by Lois Richer
“You and Madison have to go to school, Kyle. That’s the law.” She fought to frame her answer in terms that didn’t condemn their father. Blame wouldn’t help anyone. “Think about it for a minute. Your dad is busy putting together his deals. Who would drive you to the reptile exhibitions or the library, or take Maddy to practice? Where would you live?”
“He has a place.” The belligerence hadn’t left her son’s voice.
“A motel, Kyle,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to hurt him. “It’s not a place for kids. There’s no backyard, no smoothie store a block away.” Chloe struggled to make him understand. “We chose this home together—you, me and Madison. This is the place where we agreed we’d pull together, where we’d share happy times and help each other through hard ones.”
“Big deal!”
“Yes, it is.” She drew herself erect, refused to back down. “Family is a very big deal. I’m not trying to hurt you, Kyle, but neither will I allow you to be rude to me. I’m doing the very best I can for both of you. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but you’re just going to have to find a way to deal with life as you know it right now, right here.” She rose then met his glare. “It would have been a lot easier to find the money for that trip if I didn’t have to use it to fix the van.”
Kyle slumped in his chair, the belligerent look firmly in place.
“I’m home!” Madison’s voice rang through the house like a church bell in a valley. “I’m starved. Can we have lunch?”
She appeared in the doorway a moment later. Chloe relished her rosy cheeks, the big grin that made her daughter’s sunny disposition such a blessing. She blinked when Brendan Montgomery appeared behind Maddy.
“Hello.” It was the best she could do at the moment.
“I invited Coach in ’cause he wants to ask Kyle about the model club.” Madison yanked open the fridge door. “Is there any food here?”
“It’s ready, Maddy. Why don’t you wash up while I set another place?” Chloe inclined her head to the tall handsome man standing in the doorway. “It’s just soup but you’re welcome to stay.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I should eat you out of house and home a second time. I just wanted to ask Kyle if he’s interested in the club. I’ve got some time today that I could help him catch up to the others, if he wants.”
“Sit down,” she insisted. “You can both talk about it over lunch. Unless you don’t like homemade chicken soup?”
“Are you kidding? Ever since I walked in the door my stomach has been doing back flips.” He grinned, his lips stretched wide in delight. “But if I take too much, make sure you tell me,” he ordered as he sat down beside Kyle. He leaned forward, breathing in the aroma after Chloe set the tureen on the table. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have home cooking like this.”
“You’re not going to ask for this recipe, too, are you?” Kyle mocked.
“Maybe.” Brendan’s eyes widened. “Why? Is it a family secret or something?”
The boy snorted. “Not hardly. My dad never cooks.”
“Guess he never learned. Too bad for him.” Brendan accepted his steaming bowl with a sideways look at Kyle. “I like to learn as many recipes as I can, build up my repertoire.”
“Why?” Her son looked scandalized. Chloe hid her grin.
“Because I might get hungry for chicken soup sometime. If I can make it myself, I can add stuff that I like and leave out things I don’t. Besides—” he twisted slightly, winked at Chloe “—the ladies like it.”
“Huh?”
Brendan leaned forward and motioned for Kyle to do the same. The two looked like conspirators hunched over the table, voices lowered.
“You know—chicks,” Brendan whispered.
“You mean girls?”
“Yeah. They like it when men can cook. Why do you think they like to go out for dinner so much, man? Because they like it when other people cook. I’m telling you, Kyle, cooking is the way to a woman’s heart.”
Chloe spread her napkin, forcing herself not to laugh at her son staring at the FBI officer. “Let’s have grace. Maddy?”
It was a hilarious meal, particularly for Chloe who’d never seen such hero worship in Kyle for anyone other than his father. When Brendan agreed to kick a ball around the backyard with him for a while, she knew it was just an excuse to talk. Kyle cared little for sports.
Chloe opened the kitchen window and listened unashamedly.
“You see it’s like this, Kyle. Men and women both need to feel strong and independent, to be able to take what life gives them and handle it. If you have to have somebody waiting on you, you can’t stand on your own. My mom runs a business and she does a great job so she can’t always be at home making lunch for my dad or doing his laundry. My dad helps my brother out with his carpentry business. He doesn’t want to do the same things as my mom. So they each manage on their own, but they also work together. It’s a partnership.” Brendan grabbed the ball, danced it on the tip of his shoe. “It’s not really about who makes dinner or does the dishes, it’s about getting the necessary stuff done so they can both enjoy their time together.”
“Is that why she picked out your car?” Kyle accepted a pass, sent it back, his thin face intense.
“Kind of. My mom grew up in a garage. She’s got a very mechanical mind. My dad doesn’t. Neither do I. That doesn’t make us better or worse than her, it just makes us different. And that’s exactly the way God made us. Unique, each one with special talents. That’s what life is all about, finding out what you love and doing it the best you can.”
“Oh.” Kyle wasn’t offering much to the conversation.
Chloe began taking out the ingredients for the cookies she’d promised Maddy they’d make after her daughter scrubbed down the bathroom.
“But you can’t find out what you love until you figure out how to handle life,” Brendan explained. “Take your mom—what does she like best?”
Chloe leaned forward, anxious to hear the response.
“Karate.” No hesitation on Kyle’s part.
“Yes.” Brendan nodded. “She’s good at it. But she’s a mom and I bet she likes that, too. I’ve seen her at work and I think she also likes helping people get better.”
“Yeah. That’s why she’s a nurse.”
“To do that job she’s got to be prepared to handle whatever happens. If someone starts bleeding, she can’t stand there and wait for a doctor to come or ask another nurse to do it because she doesn’t like getting messy. She has to figure out what to do and then do it. See what I mean?”
“Sort of.” Kyle grabbed the ball, sat down on the step. “You’re saying that learning how to cook means you don’t have to eat out all the time, like my dad does. But who cares about that?”
“I do.”
“Why? You’re not poor.”
“That’s not the point. What if I had some trouble, say I got my wallet stolen and didn’t get my paycheck till the end of the month. I’d have to figure out a way to manage on whatever I had left. Eating out all the time would be too expensive and I’d run out of money. But if I could cook for myself I could manage a lot easier.” Brendan thrust out a hand. “The more I know, the better I can manage.”
“But…don’t you care that the other guys know you can cook?”
A boisterous laugh had Chloe drawing away from the window until she realized Brendan was laughing at the question.
“My friends? Are you kidding? I like it when they show up at my place, but they are always hungry. If I had to order in pizza all the time, I’d go broke. So I put on a pot of chili, make some biscuits and we share a meal together while we talk about stuff. It’s fun.”
“I guess.” Kyle rested his chin on his elbows and didn’t say anything for several minutes. “My dad used to take Maddy and I camping.”
“That must have been great.”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” Kyle’s voice dropped. “But then he started bringing his friends along and we didn’t
get to do lots of stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Swimming. They didn’t want to get their hair wet.” His voice got quieter as he continued. “We couldn’t have a fire for roasting our hot dogs because it was too smoky. His friends didn’t like fishing—it was too smelly, so we couldn’t do that, neither. I bet if we could live with him now, we’d have lots of fun.”
“Really?” Brendan’s tone was oh, so casual. “Where does he live?”
“My mom took all his money so he has to stay in a motel. But when he gets another job he’s going to get a big house and then we’ll move in with him.”
“I see.”
A rush of shame burned Chloe’s cheeks. So that’s what Steve had told him—that she’d taken everything and left him empty-handed. Anger raced through her blood but she pushed it away. Experience had taught her it didn’t do any good to fret over the past. It was better to protect your future.
“You know, you might want to talk to your mom about this, Kyle. Sometimes things aren’t exactly what we think they are. I know you love your dad, and that’s good. You’re supposed to.” Brendan’s big hand closed over one scrawny shoulder. “But your mom is pretty special, too. Maddy told me she bought this house for you guys because it was near the school and it had a big backyard. Now she has to work hard to pay for it so she works night shifts. I’m guessing that’s because she wants to be here when you get home from school. That’s the kind of thing a mom who really loves her kid thinks about.”
“Mom’s okay. She tries to make us a family, but sometimes I just want my dad.”
“Why don’t you tell him that next time he calls?”
“I don’t want to bother him,” the almost-whispered admittance came.
“Why not? Most fathers love to hear they’re wanted.”
There was a long pause before Kyle admitted, “My dad’s got a new friend now. She takes up a lot of his time.”
“Ah.” Brendan sighed. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I know it’s hard. Sometimes the only thing a guy can do is pray about it and let God work it out.”
“You believe in all that stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“God. Heaven. All the stuff they talk about at church.”
Brendan nodded. “Oh, yes, I believe. If I didn’t, I don’t know how I’d manage. Because I trust in God to do what’s right for me, I know that I can ask His help and He’ll give it. He’ll show me the right way and help me get through the hard stuff. I’m never alone.”
“Huh.” Kyle said nothing more.
Feeling guilty, Chloe started the mixer. Maddy appeared seconds later and began adding ingredients. A moment later Brendan and Kyle burst through the door to find out what all the laughing was about. When they saw Chloe covered in flour they cracked up.
“Okay, smart guys,” she said, embarrassed. “You three can finish the operation. I’m going to take a shower.”
“You do that,” Brendan said, his attention riveted on the mess that flaked her hair. “I’ll hold the fort down here. Kyle, we’re making cookies.”
“Do you know how?” Kyle asked, one eyebrow crooked.
“Not yet. But Maddy can show us. It looks like she knows what she’s doing and I could learn a good cookie recipe.” He peered at the cookbook, then at Chloe. “Anything special I should know?”
“Maddy’s made this recipe a hundred times. If you mess up, she’ll let you know.” Without another word she left the kitchen, climbed the stairs to her room and popped into the shower. Just this once, in spite of Brendan’s talk about independence, Chloe wished she had a fairy godmother to wave a magic wand and make her pretty.
“Oh, grow up!” she ordered herself, shoving her head under the water. “He’s not your type anyway.” That got her thinking.
So what was her type? Steve?
Chloe almost laughed at that. Instead she stepped out of the shower, wrapped her long hair in a towel and pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a blue cotton shirt she’d always loved. In the mirror Chloe inspected her face.
“You don’t have a type, silly,” she scoffed as she added some gloss to her lips and a few strokes of mascara to her lashes. “You’re a single mom with two kids who need you to focus on them. If God wanted you to have a man in your life, He’d have cleared space on your calendar for a few dates.”
She blew her hair dry until its shiny mass cascaded down her back and all the while a little voice at the back of her head reminded her that Brendan Montgomery was downstairs.
So what? They’d shared two meals. Those were hardly dates.
But her cheeks were pink when she returned to the kitchen. And it had nothing to do with the heat from the oven.
“I really don’t mind, Chloe,” Brendan reassured for the fifth time. “If you can hang on till I grab my notes from the truck, I’d be happy to stay with the kids till Mrs. Mills can get here.” He stepped outside, retrieved what he needed and returned to the front hall where she stood waiting.
“I really hate imposing, but they’re so shorthanded lately. And I need the overtime—” Her voice halted, her cheeks turned a deep pink.
“You know, you could use a break from beating yourself up,” he told her as he spread his papers across her kitchen table and called himself an idiot for saying it. It was none of his business what she did and Brendan was pretty sure Chloe Tanner didn’t like him knowing that she needed the extra cash overtime would offer. “Everybody needs a hand once in a while. Staying here is no sacrifice for me. After all, I can always eat more cookies.”
She smiled.
“You go ahead, Chloe. We’ll be fine.”
She studied him for several seconds and finally nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She hesitated in the doorway. “You won’t get much work done. It’s a Saturday night and Kyle has a movie he wants to watch.”
“Good. I like movies.” He watched her chest rise with a sigh he couldn’t hear. “Relax, Chloe. You have good kids whom I like very much. We’ll be fine. It’s not a problem.”
“But it’s a Saturday night.”
“Yes, I know that.” He waited, watching her face, the careful way she didn’t quite meet his stare. “And?”
“You must have plans. I mean, you’re single. You can’t actually want to babysit my kids when you could be out—” Her cheeks sported hot pink circles.
“That’s the third time you’ve hinted that I’m missing a date. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Brendan chuckled at her wide-eyed stare. “Thanks for the ego boost though.”
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. As it happens I’m free tonight. No big date, so stop worrying. If it will make you feel better, I’ll insist on another dinner with you as payment. Okay?” Like that was a problem!
She gave him that wide generous smile that made him catch his breath.
“Very okay. I’d better go change.”
“Yes.” He watched her walk away with that long-legged stride that emphasized her very feminine shape and wondered why there weren’t men pounding down her door. But that was an exercise in frustration. Besides, Brendan knew he had no business thinking anything about her. She was a part of an ongoing investigation, and he had to maintain a professional distance.
To distract himself he pulled up his computer files to check out something that had been bugging him since he’d heard it this morning.
Note to self: Several snitches have reported that someone called El Jefe, aka The Chief, has been contacting Baltasar Escalante’s old cohorts.
He mulled that over for a few moments. Why would anyone bother with a dead drug lord’s punks—unless they were planning something new for Colorado Springs? More drugs? His heart sank to his toes at the thought.
“Is something wrong?”
Brendan shook his gloom away, glanced up at Chloe and smiled. “Not really. Just some stuff from work.”
“Is it about the mayor’s attack?” she ask
ed, eyes narrowed.
“Sort of.” He told himself to be careful what he said.
“You can’t talk about it. I understand.” She turned away.
Brendan followed her out of the room and into the kitchen, where she began packing a small lunch. Suddenly he wanted to tell her it all, wanted her to listen. It was a dangerous desire for an FBI agent to have.
“I have a hunch it was a professional job,” he blurted out when it seemed she’d forgotten his presence. “The mayor’s shooting, I mean.”
“Really? According to the movies, those guys don’t miss very often.”
“True. Which means either the attacker was surprised or thrown off by something that afternoon. Or maybe God stepped in just in time.”
She frowned as if his words surprised her. After a moment she returned to what she was doing, adding a juice box, two granola bars and an apple to the bag before peering into a cupboard. That move offered him her perfect profile.
“So who would want Mayor Vance dead?”
“Good question. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer. Yet.”
“But you’re bothered by something, aren’t you?” She twisted to peer at him, nodded as if she’d confirmed her thoughts. “I thought so.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned at her quick smile.
“I can see it on your face. You’ve got your suspicions but you don’t want to tell me about them.”
He stared, stunned by her claim. “You can’t see anything on my face, Chloe. I’m an FBI agent, and a good one. I don’t give myself away.”
“Not to most people, maybe.” Her clear blue gaze met his unflinchingly. “But I can read you like a book, Agent Montgomery. You’re fussing about something.” She zipped up the container, grabbed a jacket and slung both over her shoulder. “Good luck with whatever it is. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait a minute.” He stood in her way, determined to understand what she wasn’t saying. “You can read what I’m thinking, just by looking at my face?”
Chloe nodded. “Sure.” She cocked her head to one side like a curious wren. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t believe you.” He let the slow smile spread across his lips as he took in her perfect face with its barest touch of mascara, blush and lip gloss. “I don’t think you have an idea what I’m thinking.”
