by Lori Foster
“That’s part of why I called.”
Did she hear a hesitation? Would he back out now? Jack would be crushed. She never should have—
“I was thinking maybe I could take you both to lunch Saturday. Afterward we could stop at the drive-in so I could show Jack around. That’d still give me time to get you both home and get back before sunset when I need to prep for the showing.”
Like a teenager being asked out on her first date, Joy felt exhilarated, excited—and so disappointed that she had to refuse. “That sounds wonderful, Royce, but until the season officially ends, I do activities from afternoon to evening here with the campers. This Saturday we have fall crafts.”
Without missing a beat, he asked, “Sunday works better for me, anyway, since the drive-in is closed that day. What do you think?”
She bit her lip to suppress the smile, then cleared her throat. “Sunday we’re free.” Perfect. She sounded calm and mature and not like a woman whose toes had just curled in anticipation. “It’s a school night so I’d have to be back early.”
“Done.” She heard his smile, too, when he asked, “Any chance I can get in on that afternoon craft action?”
Laughing, Joy hugged herself and savored the new freedom of flirting. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”
“Perfect.” His voice went a little deeper. “Fair warning, though. If at all possible, and with due respect to your son, I plan to steal a kiss before I go.”
More than her toes curled over that statement. “Oh, um...”
“Good night, Joy.”
* * *
“Looking for someone?”
Startled, Joy ducked her head to hide her guilty face. “Hmm?” She had been watching the door, wondering if Royce would really show, and when. She hadn’t even heard Maris come in from the back entrance.
Maris openly laughed at her in that easy, friendly way she had. “I’m on to you now. That particular expression has something to do with Royce, doesn’t it? Is he coming by today?”
Straightening, Joy stared at her in wonder. How could Maris read the situation so easily? Joy had known her for a while now, and never before had she read her mind.
Of course, never before had Joy been infatuated with a man. Plus Maris was usually too busy working to waste time wondering about anyone else.
In the past week, something had shifted in their friendship. Whatever it was, Joy enjoyed it.
“I was only putting out craft supplies.” She gestured at the bins on the round table filled with glue and markers and yarn. “Just that. Nothing telling or obvious. So how did you know?”
Setting aside a tray filled with cookies, Maris crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. “I’m a woman. You’re a woman. That gives us some common ground.” She shrugged. “Call it female intuition.”
“But we’re nothing alike.”
At that, Maris’s brows rose up. “You don’t think so?”
Hoping Maris didn’t take that as an insult, Joy glanced around to ensure they weren’t overheard. Luckily none of the kids had shown up yet. Jack sat alone coloring at a smaller table toward the back, and everything was ready for afternoon crafts.
Drawing a breath, Joy stepped closer to Maris. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
“It’s all right. I get it. You’re always polished, while I’m something of a mess and it doesn’t bother me.”
“We already discussed this. You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re generous with compliments, but come on.” Maris nodded at Joy’s long skirt and ballet flats. “I can’t even remember the last time I dressed up.”
Joy stared at her, surprised yet again. “That’s not at all what I meant. My wardrobe is just what I have left from... Never mind.” Once, long ago, she’d thought clothes mattered. Now, she wore what she had because investing in the newest fashions wasn’t feasible. Was it the same for Maris? Somehow she didn’t think so. “It’s just... I admire you, you know.”
Maris snorted. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Are you serious? I have a hundred reasons!” And Joy didn’t mind listing them for her. “You’re so confident and self-assured. You always know what you’re doing and why. You accomplish more in a day than most people do in a week. You’re completely self-reliant. Plus my compliments were honest, not generous. You look amazing in jeans—and no makeup. That’s just unfair, because you’re right, makeup is a pain. If I had your flawless skin or dark eyelashes, I wouldn’t wear it, either.”
Maris blinked at that outpouring of compliments. “Thank you. I admire you, too.” With a laugh, she wrinkled her nose. “Though I have to say, this conversation is a little embarrassing.”
Right. People didn’t walk around detailing attributes. They met, became friends, and it was all more natural.
Twisting her mouth, Joy pointed out, “That’s another way we’re different, I guess. I’m...awkward.” That wasn’t precisely the right word, so she shook her head and tried again. “Awkward on the inside, I mean. I tell myself to be confident, but you just are. You always seem to know the right thing to say or do to put other people at ease. You’re so together and take-charge, but also comfortable and friendly.”
Maris took her hands. Joy realized that Maris’s were work-worn, her fingers a little roughened from all the dishwashing and cooking she did.
“I think we’re both misunderstanding. I’ve never seen you look or act awkward. What I meant is that the flattery embarrasses me because I’m not used to getting compliments like that. Compliments that matter.”
Joy searched her face and saw the truth. “You mean, compliments for something other than looks?”
Maris nodded. “It shows what a nice person you are that you see beyond the surface. Especially since my look is usually some shade of permanent determination and stubborn will.”
“It’s a good look,” Joy promised her with a laugh. Much better than deep-rooted insecurity. Honestly, Maris looked like the woman Joy wanted to be.
Maris grinned. “You’re those things, too.”
“I want that to be true, for myself and Jack.” It was important for Jack to know she’d always take care of him. Her confidence was as much for him as for herself. She did what she could to ensure he’d never have the same worries she’d had. “I work at it, but it seems so effortless for you.”
Laughing, Maris reached for a cookie. “I’ve been working for as long as I can remember. The day I turned eighteen, finding a job was my top priority. By now it’s second nature for me—still difficult, but part of my life.”
Shame hit Joy, thick enough to make her throat tight. She didn’t know what type of childhood Maris had, but it was surely different from her own. Joy knew she’d been given far more advantages than most, so what right did she have to complain? “I’m sorry.”
A smile teased over Maris’s mouth. “Don’t be. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. We need to do this more often.”
When? They both stayed busy, but Joy vowed she’d make time—if Maris could. “I’d like that.”
“Maybe we should start our own little club where we drink coffee, eat cookies and praise each other.”
Oddly enough, that sounded like a very good time. “Count me in.”
“But someone also has to share fun stories that involve a hunk. Since I’m out—” she tapped Joy’s shoulder “—you’re it.”
It? Wondering what that meant, Joy asked, “Why are you out?”
“I don’t date,” Maris stated. “Never have.”
“You say that like it’s part of your religion or something.” Joy crossed her arms. “Why can’t you date?”
Maris choked on a laugh, quickly covered her mouth and shook her head. “It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I don’t.”
True. Joy couldn’t recall a time where Maris did anything other than...work. “Okay
, but why?”
“Let’s just say I have other priorities. Financial security tops the list. Independence is right behind it.”
Joy couldn’t help but wonder about Maris’s background—and why those two things were so important. “Doesn’t everyone want to be secure?”
“Sure, I guess. But since I’ve personally felt the bite of dependence, I’ll do what I can to never end up there again.” She pointed her half-eaten cookie at Joy. “And no, I’m not talking about any of that right now, so stop deferring. You’re it and that’s that.”
Giving up, Joy said, “Fine,” and then she felt a small thrill when she thought of Royce. “What do I have to do?”
“Something...” Maris gave it thought, then grinned. “Something scintillating.”
“Um...okay. Define that.”
Maris rolled a shoulder. “If Royce shows up, steal a kiss.” She quickly clarified, “Not a peck. Those don’t count. Make it something substantial, something with tongues.”
At that, Joy outright laughed. Royce had said he wouldn’t leave without kissing, so... “I might be able to make that happen.”
“Perfect.” Maris nodded toward the door and whispered, “Make it hot and wild, and then you can tell me all about it. I’ll get some vicarious thrills, since I’m not getting anything else.” As she backed up, she thrust a fist in the air and said, “To the Summer’s End club!” then turned and ducked through the back door again, no doubt returning to the camp store.
Everyone working at the park would be happy to lend her a hand now and then, but Maris delegated only the most insubstantial tasks to others. Anything of importance she handled herself.
When it came to her livelihood, Maris considered nearly everything important.
Laughing, Joy glanced to the entrance and found Royce walking in with Daron. Jack spotted him right off and with a happy cheer he raced over. Daron said something, ruffled Jack’s hair and left again.
Probably chasing Maris, if Joy had to guess. Why Maris didn’t orchestrate her own wild night, she didn’t know. It seemed obvious to her that Daron was anxious, willing and able.
With a hand to her son’s back, Royce crossed the room. His dark gaze moved over her, lingering a heartbeat on her fitted sweater before meeting her eyes. “Hey.”
She’d taken extra care today with her appearance, wearing a little more mascara, choosing clothes that flattered her figure. She’d wanted him to notice—and he did. “You made it.”
Those dark eyes zeroed in on her mouth. “Daron walked me in.” He glanced around. “He said you live here, too?”
“Upstairs,” Jack said. “We have to go outside to get in. Wanna see?”
Unprepared to take Royce through her meager home, Joy stalled.
“Someday soon,” Royce said, saving her from having to come up with an excuse. “Right now your mom is busy, so I figured we’d lend her a hand.”
“She doesn’t need help. Mom’s organized.” He looked up at her. “Aren’t you, Mom? Everyone says so.”
Joy laughed. “I try.” She smoothed down Jack’s hair. In many ways it reminded her of Daron’s. His hair, too, was often unruly. “Why don’t you get your picture to show Mr. Nakirk and I’ll make coffee for the parents.”
As Jack ran off, Royce walked with her to the nook designated as a kitchen area. “Do a lot of adults accompany the kids?”
“More so toward evening, but I always try to be prepared with coffee, regular for afternoons, decaf later on. The kids get juice, and Maris brought over cookies.” She went about coffee prep while Jack skidded to a halt with his picture in his hands.
“Let’s see.” Royce knelt down, took the artwork when Jack shyly offered it, then he fell silent. Joy was just starting to worry when he said, “Wow.”
“You like it?” Jack anxiously shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s not done yet.”
“I... Of course I like it.” More silence as he studied the picture.
Curious, Joy set aside foam cups and came to look over Royce’s shoulder.
Jack had drawn the big screen of the drive-in, a row of cars and a large man—hands on hips—smiling widely.
“It’s terrific, Jack.” Joy nudged Royce. “Don’t you think so?”
“I think it’s better than terrific.” He lowered the picture. “How old are you again?”
One hand lifted, fingers spread. “Five, but I’ll be six soon.”
Royce shook his head in wonder. “This is phenomenal for a kid your age. You’ve got perspective in here, and the dimensions are good. And I knew it was me.” He lowered the paper. “It is me, right?”
Jack nodded, then he, too, looked at the picture. “What’s perspect...?”
“Perspective. It means you’ve shown things in a way that I feel like I’m standing right here, behind the row of cars.”
“But you’re there.” Jack pointed to the figure in the drawing.
“Right. You drew me there, but if someone else was looking on...” He gave up and glanced at Joy. “How do you explain perspective to a kid?”
Joy knelt down beside him. “It’s like looking at a photograph. Everything is where it should be and it’s all sized right for positioning.”
Pursing his mouth, Jack studied the picture once more. “It’s not a photograph.”
“It’s better.” Royce dropped to his behind and crossed his ankles, holding the paper against his knees. “Do you think I could keep it?”
A smile beamed across Jack’s face. “Sure.”
“Will you sign it for me?” Royce glanced back to Joy. “Can he sign his name?”
She nodded. Jack was smart, but more than that, he received loads of attention from her. All that one-on-one helped him to grasp things more quickly. “Jack, try to put it smaller in the bottom corner, okay?” She touched the paper. “Down here.”
“Okay.” He turned and ran off again.
Royce faced her. “Do you realize how talented he is?”
“He’s my son. I think he’s brilliant at everything.”
Amused, Royce reached out and touched her hair, drifting his fingers from her ear down to the ends that lay against her back. For only a moment, his hand rested there, warm and firm against her, before he withdrew. “That might be, but he’s also artistic with natural skill. Few kids would have included that many details, or been able to add depth.”
She leaned in, liking this nearness to him. He smelled really nice, sort of dark and spicy, and she could feel the warmth of his body.
So that Jack wouldn’t hear, she whispered, “He drew you a little short and thick.”
Royce laughed. “He’s five.” Standing again, he caught her elbow and helped her up, and then didn’t let her go. A glance at Jack showed him hunched over the paper, his lip caught in his teeth as he painstakingly added his name.
When his gaze came back to her, Joy’s heart tripped.
Royce looked at her mouth. “Have you thought about it?”
“What?” she asked, knowing exactly what he meant.
“Me, kissing you.” He drew closer and his hand slid to her back, his fingers dancing little circles over her spine. “Not here. Not now. But at some point before the afternoon ends, I’ll have your mouth.”
Her breath thickened and a sweet ache pooled low in her stomach. Such a tease. Well, two could play that game.
She put a hand on his biceps and lowered her voice. “I have.” Her attention now snagged on his mouth. “A lot. So you should know my expectations are high.”
“Good.” Coming closer still, he breathed near her ear, “Always demand the best, Joy. Even from me.”
Sensation washed over her—and then he stepped away, turning as Jack came up to them.
“All set?”
Paying no attention to adult antics, Jack held up the picture. “I messed up
the J.”
Royce examined it critically. “You know what? I think that gives it character. I wouldn’t change a thing.” To Joy, he asked, “Is there someplace safe I can put this until I’m ready to go?”
Still a little breathless, Joy indicated the corkboard where a lot of artwork got shared. “You could pin it there.”
He looked down at Jack. “What do you think?”
Jack tried to look humble. “If you want to.”
They went over to the board together. Royce bent his head to listen as Jack talked. Two males, one under four feet tall, his body narrow, his movements frenetic, and the other more than six feet of calm, carved strength.
It was a dangerous thing, seeing them together, liking how they looked as they interacted. It’d be so easy to get caught up in the emotions of seeing her son so happy, knowing he enjoyed the attention and praise.
It was dangerous for Jack. Dangerous for her.
Her instinct, always, was to protect Jack from possible hurt and disappointment.
And yes, she wanted to protect herself, as well.
They had a good life right now, and it unnerved her to think of rocking the boat, changing the dynamic of the peaceful, contented existence she’d so carefully created. Yet Jack deserved more.
She did, too.
A kiss, the wild night Maris encouraged or more... Joy didn’t know yet, but for now, she was open to all possibilities.
* * *
Royce stood back, talking to a man who’d brought three kids—a daughter and two sons—to take part in the fun. Seven other kids were there, too, creating a small, boisterous crowd. Most were rowdier than Jack, definitely louder, but Joy handled them with the skill of a veteran grade school teacher. The noise level alone was enough to make his brain vibrate, yet she took it in stride.
She praised some crazy-looking results, because most of these kids didn’t have Jack’s artistic bent. She gave directions on others, and assisted with some. Things that should have looked like miniature scarecrows turned out to be the stuff of nightmares.
