by Rachel Lee
“Heck, I don’t know,” Rafe said finally. “I just want him to be warm. What’s warmest?”
“The bunting. More air space for insulation.” Angela pulled a few off the shelves and laid them out side by side.
“Also easier to get him into and out of,” Rafe said, eyeing the selection.
“This one has a little hood.” It was bright red, warm and fuzzy, with a teddy bear on the chest.
“Let’s get that, then. In fact, let’s get two, in case he has an accident.”
Angela put a red one and a blue one in the shopping cart. “Anything else?”
He said no, but as they were heading toward the checkout, his eye was caught by a cute little yellow jumpsuit with matching booties. He put it in the cart, and Angela felt her heart melt.
After he’d paid, Rafe took the baby into the men’s room to change his diaper. When he came out, Peanut was dressed in his brand new red bunting, looking happy and content in his father’s arms. Angela had the worst urge to hug them both.
Marge and Nate Tate were waiting for them at the diner. Angela knew the Tates from an earlier visit when she and Emma had had dinner with them, and she was welcomed warmly. Marge and Rafe shook hands when Nate introduced them. Rafe fussed a little, getting the child’s carrier seat established safely on a chair beside him, then he settled into his own, and an awkward silence fell.
Maude rescued them by arriving with the menus. “I’m out of blueberry pie,” she announced, looking directly at Nate. “I’ll be back in a minute with the coffee, less’n someone here wants tea.”
“Just water for me, please,” Angela said. “With a slice of lime, if you have it.”
“No lime. Got lemons, though.”
“Lemon will be great. Thank you”
Maude looked down at the baby. “Cute tyke.” Then she stomped away.
Nate and Rafe exchanged long looks, and Marge looked at both of them. It was Marge who broke the silence.
“Nate tells me you’re with the D.E.A., Rafe.”
He nodded.
“Isn’t it interesting that you both went into law enforcement even though you weren’t raised together?”
“That is fascinating,” Angela said, trying to help Marge get the conversational ball rolling. “I never would have imagined there was a cop gene.”
For an instant she thought her attempt at humor had fallen flat, but then everyone laughed.
“I read my magazines from back to front,” Nate announced.
“So do I,” Rafe said.
Marge shook her head. “And here I thought one was enough for the world.”
“Well, we’d better go ahead and order,” Nate said. “Maude’ll just drive us crazy until we do.”
Angela opened up the menu and scanned it, quickly realizing that everything there was a diet wrecker. She would probably gain five pounds just from reading it. But given how much she had lost with her diabetes, maybe that was all right.
When Maude returned, they placed their orders. Both Nate and Rafe ordered the steak sandwiches, and Marge and Angela wound up laughing when they both ordered the turkey sandwich.
Maude stomped away without comment.
“I wonder what’s wrong with her?” Nate said. “Maude usually has something to say.”
Marge shrugged. “Maybe she just won’t flirt with you because I’m here.”
Nate laughed. “Actually, she’s always trying to twist my arm into a piece of pie. Maybe she knows she can’t talk me into it with you here.”
“I would never deny you a piece of pie.”
“I know you wouldn’t, honey. But I gotta keep my waistline for you.”
Angie watched the way Marge’s face softened and the way the two of them looked at each other. After a moment she had to look away, feeling the worst urge to cry again. She found herself looking directly into Rafe’s gaze. His dark eyes were smoky-looking, not as hard as they’d been earlier. Was he touched, too, by the obvious affection between the Tates?
But Nate was speaking again, and she turned her attention to him.
“Marva,” he began, then looked at Angela to explain, “Marva was our mother. Anyway, she was a sorely troubled woman. What I can’t figure was why she never once tried to let me know about you, Rafe. Or just get in touch. Hell, I wrote to her when I was overseas, so it’s not like she had reason to think I wanted to disown her.”
“I don’t know,” Rafe answered. “I was too young to think about asking questions like that. She just told me you existed, and that you lived up here. And once she mentioned you were a cop.”
“Weird. If she knew I was a cop, she must have checked up on me at least once.” Nate sipped his coffee, and the cup clattered as he put it down. He leaned back a little and sighed. “When you think about it, it was a really rotten thing to do, not to let me know I had a brother. I always wanted a brother.”
“Me, too.” Rafe tilted his head. “It feels strange, though. How do you go about picking up the pieces after all this time?”
“One piece at a time, I guess.”
Marge spoke. “What you do is get drunk watching a football game together, then go away for a weekend of fishing.”
Before she finished, both Nate and Rafe were laughing.
The humor and laughter were covering the uneasiness, Angela realized. Not only were Nate and Rafe feeling awkward, but so was Marge. It wasn’t just the stiltedness of people meeting for the first time, either. She didn’t think any of the three of them had difficulty speaking to strangers. Could knowing they were brothers be having this much effect?
“You know,” said Marge, breaking the silence that had once again begun to linger over the table, “Nate had a lot to overcome as a child. I imagine you did, too, Rafe.”
Rafe looked at her. “In what way?”
“Well,” Marge said, “Marva was...” She hesitated.
“She was a hooker and an alcoholic,” Nate said bluntly.
Angela’s head swiveled sharply around so she could look at Rafe. His face was closed, revealing nothing.
“She gave me the last name Tate, but I’ll bet she didn’t know for sure who my father was.”
Angela caught her breath. Rafe merely nodded, his face expressionless.
“I didn’t want to say that, Nate,” Marge said gently.
“Why not?” he asked her. “It was true. I try not to condemn her too much, because that’s how she paid the rent, but...hell, Marge, if she hadn’t drunk so much, she probably could have gotten a real job.”
Marge reached out to touch his arm.
“Old story,” Nate said gruffly. “The woman had some serious problems.”
“Yes, she did,” Marge agreed. She looked at Rafe. “Anyway, Nate was a handful himself by the time he was a teenager. Always in one scrape or another. Rebelling, I think. My father didn’t want me to date him.” She gave a little laugh. “You can see how well I listened. Anyway, I suppose you rebelled, too?”
For a moment Angela thought Rafe was going to refuse to answer. Then he shook his head. “I never did. I learned it was easier to be what people expected you to be.”
“Wise man,” Nate remarked. “I was always banging my head on brick walls. I still do, I suppose.”
“Usually on the county commission’s brick walls,” Marge said dryly.
“Can I help it if they can’t see common sense?” He flashed a smile, and everyone chuckled.
Peanut, who’d been calmly watching the world, chose that moment to start fussing. With practiced ease, Rafe scooped him up and dug a bottle out of the diaper bag. Angela excused herself and went to the ladies’ room to inject her insulin. Marge followed her.
“They need a few minutes alone,” she said by way of explanation.
Angela nodded and opened her travel kit, pulling out the glucose meter she used when she wasn’t at home. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She would much rather have done this without a witness, but Marge wasn’t showing any signs of leav
ing immediately, and she couldn’t wait much longer to take her insulin.
“Oh,” said Marge, “you’re a diabetic.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I have a friend who’s been diabetic since she was fifteen. It’s not much fun, is it?”
“Frankly, it stinks.” She pricked her finger, squeezed some blood onto the test strip, and inserted the strip into the machine. “Ninety. A little too low.” She must have exercised harder than she thought this morning and then failed to eat quite enough when she snacked.
“I’ll go out and tell Maude we need some orange juice right now.”
“Thank you.” She gave Marge a warm smile and received one in turn. Marge walked out, leaving her to take her injection in peace. Since she was going to have orange juice, it would be all right to take her insulin to get ready for lunch.
In her travel kit, she carried a pen-style injector that held a little cartridge. It saved her the problem of having to deal with bottles of insulin and hypodermics when she was away from the house.
She took a minute to roll the cartridge between her palms to mix and warm it, then popped it into the pen. Then she pulled down her slacks, rubbed herself with an alcohol swab and injected her thigh.
She was just buttoning her slacks when Marge pushed the door open a crack. “I have your orange juice out here, Angela.”
“Thanks, Marge. I’ll be right out.”
Four times a day, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror. It was the pits.
Then, smothering a sigh, she packed up her kit and went to rejoin the others.
Rafe was gone.
“He went to change the baby,” Marge said.
“Again?”
She laughed. “Every time they wake up, and every time they eat, without fail.”
Nate grinned. “We swam in a sea of diapers for...how long was it, Marge?”
“I think we went nearly twelve years with at least one child in diapers all the time.”
“Wow!” Angela said.
Marge’s eyes twinkled. “I felt so liberated when the last girl was potty trained. All of a sudden I wasn’t washing a load of diapers every day.”
Rafe returned with the baby on his shoulder and slid into his seat. “Do you know a good doctor?” he asked without preamble.
Marge leaned forward. “Several of them. What’s wrong?”
“I think we have a little diarrhea.”
Marge rose. “I’ll go call Dr. Randall for you right now. He can probably see you as soon as we’re done with lunch.”
“Thanks, Marge.”
Angela reached out and touched the baby’s hand. At once Rafe Jr. latched on to her, wrapping his little hand around her index finger. His head bobbed a little as he held it up and tried to look at her. “He doesn’t seem to be distressed, Rafe.”
“No, but...well, I’m new at this gig, so I think I’ll get it checked out.”
“I would, too,” she agreed.
Rafe looked across the table at Nate. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask you about.”
“Go ahead.”
“My...the baby’s mother. Her family are almost all involved in drug importing and trafficking.”
Nate nodded. “Great family.”
“Anyway, Rocky—Raquel—asked me to get the baby away from them. Unfortunately, the family’s not willing to let go that easily. My boss called me yesterday and told me to watch my back. One of them is looking for me and has hired a lawyer.”
Nate frowned. “Not good.”
“No, it’s not.” Rafe patted the baby’s back gently. Peanut was falling asleep on his shoulder. “Anyway, in case they figure out where I am...could you avoid telling anybody who asks about me where I’m staying?”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Nate said, “if anybody asks about you, I’ll tell them I don’t know who you are. Don’t worry about it, son. I’ll have my men keep an eye out.”
“Thanks. The guy’s name is Manuel Molina. Manny Molina. As far as we’ve been able to tell, he’s clean, but...” Rafe shook his head. “So many of the clan are involved that I just don’t trust him. And last spring I arrested his brother on trafficking and importing.”
“So he has a real ax to grind.” Nate nodded and leaned back as Maude approached with their lunches. She put the plates down gently and walked away.
“Maude’s definitely off her feed,” Nate remarked. “She usually slams the plates down.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to wake the baby,” Angela suggested.
“Anything’s possible, I guess.” He returned his attention to Rafe. “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but if you’ve got people like that looking for you, it might be time to consider a new line of work. Especially with a child to watch over.”
Rafe turned his head and looked down at his slumbering son. “The thought’s crossed my mind,” he said quietly.
“You really have a bunch of drug dealers looking for you?” Angela asked Rafe as they drove back to the house.
“Well, I don’t know that I’d exactly say that. No one’s ever been able to prove that Manny’s anything but a legitimate businessman—although I’m pretty sure he got his startup funds from his brother.”
“But Manny’s got other relatives who aren’t so legitimate?”
“Oh, a whole bunch of them. Like I said, the whole family’s involved, except Manny. And Rocky.”
“Rocky was...your girlfriend?”
He hesitated. “She was the baby’s mother, yes.”
A strange way to answer, Angela thought. Did he mean he and Rocky hadn’t been involved emotionally? That it was just a one-night stand? Had he used the woman to get to her brother?
The thought was unpalatable. Things like that happened in movies and probably happened in real life, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to actually know someone who behaved that way.
On the other hand...she thought about the way Rafe held his son and took care of him all the time, and decided he really couldn’t be so bad. Maybe whatever had happened had been a...mistake. She had heard that men made mistakes like that sometimes.
Maybe that was why he seemed so unwilling to talk about it. Maybe he wasn’t proud of what had happened.
But she promised herself one thing: whatever sexual attraction she felt for Rafe Ortiz, she was going to bury it deeply. She didn’t want to become another one of his mistakes.
Rafe dropped her off at the house, then continued to the doctor’s office with the baby. Angela stood in the cold wind and stared after him as he drove away, and wondered why she had ever thought coming to visit Emma would be a good break from everything.
Somehow she seemed to be feeling as uneasy and stressed as she had at home. And it was all Rafe Ortiz’s fault.
Rafe had never imagined himself standing in a doctor’s office discussing the frequency, appearance and odor of a kid’s bowel movements, but that’s what he did.
Afterward, when he stepped outside, Rafe noticed that the day had grown even colder. The peanut caught his breath and blinked rapidly as the cold air struck his face.
“Yeah, it’s a shock to my system, too, little man,” Rafe said to the child as they crossed the parking lot. “I can’t imagine why anybody wants to live in a climate like this.”
In fact, he found himself actually missing the Miami heat and humidity. Man, he’d never imagined himself doing that.
He stopped by the pharmacy to pick up the Pedialyte that the doctor had recommended. When he got back to the house, Angela was nowhere to be seen, and he felt relieved. Being around her made him feel edgy, as though he couldn’t fully relax.
The kid wanted to play, so he spread out a blanket on the floor of his room and stretched out beside him. He wondered what the peanut was thinking as he stared into space, making little sounds and waving his arms and legs. He seemed so intent on what he was doing.
But as he lay there with his son, he found his thoughts drifting back to lunch. Nate Tate seemed
like a good enough guy, and so did his wife. He had a strong feeling that Peanut would be safe with them.
But he still wasn’t comfortable about leaving him. The idea, which had seemed so brilliant in Miami, didn’t feel brilliant now, and he couldn’t say why. All he knew was that it made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
And because he was uncomfortable, his thoughts drifted away from Nate Tate and back to Angela.
He didn’t know how to act around her, he realized. She wasn’t a colleague, and she wasn’t a suspect, and his tools for dealing with other sorts of people were apparently very limited.
He didn’t make friends. He’d never had any, and he’d always put it down to being too busy. Now he had the opportunity and time to make some, and he didn’t have any notion how to go about it. He didn’t know how to play the role. He supposed it shouldn’t be much more difficult than playing daddy, but he had a whole book to tell him how to do that. There was no book on friendship.
Nor was he really certain that he wanted to make a friend of Angela. She...disturbed him. He couldn’t look at her without noting how delicate she was, how soft her skin looked—and how very weary she seemed. He had the feeling she hadn’t been well for some time.
To his own dismay, he realized that he kept wanting to reach out to her. Some part of him wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be okay.
And that wasn’t like him at all. Nor was it like him to feel a sexual response to a woman like her. But he did. He kept wondering how her skin would taste and how she would feel beneath his hands.
Really disturbing, that. He had no time or place in his life for a woman, and all his relationships in the past had been as casual as they could be. Even Rocky, who’d managed to get past his guard and get him into her bed that one time. He still hadn’t let her get close to him.
And for some damn reason he felt bad about that now. Lying there, looking at the baby they’d made in one blazing moment of passion, he felt awful that there had never been more than that. She’d been a subject, a suspect, a means of getting to her brother. He’d flirted with her to keep her interest, but he’d never intended that it would go that far, and certainly not that it would result in the creation of a life.
