Right from the Start

by Jeanie London

  He chuckled. “Go home, Kenz. See you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be here. Hugs.”

  “Hugs back at you,” he replied with their usual goodbye.

  And as she disconnected the call, Kenzie continued to smile. Nathanial had that effect on her. They were a solid part of each other’s lives. Nathanial had always been there through every up and down, through every decision and accomplishment, through every disappointment and heartache. He was a man who shared the same views about life and love, and she believed she’d been as reliable a part of his life, too.

  He was right about one thing—all these tasks would wait until she got around to them.

  But she was still set on the shingle. She didn’t have the heart to ask her dad to make the drive over when he was probably napping. Then a thought occurred to her, and she pushed away from the desk and went to her newly installed door that led directly to the parking lot. Sure enough Will’s truck sat in the closest spot to Angel House. Did she dare trouble the man again?

  She debated for the grand total of two seconds.

  The door was unlocked, so she slipped in and headed down the hallway of rooms that had once been the preschool studios for jazz, acro and ballet. She wondered what Angel House would do with these rooms—make them offices or classrooms?

  Kenzie turned the corner into the open area that led backstage of the recital hall then stopped short when she saw the young boy sitting on the floor in front of a laptop.

  “Oh, hello,” she said, surprised.

  Will’s son. He looked even more like his dad up close, except for his eyes, which were deep blue.

  Sam didn’t seem to hear her. He seemed completely absorbed in the laptop. A computer game, perhaps.

  “Hello,” she said again.

  The little boy glanced up but didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t respond to her at all. Not a greeting, not a smile, not even the slightest hint of recognition she’d addressed him. But he kept pressing keys and working the mouse pad with intensity.

  Kenzie wasn’t sure what to make of that, but felt uncomfortable ignoring him, so she tried again. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for your dad.”

  He didn’t look up again, but she did get a response. His brow drew tight beneath the glossy black bangs, not exactly annoyance. Or was it?

  Okay...

  She wouldn’t have expected such antisocial behavior from the child of such a socially adept man. He’d been every bit of charming and gracious yesterday to her family and friends, and Kenzie would have expected nothing less from a man who had successfully entered the political arena.

  But in all fairness, she didn’t know this little guy and didn’t have children herself. She did know children of divorce carried their own special burden, precisely the awareness she tried to impart divorcing parents.

  “I’m going to find your dad,” she said. “Nice meeting you.”

  His brow furrowed more deeply, but Kenzie didn’t get a chance to consider what to make of Will’s son’s uncommunicative behavior before movement in the open doorway caught her attention.

  She glanced inside to find Will on his back on one of those wheeled dollies, hanging half out of an opening in the wall. A panel that looked as if it had once covered the cutout had been propped nearby, and she realized that’s why his son was sitting where he was in the hallway within eyeshot of his dad.

  That was about all Kenzie noticed though, because Will scooted the dolly then, and a little more of him vanished into the wall. What was still visible was quite a sight, though.

  Long, long legs that ended in sturdy work boots. Knees bent to draw her attention to the way the jeans hugged his thighs and hips. With his knees parted, there was simply no avoiding the sight of his crotch and the expanse of toned tummy that made her own tummy swoop drunkenly.

  What was it about this man that so appealed to her, a man who had already gone through two wives? He was handsome to be sure, but Kenzie knew her share of handsome men and hadn’t ever been engaged in a power struggle with her inner child over one before.

  As if she didn’t have enough on her plate right now.

  “Excuse me, Will.” She refused to let her stupid reactions interfere with her actions. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

  But she did disturb him, judging by the sound of clattering metal—some tool hitting the floor.

  His thighs flexed as he set the dolly in motion with one strong pull. He slid out of that wall cubby, emerging in a fluid motion, a breathtaking expanse of muscled chest in tight T-shirt, broad, broad shoulders then the thick cords of his neck, and that chiseled face with those quick dimples and eyes that managed to see right through her.

  “Hello, Kenzie.” His gruff voice filtered through her in a physical way.

  She barely managed to whisper, “Hello, Will.”

  Maybe it was the sight of him from this angle, all stretched out before her in one completely attractive package. Whatever the excuse, her foolish inner child had taken over her thought processes and left him to assume control of the conversation as she stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

  “What can I do for you, Kenzie?”

  Foolish, foolish inner child. “I need to hang my shingle. May I borrow some tools?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “A drill and a hammer, please. I already have anchors and nails.”

  “Help yourself.” He pointed to a massive industrial tool cart that was easily waist-high.

  Then he scooted the dolly away from the wall so he could sit up and glance toward his son.

  “I met your son.” She headed for the tool cart, exhaling a relieved sigh to escape his high-beam gaze. “He’s adorable. I thought I heard you call him Sam that morning in the park. Did I get that right?”

  “You did. His name’s Sam.”

  “How old is he?”

  She heard the dolly wheels clatter again, but didn’t turn around. Instead, she occupied herself with locating a hammer. The drill hung from a hook on the outside of the cart as if it had been recently used.

  “He just turned six.”

  “I was right, then. That’s what I guessed.” She was babbling now to fill up the quiet. All this to hang a shingle? Oh, and to avoid getting caught staring at Will.

  Yesterday, she’d had the distraction of playing hostess and lots of people to help rein in her stupidity. Not so today. It was the being alone with him that intensified her reaction, she decided. And except for yesterday and the day they’d signed the lease in the mayor’s office, she’d usually been alone with him. Another piece of the puzzle in place.

  “Where are you hanging that shingle? On the door?”

  “Next to it. Under the porch light probably.”

  “That bit won’t work, Kenzie. You need a masonry bit. They’re in that big orange case there. I’ve got every size so you should find what you need.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  She found the case, and it appeared that Will did, indeed, have every size known to man. She must have looked confused because the next thing she knew he towered over her shoulder, so close she could feel the warmth of his body.

  Her chest tightened around her next breath, but as he had her sandwiched between the tool cart and his big self, there was no slipping away without some dramatic maneuver that would draw notice. She did not want to appear anything but casual.

  “What size do you need?” His throaty voice was close enough
to send shivers through her.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Where’s the thing you’re hanging?”

  “My place.”

  “If you’ll be working awhile,” he said. “I’ll come over and hang it. I just got Sam settled in front of his game, so I’ll come when he takes a break.”

  That admission provided a welcome distraction from the way her insides vibrated softly in the wake of his voice.

  But she was surprised that Will didn’t want to disturb his son. She hadn’t pegged him as one of those divorced fathers who overcompensated by allowing his child to call all the shots. If that was the case, he was doing his son a disservice. Poor kid was in for a tough time if he grew up thinking people would cater to his every desire.

  “I don’t want to be a bother, Will. I can figure out how to drill a hole in brick. I’ve hung lots of things in my house.”

  A flicker of movement in her periphery drew her around to stare into his face. Against her better judgment, of course.

  Something about the sudden granitelike expression suggested he might be assessing all the things that could go wrong if she screwed up, things he’d be called upon to repair.

  “You’re leaving right now?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Then let me come. Won’t be too long, and it’ll take me only a couple of minutes to install, tops.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind? I’d have done it already if Nathanial hadn’t forgotten my toolbox in his car.”

  That brought Will back a step so he could look at her full in the face. “Nathanial? The blond attorney?”

  She nodded, miraculously able to breathe again with the added space between them.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Not at the moment.” The admission was out of her mouth before she had a chance to decide whether or not she wanted to answer such personal questions. She supposed his curiosity was natural, though, considering she’d dragged him over to eat and introduced everyone yesterday.

  And he was still curious. She could see it all over his expression, but he just asked, “Do you want me to come over?”

  “Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  He shook his head, and Kenzie got the sense that he was suddenly as eager to end this exchange as she was. This fact seemed to be borne out when he walked to the doorway and gave a thumbs-up to his son. Whatever response he received brought a small smile to his face.

  “No, I don’t mind. I’ll do it as soon as Sam takes a break. I’ve got to feed him, anyway.”

  Kenzie knew she shouldn’t open her mouth, but her unruly inner child got the better of her. “You’re welcome to feed him and yourself from my fridge. Lots of leftovers from yesterday.”

  That surprised him, she could tell by his expression. Surprised her, too, truth be told.

  “Still have any of those chicken strips and carrots left?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “That could work. Okay, then. Thanks.” The dimples flashed.

  Kenzie headed toward Will and the door. “Come over when it’s convenient for you, then. I appreciate the help.”

  “Won’t be too long.”

  Kenzie got to the door where Will still stood and glanced through at the adorable boy still engaged in his game. “He’s six, you said? Is he starting kindergarten this year, or has he started school already?”

  Will’s gaze fixed on his son, and the dimples vanished, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “He’s been in a program for almost two years now. When he graduates from that, he’ll start school—probably the private school at the church that started Angel House. That’s my hope, anyway.”

  There was so much in his expression that he didn’t bother to hide that Kenzie could only issue a vague, “Oh.”

  Because suddenly the pieces started falling into place, all the little things she’d noticed, all the questions about why Will would fight his beautiful and ultraprofessional wife for custody of their son in court and win primary custody.

  “A program?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “Like a preschool?”

  His crystal gaze fixed on her, one glance that stole her breath again. “An ABA program. Applied Behavior Analysis. That’s why Angel House needs more classrooms. Lot of kids around need the program.”

  So many things clashed in her head at that exact moment. A special-needs school. Will’s private agenda with Family Foundations. So private in fact that he was willing to renovate this property himself. Primary physical custody. A young boy who didn’t acknowledge her.

  Looked like she had her answer about Will’s personal interest in creating Family Foundations.

  But Kenzie couldn’t pull it all together that fast, not when Will awaited a reply, not when she felt compelled to make it a reply that counted.

  “He’s a beautiful boy, Will,” was all she could think to say. “And he’s very handsome. Like his dad.” Then she headed through the door, whispering, “Bye, Sam. Nice meeting you.”

  She wasn’t sure what else to do because she didn’t know the first thing about autism, didn’t know what was allowed and what wasn’t. Didn’t know why she had asked such a personal question in the first place.

  The only thing Kenzie knew was that nowhere in the initial consultation and preliminary information Will’s ex-wife had provided had she mentioned anything about her son’s special needs.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WILL RUFFLED SAM’S hair to get his son’s attention. “Computer time’s up, buddy.”

  Sam protested. He hadn’t found his words yet, as Deanne called crossing the language barrier, but there was no mistaking that growl of frustration even if Will hadn’t recognized the mutiny in his son’s demeanor. Will held up a laminated checklist on a clipboard. Sam’s schedule. They laid out every minute of the day in dry-erase ink, whatever color Sam chose each morning.

  Today was a green day.

  “Remember?” Will handed Sam the marker. “Check.”

  Sam’s scowl didn’t fade but he did place a big check mark next to the word computer. The word eat had originally come next, but Will had added in another direction.

  Meet.

  He’d needed the lead time to give Sam a heads-up about changing the schedule.

  “What comes next?” he asked and waited.

  It took a while. Sam really wanted to be in front of the computer, but he finally shifted his gaze to the next item on the list.

  “Good job, buddy.” Will ruffled Sam’s hair again. “Meet a new friend. Then eat.”

  Will waited while Sam slipped the marker into the holder that kept it attached to the schedule. As a tool, the schedule wasn’t any good without the marker, and both accompanied Sam from the minute he opened his eyes in the morning to the minute he shut them at night. Good days were the ones they could walk through scheduling a few steps ahead without lots of additions or changes. Days when too many unexpected things happened could get hairy.

  Sam was antsy from all the sitting, so Will took his time shutting down the laptop and packing it up, giving Sam a chance to run up and down the hallway. Back and forth, his footsteps echoing rhythmically in the emptiness. The new Angel House in its unfinished state would be any kid’s dream. Lots of space to run unobstructed by furniture. Lots of empty rooms to explore.

  Will grabbed the drill and a few things he’d need to hang Kenz
ie’s shingle and stuffed them into Sam’s backpack, which he slung over his shoulder. He tucked Sam’s schedule under his arm.

  “Time to go.” He extended his hand to Sam and waited.

  They dropped off the laptop in the truck and made their way to Kenzie’s side of the building.

  Will had known he’d taken Kenzie off guard with his explanation about Sam. People would never know Sam was a child with autism by looking at him. But she’d rallied by the time he had arrived with his son and his drill in tow. When she appeared in the doorway, she greeted them with a welcoming smile.

  “Hi,” was all she said, allowing him to lead the conversation.

  “This is my son, Sam,” he said before leaning over to meet his son’s gaze. “Ms. Kenzie is our new friend.”

  Will whipped out a card from his pocket and showed it to Sam. This card was the size of a small index card with instructions on it and was one of a set that went with him wherever he went. Guadalupe kept a set, too. One for Sam, and another for Rafael, who’d found his language and was now expanding his vocabulary with the help of aids like these cards.

  This card had an actual photo of a smiling Sam, a prompt for how to respond when Sam met a new person.

  Make eye contact.

  Smile.

  Sam smiled. One out of two wasn’t bad. Not when Kenzie waited patiently with her calm firmly in place, as if she had all day and did not mind the delay one bit. Will liked that about her.

  She smiled in reply, a big, bright smile that illuminated her features and communicated everything she didn’t say. He liked her smile, too.

  And he was impressed. She either had experience with autism or possessed an abundance of common sense. He had no clue which, but very much appreciated her patience right now. So many people got uncomfortable when they dealt with Sam and let nerves dictate the encounter. Too many would get chatty, which could be so confusing to his son, a really smart kid who didn’t process sensory information the way most people did.

  Handing Sam the marker, Will held out the clipboard with the schedule. Sam checked off another item on their list. Will pointed to the picture of an apple.