Father to Be (25 page)

She gazed away. Her smile was barely formed, equal parts innocence, womanly satisfaction, and curiosity. Considering the possibilities? Savoring the fact that every woman’s decadent fantasy had been about to offer the fantasy to her?

“I would have said yes and slipped away to heat up the night doing wild and depraved things best not spoken of in the light of day,” she said in a dreamy voice.

J.D. swallowed hard, then did it again. Spoken of, hell. Kelsey, wild and depraved, was best not
thought
of in the light of day either.

Her voice returned to normal. “More likely I would thank him for the invitation, but, while I find him incredibly attractive, he really isn’t my type.”

“He wasn’t
that
good-looking,” he said with a scowl.

“I would worry if you thought he was. There’s Mrs. Larrabee.”

“And there are the kids.” He gestured in the opposite direction, where Caleb was herding the kids toward them. He was patient with them, stopping to let them listen to a barker’s spiel, keeping a close watch on them as people passed by. Something about him seemed so familiar—the way he stood, the way he tilted his head to watch the show. For one blessed moment J.D. didn’t realize what it was. Then, with a pang, it hit him—Trey.
He
had stood that way, looking relaxed on the outside but filled with anger and resentment on the inside. He tilted his head like that, watching people and things he didn’t quite trust through narrowed eyes like that.

The last few times they’d been together, he’d looked at J.D. like that.

Swallowing hard, he forced his attention away from them. The last thing he wanted just then was to be reminded of Trey. Those were memories he couldn’t handle, not today, not with Caleb slowly heading this way.

“Have they had a good time?”

He listened to his own breathing, short and harsh, and made a conscious attempt to sound perfectly normal before answering. “I think so. They’ve eaten enough junk food to last a year, and they’ve ridden every ride at least
twice and played every game more than twice. Jacob’s pretty good at the pitching games. I told him I’d dig out my old mitt and practice with him, then see if we can still get him on a summer team.” His grin was rusty and felt phony, but he didn’t think she noticed. “I played in college. Does that impress you?”

“Do I look the type to be impressed by a jock?”

“You were impressed by a thug. Why not a jock?”

“Were you any good?”

“Sweetheart, I’m
very
good. Want me to show you?”

She rolled her eyes, then returned to the subject. “Is everything else all right with the kids?”

“We’re holding our own. Since the visit to the nursing home on Tuesday, Noah’s opened up a bit more, and both Jacob and Gracie were interested in tagging along next time. Until Caleb gave them one of his looks.”

“You need to practice the divide-and-conquer theory,” she said, her voice softening as the kids drew closer. “As long as Caleb exerts so much influence over them, they’re going to be harder to reach. Separate them from him, though, and they’ll be much easier to win over.”

“And when that happens, Caleb’s going to be more difficult than ever,” J.D. muttered. He’d agreed with Noelle in the beginning that the children should be kept together, but now that they were adapting to their situation and to him, life would be easier all around if Caleb were placed elsewhere. Well, maybe not easier for Caleb. The kids had been the reason for everything he’d done for so long, he would find it difficult to let them go. He wouldn’t know what to do without them, wouldn’t know who to be.

“Hello, J.D., Kelsey.” Mrs. Larrabee’s pleased smile included them both. “I wondered if you had a date this evening. I have to say, I’m happy to see you do.”

“Oh, it’s not—” Before Kelsey could finish her correction,
the kids descended on them. Gracie immediately demanded Mrs. Larrabee’s attention to show off the yellow rabbit J.D. had won for her in the ring toss, and Noah sidled up between J.D.’s feet.

“Look. Blue.” He stuck out his tongue to show that it matched the Sno-Kone he held. So did the drips on his shirt, his shorts, and his shoes. “I never had a—”

“Blue tongue before,” J.D. said in unison with him. “Mrs. Larrabee, you want us to clean them up before you head off?”

“Oh, what’s a little Sno-Kone and cotton candy in my car?” she asked carelessly. “What time is bedtime?”

“Eight-thirty,” the younger three answered together.

“So it’s baths, then dinner, then bed.” Mrs. Larrabee gave J.D. a sly wink. “You can stay out as late as you’d like. The children are in good hands. Come along now, kids.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Kelsey punched his shoulder. “You let her believe this is a date.”

“I didn’t let her believe anything. She just assumed it was.” He rubbed his shoulder with exaggerated motions. “Hey, you’ve got a pretty good jab there.”

“An assumption you didn’t bother to correct, and my right hook is even better. Don’t make me prove it.”

“Well, you didn’t make much of an effort to correct her yourself. Besides, look at the facts. It’s Saturday night. You and I are alone. Together. We’re going to have a little entertainment, a little dinner, and a little good night—”

“Handshake at the gate,” she interrupted. “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to see the carnival with you.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” He put some distance between them and asked seriously, “Kelsey, would you like to come to the carnival with me tonight?”

She pretended to consider it before grudgingly saying, “All right, but it’s
not
a date.”

He drew her to her feet, then stepped closer than the
situation called for. “Who are you trying to convince? Mrs. Larrabee, who’s gone? Me? Or yourself?”

She gave him a startled look, then moved away without answering. Missing that instant of closeness, he turned to follow her.

They walked along the midway, stopping to talk with friends, sharing cotton candy, playing a game or two. She won an elephant. He won a stuffed ’gator that she promptly christened Al. After a while they went to the food court, where she got an Italian sausage and sweet peppers on a bun. In deference to the sweets he’d snacked on all afternoon, he chose a plain hot dog.

“What do you want to drink?”

She eyed the choices listed on a chalkboard beside the cash register. “Beer.”

“Should I make that two?” the helpful clerk asked.

J.D. considered it. There was something incredibly satisfying about a beer at the end of a long, hot day. If he closed his eyes, he could almost taste it—cold, smooth, full-flavored. But he didn’t close his eyes. “One beer, one lemonade.”

“Are you not a drinker?” Kelsey asked as they carried paper plates and cups through a maze of tables and folding chairs to a distant, unoccupied table.

“You should know I’m not. It’s in your files.”

“I can get something else if you prefer. I mean, if this is a strong conviction of yours.”

“I try not to make rules for other people to live by,” he said as he slid into a chair. “Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean others can’t.”

“Why don’t you?”

He smiled faintly. “Make rules? Most people wouldn’t follow them.”

“Why don’t you drink?”

“For a number of reasons. I’m on call pretty much all
the time. I never know when someone’s going to need me, and I can’t risk being impaired when they do.” He shrugged. “I’ve worked too hard to get in shape. You’re going to have to run about two miles to burn off the calories in that one cup.”

She paused, cup halfway to her mouth, then offered her own shrug. “And how many miles will you have to do to burn off the sugar in that lemonade?”

“Point taken.” He squirted a glob of mustard onto his hot dog, then took a bite. Away from the carnival, it was a quiet, peaceful evening without much traffic or anything going on. He’d spent many such Saturday nights at his house in the woods, sleeping bag spread out on the deck, no lights but the stars, no distractions.

Of course, distractions could be good or bad. When a man needed quiet to think or remember, distractions were a pain. When he didn’t
want
to think or remember, they were a blessing.

He wasn’t sure how he would classify the distractions tonight. If he were alone with Kelsey, with no carnival, no noise, no people, God only knows what might happen. And only God knows whether whatever happened would be good or bad. Whether it would heal or hurt. Whether he would regret it, or she would, or maybe both.

Or whether it would, just possibly, be a blessing.

“Jefferson Davis.”

He shifted his attention back to her.

“Jefferson Davis,” she repeated. “For J.D.”

He shook his head.

“Jeremiah Darnell.”

“Nope.”

“Give me a hint.”

“No way. That would be cheating. Why don’t you look in your files?”

“I did. It says just J.D. If Noelle got your full name, she
didn’t include it in her notes. And a hint’s not cheating. Do you know how many names begin with
J
and
D
?”

“More than a few, I imagine. But you need only two.”

“Two out of hundreds, maybe thousands,” she scoffed. “It hardly seems fair when I’ve told you my full name, my brother’s name, and even my parents’ names.”

“Yes, but you volunteered the information. I didn’t ask.”

“Why the big secret? Is it a really awful name?”

“Depends on your definition of awful, I suppose. My mother and father must have liked it. After all, they stuck me with it.” He hesitated, then took her hand in his. “I think the more interesting question is why the big deal. Everyone in town has been perfectly content to call me J.D. You’re the only one who cares what it stands for.”

The instant his fingers had closed around hers, she’d become very still. Finally she took a careful breath and gently tugged. He didn’t let go.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I
care
,” she said in a voice that was breathier, less substantial than usual. “It’s just that your refusal to answer has aroused my curiosity.”

There were other things he’d much rather be arousing, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t need to, judging by the flush that heated her cheeks and the insistence with which she pulled free.

She busied herself with cleaning up the remains of their meal, then gave him a too-bright smile. “Well … I’d better be getting home soon, so how about that Ferris wheel ride?”

They waited in line at the Ferris wheel, standing side by side, looking mostly in opposite directions. When their turn came, she stepped into the car first and slid to one side. Even so, mere inches separated them once he was seated.

“Did I mention that I really prefer to have solid ground under my feet at all times?” she asked conversationally.

The attendant closed and locked the safety bar, then signaled a second attendant to lower the next car.

“Do you realize it’s a little late to bring that up?” J.D. teased as the car jerked into motion. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No.”

“Are you afraid of
me?”

She gave him a long, long look, then tossed her head and turned away so he had to strain to hear her answer. “Maybe.”

Good.

The car rocked gently as the wheel began spinning. The carnival below became a dizzying mix of trailing lights, sounds, and smells, intensifying as they swept down, diminishing as they climbed high again.

“Mr. Ferris was a bright man,” Kelsey said, brushing back a strand of hair that had blown free. “It’s really a simple design to have stayed popular for so long.”

“Simple pleasures are the best.”

“Such as?”

“Sitting on the deck at dusk. Sunday dinners at the Winchesters’ house. Watching fireworks on the Fourth from City Park.” He paused, and she turned to look at him. “Watching you.”

She tried to smile, but her mouth refused to cooperate. Instead, she settled for looking away again.

After a moment of pleasantly edgy silence, he leaned close to her and pointed toward one of the booths. “There’s your guy.”

The man who’d come on to her had found someone more receptive, and they were sharing a very intimate kiss behind the ring toss booth.

“Imagine, that could be you.”

Kelsey burst out laughing. “I don’t think so. I don’t kiss on first dates.”

“He would have been sorely disappointed.”

“Nah. If we hadn’t been interrupted, we would’ve talked a few minutes more and he would’ve realized that I wasn’t his type.”

“Would
you
have been disappointed?”

“Nah. He’s too easy.”

Well, if there was one thing J.D. knew he wasn’t, it was easy. He carried too much emotional baggage, had too much past and not enough future. Would that put her off? Or was she the sort who liked a challenge?

He didn’t know the answer to either question, but he might enjoy finding out.

The ride ended. In silent agreement they turned toward the entrance. At the unmanned ticket booth Kelsey looked at her stuffed elephant as if she didn’t remember where it came from, then offered it to him. “Why don’t you give this to the kids?”

“Thanks.” He crammed it under his left arm with the ’gator, then extended his hand. “I enjoyed it.”

“Me too.” With an endearingly awkward gesture she shook hands with him. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’m hard to avoid.” He let her walk a few feet away before he caught up with her.

“What?”

“That was your good-night handshake at the gate. Now I’m going to walk you to your car.”

“It’s just over there. There are lights and people all around. You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

That silenced her.

They cut between cars to the far side of the makeshift
lot. He waited while she unlocked the door, then tossed her purse inside. “Thanks,” she said when she turned back to face him. “Now do we have to repeat the handshake again?”

“No. Now I get my kiss.”

The car door was between them—probably a good thing, he acknowledged as he slid his fingers into her hair. He figured one good kiss was about all it would take to make him forget caution, common sense, his reputation, and hers. A little distance was a good thing.