Shoot. She’d forgotten about the meeting. Jessica plastered on her best fake smile and said, “You bet, Mayor. I’ll be there.”
Fletcher gave her a warm squeeze on the shoulder and ambled off to finish his walk. Jess didn’t have the luxury of ambling. She hefted the heavy sports bag, balancing several bats in her arms while simultaneously whistling to get Wesley’s attention. Wes jogged up and took the bats from her too-full hands.
“We’ve got to go, bud. You ready?”
Wes nodded. She saw him glance at the kids behind them, who had resumed their game.
“Yeah,” he said. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can we just practice at home from now on?”
Jessica’s heart broke a little. “We’ll see, bud. We’ll see.”
Thankfully, she and Wes made it home in good time. As Wes had gotten his homework finished, Jess even had time to whip up some darned good mac and cheese with bacon and peas—a favorite of Wes’s since he’d been small.
Wes had brushed his teeth and promised to get into his pajamas at bedtime and not fall asleep in his clothes, and he was currently watching television as Jessica studied herself in the mirror, applying her lip gloss in quick strokes. She called over her shoulder to Wesley and waited for him to appear before she nodded to the hangers dangling from the shower rod next to her.
“I can’t decide. Blue dress or black?” Brett was always as polished as new silver, and she didn’t want to appear frumpy next to him.
Wesley leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. “You’re going with Brett, right?”
Jessica said, “Yes.” Wes knew that. She wondered where he was going with this.
Wesley said, “Then orange.”
Jessica, confused, said, “Orange? But you said it makes me look like a pumpkin.”
Wesley smiled innocently and shrugged.
“Honey, stop! Brett’s a nice guy.” She looked thoughtfully over at her mischievous kid. “Come here.” Wes, after a moment of hesitation, shuffled toward her.
“You know I’m not trying to replace your dad, right? I would never do that.”
Wes’s gaze dropped down to the worn tile, and Jessica pulled him close to her. She kissed the top of his head, marveling at how she barely had to bend over these days to do it. He was growing up so fast. She gave him a big hug. He squeezed back. It had been tough on them in the years since Davis had split, but they always got through—together.
“I love you,” she said.
She retreated to get ready, choosing the black dress and fixing up her hair. Just as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, there was a knock at the door.
As Jess hustled to the front door, she cautioned Wes. “Be nice. I’m off to the Spring Fling planning meeting.” She gave him a smile as she rattled off a final instruction. “Have fun with Bonnie while I’m gone.”
Jessica opened the door to see Brett, every dark hair in place, his clothes impeccable, standing on her stoop. Brett whipped a box of candy out from behind his back.
Jessica said, “Right on time, Brett. You’re never a minute early or a minute late.” Or very exciting from minute to minute. She brushed off the catty thought.
Brett shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression said that he took her comment as a compliment. “Hey, I’m like a clock. And I knew you’d still be getting ready, so I sat out front in my car for the last ten minutes. I didn’t want to mess with your routine.” He stepped inside and then looked at Wesley. “Wes, ya like magic?”
Jessica shifted uncomfortably. Wes had yet to warm up to Brett, no matter how hard—or awkwardly—Brett tried.
Wesley, none-too-enthusiastically, said, “Sure.”
Brett pulled three small cups and a ball from his pocket and arranged them on the entryway table, sliding them around, classic shell-game style.
“You think you know where the ball is, don’t you?” Brett asked.
Wesley didn’t look impressed, and he didn’t answer.
Brett prompted, “But do you? Presto!” Brett waved his hands dramatically over the set of cups.
Wesley pointed to a cup, and Brett lifted it to see the ball. His face went blank.
Brett said, “Wait, I…” Brett rearranged them. Wesley pointed to the right one again.
Brett continued, mystified. “How did you do that?”
Wesley said nothing, and Jessica shot him a reproachful look. There was another knock on the door.
“We should head out. Mrs. Carver is here.” She patted Brett on the arm, and he gathered up his magic trick, still looking puzzled.
Jessica grabbed Wesley and kissed him, despite his mischievous smile—the same one he’d worn when trying to get her to dress in pumpkin spice for her evening.
Jessica whispered, “Be good, honey.” She mussed up his hair the way she knew bugged him.
They slid by Wesley’s babysitter as they left, and Jess made sure that Bonnie had Jess’s cell phone number, as well as Brett’s, just in case.
As they climbed into Brett’s car, Jess said quietly, “Look, it’s not personal. Wesley just sees himself as my protector.”
Brett didn’t respond, and they drove toward the community center in silence.
The mood thawed a bit on the way, and soon Brett was animatedly educating Jess on one of his favorite subjects—accident statistics. Jessica and Brett chatted as Brett led her into the community center, his hand on her back. A working dinner was underway.
“All I’m saying,” he said as they passed beneath a Spring Fling sign and into a crowd of other volunteers who were serving food, “is that eating while driving is one of the top three road hazards. When you’re an independent insurance broker, you get to know this stuff.”
“Wow, that’s so interesting.” Jessica hoped that her tone didn’t say otherwise. She found insurance statistics about as exciting as the overdue invoices from her vendors at the diner. She chastised herself to stop being so negative about Brett. What was up with her? There was no denying that Brett was a nice guy. Sure, she’d never felt that spark with him, but he wasn’t unpredictable, not the way that Wes’s father had been.
Brett continued. “I could tell you stories—a big rig driver in Vegas eating a meat loaf sandwich, a grandma popping peppermints in Duluth—stories that would curl your hair.”
She shoved him playfully as they headed inside. “I already curled my hair. Haven’t you noticed?”
At one side of the room, a craft station had been set up with paint and several piles of Spring Fling decorations and signs. Brett didn’t answer her. He frowned at the bustle of activity.
Jessica said, “Sorry, I know it’s date night. But this makes us even for that insurance convention.”
Brett said, “At least we had a Hawaiian theme.” But his voice was good-natured. He was always good-natured. Jess liked that about him.
Jessica admitted, “True. You’ve got me there.”
Brett surveyed the gathering. “I’ve sold insurance to half the folks here.” He craned his neck to take a better survey of the room’s occupants, pointing surreptitiously