“Mommy, can I get fried rice and those chicken nuggets with the red sauce?” Terran asked. He’d recently had a haircut, the sides short, but the top a little longer. Cooper had taken him to a barber.
“It’s called sweet-and-sour chicken, Terran,” Suni clarified.
Dana nodded, her menu unopened before her. She knew the choices by heart. Their usual waitress came, visited with them and took their orders.
They’d been coming here for three years, ever since Dana and Cooper had ironed out a visitation agreement in court. Sunday was their trade-off day for Terran, and usually just after dinner. Being at Chop Suey gave Dana the chance to wind down without mundane distractions at home—bill paying, bar supply lists—stuff she felt she never caught up with. She liked having an enjoyable meal and time off to visit and talk to Terran about the week ahead at his dad’s.
In the beginning, when Terran first had to go to Cooper’s for a week at a time, he’d start to ask her when his dad was coming hours beforehand. Terran’s disposition changed; his face expressed worry. And as the hour approached, he’d get clingy, then start to cry.
No doubt. Terran had only known her arms when he’d cried in the middle of the night, her soothing voice to calm his fears. During the first two years of their son’s life, Cooper bailed. He saw him, but he hadn’t taken an active role in his caregiving. Infancy to the toddler years had fallen to her. But when Terran started forming words and turning into a little man, Cooper took notice. He’d wanted to make up for the years he’d missed.
Better late than never, Dana supposed.
Thankfully Cooper had turned out to be a pretty decent dad, and now Dana didn’t have any trouble on Sunday. Once in a while, there were some whimpers, but overall, the routine had turned as normal as the situation could.
Dana felt for her son. The back-and-forth from house to house was a horrible thing for a five-year-old, but it was the best solution. Even though she and Cooper differed in many ways, she couldn’t be too critical of him at this point.
He had stepped up to the plate, something she never thought he would do. In his own way, Cooper managed.
Cooper had Terran in preschool—aka day care—during the day, an arrangement Dana wasn’t fond of, but the time was Cooper’s and he could legally do what he wanted so long as it wasn’t detrimental to Terran’s wellbeing.
“Momma, how come there’s no soy sauce on the table?” Terran asked, his dark eyes inquisitive.
And so it began.
“Because they bring it with our dinner.”
“How come?”
“Because that’s how they do it.”
“But doncha think it would be smarter to leave it on the table? Because everybody loves soy sauce.”
“That would be a better idea, baby, but that’s not how they do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
Suni enveloped the blissful four seconds of silence. And then the inevitable happened.
“Mommy?” Terran’s dark brown hair spiked a little at the back where he had a cowlick. “Because isn’t an answer.”
Suni, an observer during the exchange, broke in with her stock response. “Terran, if your mom says ‘because’ is an answer, it’s an answer.”
“Yeah, but—”
“So,” Dana began, flattening the long paper wrapper that she’d discarded after putting the straw in her cola glass, “Daddy said you’re going fishing on Wednesday. He’s got the day off.”
Terran’s warm-colored skin glowed with charged excitement. His ethnic features were subtle. The most prominent were his very brown eyes that he’d inherited from Oscar. He actually looked more like Cooper than her. Same nose, a marginally unsymmetrical lower lip and beautiful eyebrows.
“Yep. We’re taking Riley, too.”
Riley was Cooper’s two-year-old chocolate lab. Since the day Cooper had gotten the puppy, Terran had been after her to get a dog at their house, too. But that was not happening. She wasn’t around enough to take care of it, and just because Cooper did something, didn’t mean she would.
Their meal arrived, and as they ate, they talked about Terran’s kindergarten registration. They’d visited the school in May to fill out the paperwork, and he couldn’t wait to start Fawn Mountain Elementary.
“Momma,” Terran said between chews, displaying the gap in the top of his teeth. His left front tooth had fallen out and he’d been awarded a dollar bill from the Tooth Fairy. “How come the school won’t let me go if I don’t have that shot?”
“Because you need the booster, baby.”
“What’s a booster?”
He must have asked her this a dozen times. “It’s a little extra medicine in the shot that makes you not get sick.”
“If I had the med’cine the first time, how come I need some more?”
“You just do.”
“But why?”
“Because.”
Then in his sweet-boy voice, he said, “Mommy?”
Dana looked up from her plate and waited for the question. “Yes, Terran?”
He grinned, that toothless smile of his that made her want to squeeze him. “I love you, Momma.”
Dana melted into a puddle, her heart warmed to her deepest center of being. She fought hot tears, resolving not to let them fall. Tears of unconditional love, tears of having to miss him being with her this week. “Love you, too, baby boy.”
THE BLUE NOTE REMAINED closed on Sundays, giving Dana the much-needed opportunity to play catch-up. Normally, she filed her mountain of paperwork, did the payroll, organized ledger sheets that controlled the expenses and operating costs. She had gained a lot of knowledge since taking over the Blue Note, and the mistakes she’d made early on had merely been learning curves.
On this clear Sunday night, she had an eight-o’clock meeting with a general contractor. She almost canceled so she could enjoy sitting outside. The day had reached nearly sixty degrees, and had been sunny. Days like this were to be savored down to the last second of a late-evening sunset.
But Bruce was going to meet her at the Blue Note and give her a bid on adding an exit door.
She’d gone to high school with Bruce and had known him and his wife, Sandy, for years. When she called, he’d said no problem to coming out at this hour on the weekend.
Dana unlocked the bar, stepped inside and switched the lights on. When nobody was around, the place looked entirely different. A vast empty space of tables with chairs turned upside down on their tops, a vacant bar and the musician’s floor where the jazz notes of the Sax Man’s woodwind still filled Dana’s memory.
Sadness assailed her, and she wished her dad would come out from the back room and give her a bear hug.
The heavy silence in the cavernous space hurt Dana’s ears. She turned on the jukebox and selected a CD recording of her dad playing. Listening to the notes, she lost herself in the song. Then the nostalgic sound of Glenn Miller and his orchestra overtook the ghostly shadows. “Moonlight Serenade” breathed life into the room.
Pouring herself a sparking water with a twist of lime, Dana barely had a moment to think about the fire marshal’s demands when Bruce showed up.
He was once the captain of the football team with a promising pro career, but an injury had wiped out that dream and Bruce had stayed behind in Alaska. He’d married Sandy, the head cheerleader, and opened a contracting business. They had four kids ranging in age from fourteen months to eight and a half.
Time hadn’t been kind to Bruce. He’d grown a soft belly and his dark hair had thinned. The bridge of his nose had been broken during the game against Juneau, and what had been considered so cool in high school, looked misaligned in later years.
Striding forward, the first thing she noticed was the saying on Bruce’s navy T-shirt, and she stifled a laugh. In big block lettering over his chest: It Takes A Stud To Build A House.
“Hey, Dana. You’re looking great, as always.” He’d brought a metal clipboard, the kind that
opened and folded back to expose the notepad inside. A yellow tape measure hooked onto his belt, and he wore a Denver Broncos ball cap.
Never comfortable acknowledging her appearance, she let the comment go. “So, like I told you on the phone, Fire Marshal Bill hit me with some stuff I need to do.”
His gaze lingered on her face then, for a few seconds, lowered before moving back to direct eye contact. She’d worn a short-sleeved Ed Hardy T-shirt, loving the colors and the lively skull with hearts. A pair of blue jean capris encased her lean legs, and she’d kept her wedged leather flip-flops on from earlier in the day.
She noticed a slight chill in the bar, or maybe it was the feeling she got when Bruce gave her a closer look. But she disregarded the tinge of vague discomfort. She was being stupid. She’d known the guy practically her entire life.
“So here’s his report.” She led Bruce to the table where she’d laid out the papers.
Bruce studied it, shifted through notations, then said, “You’ve got some pricey problems to tackle.”
Dread sank her emotions and she felt as if she were drowning. How could she make this work and not go broke? “Even more than what’s there?”
“Yeah. I add an exit door and you’re going to have to widen the hallway.”
“He didn’t say I had to.”
“It’s code. You make a door, you better have the room to get out of it. After I do that, you’ll need to slap up some fireproof rock down the corridor.” He gave her a placating smile, something that she would have warmed to, but she sensed it had nothing to do with what they were discussing.
He wanted to nail more than drywall.
With a brawny exhalation, he said, “It’ll be a fairly straightforward job, but I’ll have to put in some hours. And I’m thinking it’ll disrupt your business operation, so mornings work well. What time do you get here?”
“I’d really like an estimate, Bruce.” She didn’t add that she was tight on funds and needed to make every penny count.
“Not to worry about that.” His gaze fell on her breasts once more. “I’d give you a discount.” He took a step closer to her; she didn’t flinch.
“Don’t do me any favors,” she said flatly.
“We all need favors, Danalee.” With that comment, Bruce took down a chair and made himself comfortable. “Damn, it feels good to get off my feet. Sandy’s had me doing junk for her all day. You’d think the woman had two broken legs. It’ll be good to work for a woman who appreciates me.”
The idea of Bruce being here every day left her cold.
“It’s nice to get out and be understood. Sandy doesn’t give a rip about me, what I want. You were lucky you never married. You can do whatever you feel like.”
“Not true, Bruce. I have a son.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Cooper Boyd’s kid. He was some lucky son of a gun to have hooked up with you.” Leaning back in the chair, he slowly spread his legs, as if for her to get a view of the bulge in his jeans. “In high school, you would have killed to go out with me, only I never had the brains to see just how damned gorgeous you are. I’d like to treat you right, Dana. I know you’d like it.”
Her heart beat in her ears, a thunderous pounding. The very air in her lungs seemed to be growing thinner. She knew she came across as don’t-mess-with-me during business hours but, in truth, it took a lot of craft and acting to appear unfazed. Deep down, she had a tender heart, and she hated this kind of manhandling, even if it was only vocal.
For a scant second, she feared he might try something and she’d never be able to get him off her. Don’t panic. She struggled to not bolt for the pepper spray she kept hidden behind the bar.
His hands cupped either side of his inner thighs and he gave her a smile that—yes—she would have loved to have received in high school, but that was then and this was now.
Now, he made her feel sick. She’d trusted him to come over here, had never even given him the slightest encouragement or led him on.
Damn him.
“Bruce, I think—”
“I’d like to propose something.” His eyes shone with a glassy purpose and hunger.
“So would I, slick.”
Mark Moretti’s muscled body fleshed out the doorway opening, his voice like a drop of honey. All the tension within her seemed to let go at the same time, and she almost gave a short laugh.
Trusting on blind faith was a stretch for her, but that’s what she had to do right now. Deep down, she sensed Moretti wasn’t a threat. There was an honest quality to him, and because of that, his unexpected presence brought her relief.
She kept her emotions in check, and then quite matter-of-factly said, “Moretti—good, you’re right on time to talk about the construction job.”
An unspoken question flickered in Mark’s gaze, but he didn’t counter her comment.
She acted as cool as a spring tide, not making eye contact with Bruce as she dismissed him. “Work up an estimate and mail it to me. Thanks for coming out, Bruce. Tell Sandy I said hi.”
With a jerking motion, Bruce grabbed his clipboard, then shot Mark a long stare. The lettering on his T-shirt seemed to scream off his chest.
“That shirt sums you up, doesn’t it, stud?” Mark strolled into the bar as if he’d had an appointment to be here. “And I bet you’re into performance evaluations.”
Dana gritted her teeth. Mark should have let it go. Now he’d pissed Bruce off.
“You know what, pal,” Bruce said through thick lips, “I wasn’t finished here.”
“Sure you were.” Mark halted dead in front of him. The men were matched in height, but Bruce had Mark in bulk twofold. “You want to know why?” Moretti’s voice sluiced through the bar, assured and easygoing.
“Why?” Bruce grunted.
“’Cause I’ve got a hunch that the shiny four-wheel drive out in the parking lot with the bumper sticker that says Building America, One Erection at a Time is yours.”
“What of it?”
“Some kids were taking a piss on your tires and writing ‘ride me’ on your tailgate with the cans of fluorescent paint you had in the truck bed.”
Bruce bolted for the door, bearing down on it as if he was running for the end zone. As soon as he was out, Mark hitched the lock in place and folded his arms over his chest.
Dana’s mouth opened. “Is that true?”
“He’ll find out when he gets there.”
“You were lying?”
“Dana, I don’t lie very often. Only to men who have heads like buffalos and who think with what’s below their belt.”
Unbidden, Dana laughed to the point where she couldn’t stop. And it felt so good, she didn’t want to.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN MARK HAD SEEN the fearful wariness on Dana’s face as Bruce propositioned her, a foreign rage had hit him. If he hadn’t controlled himself, he could have done something he would have regretted.
Mark remained stationed at the door in case Bruce decided to come back and use his fist to give it a pound. “How’d you find that dum-dum? The yellow pages?”
Dana sobered, her easy laughter fading. Instantly, he missed the lighthearted sound. “I went to high school with him. He was the captain of the football team.”
“He’s the captain of dirtbags now.”
“I never thought I’d say this to you—but I agree. I didn’t realize he’d changed so much when I called him. But I needed a contractor.”
That information gave him pause again. He only had one explanation for how she knew what he did for a living.
“The Internet makes it easy to find out about a person,” he said with a half ounce of sarcasm. “Nobody’s got any anonymity anymore. Not that I care you looked.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Type in a name, click on the search. For a few bucks on your Visa, you can find out all sorts of stuff.” He went toward her, a grin on his mouth and a slight dimple on his cheek. “All you had to do was ask, and
I’d have told you anything you wanted to know about me.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she lifted the chair back onto the tabletop, as if she needed something to do. Then she accused, “How do I know you’re not here for the same thing Bruce was?”
He felt a shadow of annoyance touch his face. “Do I look like I smash beer cans on my forehead?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Is that your final answer?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were, Dana. You don’t advance to the next round.”
“I’m not playing games with you.”
“Too bad. Sometimes it can be fun if you pick the right game.” Mark’s gaze traveled across the ceiling and over the walls. “So what do you want done? I noticed the roof’s shot in a few places.”
Her standoffish demeanor was evidence she didn’t want to talk to him about her remodel—or whatever it was she needed.
Mark’s guess, having overheard her talking to Sam about the fire marshal coming in for an inspection, was she’d been written up. Having taken just a cursory look at the Blue Note, Mark thought she was fortunate the guy hadn’t closed her down.
“You must have gotten written up longer than a wish list for Santie Claus,” he said, glancing at the papers on the table. “Show me what you have.”
She made no move for the folder or its paperwork. Doubt set lines in her forehead. “What are you doing here? We’re closed.”
“Lights on, music playing. Looked open to me.”
“Well, we’re not.”
In an easy voice, he said, “I went to the aviation office to grab our stuff. Nobody there. Saw lights on in the bar and hoped someone inside would have a key. My lucky day—” he gave her a compelling smile “—I found you.”
For a long moment, she said nothing, as if she were mulling over his intervention and whether or not to comment on it. She gave him a slow and hard study. Her almond-shaped eyes grazed over his body, heating his blood to the marrow of his bones.
All That You Are Page 5
