by Tara Mills
****
Sabrina stood back and considered the new pillows on her sofa. As is, there wasn’t much room left for sitting. She tried again, turning them slightly, and then stepped back for another long look. Satisfied, she pulled the container of glass pebbles out of the bag and dumped them slowly but noisily into the glass bowl sitting on the coffee table. Very pretty. It was probably a good thing she was babysitting at Aaron’s tonight instead of here. She could just see Wyatt swallowing a handful of those glossy disks before she could stop him.
Setting out the candles next, she wandered the room, getting impressions from various angles, and pronounced it good. Anything different was an improvement.
Holy crap, was that the time? Yikes, she had less than thirty minutes to change into suitable play clothes and get her butt over to Aaron’s.
****
With her finger poised to press the doorbell, Sabrina hesitated at the unmistakable sounds of mayhem coming through the solid wood door. She eased her hand away, the word retreat echoing inside her head. Seriously considering it, she was just reaching back with her toe when the door swung open and Emma beamed up at her.
“Yea, you’re here! I was watching for you.”
“I’m here,” said Sabrina with a sigh, the opportunity to flee definitely over.
“Leah! Where are my new shoes?” Aaron bellowed from the hall closet where he was on his knees tossing shoes right and left.
“They’re in the closet!” his wife yelled back from upstairs.
“I’m in the closet and they’re not here.”
“This closet!”
“Damn it.” Standing up, he used the inside of his foot to slide the pile of shoes across the floor. He closed the door on the mess and turned, his eyes popping when he noticed his sister. “Oh, good, you’re here. We’re about ready to leave.” Aaron took off, climbing the stairs two at a time.
Sam wandered out of the kitchen with a smile. “Sabrina. You ready for this?”
“Doubtful,” she grumbled.
He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Candace just fed Wyatt, so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s not a job you want to tackle on your own.”
Great.
“Come on,” Aaron called impatiently over his shoulder on his way down the stairs. He was wearing a new pair of loafers. “Sabrina’s here, so shake a leg.”
Aaron cornered the banister and his arm shot out and curled around his sister. He walked her under the archway and into the living room. Emma hopped and skipped behind them as Sam followed, shaking his head and smiling.
“Now, Emma’s here to help,” Aaron told Sabrina. “She knows where everything is.”
“Wyatt’s bedtime is eight,” Sam added, making her turn. “His things are in the guest room.”
“Okay.”
Emma shimmied and shook in front of them. “Daddy, Wyatt can sleep with me.”
“Um,” Sam said, interrupting before Aaron agreed. “That’s not a good idea. He’ll never settle down if you’re there.”
“Besides, you go to bed at nine,” her dad reminded her.
“But Daddy, it’s Saturday.”
“Oh, right, nine-thirty.”
“Yes!” She was back to jumping up and down.
Sabrina gave her niece a feeble smile. There was way too much energy in this house. And that’s when Wyatt came tearing through the doorway, screeching like a racecar, his freshly washed face bright red and shiny.
Sabrina leaned toward Aaron. “Can I take them to the park?” It was either that or one of them was going to end up drugged tonight.
“God, I would,” he whispered back as his eyes followed their hyperactive nephew.
****
Okay, Jackson was convinced. Odd as it seemed, his dad’s marriage was a true love match. Who would have guessed the old man had it in him? But they were actually pretty sweet together. Hal was downright attentive and considerate to his young bride.
The evening air was cooler now, and Jackson could feel a light breeze stir the hair on his legs. His T-shirt clung to his damp chest and back, and his deep breaths came as steadily as his footfalls on the sidewalk. The air was perfumed by freshly mown grass, as well as roses, mums, and dandelions, with a top note of exhaust from the traffic. Still, it was good. The low sun gave everything a warm amber glow, and Jackson found himself smiling, his body, his mind, his senses attuned to the world in a very elemental way.
****
“Wyatt, no! Give that back to him right now!” Sabrina said, leaping up from the bench to intervene in a furious battle over an action figure.
“No!” Wyatt said, jerking it back and shoving the boy hard in the chest. The toy’s owner bawled loudly, and his mother glared at Sabrina.
“Do something,” she hissed, obviously blaming Sabrina for the bad behavior.
Sabrina reached for the action figure, but Wyatt expected this and took off running before she could get it away from him.
Emma looked down from the tower of the play equipment. “ ’Brina, he’s running for the cars.”
“Damn it,” she swore, earning a dirty look from the mothers nearby as she chased after him.
Emma slid down the fireman’s pole and hit the sand at a run.
“Wyatt, STOP!” Sabrina screamed. Her face paled and her limbs started to shake with fear because the little shit was headed right for a gap between two parked cars and the busy street beyond.
At the frightened scream, Jackson turned and immediately assessed the situation. He took off and snatched the boy before he made it to the pavement. Jackson’s spin was so fluid, so graceful, that when the boy’s legs flared out in front of him it looked choreographed. Jackson tightened his hold on the squirming child and went to return him to his anxious mother. At the sight of her Jackson stopped—and stared.
Sabrina skidded to a halt right in front of him and pulled the naughty child out of his arms. She hugged the boy close, chiding and murmuring over him as she twisted back and forth with relief.
Jackson looked past Sabrina and recognized the little girl running to join them.
She came to a panting stop. “Hi there.”
“Hi,” he said, grinning back at her. “Guess he got away from you.”
The girl made a face at the little boy. “He’s impossible.”
Jackson laughed, and Sabrina turned her grateful eyes on him. “Thank you.”
“Spunky kid.” That seemed the safest thing he could say about the boy who was putting up a pretty good fight to get down.
“That’s a nice word for it,” Sabrina said with a grunt and pulled her face back before she got smacked by a flailing hand.
The girl nodded. “I’ll say.”
Sabrina frowned at the boy. “Wyatt, you have to give the toy back.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It’s mine.”
“No it isn’t.”
The child hit Sabrina right in the face with the toy while kicking anything he could connect with. Jackson lost it. Without a word he took Wyatt right out of Sabrina’s arms and set him on the grass.
Jackson dropped to one knee and held the boy by the shoulders and asked sternly, “Wyatt, are you a big boy?”
The boy blinked in shock at Jackson but finally nodded slowly.
“Because big boys don’t hit—ever,” Jackson explained firmly.
Wyatt twitched and his face fell. Jackson hadn’t raised his voice but he’d somehow managed to make his point very effectively. Wyatt turned and grabbed onto Sabrina’s legs, burying his face.
Sabrina rubbed the back of his head and shook hers. “I don’t know how you did that, but thanks.” Looking speculatively at Jackson, she asked, “Do you want to come and see how this turns out?”
Not particularly was the answer he was poised to give, but for reasons he didn’t understand he walked back to the playground with them and waited with the girl while Sabrina brought Wyatt over to the crying boy.
She got Wyatt to a
pologize, too, though he first looked back at Jackson to make sure he was still there.
“My mom didn’t know you,” the girl told Jack suddenly.
He looked down at her. “What?”
“You said to tell my mom hello, but she didn’t know you.”
“Sure she does.” His eyes settled on Sabrina, and he nodded at her.
The girl burst out laughing. “You think she’s my mom?”
He looked between the two of them in confusion. “I did. She’s not?”
“No, that’s my Aunt Sabrina.”
“Oh.” He studied the girl. “Then who are you?”
“Emma Eckhart.”
“So your dad…”
“Is Brina’s big brother. His name’s Aaron and my mom is Leah.”
“Oh.”
Emma smiled at Sabrina. “She’s cool.”
One of Jackson’s eyebrows shifted as he watched Sabrina speak calmly to the boy. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah. She lets me call her Brina or Brie, and when we have sleepovers we eat ice cream for dinner and watch cartoons until we fall asleep. I don’t have a bedtime with her. She’s fun.”
“So who’s Wyatt?”
“He’s my cousin.”
“Not Sabrina’s little boy?”
“No.” She giggled. “Wyatt’s Uncle Sam and Aunt Candace’s kid.”
“Huh.”
“So, we’re going back to my house for popsicles. Want to come?”
“Popsicles?”
“They’re like frozen Kool-Aid on a stick.”
He chuckled. “I know what a Popsicle is. It’s just been awhile.”
“Come on. Brina won’t mind.”
“You sure?”
“No. But I don’t mind.”
“Better ask her first.”
Sabrina returned, dragging Wyatt by the hand. “Still here?” she asked Jackson with a casual smile.
“He said he wants a Popsicle too,” Emma told her.
Jackson turned and stared at Emma. “Hey!”
Sabrina laughed. “Oh, yeah? Well, I suppose you deserve one for helping me out.” She tipped her head. “Come on then.”
****
They sat out on the front steps so that any mess the kids made would be outside. Turned out the plan applied to Jackson, too. His sticky orange wrapper draped over his hand like a banana peel, and he was doing his best to keep from getting dripped on, but it was an ongoing battle. Damn Popsicle was melting at record speed.
“I like the red ones,” Emma told him, swirling her tongue along the drippy bottom. Her lower lip looked three sizes larger than when she started.
“What flavor is that?” he asked her.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Red?”
“Oh, Wyatt.” Sabrina sighed. “You should see yourself.” She giggled helplessly, realizing she was fighting a losing battle to keep the boy clean. He was turning purple before their eyes. She threw her hands up in defeat and let it go.
Sabrina picked up her melting root-beer-flavored Popsicle from the step and peeled back the paper. The drips were so bad she had to lean out over the grass to eat it, but she’d waited too long. One single lick and the whole thing broke apart along the sides and the entire bottom dropped onto the lawn. A second later the top made a break for it and slid off the stick too.
“I guess that’s it.” She shrugged and flicked the last of the melt onto the grass, then folded the stick inside the empty wrapper. She turned and studied Wyatt. “You almost done there, Buddy?”
He scrunched up his grapey face and shook his head. “No.”
Jackson chuckled and turned back to Emma. “So you play soccer?” His eyes strayed casually back to Sabrina’s sexy calf. Damn, she had nice trim ankles, too.
“I’m a bumblebee,” Emma said between slurps.
“Is that right? What position?”
“We don’t get to choose positions yet. We have to learn all of them first.”
“That makes sense. Well, what’s your favorite so far?”
“I like to score.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I like to score too.”
Sabrina heard that and turned with a snicker. “Well, I’m afraid Wyatt needs a bath.” She stood and tugged her shorts down her legs. “Come on, little man.”
Jackson rose to his feet. “I should get going too. Thanks for the Popsicle, Emma.”
She beamed at him. “You’re welcome, Jackson.” She held out her hand. “I can throw that junk away for you.”
He gave her his garbage. “Thanks. Well, good night.” His eyes caught and held Sabrina’s for a moment.
“Good night, Jackson,” she said softly.
Emma climbed the stairs and went inside. Sabrina caught hold of Wyatt’s sticky purple hands and held them away from everything he could possibly touch. She maneuvered him inside, only managing a brief glimpse of Jackson’s scrumptious backside before he turned left at the sidewalk and jogged for home.
She wondered what route he ran. Then she found herself picturing him riding up the elevator and walking into his quiet, peaceful apartment. She mentally prodded Jackson along to his bathroom, and it wasn’t her little nephew she was seeing as she tugged his stained shirt over his head and shut off the faucet filling the tub. She was visualizing Jackson stripping for his shower. She knew what he looked like, or pretty close, anyway, and she was more than capable of filling in the blanks. She saw him stepping behind the glass, his head falling back as he faced into the spray and reached for the soap.
“I have to pee,” Wyatt announced.
Just like that, her shower fantasy was gone, and in its place was a multicolored little kid dancing in front of the toilet.
Ask her—just ask her where she’d rather be at that moment.
Chapter 15
Jackson made a note on his pad and frowned. “Tom, that footage isn’t going to work. Get over to the courthouse and get statements from the lawyers, the family, anyone connected to the case. Take Wheaten.”
“Got it.” Tom stood and left the conference room.
Jackson looked up at Van. “That should round out the clock. Okay,” he went on, “Municipal rate hikes to cover state shortfalls. Who’s covering that?”
A young woman sitting at the end of the table raised her hand.
“Katie, good. Don’t neglect to explain just how much state funding has dropped in the last several years and created this mounting local deficit. People are upset—they should be—but directing their anger at the city when it’s already wheezing on life support is counterproductive. They’re trying to meet the community’s needs on a shoestring budget.”
Jackson closed his notebook and stood. “Off you go.” Everyone filed out and he looked at Van. “Got a minute?”
Van nodded and followed him to his office.
Jackson went around his desk and Van closed the door behind him.
“I thought I asked you to keep an eye on Romeo and Juliet.”
“You saw that.”
“Pretty hard to miss it. Becky was glaring so hard at Justin I half expected her eyes to start bleeding.”
Van shook his head. “I know. She’s a little hostile.”
“I can’t have that.”
“I think you should talk with Justin first.”
“Beats the hell out of talking to Becky.”
Van let out a short laugh. “I’ll get him.”
Damn. Sometimes it sucked to be right. He let his fingers drum impatiently on his desk until the kid peeked in.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Come on in and shut the door.”
“I’m fired, aren’t I?”
“What?” The kid looked alarmed, terrified. “You’re doing a great job and you’re not fired. Just, sit down. Please.”
Justin slowly sank onto the edge of a chair and looked at him so woefully that Jackson chuckled.
“Honestly, Justin, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to talk to you about something more personal.�
�� That was a stretch. He didn’t want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole.
“Becky,” said Justin.
Jackson nodded. “I don’t like to involve myself in the personal lives of my staff unless those relationships start interfering with the work environment. So what’s going on? Why would I bring you in here?”
“Probably because I’m interested in Marcie Hopper.”
Jack groaned. “The summer intern?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought you were seeing Becky?”
“No.” Justin snorted and shook his head. “Like every other guy I know, I thought she was hot, but then you hired me. I admit I liked the attention and flirting, so I thought why not go out and have some fun—get to know her.”
“And?”
He made a face. “Not much there.”
“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“A couple times,” he admitted sheepishly. “It beat talking to her.”
Jackson frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m not following this.”
“Becky’s nice enough but not exactly a deep person. Beyond work, we had nothing else. She’s not the most intellectual person.”
“And Marcie…”
Justin came alive. “Marcie understands my references, and she always has something interesting to contribute when I bring up things like politics or the world economy. We can talk about U.S. jobs going overseas, and she gets why expecting our government to both shrink and add jobs at the same time is so stupid. I can bring up our immigration policy, rendition, or trade tariffs and she doesn’t glaze over. With Becky, I swear I hear crickets chirping.”
“Does Becky know you like Marcie?”
“Unfortunately, and she’s making it pretty unpleasant. Marcie won’t go out with me because she thinks I’m Becky’s personal property.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Expelling a deep breath, he asked, “Did you ever say anything to give Becky the impression you had a relationship?”
“No, I swear. I don’t even call her. We just went out casually right after work a few times, spontaneously. That doesn’t qualify as dating.”
“Have you tried talking to Becky?”
“I’ve been avoiding her.”
“Well, if I have to talk to her you’re not going to like how I handle it. Kiss Marcie good-bye.”