Babysitter Bear

by Zoe Chant

  Now Sunglasses was starting to look nervous. "Look, it's just business, what I got going on with the merry widow in there. It's not personal. I don't know what your stake is in this, or what you are, but I don't mean her any harm."

  "She seemed pretty upset." Dan gave him a hard shake. "Why are you hassling her?"

  "Ow! Let up! It's not about her. It's about her ex."

  "So why bother her about it?" Dan demanded. "Leave her alone."

  Sunglasses pulled away, and this time Dan let him go. The sunglasses had slipped down his nose, revealing a flash of startling gold eyes. Whatever kind of shifter he was, Dan didn't think it was anything he'd seen before.

  "How is it any of your business?" Sunglasses asked. He straightened his lapel and pushed the sunglasses up his nose, hiding his hawk-gold eyes.

  "Because I don't like seeing a lady bothered," Dan said quietly. He leaned in very close, letting his bear rise to the surface, so the other man could see it in his eyes. "I'm a bear, a big fucking alpha grizzly. You want to mess with that?" Dan pushed him hard, so that his back slammed into the wall. "Yeah, I didn't think so. I'm a problem you really don't want to have. Get out of here, and If I see you in town again, now or ever, and especially if I see you anywhere near Paula, we'll have this chat again, okay? Except I won't be as nice."

  Sunglasses made a low growling sound, and there was a moment when Dan thought the other shifter was going to call his bluff. But then Sunglasses pulled away, and scrambled away down the alley, his dress shoes slipping on the ice and snow.

  Dan followed him out to the street, and watched him get into a car and drive away, hightailing it for the highway. Taking a deep breath, he walked back up the street to the diner and went inside.

  Paula and the two older kids were plastered to the window. They all spun around to look at the door when he came in.

  "Thanks for watching them," Dan said mildly. He went back over to his table. "Sandy, Mina, sit down, don't stand up on the seat. It's rude."

  They both plunked obediently down. Sandy was wide-eyed. "Wow, you just walked that guy out of here like on a TV show! Who was he?"

  "No one you have to worry about," Dan told him, and turned to Paula. "I told him to leave. Looks like he followed orders, but if he comes back, let me know, okay? I told him I wouldn't be as nice the second time around. And that's a promise I mean to keep."

  Paula flushed. "You don't need to get involved with my problems."

  I already am. I was the first time I saw you. Now and forever.

  Again ... not helpful.

  "Nobody should get away with that," he said. "I'll be happy to throw him out again, harder this time."

  Paula looked dubious. "You don't even know me."

  It was technically true, and yet not. It was as if he had met her in some other life, a long time ago. His soul knew hers.

  But that was another thing he couldn't just blurt out.

  "I know enough," he said. "I know you're a busy, successful businesswoman who doesn't need to deal with this kind of sh—er, crap. And you shouldn't have to handle that kind of thing on your own."

  He had said something wrong. It was like a shutter came down behind her eyes.

  "I've been handling things on my own for a long time," Paula said. "I'm just going to check on your order."

  "Paula—wait—Sandy, watch your sisters!"

  Leaving Sandy making a put-upon sighing noise behind him, he hurried after her. She wasn't running away, as such, and she turned around before she got to the kitchen, holding her waitress pad clasped to her chest.

  "I didn't mean to imply you can't deal with it by yourself," Dan said quietly. "Obviously you can. It's just ... sometimes a little help is nice. That's all."

  Paula's harder expression melted a little. The corner of her mouth quirked up.

  "And I do appreciate it. Really. You get used to doing things on your own, sometimes it's hard to cope with someone telling you they have your back."

  "Boy, do I know that feeling," Dan said, heartfelt.

  They shared a moment's commiserating smile. The eye contact deepened. Her eyes were amazing, a thousand shades of blue, like all the summer skies he'd ever seen, rolled into one—

  "Order up!" the cook yelled. Dan jumped, and Paula took a quick step back. The cook looked around from setting plates in the window and added with a scowl, "This guy bothering you, Miz DeWitt?"

  "No, Mitch, I'm fine." Paula scooped up the plates and turned to Dan, smiling. "And sometimes it's easy to forget how many people actually do have your back. Let me just carry these to the table for you."

  "I can give you a hand if you want."

  She handed off one of the plates. "Now I really am risking my tip," she said, laughing.

  For a tip, how about my entire heart? My home, my house, everything I am ...

  Which brought him up short. What did he have to offer a mate right now? He was living in a friend's spare bedroom, watching someone else's kids.

  Paula stopped, frowning at him. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. I just ..." He almost backed off. Almost. He had so little to give a mate. But if he ran away, he could give her nothing at all. "I'd really like to ask you out for coffee sometime. If you want to."

  There was that shutters-going-down expression again. Paula looked down at the plates in her hands.

  "It's not that easy," she said. "I mean, you seem nice. Really nice. And you helped me a lot just now—"

  "I didn't help you out to get you to go on a date with me," he said, horrified.

  "No, no, it's not that I thought you did." She looked up again, eyes wide and wary. "It's just that ... I have kids, I don't think I mentioned that. I'm a single mom. I can't rush into anything. You have to understand that."

  "I do," he said quickly. "It was just a thought. Never mind, no worries."

  He started to turn away.

  "Wait!" she said, and he looked back, hope rising in his chest.

  Paula took a quick breath. "Tonight there's a kind of a thing, I mean it's not really a thing, it's just that me and some of the other parents from my daughter's class are taking our kids to the indoor mini golf course up by the highway. Do you want to maybe meet us there? You can bring your kids, I mean the Rugers' kids, and I'll bring mine. The kids can shoot a few holes, and we can—talk. Because I'd like to talk more."

  Dan's bear was paying attention with every fiber of its being.

  "Just two adults taking the kids somewhere," Paula added.

  "Definitely."

  "Not a date."

  "For sure," he agreed. "Not at all. Two adults."

  "Yep." She smiled at him again. She smiled a lot, it seemed. It settled very naturally onto her face, as if not smiling was the unnatural state for her.

  If he hadn't already been gone the moment he looked into her eyes, he was certainly gone now.

  "Tonight," he said, and he found that he was grinning so hard it felt like his face would split in two.

  Paula

  Since she currently had no full-time staff and no part-timers she trusted to leave in charge, Paula had started closing the diner in early afternoon, after the lunch rush died down. Afternoons were always dead anyway, and they never had much of a dinner crowd. She didn't serve alcohol, and most people preferred to go to the bar and grill, or La Taquerita, the one Mexican restaurant in town.

  This meant she could be home when the kids got off school.

  It also gave her far too much time to dither over her not-a-date with Dan.

  Were earrings too much? Half the time she didn't even bother putting studs in her nominally pierced ears. She couldn't even remember the last time she had bothered to wear one of the handful of nice dangly earrings she owned.

  What about makeup? When she had time, she dabbed on a bit of lipstick and mascara for work (fair or not, it noticeably kicked up her tips) but she didn't always have time for it. Was the red too much, she wondered, or the understated coral ...

  "Mom," A
ustin said in horrified disbelief, wandering past the open bathroom door, "are you really getting dressed up to go to The Big Putz?"

  "Don't call it that or you'll get your sister started," Paula said, holding one of the danglies in front of her earlobe.

  Austin had perfected the art of the exasperated teenage huff, and he did it now. "Mom, do I have to go? Can't I stay home? I'm fifteen; I don't need a babysitter. Please. It's so boring."

  Normally, she would have let him. But there were extenuating circumstances.

  "Mrs. Chang said you've been cutting American History all week."

  Austin froze, and in the mirror, Paula glimpsed him looking abruptly guilty, as if she'd caught him doing something much worse than skipping class. She turned around to get a better look at his face, but he was already scowling, the vulnerable moment gone.

  "So?" he said. "I'm getting good grades on the tests."

  "You can't just decide not to go to class, Austin, it doesn't work that way. Where were you instead?"

  "Just ... hanging out!"

  "With who? Do I need to tell your friends' parents that their kids are cutting class too?"

  "Everyone does it!" Austin said belligerently, tucking his hands under his arms.

  "That may be, but you're going to stop immediately or I'm grounding you."

  Austin looked suddenly hopeful. "If I'm grounded, does that start tonight?"

  Paula felt outmaneuvered. It had been so much easier to deal with the kids when they were younger. "No. You're going to Sir Putts-A-Lot with us and that's final."

  "Mom!" Austin protested, just as Lissy wailed from down the hall, "Moommmmm! I can't find my golf shoes! The froggie ones!"

  "You don't need special shoes to play mini golf, dumbass!" Austin yelled back. "That's bowling!"

  "Mommmm!"

  "Austin James DeWitt Raines, don't call your sister a dumbass."

  "Or what?" Austin demanded. "Or you'll make me go mini golfing?"

  "You're going to Sir Putts with your sister and me, and that's that."

  Austin stomped off and slammed his bedroom door.

  Paula wondered how much of a power struggle she was going to have getting him out of the house. She might have to leave him behind after all. Why didn't kids come with a convenient manual?

  "I need my frog shoes!" Lissy wailed.

  Paula went with the dangly earrings. This was the closest thing to a date she'd had since Lissy was born. Even if it didn't go anywhere, she might as well have some fun tonight.

  Kids or no kids.

  Even at 6 p.m. on a winter night, the parking lot of Sir Putts-A-Lot was half full. Through the early winter darkness, Paula scanned the lot for vehicles she recognized, which was at least half of them. There was Maybelle Hartz's little Toyota truck, and the Kozlowskis' minivan, and that brand new Range Rover that was apparently Doug Espinoza's idea of a midlife crisis machine.

  It occurred to her that she had no idea what sort of vehicle Dan drove. She spotted the Ruger family Subaru hiding behind Ed Johnson's big white truck, and felt her heart clutch with a strange mix of relief and regret. He was here! And he'd brought the Rugers. That was good, right? Not a date. Definitely.

  "Mom?" Lissy called from the door.

  "Coming!" She gave up her car search and hurried to the door, waving to one of the Kozlowskis—she could never remember all their names.

  Inside, the building's cavernous open space echoed with shrieking kids' voices. As always, in all weather, it somehow managed to be both stuffy and drafty at the same time. Plywood barricades painted to look like brick roughly cordoned off an area near the door for a front desk and some long laundromat-style racks for coats. Paula collected the kids' jackets and let them go on ahead while she hung them up.

  "Paula?"

  She wasn't prepared for the thrill that went through her at the sound of Dan's voice, but she certainly appreciated it. Turning, she saw him with Sandy. Both of them still had their coats on.

  "You came," she said, beaming. "Do you want to ditch your coat? You'll probably get too hot once you start moving around."

  "I wasn't sure if there was a coat check desk or something," Dan said.

  "Oh, no, there's no desk or anything. Just hang it up on the rack. It's not like you won't recognize your own coat later."

  Dan laughed a little. "This is a small town," he said, mostly to himself. He shrugged out of his coat; underneath, he had on a plaid shirt that hugged his muscular chest. Lucky shirt. "Yeah, sure, why not. Can I take yours, kid?"

  Sandy stripped off his parka and Dan draped it over his arm—the artificial one. Paula was definitely not staring, but she was curious. She hadn't gotten a very good look at his arm earlier. He moved so naturally that she never would have noticed it if not for the visible metal of the clamp end.

  "Where's the rack?" Dan asked.

  "Oh. Right. Over here."

  "Mooooom!" Lissy yelled from the front desk, her voice cutting through the echoing hockey-arena cacophony of voices and clattering golf balls.

  "Coming!" Paula yelled back. "My public awaits," she said to Dan. "Who else is here?"

  "I don't know anyone but you," Dan said.

  "No, I meant—didn't you come with the Rugers?"

  "Just Sandy," Dan said.

  "I saw their car outside—"

  "Oh, yeah. I borrowed it for the evening. Gaby and Derek are staying in with the girls."

  "Mom!!"

  "Hold your horses!" Paula called back. Lissy, she saw, had located two of the other little girls from her fourth-grade class, both of them clutching bright-colored golf clubs. Lissy was showing off her light-up frog shoes, a Christmas present this past December and currently her pride and joy. "Well, in that case, do you two want to play against us?"

  "Sure," Dan said, with an easy grin that curled her toes.

  Paula paid at the desk, passing their ball and putter to a deeply unimpressed-looking Austin to hold, and bought some concession tickets to get hot dogs and Cokes for the kids.

  "Hey, I'll get yours too," she said to Dan over her shoulder.

  "You don't have to."

  "It's my treat. Small-town hospitality. Kids," she said, "this is Dan. He's new in town. These are my children, Austin and Lissy. Say hi to Dan, kids."

  Neither of them was paying much attention. Lissy was still focused on her friends. Austin looked like he thought he was a martyr going to the rack.

  "You know, I don't even think I even know your last name," Paula said, slightly embarrassed.

  "Ross," Dan said.

  Ross. Paula was not doodling little hearts around that name in her head. Definitely not.

  They gathered their equipment and went on inside, past the barricades and into the wide-open space of the building's interior. Banks of overhead fluorescent lights lit it up like a box store, and underneath, Astroturf spread out in a maze of holes and obstacles, ramps and bridges.

  The general theme, in keeping with the name of the place, was Ye Jollie Olde Medieval England. There were miniature castles, plastic knights on horseback, and a fake mill with a slowly spinning water wheel where you had to putt the ball into a cup on the wheel.

  All of it looked like it had been built in someone's backyard workshop, which was probably true. The castles gave the impression that they might fall over if you pushed on them, though Paula knew from experience that the plywood structures were sturdy enough for children to climb on.

  Some of Lissy's classmates were trying to get their ball past a slowly opening and closing drawbridge over a water trap. As usual, several balls floated in the water. There was a pool skimmer with a laminated printer-paper sign taped beside it reading, FISH YOUR BALLS OUT - THE MGMT. Someone, probably around Austin's age, had spray-painted over the first two words so it read, instead, BALLS OUT - THE MGMT.

  She was starting to regret inviting Dan here, but it was too late.

  "Want to do the yellow course, kids?" she asked.

  "Is that the one with the dra
gon?" Lissy said. "Yeah!"

  "Joy," Austin muttered under his breath, slinking along behind them.

  Paula squeezed his arm and pressed half the concession tickets into his hand. "Here, you can stuff down as many hot dogs as this will buy, or whatever else you want. Do you need some change for the arcade games?"

  Austin made a grumbling sound that might have been "Yes."

  "This building has been here forever," Paula explained to Dan as she dug into her purse. "It started out, I think, as some kind of combination drive-in and roller rink, back in the fifties. It might even have been here before that."

  "I wish we had a roller rink," Austin muttered. "At least that would be sort of fun."

  "You like roller skating, champ?" Dan asked him. "When I was a kid, I used to love skateboarding."

  Austin gave him a look of deepest exasperation.

  "Here," Paula said, giving him the quarters. "Stay in sight, please."

  Austin grunted and slouched off in the direction of the concession stand with its adjoining bank of retro arcade games. It was a general hangout area for older siblings and parents taking a break from all the preteens on the golf course proper.

  "I'm sorry about him," Paula said. "He wanted to stay home. I hoped he'd have fun, but ..." She shrugged with a rueful smile. "I guess I wouldn't have wanted to go mini golfing with my mom when I was his age, either."

  "Mommmm," Lissy moaned, tugging at her arm. Paula gave her the ball and let her line up the first shot on the yellow course.

  "So you were telling me about the history of the building?" Dan prompted, while the kids played through the first few yellow-flagged holes and the two of them followed behind.

  Paula winced. "I'm sorry. What a thing to dump on you the minute we walked in. I must be boring you horribly."

  "Not at all," he said, and sounded sincere. "I really love that this town's history is so real to you, that it's so much a part of your life."

  "It's not a very exciting history," Paula said. "So yeah, this is one of those buildings that keeps changing hands while various businesses start up and fail. When I was a kid, there was a bowling alley here. Oh gosh, what was it called? Something that makes Sir Putts-A-Lot sound classy ... oh yeah, it was All About Bowl. It was the teen hangout spot. Mostly for lack of competition, I guess."