His Real Father (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Salonen, Debra

  “Do you remember when the city council talked about making my dad move so they could turn Joe’s Place into the chamber of commerce or something?”

  “No.”

  “Might have been before you moved here. They felt that having a bar at the head of Main Street gave people the wrong impression about our community.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed. “I bet your father had a heyday with that.”

  Joe grinned, picturing his father ranting about the injustice. “The city council wants to pretend that people don’t drink and smoke and carouse, but the mayor is one of my best customers,” he’d cried. “That’s called hypocrisy, son, and if you do nothing else in your life, make damn sure you’re not a hypocrite.”

  A sour taste rose in his throat. “Slow down,” he said, adding another description in his notebook under the previous entry. By the time he was done filming, he’d have multiple logbooks filled with notations.

  “Please,” Lisa said.

  Joe glanced sideways. “Huh?”

  Her cheeks colored. “‘Slow down, please.’ That’s what I would have said to my son. I’m still working on his manners seventeen years later.”

  An odd feeling—something akin to what Joe felt when things were going right when he was shooting—made him drop back down into the seat. He stared at her a moment. She was beautiful. Her skin luminous, her cheekbones dusted in blush that came from the inside out.

  A thought struck him. How could I possibly have gone so long without talking to her, without being with her?

  She gave him an exasperated look that reminded him of Brandon. “What are you staring at? Do you want me to apologize? I’m sorry. It’s a terrible habit. I’ve even corrected complete strangers.”

  He took a deep breath to still the undercurrents of awareness rushing through him. Stop. This is Lisa. Your almost sister-in-law. He tightened his hold on the camera. “No. That’s not it. I…uh, I always thought Brandon resembled Patrick, but when you make that pouty look with your lips, you look just like him. Or he looks like you. Oh, hell, you know what I mean.”

  He returned to his previous position and made a show of panning the front of Joe’s Place, but his mind was racing. He hadn’t even been home twenty-four hours and all he could think about was kissing Lisa. Which was insane. It hadn’t been right for them twenty years ago. It wasn’t right now.

  He zoomed in for a better view of the hand-painted billboard that spanned four feet on either side above the door. Someone had recently freshened up the green and gold.

  “How’s business?” he asked, casting about for a general topic of discussion.

  “Steady. The regulars still show up for a pit stop after work. There are always a few who stay too long and need their spouses to come after them, but most have a beer or two then head out. After your mom came back to work, she decided to change the menu. We call the grill a bistro, now. Classy, huh?”

  Joe wondered whose idea that was but he didn’t ask. Since there were no cars behind them, Lisa let the car idle at a stop. He shot the building’s two picture windows then turned off the camera. “I have to say, my dad would have hated the geraniums,” he said as he jotted his notes.

  Lisa’s low chuckle sounded sexier than it had in his dream that morning. “I know. Martin and I both voted against the flower boxes, but your mother had the final say. She told us she wanted to be able to look out from behind the bar and see life.” Lisa sighed. “Pretty hard to argue after all that she’s been through.”

  Joe was glad Lisa told him the rationale behind the ornamentation before he said something stupid that might have hurt his mother’s feelings.

  “So? Where now?” Lisa asked.

  He checked his watch. His allotted hour was up. “Home. I don’t want to jinx your perfect grade-point average.”

  Her grin held an element of chagrin. “I have to admit I am ready to head back. Not to study, but to see if Brandon showed up. He used to be so dependable, but lately…”

  She sounded worried. Too worried. “Hey, I’m not exactly an authority, but my friends tell me the teenage years are the roughest. A combination of hormones and the desire for independence.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She pointed to a popular fast-food restaurant on the corner. “This is new. Do you remember when it was an Amoco station? Look at the three-story play area. Brandon would have loved this place. Not that we could afford to eat out very often back then, but he would have gone crazy.”

  Joe was curious about her life. And Brandon’s. It was probably too late to be a better uncle and brother-in-law, but he wouldn’t mind being their friend. If Lisa would let him.

  “MARVELOUS DEVILED EGGS, Lisa,” Gunny said, his booming voice echoing around the Kelly’s backyard.

  Lisa, preoccupied with making sure her son didn’t gulp a few bites of his grandmother’s delicious meal then run off, answered absently, “Thank you, Gunny. I buy the eggs from an organic farmer from Mariposa. He sells them at the local farmer’s market every Saturday.”

  “And he’s a hunk,” Maureen added with a wink. “Amazing what a little fresh air and exercise can do for a body.”

  Her fiancé dropped his arm around Maureen’s shoulders and squeezed her possessively. “How old is he?”

  Maureen wriggled free. “Lisa’s age, but she ignores his flirting—even when he gives her free vegetables.”

  Lisa felt her cheeks heat up. “He does that for all his repeat customers. Last time, he gave Maureen a vegetarian cookbook to test out some new recipes at the restaurant. Isn’t this potato salad from that book, Maureen? More, Gunny?” she asked, passing the bowl his way.

  Gunny’s bushy white eyebrows collided. “I don’t think I like the idea of my fiancée flirting with a good-looking farmer. No more Saturday markets for you, my dear.”

  Maureen motioned for Lisa to hand her the ceramic bowl. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. The man is young enough to be my son.”

  Lisa sent Joe a plea for help. This was the second near-squabble between the engaged couple since Gunny and his family had arrived. The first had taken place when Gunny—no doubt in an attempt to fill the role of patriarch—had tried to light the barbecue, which even Lisa knew had a mind of its own. In fact, Patrick used to call it Pops—both as a sly reference to his father’s explosive temper and because of the noise the burners made when starting.

  After narrowly avoiding the scary burst of pyrotechnics, Gunny had received a tongue-lashing from Maureen. “You can’t just take over, Gunner. There is protocol, and a woman’s grill deserves a little respect.”

  No one, particularly not Gunny’s son and his wife, had anything to add to that.

  “Mom,” Joe said, “did you say there was more bread?”

  The distraction worked. Maureen went into the house without further comment.

  Lisa, who was sitting beside Gunny’s daughter-in-law, Christine, let out a sigh.

  “She’s rather feisty, isn’t she?” Christine said. The woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Jodie Foster, was about Lisa’s age, but that appeared to be the only thing the two had in common.

  “Maureen is the most genuine person I’ve ever met,” Lisa said in Joe’s mother’s defense. “You never have to wonder where you stand with her. She tells you, bluntly and honestly.”

  Christine’s smile seemed forced. “That’s um…refreshing. Michael’s mother was far more old-world. She worshipped Gunny and he her. I’ve never seen two people more in love. Was Maureen’s marriage like that?”

  Lisa frowned. Maureen and Joe Sr. had been devoted to each other, but Lisa had never known two more independent souls. “They were married for nearly forty years.”

  “But longevity isn’t a sure sign of a happy relationship, is it?”

  Lisa pictured a couple of the men her mother had dated—men who had been married at the time. “No more than a ring on the finger guarantees a lastin
g union.”

  One of Christine’s eyebrows rose in a perfect arch. “May I be frank? Are you and Joe comfortable with this marriage?”

  Me and Joe? Did the woman have the mistaken idea that Joe and Lisa were a couple? “I have no idea how Joe feels. He only got here yesterday, and we really haven’t had a chance to discuss things. I want whatever Maureen wants. If Gunny makes her happy, then I’ll keep any reservations I might have to myself.”

  “So, you do have reservations.”

  Christine flicked her hand to get her husband’s attention. Michael had been talking to his father, so both men looked her way. “It’s not just me,” Christine said triumphantly. “Linda has qualms about this wedding, as well.”

  “Lisa,” Lisa corrected. “And I didn’t say—”

  Gunny gave Lisa a sour look. “What is wrong with you people? Can’t two people share their twilight years in peace without their kids bickering behind their backs? If this is about your inheritance…”

  Joe and Brandon turned to listen. Thankfully, Maureen was still inside. Lisa cleared her throat and said, “This has nothing to do with money. I’m not even a member of the family, legally. I simply answered Christine’s question. She asked me if I was happy about you and Maureen marrying. I’ll repeat what I told her to your face, Gunny.

  “I love Maureen and will miss her more than I can say, but if you make her happy then she has my full support.”

  “I’ll second that,” Joe said, holding his can of soda up in a toast.

  Lisa’s jaw went slack. She was used to fighting her battles alone, but knowing she had backup if needed was an unusual feeling. One she liked.

  “Hey, everyone,” Maureen called from the porch. “Martin’s here. And you’ll never guess what he brought. Rattlesnake.”

  Christine made a gagging sound and sank back in her chair. Michael looked at his father. “Who’s Martin?”

  Gunny frowned. “Bartender. Works for Maureen.”

  Brandon pushed back from the table and hurried to meet the man who was carrying a covered plate. “Rattlesnake?” he exclaimed, whisking the cover off the dish. “Cool. Does it really taste like chicken?”

  Gunny made a rude sound. “Tastes like snake.” He shook his head and pushed his plate away. “Can’t abide the stuff. I kill about half a dozen every summer. Chop off the heads and throw the bodies in a tree for the buzzards.”

  Lisa looked at Joe, who was grinning. She wondered what he found more amusing—Martin’s culinary offering or Gunny’s bluster?

  JOE MADE A POINT OF ASKING for seconds of snake. “Amazing, Martin,” he said spitting a sliver of cartilage into his napkin. “People are wrong. It tastes like chicken and fish. You should add this to the menu at Joe’s Place. It would make quite the conversation piece, wouldn’t it?”

  Martin nodded as if considering the possibility. “Not all that easy to get, though,” he said, stabbing a chunk with his fork. “This critter took up residence under my porch. I asked him to leave, but he was an ornery cuss.”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “Some snakes, like some people, don’t know when it’s time to pack up and vamoose.”

  Joe blinked in surprise. That was possibly the longest speech he’d ever heard Martin make. And the intent was none too subtle, Joe decided, when he caught a glimpse of Gunny’s ruddy cheeks. Martin and Gunny were acting like buck elk dueling for a doe—Joe’s mother.

  “Ahem.” Lisa coughed pointedly. “Christine asked you a question, Joe.”

  Joe looked at the woman across the table from him. Pretty. Intense. Driven. He’d met dozens of women just like her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  The woman smiled. “I once worked with a film crew that was doing some promotion for a Tom Hanks movie. Have you ever met him?”

  Joe forced himself not to groan. “No. We don’t run in the same circles. But from what I hear, he’s a very nice person.”

  “Do you like working in Hollywood?” Gunny’s son asked.

  Do I? “The movie business can be very frustrating, but it’s also an adrenaline rush. You just have to keep your wits about you because you’re dealing with egos, vast sums of money, politics and corporations.”

  He looked at Lisa, who appeared surprised by his candor. Actually, he’d surprised himself as well. He never would have been that frank at a party in L.A., but it was easy to be honest here.

  Forty minutes later, Joe carried the last of the dishes into his mother’s kitchen and found Lisa alone at the sink. “Where is everybody?”

  “Upstairs. They’re watching Michael install something on Maureen’s computer so she can share files with Gunny’s computer. I think. Brandon and Martin went to my house to check out some sound Brandon’s car is making.”

  Joe scraped the remaining bits of snake meat into the garbage can beside where Lisa was standing. He handed her the empty plate and said, “Do you think it’s a Pomo tradition to state your intentions by bringing a woman you like the meat of an animal you killed?”

  The bowl she was rinsing under the faucet slipped into the stainless-steel sink with a clatter. “You think Martin and Maureen have something going?”

  “No. I think they should have something going. Using my highly honed observation skills,” he said with a wink to show he was kidding, “I watched them today. Mom is nervous and edgy when she’s with Gunny, but relaxed and herself around Martin.”

  “They should be relaxed around each other. They’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.”

  “Who says good friends can’t fall in love and marry?”

  She returned her attention to the pots and pans. She looked nervous and edgy. What did that tell him?

  “He was married once, you know,” Lisa said softly.

  Joe’s mouth dropped open. “Martin?”

  Lisa glanced toward the door. “We were closing up one night and I found a photograph your dad had of Patrick. Martin could tell I was upset, so we sat down and he told me the story of how his wife left for work one morning and never came back. I don’t even know if he’s legally divorced.”

  Joe picked up a dish towel and took the pot from her when she finished rinsing it. “Someone should ask him.”

  Lisa scowled at him. “Why do I get the impression you think that someone is me?”

  “You’re a wo…wonderful diplomat.”

  “Nice try, but it’s not going to happen. I have two tests, rehearsal and graduation coming up. That is the extent of my focus. If you want to meddle in your mother’s affairs, have at it. But count me out.”

  Joe put the pot away then took a step closer. With her hands in the soapy water, she was trapped. He put his lips close to her ear and whispered, “I remember when you were more adventurous.”

  She shifted her weight to her outer foot, and then leaned in, her shoulder brushing against his chest. “I remember when you and your brother nearly got me arrested for stealing sweet corn.” She brought her foot down squarely on his toes. “I’ve learned a lot about self-preservation since then.”

  Joe winced, but he took the toe-squishing like a man. Unfortunately, he was still limping when Brandon and Martin returned a few minutes later. “Stubbed my toe,” he explained when asked.

  Martin’s smile said he didn’t believe that any more than he believed that Joe liked fried rattlesnake.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I NEED HELP.”

  Lisa wasn’t looking forward to saying those words out loud, but the truth couldn’t be denied. She’d just spent half an hour with Brandon’s English teacher, a woman Lisa liked and respected. When Lisa had returned from taking her test the day before, she’d found a message from Mrs. Day on her answering machine.

  Short and sweet, like the woman herself, the recording said, “Brandon is in trouble in my class. We need to talk.”

  Lisa had set up a meeting for before school started the next morning. She hadn’t mentioned the appointment to Brandon because she wanted to hear his teacher’s side of the
story first. Brandon had inherited his grandfather’s glib tongue and could talk his way out of almost anything. Lisa wanted the facts.

  And the facts were plain. Her son, who had a brilliant mind and was a fairly decent student, had, for some reason, decided not to do any of the course work in his advanced English class for the past three weeks. His teacher suggested the cause might be drugs or alcohol.

  “He’s in fifth period. Right after lunch. He comes in half asleep and dozes through most of the class. He used to participate in discussions. Now, nothing. Not even intelligible grunts.”

  Instead of pulling into her driveway and walking through the back gate to Maureen’s, Lisa kept going and rounded the corner to park in front of the Kelly house. Her mother’s car was still in the garage, but Lisa didn’t want to discuss this problem with Constance. When it came to parenting, Maureen had a better reputation.

  She rapped twice then opened the door and walked in, as was her habit, but came to an abrupt halt when she discovered a half-naked man in the foyer. “Oh, sorry,” she said, trying not to stare at Joe. When did he get muscles? The Joe she’d known in high school was a proverbial ninety-eight-pound weakling compared to his brother. “I… I’m… Uh, is your mother here?”

  Joe appeared amused by her flustered blather. He pointed toward the kitchen. “She’s baking a cake for your party. I just came down for my shirt. She sewed a button on it last night.” His brows lifted in question. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

  Lisa hesitated. Telling Maureen was one thing, but Joe was practically a stranger. A stranger with more reason to care than he knows. “I need to talk to her about Brandon. He’s messing up in school.”

  Joe took her elbow and guided her toward the back of the house. “Don’t start until I get there. I want to help if I can.”

  It was tempting to say something about too little too late, but she didn’t. At this point, she could use all the help she could get. Besides, she’d noticed that Brandon had sought out his uncle’s company several times at the barbecue. Maybe her son craved male companionship—something missing from his life since his grandfather had passed away.