He looked up at them, confused.
“Let me get the broken glass, sport. I don’t want you to cut yourself.” Peter ruffled Patrick’s hair. “Take that trash out, then wash up for dinner.”
After Patrick left, Lisa sidled closer to Patrick and pitched her voice low. The scent of her perfume teased his nose and made his body go haywire.
“You’re good with him. Patient. Firm but loving. Instructing without being bossy or demeaning. I know I have no room to judge since I’m not a parent myself—”
“Lisa—” He furrowed his brow, sensing where this might be going.
She raised a finger to stop him.
“And it really isn’t my business anyway, but…in case there is any question left about my opinion of the job you’re doing with Patrick—” she flashed a gentle smile “—you’re a great father. I can see how much you love him in the way you look at him.”
He nodded. “He’s everything to me.”
A wistful look drifted over her face, and she turned back to the new window, ran her fingers over the glass. “It looks like a professional did this. Thank you, Peter.” She lifted a corner of her mouth, an impish light sparking in her eyes as she nudged him with her shoulder. “And for the record, the teacher is impressed.”
“I’m glad.” The temptation to kiss her sucker-punched him again, making his body taut, as if his skin were too tight. He canted slightly forward, his gaze locked on hers.
And Patrick barreled back into the room, the bag of trash still in his hand. “It’s too dark outside.”
Peter jerked away from his son’s teacher and cleared his throat. “What?”
“I can’t see anything. Can you turn on a light for me?”
Lisa’s expression reflected the same crushed anticipation as she ushered Patrick into the hall. She met his gaze as she left the room, her eyes full of the same regret that hammered him.
Trying not to resent the missed opportunity to sample her lips, Peter carefully picked up the broken window and followed them down the hall. Somehow, some way, he’d find another chance to show Lisa Navarre how he felt about her.
Chapter 9
S aturday morning, Peter and Patrick rose early and headed over to the school gymnasium to help Lisa decorate and set up for the Fall Festival. They arrived just as Lisa was unloading a large box from the back of her car, and Peter swooped in to take the box from her.
“I’ll get that.”
“Morning, Ms. Navarre!” Patrick said, a bounce of preteen energy in his step.
“Hi, guys!” Her face brightened as she passed the bulky load to Peter. “You came.”
“Didn’t I say we would?”
“Well, yeah, but…I guess I didn’t expect you until later.” She nodded to the box as she started for the gym door. “Looks like you arrived right on time, though. Thank you.”
He flashed a broad grin. “I aim to please.”
Patrick held the door as Peter carried the large box inside and set it on a folding table near the door. A few other parents and teachers already milled about in the gym, hanging posters, unfolding chairs and shuffling volleyball nets off the main floor. Peter scanned the faces, recognizing a few. No Coltons.
He hoped to have a chance to question some of the other parents, and get a feel for what the local grapevine was saying about his dad’s death. The Honey Creek gossip mill had an uncanny way of learning who did what long before official channels did.
“What is all this stuff?” Patrick asked, peering into the box.
Lisa started unpacking papers, baskets, balls, staplers, scissors and rolls of tape. “Decorating supplies. Odds and ends for the games.” She handed Patrick three small rubber balls. “Will you take these to Mrs. Jones for the milk-can-toss booth?”
“Sure.”
While his son scurried away with the rubber balls, Peter stepped closer to Lisa, mindful of the eyes watching him and the pretty teacher. “How is it you look so pretty at this hour on a Saturday morning?”
She gave him choked-sounding chuckle. “What? Are you kidding? No makeup, faded jeans and a ratty ponytail? Who are you kidding?”
He turned up a palm. “I just call ’em as I see ’em.”
Patrick returned, gushing with the eagerness of a puppy. “Now what?”
“Well, will you help me make copies of these coloring sheets for the little kids?” Lisa pulled a couple of pages with black line drawings from a folder and held them out to Patrick.
“Okay. What do I do?”
“Follow me to the front office, and I’ll show you how to work the copy machine.” After popping a few pieces of candy corn in her mouth, she pulled out a wad of keys and jangled them as she hitched her head, signaling Patrick to follow her.
The front office. Peter stilled. This could be his opportunity to get the information he needed on Maisie Colton’s son.
“Hey, Patrick?” he called, trotting to catch up. “Why don’t you help Mrs. Robbins set up chairs? I’ll make the copies with Ms. Navarre.”
Patrick divided a curious look between Lisa and his father. “You just want privacy so you can kiss, don’t you?”
Lisa sputtered a laugh, her cheeks flushing. “Patrick!”
“None of your beeswax, sport. Now go help with the chairs.” Peter took the coloring sheets from Patrick, curled them into a cone and swatted at his son’s fanny as Patrick loped away, smirking.
Facing Lisa, Peter rolled his eyes. “Sorry about that. The boy never did miss a chance to embarrass his old man.”
Lisa bumped him with her shoulder as they started down the corridor. “Not so old.”
Peter gave her an appreciative grin. “Most men my age are only just now starting to have babies. When most guys were graduating from college and thinking about marriage, I was parenting a toddler. Alone.”
Lisa grew quiet, pensive. He could guess where her mind was. Stupid, stupid, bring up babies!
“Sorry—” he said at the same time she started, “Peter, do you ever—”
He waved a hand. “Go on.”
“Do you think about having more kids?”
He sighed. “The thought has crossed my mind. I came from a relatively large family. I enjoyed having a brother and two sisters to play with growing up. I’d love for Patrick to have that, but at this point he’s already got a ten-year head start on any siblings he’d have, so they wouldn’t exactly be contemporaries.”
“But you do want more kids?”
They stopped in front of the front office, and when she reached for the knob to unlock the door, he caught her hand. “I know where this is coming from. I shouldn’t have mentioned kids around you. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes lit with a fiery intensity. “Wrong. The last thing I want you to do is dance around subjects with me. Especially when it comes to children. If we’re going to see more of each other, then it’s something we have to deal with up front.”
He drew her closer, and her eyes widened with surprise. “Are we going to see more of each other?”
“I…I only meant—”
“Because I’d like that. A lot.”
“I—” She licked her lips and cast her gaze toward his chest. “Peter, I like you. Really I do, but what’s the point in dating if—”
He caught her chin and nudged her face up. “Here’s the point.”
Without a second thought, he dipped his head and caught her lips with his, shaping and molding them with a gentle persuasion.
Lisa stiffened in shock, then slowly melted into his embrace, answering the tug of his mouth with a reciprocal fervor. Her kiss tasted like the candy corn she’d been nibbling, and like a sugar rush in his blood, the sweet pressure of her lips made his pulse pound and wired his body with a surge of energy.
The clang of a locker closing down the hall startled them, and Lisa jerked back from his arms. Touching her lips, she glanced up from hooded eyes and sent him a devilish grin. “Are you trying to get me in trouble with the principal, sir?”
> “Certainly not. But Patrick put the idea in my head, and…well, it was a good idea, so…”
She blushed a darker pink and turned to unlock the door. “The copier is in the far corner over there.” She pointed out the device to Peter, then turned the thumb lock on the door. “Pull the door closed when you leave. It should lock.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I think you can handle the copier alone. I’ve got a mess of things still to do. See you back in the gym in a few…”
“Mm-hm,” he called to her as she started back down the hall. “You’re just scared to be alone with me. Aren’t you? You know I’ll kiss you again, and you won’t want to stop.”
She turned, grinning as she put a finger to her lips to shush him.
Peter lingered in the office door, enjoying the sway of her hips as she sashayed down the corridor. Once she disappeared around the corner, Peter crossed the office and powered on the copier. While it warmed up, he glanced around and located a long, low file cabinet with drawers labeled A-F, G-N, O-Z. He tested the top drawer and found it locked. Naturally. Did he really think the school left personal records for the students that vulnerable?
With a quick glance toward the door, Peter pulled out his pocket knife and jimmied the top drawer lock. When it snicked open, he slid the drawer out, flipped through the files until he found Jeremy Colton’s, and spread the folder on the desk. He paged through transcripts, noting that Jeremy was a good student and had been given both academic awards and citizenship recognition. He paused to study the most recent school photo, clipped on the inside cover of the file.
Did Jeremy bear any resemblance to the Walshes? Peter’s heart clamored in his chest. He imagined that he saw his father in Jeremy’s eyes, in his crooked smile, in his chin. With a huff of disgust, Peter turned the page. He was only seeing what he thought he should see. The kid looked like his mother, like a Colton.
At the back of the file, Peter found what he was looking for. A photocopy of Jeremy’s birth certificate.
A thump in the hall, followed by the sound of young voices chattering and giggling, called Peter’s attention to the corridor.
Hurry.
He scanned the document, noting the date of birth—seven months after his father had disappeared in 1995—and the space for the father’s name.
Blank.
Peter suppressed a groan. No help there.
Unless…Maisie had been unwilling to publicly acknowledge the boy’s father due to the scandal it could cause.
I mean, big-time scandal and hush-hush. Tess Cantrell’s assessment rang in his head, and a chill slithered down Peter’s back.
The copier beeped that it was ready, and Peter carried Jeremy’s file over, laid out the copy of the birth certificate and Jeremy’s photo and pressed Copy. When the machine spat out the pages he wanted, Peter folded them three times and shoved the papers deep in his back pocket for closer inspection later. Returning the evidence to the file, Peter stuck Jeremy’s file back behind Collins, Sara, jimmied the lock closed and set to work copying the coloring sheets for the festival.
Lisa was filling the apple-bobbing tub with water when Peter strolled into the gymnasium. Just the sight of him, his loose-hipped amble, his broad shoulders and form-fitting jeans stirred a restless hunger in her belly. Her lips twitched, remembering the mind-blowing kiss he’d startled her with in the hall.
He flopped the stack of coloring sheets on the table beside her. “Your papers, milady.”
She grinned. “Thank you, sir.”
He spread his hands. “What should I do next?”
Kiss me again. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from blurting the reply that sprang to mind. Unlike the deserted hallway, the gymnasium buzzed with activity as more students and parents arrived to set up booths from a cupcake walk to a beanbag toss. Kissing Peter Walsh now would start rumors flying faster than the kamikaze bumblebees that even now were swooping in her stomach. Too bad they’d nixed the idea of a kissing booth when Mrs. Holloway raised her concerns about passing germs.
“You can help me hang the decorations. I have balloons, streamers to go up, and a banner needs to be hung over the main stage.”
Peter clapped his hands together. “Great. Let’s do it.”
She directed him to the stepladder the custodian had left out for their use and collected the decorations that needed to be put up, a stapler, a roll of heavy-duty tape and a hammer.
As Peter brought the ladder over to the corner of the stage where she waited, Patrick ran up to him, followed at a more leisurely pace by Jeremy Colton.
“Dad, Jeremy’s mom brought a ton of cupcakes for the cupcake walk, but she said I can have one now if it’s okay with you.”
Knowing Peter’s feelings toward the Coltons, especially his suspicions about Maisie having an affair with his father, Lisa watched Peter’s reaction closely. Setting the ladder down, Peter turned to Patrick, then, as if he’d just noticed his son’s companion, lifted a sharp gaze to the second boy. He tensed slightly, his expression reflecting surprise, but he quickly schooled his face and sent the boy an awkward grin. “Hello, Jeremy.” Then to Patrick, “I didn’t know you and Jeremy were friends.”
Patrick shrugged. “We ride the same bus, so we talk sometimes. So can I have one of the cupcakes?”
Peter sent his gaze across the room to the table where Maisie Colton was unpacking several bakery boxes and lining up cupcakes on a plate. “I, uh… Isn’t it kinda early for sweets?” He checked his watch and sent Patrick a skeptical look.
“Da-ad!” Patrick groaned. “Please? I’m starving.”
He sighed. “One. Only one.”
“Yeah!” Patrick brightened, exchanged a high five with Jeremy, and loped off to collect his treat.
His hands balled at his sides, Peter watched his son approach Maisie. “What is she doing here? Her kid is in junior high.”
“Because our festival was delayed, we combined with the junior high this year.” She nudged Peter’s shoulder. “You know, I taught Jeremy. He really is a good kid. You don’t have to worry about Patrick hanging out with him.”
The boys reached the table, spoke to Maisie, and she lifted a startled glance to Peter that morphed into a hostile glare.
“It’s not Jeremy that bothers me,” he muttered, turning away from Maisie’s stare and shifting the ladder closer to where she stood.
“Wow, y’all are regular Hatfields and McCoys. What started this hatefest anyway? Has your family always had a feud with the Coltons?” She scooted the ladder to where she needed it and handed him the decorations to hold while she climbed up.
He steadied the ladder and tipped his head back to meet her gaze from her perch on the top rung. “Not always. Seems like way back when I was younger, our families might have even been friends. But something happened a long time ago that made my dad really hate the name Colton. I’m not even sure what it was. Probably something business-related. Then when Lucy started dating Damien, the you-know-what really hit the fan. It just escalated from there.”
She frowned and held out her hand for the streamers. “What a shame. The two most prominent families in town fighting. Think of all the good you all could do if you spent the same energy doing things to heal the town and help the needy.”
Peter’s spine stiffened. “The Walshes do tons of good for this town. Besides, do you really expect us to ignore the fact that a Colton was convicted of killing my dad in 1995?”
“He’s since been cleared.”
“Yeah, yeah. That doesn’t erase the ill-will. A Colton could easily be responsible for real this time.” Peter’s jaw tightened, and he sent a dark look across the room to Maisie.
“Look, I don’t mean to preach. I just hate to see you poison the next generation if there is no proof the Coltons are responsible for your family’s trouble.” She hitched her head to where Jeremy and Patrick stood licking the icing off their cupcakes and laughing together. “They don’t have any ill will.”
<
br /> Peter glanced at his son, and his expression softened. “I have no intention of interfering with my son’s friendships. If Jeremy is a good kid, then—”
“He is.” She pointed to the stapler. “Will you hand me that?”
Peter picked up the stapler and climbed several rungs to hand it to her.
When the ladder rocked slightly, Lisa gasped and groped for something to hold on to. “Hey, you’re supposed to be steadying the ladder!”
He passed the stapler to her and gave her a wolfish grin. “I’d rather steady you.” He demonstrated by splaying a wide, warm hand at the base of her spine. “The ladder’s stable. Just be sure you don’t keel over.”
I’m more likely to fall off if you keep touching me like that.
Heat from his hand sent a sweet sensation tingling up her back. When he moved up a couple of more rungs, his arms surrounded her as he held on to the ladder, and his body heat wrapped around her like a hug. His freshly-showered scent tickled her nose and made her heart thump a wild cadence.
Her hand trembled from the adrenaline of having him so close, the memory of his seductive kiss still zinging through her. When she tried to staple a banner into place, her reach proved too short, and without her asking, Peter took the banner from her hand and held it in place. On her toes and stretching her arm, she slapped a couple of staples in the sign, then clutched at Peter’s arm when the ladder wobbled again.
“I got you,” he murmured close to her ear.
With a nervous chuckle, she released his arm. “Yeah, but who’s got you? If this ladder tips, we’ll both go down.”
She started to move down the ladder, but Peter stayed put, putting him at eye level with her once she’d climbed down a couple rungs. She turned in the tight space between his broad chest and the ladder and met the smoky look in his eyes.
“I, uh, need to get some balloons.” Her voice cracked, giving away the nervous flutter pinging in her chest.
“I want to see you again.” His voice was low and husky, his dark eyes penetrating, smoldering.
Her head spun, and she groped behind her for a rung to cling to. Tugging her lips in a lopsided grin, she said, “You’re going to see lots of me today. I’m going to need plenty of help with the booths once the festival opens.”
P.I. Daddy's Personal Mission Page 12
