“Well, Teach, I’m learning new things from you all the time.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes.
She continued to tuck and fold, and he sighed. Maybe she’d brought it up for reasons of her own. “Do you want to talk about the kiss?”
Her brow furrowed while she thought over his question. The myriad of emotions in her amazing golden eyes matched much of what he felt: confusion, attraction, regret and more.
“Yes,” she finally allowed. But she chewed her lip, not saying anything further, obviously struggling for the right words.
Feeling defensive, he assured her, “You don’t have to worry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Her gaze on his mouth, half wistful, she nodded. “It can’t happen again. It’s more than just professional ethics, it’s written right into my contract. And I have to stay close to Amanda in case she needs me. I can’t risk losing this job.”
“Of course.” The tension in his shoulders eased as he realized she hadn’t found his kiss objectionable. It was the situation she stressed over. He shouldn’t care, as the kiss wouldn’t be repeated, but somehow he did.
“There’s Mickey to think of, too,” she added, concern evident in her earnest expression. “He may get confused by a change in our relationship. He’s making such good progress we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize his growth.”
“You’re probably right.”
“It’s prudent.” With a small smile, she echoed his earlier assurance. “There is something else I’d like to talk to you about. If you’re not going back to work, I thought you might grill some steaks and we could eat out on the deck and talk.”
“I should go back.” He checked his watch, saw there was only an hour left of his scheduled time. He’d put in a lot of extra hours lately, so he could justify the time off. And sitting down to a meal and conversation with Nikki sounded really good. All the more reason he should get his butt to work.
“Let me check in with Lydia. If it’s still quiet, I’ll stay and grill.”
“Great.” She smiled her pleasure. “I’ll get these clothes put away and start on a salad.” Stacking baby shirts on top of baby pants, she headed toward Mickey’s room.
Trace sat on the couch to make his call. He met his son’s gaze across the room. “Whatever you do, don’t leave us alone tonight.”
Every day her attraction for the handsome Sheriff grew stronger. The sooner father and son connected and she could move on the better. For them. And for her. Nikki watched through the kitchen window as the boys “grilled.”
Trace had changed into a sky-blue polo shirt that emphasized the width of his shoulders, and a pair of khaki shorts that came to his knees but left his muscular calves on display. He made one fine view.
While he wielded the spatula, he instructed Mickey on the finer points of barbecuing. Mickey listened and chewed on a teething biscuit.
Male bonding at its best. Just as she’d planned. Not scheduled was the joy she took in the family moment.
For a man who held himself aloof, who claimed to have no capacity for emotion, he was amazingly insightful and compassionate. Nikki suspected it wasn’t that Trace didn’t acknowledge his feelings, it was that he felt things so deeply, and if he allowed himself to feel he couldn’t do the work he did without being torn apart inside.
He looked up and met her gaze through the window. He smiled, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Not a good sign.
“Steaks are ready,” he called.
She waved an acknowledgment, gathered the baked potatoes and salad bowl and joined the boys outside. Under the shade of the umbrella the summer air felt warm against her skin, but the breeze gave the evening a balmy feel.
“This is nice.” Trace set the platter of steaks on the table. “Good idea.”
Easy conversation followed while they ate. She found out they shared a taste for action movies and biographies, but couldn’t be further apart when it came to music and Chinese food. His growing sense of humor delighted her.
They talked briefly about the big announcement made at the community meeting. Nikki had been babysitting the kids, but her sister had filled her in on the Anderson endowment, gifting funds and property to Paradise Pines for community development.
“Is it true the men already have plans drawn up for a new sports complex?”
“It’s no more aggressive than the women hiring an architect for a museum.”
“Please. The cultural significance of a museum over a sports park couldn’t be more blatant.”
“Kids want to go to the park. They have to be made to go to a museum.”
“That doesn’t make the need for culture any less important in their development.”
“So you’re siding with the women?” Even he heard the sarcasm in the question.
She gave him an arch stare. “I am a woman, and I help shape young minds as a living. I can’t believe you don’t see the value of learning over play.”
“Statistics show kids in team sports are more socially adept and less likely to get involved in drugs, alcohol and gangs. I see the value in that.”
“Yes, but we already have a sports park. We don’t have a museum.” Already seeing the argument forming on his lips, she cut herself short. “Never mind. We have to work together. It’s best we accept we’re on opposite sides of this issue.”
“Good idea. Too bad the whole town can’t agree to disagree. I see this getting ugly before it’s over.”
“Keeping the peace.” She grinned at him. “That’s why you get the big bucks.”
“Ha, ha. The big bucks came from my dad’s life-insurance policy. And I inherited my wife’s trust fund that she got from her maternal grandmother. I didn’t want any of it.”
Wow. The emotional outburst was so unlike him she stumbled for a response. “It must have helped, though, to allow you to make the move to Paradise Pines and to buy this place.”
His fist tightened around his glass. “I can afford to provide a home for my son.”
Okay, that hadn’t been the right thing at all. Stupid, in fact, with his pride all wrapped up with his loss.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that money isn’t intended to replace the people we’ve lost but to help us adjust to life without them. My mother insisted on life-insurance policies for both her and my dad. Without it neither my sister nor I would have been able to complete college.”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because we were college-age girls alone in the world instead of a big he-man like you?” She shook her finger at him. “Not only is that sexist, it’s disrespectful to the dead. People get peace of mind in life and in passing to know the ones they love will be taken care of when they’re gone. I’m sure you’ve already considered what arrangements you’re going to make for Mickey.”
He drew a circle on the table in the condensation dripping off his glass of iced tea, conveniently avoiding eye contact. “I already moved his mother’s trust fund into his name.”
Of course he had. “See? I bet she’d be pleased with the gesture.”
“Yeah.” Mickey dropped his sippy cup and Trace bent to retrieve it. When he settled back in his seat, tension showed in the tight line of his shoulders. “How is it you can read me so well?”
“I listen,” she said lightly, offsetting the near accusation with an airy