by Cheri Allan
Jim picked a Tootsie Roll off the curb and stuffed it in his hat. “I give up.”
“Your cousin. Carter.” She watched passively as little Sarah collected candy off the street.
Jim couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Hey, Sarah, honey, why don’t you let Doug get that for you?”
“So, tell me,” Justine continued. “Is he available?”
“What? Christ, Justine. You have a husband. Or have you forgotten again?”
“Not for me!” She glanced around as if shocked by such an outrageous idea. “I have a friend who’s single... I just thought they might—”
“No.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, why not?”
He turned to look at her then. Her long dark hair pulled into a chic silver clip at her nape. Her too-thin model’s frame in beaded halter top, white shorts and silver thongs. “Because we don’t run in your circles.”
“Run in our—? Jim.” She said his name as if it was some sultry reprimand. The naughty pool-boy that needed to be reminded who was boss.
“Justine, you treat people like things. I don’t see how your friends would be any different.”
She looked upset now, the petulant pout he’d once thought so alluring now simply looked childish. “Don’t be mean, Jim. I don’t bear any ill-will toward you. Water under the bridge and all that.” She leaned closer, her lips a whisper from his ear. “You know I’ll always love you, Jimmy.”
He gritted his teeth, swallowing the traitorous reply that nearly spilled from his tongue. Love. As if Justine even knew what the word meant. As if he did.
He stared at her, a nerve throbbing in his forehead, and wondered how he could ever have said those words to this woman. He’d never say them now. And there was nothing more he cared to say to her. It was difficult for two years worth of wasted personal investment to flow smoothly under any bridge—fictional or not.
“Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you,” she went on blithely. “I have news. Derek took a job in New York. We’re moving the end of the month. So, I guess it’s good we ran into each other today, so we have a chance to say goodbye.”
Jim stared at Justine. Stared, then, at the little girl stuffing chocolate into her mouth, the little girl that not long ago had decorated his refrigerator with three-fingered princesses.
The little girl he’d once thought might one day call him Daddy.
She was looking down Main Street, oblivious to anyone but the hay wagon loaded with teenagers in their prom formals. He realized then she still hadn’t said hello to him. Her eyes had skimmed over him with the same detachment her mother had perfected long ago.
And then it hit him.
Even though he’d once envisioned a future with this child in it, to her he was probably just another face in a long line of her mother’s ‘friends.’ No one particularly special or momentous. Just another adult. And hadn’t he played a part in that? Hadn’t he allowed Justine to set the rules? Whether he’d enjoyed the game wasn’t the point. The point was, he was no longer playing. Hadn’t been for nearly five months.
It was better, then, that Sarah not remember him as anyone special. For her sake, he rationalized, forgetting him was for the best.
“I think we’ve already said our goodbyes,” he said at last.
“Well, then, fine. Maybe we’ll see you sometime. When we visit or something.”
“Right.” He knew he’d never see her again.
She turned away from him then, briskly impatient. “Come on, Sarah, that’s enough. Let’s get going.”
“But, mama!” the little girl protested, albeit weakly, as if already knowing her voice wouldn’t be heard.
“No buts. If we don’t leave now, we’ll have to wait for the traffic to clear after the parade is over.” With that, Justine turned on her heel and strode away.
Jim watched as Sarah heaved a sigh of resignation, grabbed a few more pieces of candy off the sidewalk and hurried after her mother without a backward glance.
As if they’d never meant anything to each other.
“Can’t see! Can’t see!” Jim looked down as Liam tugged at his elbow. “Can’t see!” he protested.
Jim realized a family had stepped in front of them while he’d been speaking with Justine. “All right, Bud. I hear you. How’d you like to sit up on my shoulders for a bit? We can let Uncle Doug collect the candy.”
Liam’s face lit up. “Sure!”
Jim passed the hat stuffed with candy to Doug and hoisted Liam atop his shoulders. Liam laughed and bobbed excitedly as he remarked on the view from up high.
Jim’s lips twisted wryly.
A week ago he’d been anguished over the trauma little Sarah must have experienced when Justine had ended their relationship.
How ironic to realize the only one traumatized by it was him.
“YOU’RE NOT GOING THROUGH WITH IT, are you?” Rachel asked as their float made its languid progress down Main Street.
Grace didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Fifty bucks is fifty bucks.” She smiled serenely at the crowd and gave a beauty-pageant wave as Kate tossed candy to a group of kids clustered by the road.
The pickup stopped again, and the three women suppressed a groan. They were nearly to the end now, but the high school band was doing another number, and they’d have another couple minutes in the broiling heat.
“Oh look, Kate!” Rachel said. “There’s your little guy up ahead. See? In front of the police station.”
Kate scanned the crowd and then stopped short when she spied Liam atop Jim’s shoulders. She blinked and then blindly dipped her hand in the candy bucket again, threw another handful at the same kids she had a moment before.
As she watched her son bouncing and smiling on Jim’s shoulders, leaning down to giggle in his ear, it struck Kate that life could be unbelievably cruel. If she didn’t know better, she would guess she was witnessing the easy exchange between a father and his son. A family. And if things were different—less complicated and unbelievably screwed up—maybe that wouldn’t be such a stretch.
But reality was a far cry from appearances.
“Where’s Doug?” asked Grace.
“I don’t know,” replied Rachel. “Oh, wait! Look! He’s picking up candy. Isn’t that sweet? He’s going to be such a good dad.”
“Yeah,” Grace agreed as the pickup lurched into blessed motion again, “and your sex life will be dead.”
“Oh, stop teasing. Look at you! You’re wiggling your booty for bucks.”
Grace grinned and tossed some candy, clearly not offended by the gentle ribbing. “You’re not such a goodie-two-shoes as you like to pretend. You just haven’t had the right kind of offer.”
“Right. You’ve got me pegged. I’m a pole-dancer looking for my big break.”
“I dare you,” Grace said laughingly.
“Dare me what?” Rachel asked as she threw out the last of her candy.
“I dare you both!” Grace said, looking at Kate now, too. “When we get to the police station, I dare you both to wiggle your booties and blow kisses with me. Come on! It’ll be a hoot!”
“Oh, I don’t—” began Kate.
“What do we get if we do?” Rachel asked.
“I’ll split the fifty bucks three ways.”
Rachel turned to Kate. “I don’t know. Not a lot of incentive. What do you think?”
“I…” They were nearly at the police station now. Liam was waving maniacally at her, Jim was grinning, looking more the picture of happy fatherhood than Randy ever had.
Kate stared at them on the sidewalk, the heat shimmering in waves over her vision, and suddenly it all struck her as cruelly unfair.
She couldn’t say what, exactly, was unfair. Was it the vague sense of spending three decades of her life being the goodie-two-shoes Grace had just made fun of and still ending up empty-handed? Where was her adoring husband collecting candy? Where was her sexy admirer daring her to do something slightly naughty?
As
if from a distance, Rachel and Grace turned, smiling, waving, egging her on. She stared at Jim and Liam and tried to absorb the unfairness of timing and fate.
Her pulse quickened, the heat rolling over her, making her dizzy. Emotion, dark and unfamiliar, swarmed her, a solar flare, blistering in intensity, robbing her of air and reason.
“Damn you,” she breathed, the capriciousness of fate crashing over her in a wave. Damn you, Randy Mitchell! Damn you for not being the father Liam deserved. Damn you for not being the husband I deserved. And damn you for being so RECKLESS, SELF-CENTERED and STUPID that you ran yourself into a Goddamn tree!!
Rachel caught Kate’s eye, her brows knitted in confusion and concern, but Kate felt strangely numb, set apart, the strumming, red-hot anger blocking everything out. Blanketing everything.
Till there was nothing.
No horns or sirens. No cheering, milling crowds. No parade. Nothing. Not even anger.
She spun around again, her heart racing, frantic, her hand gripping the stiff fabric of her skort as they inched closer...
And there he was. Jim. He stood on the sidewalk, watching her with laughing hazel eyes. And she wanted what they promised with every fiber of her being.
And at the last moment she leaned forward, brought her hand to her lips… smiled brilliantly… and blew him a kiss.
Like a dreamer bursting through to a world of sound and color, Kate watched the answering grin on Jim’s face, heard her own laughter bubble up in the shimmering heat.
Nana was right.
Kate didn’t want a superhero.
All she really wanted was one good man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
____________________
KATE’S TANK TOP STUCK TO HER back in the heat. She tugged at the hem of her skort and trailed Grace and Rachel up the sidewalk toward the men, fighting the urge to bolt. Jim stood, watching as she approached, and even though he’d seen her with far fewer clothes on, she suddenly felt over-exposed. True, she hadn’t actually wiggled anything, booty or otherwise, but she’d been as subtle as Marilyn Monroe holding her skirt down over an air vent.
“Ah, our saucy women of red, white and blue.” Doug bent to kiss his wife. “Now, how come you didn’t blow me a kiss?”
Flustered, Kate turned in time to see Grace elbow Jim in the side. “Don’t look so disappointed,” she said. “Doug didn’t even get a kiss from his own wife.”
“I didn’t say a thing,” Jim murmured, though he caught Kate’s eye again, his look searching and a little confused. Her face grew warmer, if that were possible. No wonder he was confused! One minute she was telling him no more sex and the next minute she was blowing kisses? What guy wouldn’t be confused?
He held out his cap. “Here’s Liam’s haul. Thought you’d want to decide what he could eat. You can return the hat later.” He thrust it toward her until she took it.
Oh God. She felt like an idiot. Here he was collecting candy like a grown-up and she—
“Now what was that all about, young lady?”
“Nana!” Kate whirled, embarrassment raising the temperature in her face another few degrees.
Nana raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you kids could use a cool down. Why don’t I take the little guy here around the corner for some ice cream or lemonade? Lucky’s has air conditioning…”
Kate turned to look through the front window of the local pub. A patron in the front table pulled a cardigan over her shoulders. Grace sighed longingly.
“I wouldn’t turn away a cold beer.” Doug said.
“They do make fabulous fried ice cream,” Rachel added.
“I’m not sure.” Kate glanced at Jim, wondering if he wanted her to join them or not after her flagrant public flirtation. She’d wanted to keep things light and casual between them, but she feared she was being the Queen of Mixed Signals.
His eyes never left her face. “I could go for something sweet,” he finally said.
“Me, too,” Grace added. She waved and winked briefly to a police officer as he directed the last of the parade traffic then opened the door to the pub.
Inside, their hostess led them to two corner tables. Kate took a seat and blotted her forehead with a napkin. Jim was still standing, hovering, when the police officer they’d seen outside strode toward them.
“Tsk. Tsk. You disappoint me, Grace.” The officer wore a teasing grin despite holding his body with the rigid control of his profession.
“I know,” Grace sighed, “but if I’d come through, you probably would have brought me in for indecent exposure. Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.”
“Jeff, you joining us?” Jim asked.
“No. Still on duty. Just came to cool off for a minute. Say hi.” His eyes never left Grace as she draped languidly over her chair.
“How’s that working for you?” she asked.
“Not well.” He watched her another long moment, gave an odd look toward Rachel, then mumbled something about getting back to work before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
“What was that all about?” Jim asked.
Grace shrugged. “He said he’d give me fifty bucks if I blew him a kiss and wiggled my booty.”
Jim’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I’m not even going to ask how you came to that agreement.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Tell that to Jeff.”
“When are you going to stop teasing him?” Rachel asked. “He’s a good guy. It’s not fair to lead him on like that.”
Grace grabbed the dessert menu and began fanning herself with it. “You know why.”
“Why?” Jim asked. “Jeff’s a decent guy. Plus, he has a job. That’s better than your last boyfriend.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. Jeff Dayton doesn’t ‘date.’ Not like a normal person.”
“What are you talking about? He’s dating someone new every time I turn around.” Jim pulled up a chair next to Kate.
“Maybe he’s only happy on the hunt,” said Doug. “As soon as things get serious, he loses interest. Some guys are like that. They don’t stick around.”
“He never struck me as being like that,” said Jim.
Rachel twirled her wedding ring then set her hands in her lap. “Maybe there’s someone in his past no one else can compare to.”
“I don’t think he even remembers when we were together,” said Grace. “Anyway, it’s all ancient history now.”
Grace and Jeff dated? Kate looked toward Rachel who was rummaging for something in her purse. Doug abruptly excused himself to wash hands.
Kate scooted her chair over to let Doug out as the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. Jim also adjusted his seat, his knee brushing hers lightly and sending electric shocks up her thigh. Kate scooted her chair a respectable distance away again.
A moment later, Jim leaned toward her ear. “So why didn’t you, um, flip your skirt and wiggle your booty?”
Kate pressed her lips together, the heat rising in her face—along with other parts of her body. Jim’s hazel eyes were dark and playful and reminded her of how he’d looked when he’d arrived at the cottage after the fire call the night before last. “It’s only a skort. And maybe I didn’t feel like it.”
“Hmm. But, as a float promoting the Gifts for the Greater Good, I would think you’d want to spread goodwill any way you could.”
She couldn’t suppress a smile. “Goodwill, huh? I suppose I do feel strongly about supporting charities.”
“Indeed.”
“And, it is important to bring attention to a worthy cause.”
“You’d get my attention.”
She hid another smile in her napkin then paused as their drinks arrived and they placed their dessert orders.
Jim leaned in again until his mouth was a hairs-breadth from her ear. “So, just to clarify, is a skort one of those skirt-short things?”
She knew her face was more than pink now but didn’t care. Flirting with him f
elt too good. Easy. This was light and casual, right? “Yes. Why?”
He shrugged and slanted a sly grin at her as he pulled the wrapper off his straw. “Just curious.”
“Do you think I’m the kind of woman who’d consider doing that if I weren’t wearing a skort?” she whispered.
His knee slid against her thigh again. She didn’t move away this time. “Well, considering some certain comments about the French Riviera you’ve made in the past, I have to say it does bring it into question...”
“All’s fair in love and war,” she murmured.
“Not that I’m complaining.”
She met his eyes. “You’re not, are you?”
“No way. You can wiggle your booty in my direction anytime you feel like it.”
“Good to know.” She sipped her drink and leaned in to him. The hair at his temple was damp with sweat and very sexy. “Just to clarify, is that with a skort... or without?”
He choked on his iced tea, and Kate patted his back, a wicked part of her enjoying his discomfiture more than she could say.
“Whatever feels right,” he finally managed.
“Would you two stop whispering down there?” Grace demanded. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying over the A/C.”
“I think that’s the point,” Doug said dryly as he took his seat again.
The waitress arrived with desserts for those who’d ordered them and the conversation moved to more neutral ground. Jim sipped his tea and dug into his fried ice cream with gusto. “Want a bite?” he invited.
Kate shook her head, too aware of his thigh against her knee to think about eating. It felt strangely intimate to be touching under the table, their hands and words perfectly poised and presentable above-board. Intimate. And confusing.
Wasn’t she the one who’d given him the whole speech on just being friends? So what was she doing flirting and touching his knee under the table? Not that he seemed to mind, precisely, but...
“Guess who we ran into at the parade?” Doug asked, stealing a spoonful of Rachel’s dessert.
“Doug—” Jim warned.
“Justine. She’s moving. Out of town.”