaste, he wanted to devour her. Sparks flew, their lips connected. She tasted like coffee and sex, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Instinct took over and his hands ran down her body tugging at her waistband.
His emergency could wait.
“What are you two doing?” Adam piped up from where he was standing by the holly tree.
Nick leapt away; his cheeks were hot, his hands struggling to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.
“Nothing.” He turned towards his son. “Anna agreed to watch you while I’m at work. I was thanking her for her—neighborly consideration.” He couldn’t keep the satisfied grin off his face. Right now he needed a babysitter, but in a few hours he could drop Adam off at his sleepover and come back to thank Anna. He’d show her his neighborly consideration all night long.
Blond hair, blue eyes, and delicate features twisted up into a devilish grin. “This is one of those things that I shouldn’t know about until I’m older, right?”
“Right,” Nick said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Hopefully, it’s just a matter of fixing a broken sprinkler system, and I’ll be back in an hour. Otherwise, it’ll be a while. Are you going to behave yourself? Do whatever Anna tells you to?”
Dressed in a bright red t-shirt and a pair of black shorts, there was a smudge of dirt on Adam’s nose. Nick had to ball his hands up into fists to stop from reaching out to clean his son’s face. At six years old, Adam thought that he was all grown up, and Nick would hate to disabuse him of the notion.
Adam grinned. “What if she tells me to jump off a cliff?”
“There aren’t any cliffs in the area, so that’s not going to be a problem.”
A long sigh indicated just what Adam thought of that response.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Anna asked, crossing her arms as though nervously in front of her chest. “I’ve never watched a kid before. I mean—what’s normal? What’s a sign of sudden death?”
“Pretty much, you’re okay until he stops breathing.”
“Right.” She nodded slowly before turning to look at Adam directly. Her lips pursed slightly like she was focusing hard, trying to add words together in a complicated equation. “I think that there’s an old soccer ball somewhere. Maybe we could play.” She laughed and it sounded like she was nervous. “What am I talking about? We don’t have any pads. Why don’t we draw?”
The boy glanced around the newly spic and span living room. “Do you have any dinosaurs?”
“Dinosaurs?” She forced air into her lungs. “I don’t—dinosaurs aren’t—I know a song about dinosaurs. Actually—I know a song about unicorns, but dinosaurs is the same number of syllables.”
One hand stretched out, reaching for Nick, but he was already stepping away. Heading for the door.
He should have found someone else. Someone who Adam knew better. Someone who had more experience with kids. Someone who wasn’t going to run back to Los Angeles as soon as she got bored.
But, with the chief of police on his cell phone yelling up a storm, Nick’s mind had gone blank. If he didn’t get to the police station soon the old man would probably shoot him.
“Do you have any lemonade?” Adam’s voice was only just audible as Nick walked down the house’s wide front stairs.
“Yeah—sure—maybe.”
Chapter Eight
With the solid thud of a car door closing, Nick was truly, irrevocably, gone. The only signs that he’d actually been there were the volcanoes still erupting all over Anna’s body and the child standing in front of her. Adam was smaller than she remembered, his features more delicate. The kid’s pale hair and sapphire eyes were so completely unlike his father’s that she couldn’t see Nick’s genetic legacy until the boy grinned.
The grin was confident, powerful, and completely devilish. The girls of Mill City had better watch out because in another ten years the kid was going to be a heartbreaker, twisting girls into knots with a smile and a laugh just like his father.
Wiping her hands clean on the edge of her shirt, Anna took a deep breath steadying frayed nerves. “All right, first things first. Why don’t we go look for that lemonade? I think I saw a can in the freezer.”
“A can?” Adam’s eyes were wide. His mouth opened. From his response, she might as well have been speaking in tongues—or offering him a cold glass of cyanide. “You’re going to let me have canned lemonade.”
“Sure.” Anna cleared her throat nervously. “I haven’t made it to the store yet.”
What if he wouldn’t drink the lemonade? What else was there in the house that might appeal to a six-year-old boy? Cans of ensure and bags of frozen peas probably wouldn’t cut it.
“I could have some soda delivered—” This was Mill City, not Los Angeles. No cab service and no midnight deliveries of double fudge brownie ice cream. No grocery deliveries of any kind. “If you don’t like canned lemonade—”
“Oh, no.” Adam interrupted quickly. “I like canned lemonade.” His head bobbed up and down eagerly. His smile spread wide, displaying two rows of strong white teeth. “I really like canned lemonade.” There was a slight pause. His eyes narrowed. “It’s not sugar-free, is it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good,” He darted past her, leading the way to the kitchen. “Can I make it? I know the best way to make it! I am an expert at making lemonade.” He bounced up and down eagerly on the cracked linoleum floor. “I’m going to need a wooden spoon, a pitcher, and some ice.”
Anna nodded awkwardly. She started opening cabinets, searching for the required instruments while Adam stood in the middle of the kitchen. The kid’s mouth never stopped moving. He was talking a mile a minute, debating the difference between canned lemonade, powdered lemonade mix, and real lemonade. Made from lemons.
Apparently, his best friend’s mother made the best lemonade in the whole entire solar system. Real lemonade with lots of sugar. But, next to that canned lemonade was his favorite.
The kid’s focus—his depth of concentration—was disturbingly familiar. Anna was just used to seeing it attached to muscular arms, a devious smile, and breath-catching good looks. When Nick looked at her with that expression in his eyes, it meant that he was thinking about just one thing.
And, it wasn’t stick
y drinks.
Neighborly consideration indeed.
After a couple of minutes, Anna finally managed to find the elusive pitcher at the back of the cupboard. Part of a matched set of pale blue Depression glass that had belonged to her grandmother. She set the pitcher carefully on the table next to a can of lemonade and a wooden spoon. She moved to one side.
The icy sheen on the outside of the can was visible as the kid stepped up to the table. It was too cold. If he licked it then, his tongue might stick to the side of the can. If he held on too long then he might get frostbite.
Anna reached out, snatching the can away.
“Hey!” Adam objected.
“I just want to warm it up.” She walked over to the sink. She jerked the handle up and all the way to the left until hot water came out. Holding the can underneath the water, she waited patiently until the frost was gone from the side of the can and she could feel the icy contents shift when she switched it from hand to hand. “All right.” She turned off the water and returned the can to the kitchen table.
The kid stepped forward. He grabbed the white tab, tugging at the white plastic seam that connected the top of the lid to the can.
“Wait!” Anna’s head began to throb. The top of the can would come off as a single metal disk. What if it was sharp? It could go straight into the kid’s hand, slicing open his palm. She lunged forward. “Let me do this part.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes.
Picking the can up she slowly, carefully, took off the top. She dropped the piece of white plastic into the trash and placed the can back on the kitchen table. “Okay. Go ahead.”
The kid picked up the can and dumped the sticky yellow contents into the pitcher. The icy contents hit the side of the glass container with a solid thunk. “Now we add water,” he explained, holding the empty can away from him. “But not too much water.”
Water. Her stomach twisted inside her gut. Had she turned the faucet handle back down towards the cold end of the spectrum? Or, had she just turned it straight off? The water had been really hot. It had her scalded her fingertips. What if Adam burnt himself? He could be seriously injured. If anything happened—her breath caught in her throat—she’d never be able to forgive herself.
Reaching out, she snatched the empty can away from him. “I can do that. Let me do that.”
“I want to do it,” Adam announced, disgruntled.
“You can do the next part,” Anna promised. She filled the can and dumped the water into the pitcher. Once. Twice. Three times. Was that the right amount? She couldn’t remember. “Is that enough water?”
“Too much!” Adam yelped. “We were making my special lemonade. Remember?” He took the wooden spoon and stuck it into the pitcher, jamming it viciously into the solid mass at the bottom. Anger made his lean body tense up. Narrow shoulders shook underneath his thin cotton shirt. He looked so damn small. So young.
What if something happened? What if he slipped on the water she’d spilled on the floor? What if he accidentally ate some dirt? That was a thing that kids did, right? They all ate dirt. It was a thing. He could get some sort of disease. Something horrible. What if there was something living in the dirt?
Wait, she forced herself to take another breath. She was being irrational. Nick was a capable man, an excellent father. Any kid of his would know how to check the dirt for living organisms before he ate it.
Thunk. The wooden spoon slammed into the side of the pitcher. The kid was being too forceful. He was doing it all wrong. Easy sweeping motions. That was what the situation called for.
“Here,” Anna reached out to take the spoon away, “let me show you how to do it.”
“No.” Adam’s fingers were white around the spoon’s long handle. “I’m doing this part. You said that I could do it.”
“You can do the drinking,” Anna argued. “That’s the most important part. I promise.” If the kid wouldn’t give up the spoon then she’d just have to take the pitcher. She grasped the handle, jerking it to one side. Lemonade flew everywhere. The sticky substance was cool against her skin.
“I know how to do this!”
“Sure, but let me just do this part for you.” She set the pitcher down on the side of the table while she stretched out one hand. Intent on the wooden spoon. One deep breath then another. “I need to do this one part—”
Crash. The sound of antique glass hitting hard linoleum and cracking into a million tiny pieces had the same force as a gun going off next to Anna’s head. She grabbed the kid, clutching him tight.
“Oh, my gosh. Super Sugar!” A million different thoughts were racing through her head. What the hell had she been thinking? All that trouble, all that fuss! She was the one putting Adam in danger. Hot tears began to cross her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Her entire body was quivering. Adam wriggled in her arms, pushing her away. He darted to the far side of the room.
“I’m so sorry,” Anna’s voice cracked and sparked. Unrecognizable as the same melodic tones that graced thousands of radio stations around the country. Anna tried to force air into her lungs and failed. She bent over slightly, resting her elbows on her thighs, trying to remember how to breathe.
There were pieces of glass all over the floor. Big pieces. Little pieces. Tiny shards, perfect for digging their way into a kid’s feet. “Wait here. I’ll get the broom and clean this up.” She needed to clean up the glass. If Adam cut himself—she felt lightheaded.
“I’ll get the broom,” the kid said.
“You could get hurt—”
When he finally spoke, his words were slow, carefully annunciated. Like he was the adult and she was the child. “I’m wearing shoes. You’re not. You shouldn’t move. I’m going to go get the broom. I’ll sweep up.”
The kid was definitely Nick’s son.
Anna waited while Adam stomped into the living room. A moment later, he was hard at work sweeping the kitchen floor. He did a good job—even reaching into the corners that she might have missed—when all the shards of glass had disappeared into an open trash bag he leaned the broom against the counter.
“Come on,” he said, leaning the broom against the table. “We’ll go next door to my house. There’s lemonade in the refrigerator. In a plastic pitcher.”
Anna let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Already made lemonade in a plastic pitcher. “That sounds good.”
Chapter Nine
A pale moon was rising over the town by the time Nick pulled his car into the driveway. The pearly light spread the shadow of the holly across the ground, making the trees crooked arms seem like they were reaching out towards him. The opening shot in an old horror movie. In another moment, he’d hear the sounds of the monster growling in the distance or see the beautiful heroine skipping around the corner.
It hadn’t been his intention to leave Adam and Anna alone this long, but when he’d gotten to the town hall things had gone from bad to worse. The water wasn’t just dripping on to the police station’s evidence storage. Instead, it was pouring into the cells. The police had been forced to let out the only occupant—a high school biology teacher who’d been picked up three hours earlier on a drunken disorderly charge.
After spending four solid hours digging up the sprinkler system, a local reporter had shown up. Arthur Savage—Nick’s best friend from high school—could smell a front-page story from miles away. Not that many people read the Mill City Monitor—a weekly publication that didn’t carry much original reporting or Hollywood gossip—but they’d all be interested in finding out why he’d ruined the town hall’s verdant lawn.
He got out of the car and stretched sore arms.
Blonde hair gleamed in the light reflected through the living room window. Anna was sitting on the front porch. Her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs. The tension rolling off her in waves was a palpable force.
There was a rustle of movement in the darkness, and he could hear the clink of ice cubes banging together as sh
e raised a glass to her lips.
“I know that Adam can be a tough kid to handle, but I never thought that he’d drive you to drink.” Nick walked over to the porch at a leisurely pace. Everything was under control.
If Adam had done any real damage then, someone would have called him. The Chief of Police. The head of the fire department. One of the neighbors.
“That whiskey?” Something that would warm him from the inside out. He took the glass from Anna’s hand and took a quick swallow.
Lemonade. Sour. Cold. The bottom of the glass coated in grains of sugar. He sat down on the front steps beside Anna, enjoying the way the peaceful quiet of the neighborhood. Side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.
Damn, he wanted her. He wanted more than just a fling, but he wasn’t about to hitch himself to some big city woman who’d get bored and leave him in the dust. Not again.
“I met Adam’s mother while I was at school. Botany and fine arts. Julia was older than me. Smart, sexy, in her final year at the law school. We were taking the same Latin class. She needed to know the root of ‘pro bono publico’ and I wanted to pronounce plant names without sounding like an idiot.”
Another sip of the lemonade, the sugar giving him energy. His tone was low, even. Telling Anna about his ex-wife might not be the smartest thing in the world, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.
“Our relationship was pretty casual, until she got pregnant. Things happened pretty fast after that. We got married. She wanted to stay in Boston, but I wanted Adam to grow up someplace with good schools, where kids could run free on the streets. We moved back to Mill City, to one of the little apartments by the river. She hated it.”
“How could anyone hate Mill City?” Anna sounded incredulous.
“You left for ten years.” There was no anger in his voice, no rebuke, but that didn’t stop her from going stiff beside him. Every muscle tensed. “I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“Yes, you did.” Every word came through clenched teeth. Anna took a deep breath, dragging air down into her lungs. “You’re not wrong. It’s been ten years, but I never hated Mill City.”