“You should be more careful.” She helped herself to more coffee. “If I can’t work, I can’t support my son—or help your sister build her business.”
He straightened and shoved a hand through his hair. “Is that something they teach you at Mom School?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That.” He gestured toward her. “The whole guilt thing.”
She nodded slowly. “It’s an advanced course for those who have passed Nagging 101 and the Art of Saying ‘Because I Said So.’”
He fought a smile. He’d had no idea she could be such a smart-ass. “I’ve always suspected there was some sort of secret mom society.”
“I’m sorry, but if I admit any more, they’ll take away my membership.”
And then she did something she’d never done before. At least not in front of him. She smiled. But it quickly faded.
“I have to go,” she said, before walking away.
Faith Lewis sure was a puzzle. He tapped his fingers on top of the dryer. It seemed like ego, but most women were not in a hurry to get away from him. Damned if he couldn’t resist a puzzle.
“How’s Austin doing?” he asked, stopping her in her tracks. “He enjoying his summer?”
She took her time turning back to him. Something made it impossible for her to be rude enough to walk away when he was talking to her.
“Austin’s fine,” she said.
He leaned against the washing machine. “He’s what? Ten?”
“Nine,” she said, looking toward the door.
Yeah, he shouldn’t enjoy this so much. But then again, he was a cop, not a saint. “I remember that age. Summer couldn’t come soon enough, didn’t last long enough and there was always too much to do.”
“He’s keeping busy.”
“He making friends? Adjusting to the new town?”
“He’s…shy. He wasn’t in school long enough to buddy up with any of the kids, but I’m sure that’ll change once it starts again.”
“If you want, I could introduce him to a few of my nephews. I have one his age and—”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s no big deal. And Trevor’s a great kid.”
“I’m sure he is but—”
“Mom!”
Faith’s face went white. She whirled around as Austin came rushing into the room, his hair matted down with sweat, his face red.
“What happened?” Kneeling, she gripped his shoulder with her free hand. “What’s wrong?”
The panic in her voice made Nick step forward, his heart picking up speed.
“The new X-Men comic is on sale,” Austin panted, bending at the waist. “Can I get it? Please? It’s only four dollars.”
Faith sagged in relief. “The way you came barreling in here, yelling like that,” she said, running an unsteady hand over her son’s hair, “I thought something had happened to you.”
“Sorry. I have to hurry back because there’s only one copy left. Mr. Silvis said he’d hold on to it for me as long as I came back before lunchtime.”
Faith rubbed her temples. “Mr. Silvis is just going to have to wait a few minutes. I hope you didn’t run through the salon—”
“No, ma’am,” Austin said, with such a guilty look Nick knew for damn sure Austin had barreled through the place as though his ass were on fire.
“And,” Faith continued, “I can’t help but wonder if you left your manners back at Mr. Silvis’s store, since you haven’t even said hello to Mr. Coletti.”
“But, Mom, I have to—”
Faith gave him The Look. A shiver crept up Nick’s spine even though The Look hadn’t even been aimed at him. But it was a powerful tool, one perfected by mothers throughout the centuries to keep their kids in line. Hell, his mother had given him The Look last week. You couldn’t outgrow it.
“Hi, Mr. Coletti,” Austin said quickly. Nick nodded in greeting and Austin whipped around to face his mother again. “So? Can I get it? Please?”
“We’ll see.”
Austin’s expression darkened. “That means no.”
“It doesn’t mean no. It means I’ll think about it.”
“Why can’t you tell me now? Please, Mom. Please, I really want this one. And I promise, I won’t ask for anything the rest of the week. Or even the rest of the summer. Or you could take it out of my birthday present or…or I could pay you back. Maybe I could mow Mrs. Sugden’s yard again or walk her dog or—”
“Austin,” Faith snapped, glancing at Nick before leading Austin over to the corner.
Nick didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t observing their every move. Watching her collect herself was so fascinating.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, “but with the water heater breaking, a comic book’s not in the budget this week.”
The poor kid sort of…deflated. As crushed as if someone had sold his prized baseball card collection at a garage sale for a quarter of its value.
Like Nick’s sister Kathleen had done during his first year at college.
“Yes, ma’am,” Austin murmured, blinking fiercely.
Nick clenched his hands. Not his concern, he assured himself as he shut off the water to the washing machine. Or his business. Faith had been distant around him since they’d met. No sense making waves with his sister’s employee by sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.
Austin sniffed and Nick tipped his head back and exhaled.
He was going to have to help the kid out, after all.
CHAPTER TWO
FAITH HAD BEEN GEARING UP for Austin to give her a hefty dose of snark about not being able to get the comic book, and instead, her baby had taken the news in stride.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, deliberately ignoring the dark, silent man in the room. She brushed Austin’s hair off his forehead, but let her hand drop when he jerked away. “Maybe you can get the next issue.”
Austin shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Damn,” Nick muttered.
She and Austin both turned and saw him staring at his toolbox, his hands on his hips.
“Sorry,” he said when he caught them watching. “I just realized I don’t have any quarter inch pan head screws and…” He scratched his ear. “Hey, Austin, maybe you could do me a favor?”
“That depends on what it is,” Faith said.
“I need those screws but I’m already behind fixing this…” He jerked a thumb at the washing machine. “Could you run down to the hardware store and pick them up for me? If it’s all right with your mom.”
Austin looked at her. The back of her neck prickled. “But isn’t the hardware store at the end of Main Street?” she asked.
“Yeah. At the corner of Kennedy and Main.”
Six blocks away. Even if Austin ran there and back, he’d be gone at least twenty minutes. More than likely, with the way he ambled along, he’d be gone over half