Her Second Chance Family

by Christine Scott

  Maggie hesitated. She’d been a whisper away from a clean getaway when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Those pale blue eyes that mirrored his every emotion. She’d spent the past ten minutes trying to lift Jason’s spirits. How in the world could she abandon him now? Not when he looked so miserable.

  Nervously she licked her lips. “It’s, um, been nice talking to you, Jason.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. Just enough to make the dimple deepen on his cheek. But not enough to wash the sadness from his eyes. “Thank you for listening, Maggie. You’ve been a good friend.”

  Such simple words, yet they caused her heart to stutter. They both knew that there was more than friendship growing between them. There was undeniable attraction.

  Jason might be the most gentle, sensitive man she’d ever met. But he’d come into her life too late. So much had happened She’d struggled too hard to find her independence. She wasn’t about to give it up now.

  Kevin was the only male she could allow in her life. There just wasn’t room for anyone else.

  Maggie shrugged and gave a quick smile, trying her best to appear lighthearted. “You don’t have to thank me. Looking out for each other—that’s what neighbors are for, right?”

  As she’d expected, a cloud of disappointment shadowed his face.

  Guiltily, before she lost her nerve, Maggie turned on her heel and escaped his tempting presence. Unable to shake the feeling that she’d only delayed the inevitable. That there were forces beyond her control at work here.

  That she might have better luck keeping a tornado at bay than keeping Jason at arm’s length.

  In less than two weeks, Kevin would be out of school. Other than Jenny Lewis’s wedding—a wedding Maggie doubted would even take place—there was nothing to hold her in Wyndchester.

  The thought left Maggie feeling oddly unsettled.

  Later that evening, as she finished washing the dinner dishes at the kitchen sink, she watched her son sitting on the back porch. His baseball glove in hand, he stared at the house next door, his impatience growing each time he tossed the ball into his mitt. He was waiting for Jason to come outside and play catch.

  Selfishly Maggie almost wished their next-door neighbor wouldn’t make an appearance tonight.

  It would certainly make her life easier.

  Sighing, Maggie rinsed a dish and placed it in the drainer. She hadn’t seen Jason since he’d left the diner that morning. But truth be told, his image had stayed with her long after. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering if she’d hurt his feelings. Wondering if she’d only imagined the sensual undercurrents passing between them. Then knowing she hadn’t.

  For the first time in years, she found herself thinking of a man in terms other than fear. As much as she hated to admit it, she was physically attracted to Jason. More than that, she genuinely cared about him. Hand in hand, the two emotions were a deadly combination.

  Which was why she knew it was time to move on, to leave Wyndchester.

  But her heart just wasn’t into making the change.

  Maggie picked up another plate. She dunked the dish under the sudsy water, watching soap bubbles pop into the air. For the past year and a half, she’d done nothing but keep on the move. She was tired of running away. She wanted a stable life for herself and her child.

  In Wyndchester, she’d found her chance at security. She sighed. That is, until Jason came along and disturbed her equilibrium.

  Nearby, a screen door slammed shut.

  Kevin scrambled to his feet, bounding off the porch like a rabbit roused from its burrow. He hurried across the yard, making a beeline for Jason’s house.

  A fist of emotion gripped Maggie’s heart as she watched Jason’s face light up into a smile at Kevin’s approach. Dammit, why did he have to be so good with her son? It would be so much easier to distance Kevin and herself from him if he was a cantankerous grouch.

  Maggie growled her frustration. What was the matter with her? She should be glad he didn’t hold a grudge. Just this morning, he’d made it clear that he wanted more from her than just a casual relationship. And she’d shot him down in no uncertain terms. A lesser man might not have felt up to the task of playing catch with her son.

  But, as she was quickly finding out, Jason was no ordinary man.

  Somewhere he’d found another glove, as well as a small bat. He held out the bat for Kevin’s inspection.

  Kevin’s small mouth opened in awe. He dropped his glove and reached tentatively for the bat. Running his fingers across its smooth surface, he tested its weight with both hands. A priceless grin stretched across his face.

  Speaking words Maggie could not hear, Jason pointed to a spot in the yard.

  Kevin, clutching the bat, hurried to take his place as directed.

  Maggie held a dripping plate as she watched her son’s first attempt with a bat.

  He swung and missed Jason’s pitch by a mile.

  Moaning in commiserative disappointment, she let the plate slip back into the sudsy water and reached for a towel. Drying her fingers, leaving the dirty dishes for later, she tiptoed outside, careful not to let the screen door bang shut behind her. She sat down on the swing in the back porch and watched the pair at a discreet distance.

  “Choke up a little on the bat, Kevin,” Jason called out.

  Kevin frowned, looking at the bat, then at Jason in confusion.

  Jason kept a sober expression, not showing any sign of amusement at her son’s lack of experience. Instead, he strode over to Kevin and adjusted the bat in his hands. He tilted his shoulders at an angle and planted his feet in the right direction. Swinging an imaginary bat in his own hand, he showed Kevin the proper form for hitting.

  Maggie bit her lower lip to stop a smile when she watched her son’s awkward imitation of Jason’s slim-hipped waggle and swing.

  Nodding and giving a quick smile of assurance, Jason strode back to his makeshift pitching mound. Gently he made another pitch.

  This time the bat made contact with the ball. A resounding crack echoed across the yard. The ball sailed high in the air, then fell to the earth at an unseemly short distance from where it had started.

  Disappointment shrouded her son’s face. He kicked the dirt with his shoe, letting the bat sag to the ground.

  “Hey, that’s great, you hit the ball, Kevin,” Jason said, finding the perfect words of encouragement. “You can’t expect to be a home-run hitter the first time at bat. Let’s try it again.”

  Pushing his glasses higher on his nose, Kevin dug the toes of his tennis shoes into the dirt and faced the next pitch with a determined glare.

  Maggie crossed her fingers and held her breath, as Jason lobbed her son another pitch.

  This time Kevin swung the bat at even keel and made direct contact. With all the force his young body could muster, he sent the ball spinning low and fast toward Jason.

  Jason bent down, expecting the ball to be a grounder. But as it neared, it bounced hard off the ground. The force of the impact popped the ball into the air. Jason didn’t have time to react. Maggie watched in horror as the ball flew at him, whacking him squarely on the cheekbone just below his eye.

  Chapter 8

  “Jason!” Maggie gasped, scrambling to her feet Shock numbed her limbs. She stood frozen in the middle of the back porch, staring as Jason swayed beneath the impact of the ball, apparently too stunned to move.

  “Mr. Gallagher!” Kevin dropped the bat. His short legs pumping, he sped toward his wounded hero.

  At the sound of her son’s distress, Maggie forced herself into action. Stomach churning, she ran as fast as she could to join the pair.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Gallagher.” Kevin’s voice cracked with emotion. Tears brimmed his eyes, threatening to spill. He reached a tentative hand, patting his friend’s arm. “Are you okay, Mr. Gallagher?”

  Jason, one hand still cradling his wound, muttered an unintelligible answer.

  Maggie g
ently pushed her son aside to get a closer look. Swallowing her fear, she asked, “Jason, can you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” Jason mumbled, “I can hear you.”

  “Think you could look at me?”

  Reluctantly he opened one eye, the uninjured one, blinking rapidly.

  Frowning, Maggie held up two fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”

  He squinted, then scowled and said grumpily, “Well, if the two of you’d stop moving around, there’d only be four.”

  “Uh-huh. Let’s take a look at that eye.”

  Carefully she pried his hand away from the wound. The ball missed hitting his eye by a mere inch. Unfortunately his cheekbone hadn’t fared as well. It was starting to swell, looking red and bruised. There was a small scrape, with blood oozing at the point of impact. She wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with a black eye.

  “Kevin,” she said, “help me take Mr. Gallagher inside. We’re going to have to put some ice on that eye.”

  “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Jason said, waving off their attempts to help him. “Just give me some room. I can take care of myself.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure how much of his protest was real and how much was a show of machismo. After all, just this morning, hadn’t she wounded his male pride? She doubted he would want to appear vulnerable in her presence.

  He took a step, then swayed like a drunk.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Maggie grabbed him around the waist and supported him with her body. Her tone stern, she said, “No arguments. You’re coming inside with me so I can take a look at that stubborn head of yours.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Gallagher,” Kevin chirped in, taking Jason’s big hand in his own, lacing his small fingers through his. “We don’t want you fallin’ down and gettin’ hurt again.”

  “I’m not helpless, you know,” Jason protested, even as he draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned on her for support. Before she could comment, he narrowed a glance at Kevin, smiling despite his injury. “By the way, nice shootin’, Tex. I think you’ve figured out how to swing a bat.”

  Kevin grinned, looking proud of his achievement. “Next time I promise I’ll try not to hit you.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Let’s take a took at Mr. Gallagher’s eye before we start making any future baseball plans.”

  The three of them headed for the house, their progress awkward. Angling for better support, Maggie shifted her position, the move bringing them closer.

  Jason moaned softly.

  Maggie tightened her grip around his waist and glanced anxiously at him. “Are you okay?”

  “Peachy keen,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She frowned. “Are you sure? You look a little flushed.”

  Instantly his flush deepened. “No, no, I’m fine.”

  Kevin frowned in obvious confusion, his glance bobbing from one to the other.

  Maggie bit her lip, studying her reluctant patient. She was just as confused. There was something odd about Jason’s behavior. In fact, he didn’t seem to be in quite as much pain as he was enjoying himself. Slowly understanding dawned, and she became all too aware of the intimacy of the situation.

  Walking as they were, the sides of their bodies were in close contact. With each step they took, their legs brushed against each other. The worn fabric of his jeans felt buttery soft against her legs. Where she supported him, she had full measure of the powerful width of his shoulders, the narrow cut of his waist and the lean strength of his stomach muscles.

  And the big galoot was enjoying every minute of it.

  Even worse, so was she. Being so close to him set off an odd stirring sensation deep in the pit of her stomach.

  Awareness, pure and simple.

  Annoyance sizzled in her veins. If it wasn’t for Kevin hovering nearby, she’d dump the big phony in the middle of his backyard and let him fend for himself.

  Thankfully they reached the steps of her back porch.

  “Kevin, get the screen door,” she said, wincing at the strained sound of her voice.

  If Jason noticed her discomfort, he had the good grace not to comment. They took the steps carefully. Maggie helped him inside, seating him at the kitchen table. When she released him, the air felt cooler, chilling her. She shivered, hating to admit she missed the heat of his body.

  The bump on his cheekbone had grown in size, the skin around it already starting to discolor, rekindling a certain amount of her sympathy. She couldn’t deny it, the man was injured. “Kevin, go upstairs and get the first-aid kit out of the bathroom. I need to wash that scrape.”

  Kevin didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried out of the kitchen, his tennis shoes thudding on the linoleum floor. His footsteps on the wooden staircase echoed throughout the house. For a little boy, he could make an awful racket.

  Jason winced at the noise.

  Maggie moved to the refrigerator and drew a tray of ice out of the freezer. She cracked the cubes into a hand towel, then wrapped it into a tight bundle. Gingerly she laid the ice pack on his cheekbone and held it in place.

  Jason didn’t protest against her ministrations.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, determined not to think about the close proximity of their bodies or the fact that he seemed to have developed a rapt interest in his eyelevel view of her breasts.

  “Stupid,” he admitted with a sigh. His breath felt warm against her skin. Maggie shivered. “I got KO’d by a seven-year-old. When the crew at the department hears about this, I’ll never live it down.” He gave a sheepish grin. “That son of yours has got some power behind his swing.”

  She smiled. “Other than your wounded pride, how do you feel? Still dizzy? Any nausea?”

  “The dizziness is going away. And I’m not sick to my stomach.” He peered at her from beneath the ice pack, his uninjured blue eye twinkling with mischief. Maggie drew in a steadying breath. Even with a bump on his cheek, the man was too handsome for his own good. “So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?”

  Surprising him, she reached for his hand resting on the kitchen table. He looked at their twined fingers, then raised a brow, a question in his gaze. Before she lost her nerve, she placed his hand on the ice pack, turning over the nursing duties to him.

  “You’re probably going to end up with a black eye,” she said. “But I think you’ll live.” Then, on unsteady feet, she moved away from temptation, trying not to think about the disappointment etched in his face.

  Kevin bounded into the room, bringing with him a welcome distraction. He held out the first-aid box. “It was on the top shelf. I had to climb onto the end of the bathtub to reach it.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie said, pushing from her mind an unwanted picture of her son falling headfirst into the ancient clawfoot tub. “Mr. Gallagher needs to keep the ice pack on for a few more minutes. While we’re waiting, could I interest anyone in a Popsicle?”

  “Yeah,” Kevin said, taking a seat at the table next to Jason.

  Jason shook his head, then winced in pain. “No, thanks. I’m not too hungry right now.”

  Nodding, Maggie refilled the ice tray with water, feeling the weight of Jason’s gaze on her every move. She shoved the tray back into the freezer, splattering water. Ignoring the mess, she took out two Popsicles, a red one for Kevin and an orange for herself. Then, reluctantly, she took a seat at the table.

  Handing Kevin his Popsicle, she unwrapped her own and sank her teeth into the frosty treat. She shivered as she swallowed a cool bite. Then looked up and caught Jason still watching her.

  She stared at him, not sure what to say.

  Fortunately Kevin didn’t suffer from a loss of words. “I’m sure glad you decided to move to Wyndchester, Mr. Gallagher. Where did you used to live?”

  “Chicago,” Jason supplied.

  Maggie’d heard at least three different versions of Jason’s background at the diner. The only thing the stories had in common were tha
t he was formerly a resident of Chicago. At least the gossips had gotten that much right.

  “I’ve never been there.” Kevin took a bite, crunching noisily on the Popsicle. He swallowed hard, then asked, “Is Chicago bigger than Wyndchester?”

  Jason shifted the ice pack and chuckled. “You two aren’t from the Midwest, are you?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Nope, we used to live in—”

  “Florida, born and bred,” Maggie said, her protective instincts kicking in. No matter how friendly Jason seemed, they just couldn’t reveal too much about their pasts to anyone.

  Kevin looked at her, blinking in surprise.

  “Florida, eh?” Jason said, not questioning her fib. “Then I guess that explains why you’re not familiar with Chicago.” He directed his words to Kevin. “It’s one of the biggest cities in the United States. Not only that, they’ve got one of the best baseball teams—the Cubs.”

  “They do?” Kevin’s eyes widened with interest. “Mom, do you think we could go there someday?”

  “Ah...I don’t know, Kevin.”

  “Not to live,” he added quickly. “Just for a visit.”

  “Well, maybe—”

  “‘Cause I don’t ever want to move again,” Kevin said, not giving her a chance to finish. He crunched another bite of Popsicle. Around his full mouth, he explained, “I’m tired of movin’.”

  Jason lowered his ice pack, a curious glint in his eyes.

  Panic struck like a blow to the chest. Maggie nearly dropped her Popsicle in her lap.

  “You’ve lived in a lot of different towns?” Jason asked Kevin. He kept his gaze trained on Maggie.

  “Lots and lots,” Kevin said, ignoring her attempts to catch his eye. He shook his head. “Seems like as soon as I start to like a town, we have to leave.”

  “Kevin, your Popsicle’s dripping,” Maggie said, desperate to stop him from revealing too much. She rose to her feet, taking the sticky treat from her son. “It’s getting late. Time for you to go upstairs and take a bath.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Kevin protested.