Lori’s Little Secret

by Christine Rimmer

  “What?”

  “The day we moved in here, when he and I talked it over, he did ask if you were my boyfriend.”

  “And you told him?”

  “I didn’t. I said nothing. I let him draw his own conclusions.”

  His eyes darkened in disapproval. “Why?”

  She pushed at his chest until he released her, then she moved back to her own side of the bed and canted up on an elbow. “Think about it. You and I were hardly speaking then, but he’d seen us together before—that night he and I came over here, and at Lena’s wedding. He knew there was something going on.”

  “So you lied to him.”

  “No. I just kept my mouth shut.” She realized about then that this was the moment—the time to talk about the necessity of telling Brody the truth. “Tucker, even to a ten-year-old, it’s a little odd, that we just moved right in with you. And you had me sworn to secrecy about what was really going on. So Brody explained the situation to himself by deciding it must be about you and me, since neither of us explained to him that you happen to be his father.”

  Tucker searched her face, and then he gave her one of those regal, overbearing, Ol’ Tuck-style nods of his. “All right. Now that you’ve told me a little more about it, I understand your reasoning.”

  Irritation sizzled through her. “Oh. Well. Thank you very much.”

  “Lori. Come on…” He reached for her. She saw desire kindling in his eyes—and behind it, the deeper need to avoid the subject at hand.

  She moved back. “No. Not now.” She schooled her voice to a level tone. “Look. I agreed, at first, to wait until you were ready to tell him. But it’s been a week since we moved in here, almost two weeks since you’ve known that he’s your son.”

  “A week—two weeks—it’s nothing.”

  “No. That’s not so. Two weeks is long enough. It’s too long. Brody adores you. It’s not like you need the chance to win him over or anything. He’s crazy about you. And it’s long past time—years past time—that he got to know you as his father.”

  Tucker sat up, hooked his arms around his knees and muttered to the far wall, “Whose damn fault is it, that he doesn’t know who I am? It’s not my fault, Lori.”

  “Wonderful,” she said under her breath. Dragging herself to a sitting position, she drew the sheet up to cover her breasts. “You want to play the blame game, okay. As I’ve said any number of times already, the fact that you didn’t know your son for all those years is my fault. I accept that. I own it. And whether you believe it or not, I am paying every day for the truth that I kept from you—for the father that I kept from our son. So yes. For over ten years, it was my fault that Brody didn’t know you. But for the last two weeks? Uh-uh. That’s all on you.

  “And you’re right, it’s only two little weeks. But it’s two little weeks that we’ve all—you and me and my mom and dad and Tate and Molly—all of us, have been, in the strictest sense, lying to him. Lying, as you well know, didn’t work for me at all. I’ve had up-close and personal experience with the damage lying can do. And I just don’t want to do it anymore.” He glanced back at her then. She saw pain in his eyes—and fear, too. And she found all her carefully controlled irritation with him draining away. “It will be okay,” she said, softly now.

  He swore and turned away from her and stared at the far wall once again. “What if he hates me? Damn it, he’s happy. A happy kid. He thinks of your husband as his dad. He could so easily resent me for trying to take your husband’s place.”

  She looked at his broad back and wanted to touch him, a touch of reassurance, of support. But she sensed he wouldn’t want her hand on him, not right then. She tucked the sheet up higher under her arms and folded her hands on her thighs. “First of all, you’re not going to be taking Henry’s place. You have your own place in Brody’s life, a very important place. And I do know Brody. Pretty darn well. I don’t think he’s going to resent you or hate you. He may not fall all over you, not at first. He usually likes to take his time about things, to think them over, to get used to them. But eventually, he’s going to be glad to know what you mean to him, to build a relationship with you, to have you there to help him grow up.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  She knew she wasn’t. But she’d already told him that. “If I’m wrong, we take it one day at a time. If he’s angry for some reason to learn what you are to him, then we’ll deal with it. He’ll get past it. We all will.”

  Tucker still wouldn’t look at her—but his next words had her heart lifting. “You’ll be there. With me. When I tell him?”

  “Of course, if you want me there.”

  “I’ll need you there. In fact, I think it’s only fair that you be the one to tell him.”

  “Fair?”

  “Okay, wrong word. I think it’s a good idea if you’re the one who tells him. You’re his mother and it’ll be easier to take coming from you. You tell him. And then I’ll tell him that—hell, I don’t know—that I’m happy to have him for my son. Then, after that, he can tell me…whatever he needs to tell me.”

  She dared to draw in a deep, relieved breath. They really were getting somewhere, at last. “Agreed. We’ll tell him together.”

  “But you’ll break the news.”

  “That’s right. And you can feel free to chime in any time you get the urge.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  “And we shouldn’t put it off. Not for even one more day.”

  “Why did I know that was coming?”

  “Tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You won’t have to rush off to the office. He’s not going over to Peter’s till the afternoon. We’ll tell him at breakfast. There’ll be plenty of time to talk.”

  Tucker turned his head again and looked at her over his shoulder. “All right. Tomorrow at breakfast.” His bleak expression said he’d rather do just about anything else—eat scorpions, maybe. Go skydiving without a parachute…

  “Tucker, it has to be done. And it will work out. Just watch.”

  The next morning, as planned, once they all three had their food and were seated at the table, Lori began explaining to her son that he had a father he didn’t know about.

  Before she actually got to the part about who that father was, her son set down his cereal spoon. “Wait a minute. I had another dad…before Dad?”

  From the chair opposite Lori at the round breakfast table, Tucker shot her a look, one that warned, Don’t blow this or there will be hell to pay.

  Lori gave her son’s father a wide smile. She was going for perky, for I-know-what-I’m-doing-here. But it didn’t come off. Either Tucker didn’t get the message or he simply didn’t buy it; his dark expression didn’t change.

  She turned Brody’s way again. Her son had not picked up his spoon. His wide brown eyes asked a thousand questions. She plowed ahead. “I guess maybe you don’t remember the time before Henry, when it was just you and me?”

  Brody frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Well, you were very little. I started dating Henry when you were two and we got married when you were barely three. But before I married him, you and I had a talk about your, er, natural father…”

  Brody sat back in his chair. He was still frowning. “Mom. You just said I was hardly even three. I don’t remember much from when I was three.”

  “That’s fine. That’s okay. But the truth is, a long time before Henry, there was someone…special. Someone I really, um, loved, and one night he took me to a dance and, well, we made you.”

  “At the dance?”

  She blinked. “No. Later, actually.”

  “Oh.”

  “But where that happened isn’t the point.”

  “It’s not.”

  “No, the point is that we did make you. And then he had to go away and he never knew about you and I couldn’t find him to tell him about you and then I met Henry and—”

  “Mom.”

  “Um, yeah?”

  “
You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah. It’s just…this is hard, you know?” She could not look at Tucker. She knew if she did, she would burst into tears.

  Oh, she’d been so sure she would know how to do this.

  Wrong.

  Brody’s frown deepened. “Are you saying that Dad wasn’t really my dad?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Wait!” Brody’s frown had vanished. He sat forward, shoulders curved to the table edge, chin jutting over his heaping bowl of Cheerios, suddenly eager, eyes alight. “I get it. It’s like Dustin. He has his first dad. And then his mom got married again and that’s his second dad, his stepdad. Two dads. So you’re saying I’m, like, a two-dad kid?”

  Thank God for smart children. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  The bright eyes narrowed. “But then, what about my first dad?”

  And Tucker spoke at last, low and a little bit raggedly. “That would be me.”

  There was a silence the like of which Lori had never known. And then her son looked at Tucker sideways. “You, Tucker? You’re my first dad?”

  Tucker’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. “That’s right. I’m your first dad.”

  Brody picked up his spoon. “Well.” He paused, considered—and finally asked, “Should I call you that, then? Dad?”

  Tucker wore the pained, stunned expression of a man in way over his head and not likely to be rising above adversity soon. “Uh. Call me Dad?”

  “Yeah. Should I?”

  “Do you want to?”

  More considering on Brody’s part. Then, “Yeah. I guess so. A dad should be called Dad. That’s what I think.”

  Tucker gulped again. “Then you should. You should call me Dad.”

  “Okay, Dad.” Brody nodded, a slow nod, as if, after careful reflection, he was certain that the right decision had been made. Then he shoveled up a big spoonful of cereal and stuck it in his mouth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Telling him went pretty well, I thought,” Tucker said that afternoon. They sat at the edge of the pool in their swimsuits, with their feet in the water. Brody had already been dropped off at Peter’s house.

  Lori slid off the edge, kicking lazily, turning and bracing her forearms on the smooth tiles that rimmed the water. She rested her chin on her folded hands, felt her hair fan out and float around her. “I have to admit, though, it was touch-and-go there at the first.”

  He looked down at her, flashes of sunlight reflecting off the water’s surface, gleaming in his eyes. “You should have seen your face when he asked you if we made him at the prom.”

  “Ouch. Big oops on putting my foot right in that one.”

  “But you managed to slide on by it.”

  “Yes, I did.” She gave him her cockiest smile. “And aside from that—and a few other slightly rocky moments, it did go well. Which I said it would, if you remember…”

  “How could I forget, with you right here to rub it in?”

  She moved her elbow enough to nudge his bright orange board shorts—and the rock—hard thigh beneath them. “Just admit it. I know what I’m talking about.”

  He tipped his head to the side and looked at her through lazy-lidded eyes. “Maybe. Sometimes…”

  “Sometimes? Hah!” She pushed back off the edge with one hand—and then splashed him a good one with the other.

  “Hey!”

  “Not sometimes. Most times, and don’t you forget it—and there’s water dripping off your nose.”

  “That does it.”

  “Don’t even try it.” Laughing, she shoved off with both feet as he fell forward, diving from where he sat.

  She wasn’t fast enough. He shot to the surface beside her, put his big hand on her head and pushed. She shrieked—an ear-piercing sound, cut off by necessity as she sucked in a breath before going under.

  When she broke the surface, laughing and splashing, he grabbed for her. She shrieked some more and fanned up a hard blast of water to keep him at bay. It didn’t work. He caught her by the wrist.

  “Stop that. Let me go.”

  “Not a chance.” He dragged her to him, hooked an arm around her and headed for the shallow end.

  She found her feet. “Okay, okay. You win. Let me go.”

  “Uh-uh.” He hauled her close, wrapped both big, wet arms around her and lowered his tempting mouth to an inch above hers. “Kiss me.”

  She pushed at his chest—though not very hard. “I should kiss you…because?”

  His smile was slow and much too sexy. “Because you like it?”

  She stopped pretending to struggle and made a big show of thinking that one over. “Hmm. Well, there is that…”

  “Because your heart’s beating harder and your breath is caught in your throat?”

  “Now, how did you know that?”

  He took her right hand, guided it down so that her palm lay over his heart. “Easy. Feel that?” She did. Oh, she really, really did. He commanded again, “So kiss me.”

  She pressed her spread hands against his chest—just enough to keep their lips from meeting. “You know, anybody who looked out a back window could see us from the house.”

  “Brody’s not home. And anyone else is either one of the twins, too young to even be looking—or else old enough to know that they shouldn’t be looking.”

  “Well.” She licked her lips, on purpose, just to tease him. “I suppose an innocent little ol’ kiss wouldn’t hurt anyth—”

  His mouth swooped down before she could finish.

  Heaven. Absolute heaven. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the glory of that kiss—until his hand strayed up her back to the clasp of her suit top. Then she shoved him away.

  “Tucker Bravo. I am not going topless in the Double T swimming pool.”

  He caught her hand. “How about my bedroom? Will you go topless there?”

  She pulled free, put her index finger against her chin and made a prim face. “Hmm. Well, now, let me think about that…”

  He swore. Then he grabbed her hand again and forged for the steps that led out of the pool, hauling her along behind him.

  “Oh, my.” She faked innocence for all she was worth. “Where are you taking me?”

  He pulled her up the steps and out of the water. “Guess.”

  She didn’t need to guess. Laughing, dripping water as she went, she let him drag her where she wanted to go. Fargo, basking in the shade of a patio umbrella, scrambled to his feet and hurried after them.

  The lazy summer days went by. They were good days, Lori thought. Beautiful, happy days. Good days, followed by hot, sexy nights in Tucker’s bed.

  Brody stuck with his decision to call Tucker Dad. He slipped into his life as Tucker’s child with no apparent transition period, no slightest sign of anger or resentment, no shyness about it and a total lack of wariness.

  Tucker said he found that amazing.

  Lori wasn’t the least surprised. Her son had a true pragmatic streak. The father he’d known and loved was gone. It didn’t bother him at all to find he had a spare—a long-lost dad who was absolutely, stone-gone crazy about him. A fun dad who sometimes almost could beat him at Alien Aggression. A dad who hung on his every word and said right out loud that Fargo could be Brody’s now, too.

  And then there were the gifts. Now it was out in the open that Brody was Tucker’s, Tucker seemed determined to buy their son every video game, electronic gadget and overpriced toy known to man.

  “Tucker,” she told him when they were alone. “Brody doesn’t need a Playstation, an X-Box and the latest version of Nintendo.”

  “No, but he wants them.”

  “I’m saying that one game system will do.”

  He gave her one of those puzzled man-style frowns, the kind of frown that proves men truly are from another planet. “But there are some games you can only play on one system or the other.”

  “So? He doesn’t need ev
ery darn game there is.”

  “I thought I just told you. It’s not about need.”

  She suppressed a sigh and tried to come at it from another angle. “You know, it’s not always the best idea for a kid to get something just because he wants it. They start thinking they’re entitled. They grow up with no concept of working for what they want, of waiting for it.”

  “Well, I can relate to that. Who wants to wait? Not me. If possible, I want what I want and I want it now.” He reached for her.

  She stepped back—several steps, actually. “And sometimes you don’t get what you want.”

  He slanted her a dark look. “Is this about you and me?”

  She blew out a breath. “No. This is about our son. About the things it’s our duty to teach him—things like how things aren’t everything.”

  Tucker shook his head. “Wow. That was a mouthful.”

  “I just don’t believe you’re not following me on this. I don’t believe you can’t see that it’s not a good idea for a kid to have every toy or device he ever wanted just dropped in his lap.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  She cast a glance heavenward. “Thank you.”

  But he was already smiling his slow, sexy smile. “Give me a break-in period, will you? Let me go hog-wild in a frenzy of outrageous and disgusting consumerism. Just for a while…”

  When he looked at her like that she lost the ability to say no to him. “Oh, all right. But think about cutting back a little, okay?”

  He put up a hand, like a witness swearing an oath. “I promise. Now get back over here and let me take off your clothes.”

  The next day, he had a three-thousand-dollar bicycle delivered to the house while he was at the office. Lori saw the price on the invoice the delivery man handed her. That bike had more gears than a semi truck.

  “I’m going riding, Mom. I’m going riding right now!”

  “Not on the highway,” she warned. The state highway ran by at the end of the long, curving driveway.

  Brody promised, “Just the driveway and the roads around the stables and stuff.”

  He put on the Day-Glo green and metallic-purple helmet that came with the bike, climbed on, and spent two hours racing out to and around the stables and up and down the driveway.