Shielding her son, p.7
Shielding Her Son, page 7
Moulton’s ice-cream parlor was only a short walk from the school. Erika left the car in its parking space and they strolled through Carling Lake’s downtown area, a series of interconnecting streets that were home to a variety of shops designed to serve the needs of both the full-time residents and the tourists. A secondhand bookstore, antique and souvenir shop, and clothing store with kitschy T-shirts in its window stood side by side with the post office, a bank and the local pharmacy.
Moulton’s, a town and tourist favorite, was housed in a redbrick building with an old-time awning over the door. The shop had been in operation for forty-two years according to the plaque by the register, but the building itself had stood for more than one hundred years, serving as the town’s first police station. From housing prisoners to fifteen of the best flavors of homemade ice cream Erika had ever tasted—an upgrade in her humble opinion.
The shop wasn’t busy. Although it was Erika’s contention that ice cream never went out of season, one which Moulton’s apparently agreed with since it was open all year, not everyone enjoyed ice cream in the cool temperatures of February. More for her and Marcus, who never turned down sweets.
It was a sunny day, so she and Marcus took their ice cream—raspberry crumble for Erika and blueberry blues for Marcus—to the park a half block away.
Between licks, Marcus told her about what he’d done in school that day. Unlike some parents, she never had to pull a description of his day from her son. Maybe it was because they were all each other had, but she was lucky that they were close.
Although Marcus had only paused long enough for Erika to get in a few “uh-huhs” and “that sounds fun,” he still somehow managed to finish his ice-cream cone before she did. The appearance of a couple of guys he recognized from school on the basketball courts may have been a motivating factor. Marcus quickly abandoned her to eat her cone alone.
She didn’t mind. She loved how independent her son was, often reminding herself that his intelligence and self-sufficiency must be a sign that she wasn’t screwing him up too much in those difficult times when she doubted herself as a mother.
She was finishing the last bite of her cone and readying to signal to Marcus that it was time for them to head home when a familiar and unwelcome voice came from behind her.
“Heard you’ve been having a bit of trouble the last couple of days. Really sad to hear that.”
Erika took a deep breath and counted to ten before turning to face Ellis. She immediately regretted it when she saw the Cheshire cat grin he wore. The rage she’d felt when Sam Hogan had admitted that he was walking off her job to take on Ellis’s returned with a vengeance. She fought the urge to slap the grin off Ellis’s face.
If she could have separated his character and personality from his looks, she might have found him attractive. She knew his olive-colored skin resulted from the tanning salon off Route 127 rather than any time spent outdoors and his blond hair was cut a little too long and his highlights a little too well placed to be natural. He had coal-gray eyes that many of the women in town found irresistible, which he didn’t mind using to his greatest advantage. In his late forties, he was a confirmed bachelor but prolific dater. From what she’d heard, he was generous with his girlfriends until he tired of them, which didn’t take long, at which point he unceremoniously moved on.
“Hard to believe since you’re the source of one of my problems.”
Ellis waved away her accusation. “Ah, come on now, Erika. It’s just business. Sam Hogan is the best contractor for miles and I always get the best.”
Erika let her gaze travel over the impeccably cut suit and coat he wore down to the loafers, probably Italian or some other ridiculously expensive kind. Ellis’s entire look screamed that he had money and wanted everyone to know it. Too bad money couldn’t buy integrity.
“And you suddenly had to renovate your hotel this close to the beginning of the tourist season?”
“I moved when the numbers dictated. The way I see it, you should thank me. I taught you a valuable lesson. If you want to go head to head with me in business, you better toughen up.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep him from seeing that they shook with anger. She wasn’t a violent person by nature, but she detested Ellis. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you at all.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “That’s too bad. I was going to say that I’m sure I could find a job for you at one of my properties when your B&B tanks. But of course you’d have to work on your attitude.”
She stepped toward him, getting into his space. “My attitude is just fine but if you don’t like it, feel free to leave me and my attitude alone.”
Ellis’s sneer deepened. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when a deep voice spoke behind Erika.
“Is there a problem here?”
Chapter Nine
The slightly paunchy, sandy-haired man looked James up and down derisively. “Best you mind your own business. I’m talking to the lady.”
James stepped closer to Erika. “Not if she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Lance had just dropped James back at his car when his gaze had landed on Erika talking to a man in the park across from the diner. Based on Erika’s body language, the conversation was not one she welcomed. Without considering whether she’d appreciate his intervention, and more than a little frustrated by the target practice session, he’d stalked across the street.
The man’s back straightened, his chest puffing out. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are but this isn’t any of your business.”
James dropped his gaze to Erika’s face. “Is he bothering you?”
Erika’s scowl deepened. “This is Ellis Hanes.” Ah, now the animosity made sense. James’s dislike for the man grew exponentially. “He was just sharing his unsolicited opinion that my business doesn’t stand a chance and I should just give up. And I was about to explain that it will be a cold day in—”
“Got it,” James said, fighting the smile that wanted to break out. A strong woman would never not be sexy. He turned back to Hanes. “You heard the woman. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Who the blazes are you?” Ellis asked, indignation ringing in his tone.
“James West. Erika’s neighbor.”
“Well, neighbor. I’m the mayor of this town and this conversation doesn’t concern you. We need to talk.” Hanes reached out a hand to grab Erika.
Erika recoiled.
James slid in front of her, blocking Hanes and simultaneously stepping into his space. “I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States. The lady doesn’t want to speak to you so it’s in your best interest to walk away right now.” James only had a few inches on Hanes, but it was enough to allow him to look down on the man.
“Or what?” Hanes’s gaze was hard, but there was a tremor in his voice that signaled he knew he’d gone too far.
James leaned forward slightly, crowding Hanes even further, and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Leave.”
Hanes took a step back, his eyes darting from Erika to James. They’d attracted the attention of a couple leaving the diner on the other side of the street. The man and woman gawked at them as if they were watching a movie unfold. They’d managed not to attract the attention of Marcus and his friends yet, but that luck would not hold if Hanes continued to press the issue.
Undoubtedly sensing he’d lost this round, Hanes took several more steps backward. “We’ll continue this conversation later, Erika.” Turning on his heel, Hanes stalked away.
Something about the incident didn’t sit well with James. It wasn’t unheard of for a less-than-ethical businessperson to attempt to keep others out of their market, but an aura of desperation hung around Hanes. And desperate people did stupid, sometimes dangerous, things.
Ellis Hanes was one man James planned to keep an eye on.
James turned to Erika, ready to apologize for jumping in where he hadn’t been invited and take his licks for doing so.
“Thank you,” she said before he uttered a single sound. “Ellis can be a pain and I was hoping not to create a scene in front of Marcus.”
“You’re welcome.”
As if his mother saying his name had summoned him, Marcus jogged up to them. “Hey, Mom.” Marcus eyed James with naked curiosity. “Aren’t you the guy renting the cabin next to our house?”
“Marcus! Manners!” Erika admonished.
Marcus dropped his head for a moment before raising his gaze to James’s and thrusting out his right hand. “I’m Marcus Powell. Pleased to meet you.”
“James West. And yes, I am renting the cabin next to your house.”
Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Cool. Do you play basketball?” Marcus jerked his head to the now-empty court. “My friends had to leave, but we don’t have to go home yet, do we, Mom?” Marcus looked to Erika for approval.
“Just a little while longer. We need to get home.”
Marcus shifted his gaze back to James. “Cool, so you want to come?”
His jeans and black leather boots weren’t exactly regulation attire, but the way Marcus was looking at him made it impossible to say no to the kid. “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a basketball court though so go easy on me.”
The rapid shift in mood was a little disconcerting. A minute ago, he’d been running off a belligerent Ellis Hanes and now he was engaged in a pickup game with a ten-year-old.
Marcus was quick on his feet, and it was easy to see that he had talent.
“You’re pretty good,” James said after Marcus got around him for a third time.
“Thanks.” Marcus bounced the ball from one hand to the other before passing it to James. “I want to try out for the school team next year so I’ve been practicing.”
“It’s paying off.”
James took a shot. Pain ricocheted up his arm, but the ball made it into the basket.
“You’re not so bad, either, for an older guy.”
James flexed his fingers before pressing his hand to his heart. “Ouch.” He glanced at Erika, who watched them play from a picnic table close to the basketball court.
“You know what I mean.” Marcus shot the ball. It bounced off the backboard and into the basket. “My friend Devin is going to try out for the team, too, and sometimes we play two on two with his fathers. They’re your age but they can never play a full forty-minute game without getting tired.”
James bit back his laughter. “Well, it’s not as easy when you’re our age.”
Marcus stepped up to the foul line. “I guess so. I like playing with them, though. My mother doesn’t know anything about basketball and I don’t have anyone else to practice with. My dad died before I was born and no siblings.” Marcus took a shot. It bounced off the rim.
James chased it down, thinking about what Marcus had just said. The plight of the only child wasn’t something that he was familiar with, not with three younger brothers always underfoot, but he was more interested in the comment about Marcus’s father. Ronald Overholt died in a car accident almost eleven years ago. The timing was right.
He passed the ball back to Marcus. “I’m sorry about your father. Did he play basketball, too?”
“Um... I don’t know,” Marcus said distractedly, passing the ball back and forth from hand to hand behind his back.
“Your mom never told you anything about him?” The moment the words left his mouth, James felt like a jerk. He was pumping a child for information on his late father. If he had any doubt that he wasn’t cut out for investigative work, the wave of contempt he felt for himself put it to rest.
Marcus pressed the basketball to his chest and eyed James with suspicion. “Not much. She doesn’t like to talk about him.”
James could feel Marcus closing off, and the loss felt like a punch to the gut. “Here, can I show you a little trick that will help you with your free throws?”
He had Marcus widen his stance just a bit and showed him how to loosen his wrist more and let it fall forward more naturally as he took the shot. The awkwardness from moments earlier faded away as the ball sailed through the air and into the basket.
“Wow, thanks,” Marcus said with a smile that sent a bolt of pride sailing through James’s chest.
“Not bad for an old dude, huh?” He gave Marcus’s shoulder a pat. “I may not be much of a ballplayer but my brother Brandon was all-state in high school. I paid attention.”
“Is he coming to visit you soon?” Marcus’s grin was wide.
“Alright, alright. Why don’t you practice a bit more while I take my old bones over and talk to your mom.”
James walked toward Erika, an unfamiliar feeling rising inside. Marcus was caring, intelligent and quick-witted—a great kid. James hadn’t had a lot of contact with kids. Ryan and his wife had just had their first child, and while James knew her three uncles would spoil her as rotten as her parents allowed, she was still an infant.
He sat on the bench next to Erika, pressing his hand against his thigh. All the bouncing and shooting had aggravated his injury. The palm of his hand felt as if it was vibrating.
“Thank you for doing that.”
“No problem. He’s good and, more importantly, he’s a terrific kid.”
“He is.” She smiled.
“He mentioned his father passed away. I’m sorry.”
Erika stiffened. “Thank you.” A beat of silence hung between them. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
So she’d noticed. He gave his standard answer. “Damaged tendon.”
“Is that why you left the military?”
Silence stretched between them for a long moment before he answered. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
He thought about evading, shutting down the line of conversation as he normally did whenever anyone but Ryan or one of the other guys he’d served with brought up his time in the military. But he surprised himself when he realized he wanted Erika to know.
“A suicide bomber.” The words made his lungs constrict. He beat back the images that threatened to deluge him and forced himself to continue. “A piece of shrapnel tore through my palm. Can’t have a marine sniper who can’t shoot straight so I took a medical discharge.”
There must be something in the water in Carling Lake. In the span of two hours, he’d shared his story with more people than he had in the last six months.
Erika covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, but there are a lot of guys who have it harder than I do.” And a lot of guys who didn’t make it home. He had no right to complain or wallow.
“That doesn’t change your loss,” Erika said as if she’d read his mind.
He wasn’t so sure she was right, but he didn’t want to discuss it, either. “That’s part of why I’m in Carling Lake. To take some time and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
Erika’s mouth turned up into a smile. “How’s it going?”
“So far, not good. I went to the shooting range with the sheriff earlier today. He seems to think I could pass the firearms test to become a sheriff’s deputy but I’m not sure law enforcement is for me.”
“What is for you?”
He thought about the call from the gallery owner and the dozens of drawings he had in his apartment before pushing the thought away. Becoming a professional artist was an even more fantastical idea than joining the Carling Lake sheriff’s department.
“I have no clue,” he answered honestly.
“I was in a similar place when I first came to Carling Lake.”
He arched an eyebrow. “How so?” He watched as she wrestled with whatever she was about to say. If she was really Erika Overholt, she’d spent years keeping that secret. He couldn’t believe she would just blurt out the truth to a virtual stranger in the park.
“I married Marcus’s father when I was twenty-one. My mother had just died, and I was alone. I met my husband, and he seemed like my knight in shining armor. By the time I realized he was anything but, I felt trapped. I got married right out of college. Never had a real profession. My husband was not nice. He made sure I was completely dependent on him. Then he died, and I found out I was pregnant. And that’s a whole different level of terror. But eventually Marcus and I landed in Carling Lake, and I don’t know, one day at a time I figured things out. I’m sure you will, too.”
Erika shook her head, and he got the feeling she was shaking away the painful memories.
His gut twisted with the instinct to protect this woman and her son. And to show the man who was supposed to have protected them, who’d been lucky enough to have had Erika in his bed every night, just what he thought of him.
Which was something he was definitely not supposed to be thinking or feeling. Yet with each passing day, Erika filled more and more of his thoughts. The floral fragrance of her perfume. The kindness in her smile. The way her cheeks flushed when she was irritated or angry.
“We should get going,” Erika said, pulling him from his thoughts. She rose and walked toward the basketball court.
Marcus trotted over to meet her, then looked past her at James. “See ya later, James. Maybe we can play again?”
He waved at the boy. “Anytime.” It shocked him to realize just how much he meant it. Wrong or right, he was falling for Erika and her son.
Chapter Ten
“I understand. If your schedule opens up...” Erika heard the dial tone before she ended her statement “...please let me know.”
She set her phone down on the table and crossed off the last name on the list of contractors she’d written up when she’d gotten home from the hospital earlier that day. There was no one within a thirty-mile radius who could take on her job immediately.
She glanced out of the kitchen window at James’s cabin. Well, almost no one.
Moulton’s, a town and tourist favorite, was housed in a redbrick building with an old-time awning over the door. The shop had been in operation for forty-two years according to the plaque by the register, but the building itself had stood for more than one hundred years, serving as the town’s first police station. From housing prisoners to fifteen of the best flavors of homemade ice cream Erika had ever tasted—an upgrade in her humble opinion.
The shop wasn’t busy. Although it was Erika’s contention that ice cream never went out of season, one which Moulton’s apparently agreed with since it was open all year, not everyone enjoyed ice cream in the cool temperatures of February. More for her and Marcus, who never turned down sweets.
It was a sunny day, so she and Marcus took their ice cream—raspberry crumble for Erika and blueberry blues for Marcus—to the park a half block away.
Between licks, Marcus told her about what he’d done in school that day. Unlike some parents, she never had to pull a description of his day from her son. Maybe it was because they were all each other had, but she was lucky that they were close.
Although Marcus had only paused long enough for Erika to get in a few “uh-huhs” and “that sounds fun,” he still somehow managed to finish his ice-cream cone before she did. The appearance of a couple of guys he recognized from school on the basketball courts may have been a motivating factor. Marcus quickly abandoned her to eat her cone alone.
She didn’t mind. She loved how independent her son was, often reminding herself that his intelligence and self-sufficiency must be a sign that she wasn’t screwing him up too much in those difficult times when she doubted herself as a mother.
She was finishing the last bite of her cone and readying to signal to Marcus that it was time for them to head home when a familiar and unwelcome voice came from behind her.
“Heard you’ve been having a bit of trouble the last couple of days. Really sad to hear that.”
Erika took a deep breath and counted to ten before turning to face Ellis. She immediately regretted it when she saw the Cheshire cat grin he wore. The rage she’d felt when Sam Hogan had admitted that he was walking off her job to take on Ellis’s returned with a vengeance. She fought the urge to slap the grin off Ellis’s face.
If she could have separated his character and personality from his looks, she might have found him attractive. She knew his olive-colored skin resulted from the tanning salon off Route 127 rather than any time spent outdoors and his blond hair was cut a little too long and his highlights a little too well placed to be natural. He had coal-gray eyes that many of the women in town found irresistible, which he didn’t mind using to his greatest advantage. In his late forties, he was a confirmed bachelor but prolific dater. From what she’d heard, he was generous with his girlfriends until he tired of them, which didn’t take long, at which point he unceremoniously moved on.
“Hard to believe since you’re the source of one of my problems.”
Ellis waved away her accusation. “Ah, come on now, Erika. It’s just business. Sam Hogan is the best contractor for miles and I always get the best.”
Erika let her gaze travel over the impeccably cut suit and coat he wore down to the loafers, probably Italian or some other ridiculously expensive kind. Ellis’s entire look screamed that he had money and wanted everyone to know it. Too bad money couldn’t buy integrity.
“And you suddenly had to renovate your hotel this close to the beginning of the tourist season?”
“I moved when the numbers dictated. The way I see it, you should thank me. I taught you a valuable lesson. If you want to go head to head with me in business, you better toughen up.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep him from seeing that they shook with anger. She wasn’t a violent person by nature, but she detested Ellis. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you at all.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “That’s too bad. I was going to say that I’m sure I could find a job for you at one of my properties when your B&B tanks. But of course you’d have to work on your attitude.”
She stepped toward him, getting into his space. “My attitude is just fine but if you don’t like it, feel free to leave me and my attitude alone.”
Ellis’s sneer deepened. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when a deep voice spoke behind Erika.
“Is there a problem here?”
Chapter Nine
The slightly paunchy, sandy-haired man looked James up and down derisively. “Best you mind your own business. I’m talking to the lady.”
James stepped closer to Erika. “Not if she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Lance had just dropped James back at his car when his gaze had landed on Erika talking to a man in the park across from the diner. Based on Erika’s body language, the conversation was not one she welcomed. Without considering whether she’d appreciate his intervention, and more than a little frustrated by the target practice session, he’d stalked across the street.
The man’s back straightened, his chest puffing out. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are but this isn’t any of your business.”
James dropped his gaze to Erika’s face. “Is he bothering you?”
Erika’s scowl deepened. “This is Ellis Hanes.” Ah, now the animosity made sense. James’s dislike for the man grew exponentially. “He was just sharing his unsolicited opinion that my business doesn’t stand a chance and I should just give up. And I was about to explain that it will be a cold day in—”
“Got it,” James said, fighting the smile that wanted to break out. A strong woman would never not be sexy. He turned back to Hanes. “You heard the woman. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Who the blazes are you?” Ellis asked, indignation ringing in his tone.
“James West. Erika’s neighbor.”
“Well, neighbor. I’m the mayor of this town and this conversation doesn’t concern you. We need to talk.” Hanes reached out a hand to grab Erika.
Erika recoiled.
James slid in front of her, blocking Hanes and simultaneously stepping into his space. “I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States. The lady doesn’t want to speak to you so it’s in your best interest to walk away right now.” James only had a few inches on Hanes, but it was enough to allow him to look down on the man.
“Or what?” Hanes’s gaze was hard, but there was a tremor in his voice that signaled he knew he’d gone too far.
James leaned forward slightly, crowding Hanes even further, and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Leave.”
Hanes took a step back, his eyes darting from Erika to James. They’d attracted the attention of a couple leaving the diner on the other side of the street. The man and woman gawked at them as if they were watching a movie unfold. They’d managed not to attract the attention of Marcus and his friends yet, but that luck would not hold if Hanes continued to press the issue.
Undoubtedly sensing he’d lost this round, Hanes took several more steps backward. “We’ll continue this conversation later, Erika.” Turning on his heel, Hanes stalked away.
Something about the incident didn’t sit well with James. It wasn’t unheard of for a less-than-ethical businessperson to attempt to keep others out of their market, but an aura of desperation hung around Hanes. And desperate people did stupid, sometimes dangerous, things.
Ellis Hanes was one man James planned to keep an eye on.
James turned to Erika, ready to apologize for jumping in where he hadn’t been invited and take his licks for doing so.
“Thank you,” she said before he uttered a single sound. “Ellis can be a pain and I was hoping not to create a scene in front of Marcus.”
“You’re welcome.”
As if his mother saying his name had summoned him, Marcus jogged up to them. “Hey, Mom.” Marcus eyed James with naked curiosity. “Aren’t you the guy renting the cabin next to our house?”
“Marcus! Manners!” Erika admonished.
Marcus dropped his head for a moment before raising his gaze to James’s and thrusting out his right hand. “I’m Marcus Powell. Pleased to meet you.”
“James West. And yes, I am renting the cabin next to your house.”
Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Cool. Do you play basketball?” Marcus jerked his head to the now-empty court. “My friends had to leave, but we don’t have to go home yet, do we, Mom?” Marcus looked to Erika for approval.
“Just a little while longer. We need to get home.”
Marcus shifted his gaze back to James. “Cool, so you want to come?”
His jeans and black leather boots weren’t exactly regulation attire, but the way Marcus was looking at him made it impossible to say no to the kid. “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a basketball court though so go easy on me.”
The rapid shift in mood was a little disconcerting. A minute ago, he’d been running off a belligerent Ellis Hanes and now he was engaged in a pickup game with a ten-year-old.
Marcus was quick on his feet, and it was easy to see that he had talent.
“You’re pretty good,” James said after Marcus got around him for a third time.
“Thanks.” Marcus bounced the ball from one hand to the other before passing it to James. “I want to try out for the school team next year so I’ve been practicing.”
“It’s paying off.”
James took a shot. Pain ricocheted up his arm, but the ball made it into the basket.
“You’re not so bad, either, for an older guy.”
James flexed his fingers before pressing his hand to his heart. “Ouch.” He glanced at Erika, who watched them play from a picnic table close to the basketball court.
“You know what I mean.” Marcus shot the ball. It bounced off the backboard and into the basket. “My friend Devin is going to try out for the team, too, and sometimes we play two on two with his fathers. They’re your age but they can never play a full forty-minute game without getting tired.”
James bit back his laughter. “Well, it’s not as easy when you’re our age.”
Marcus stepped up to the foul line. “I guess so. I like playing with them, though. My mother doesn’t know anything about basketball and I don’t have anyone else to practice with. My dad died before I was born and no siblings.” Marcus took a shot. It bounced off the rim.
James chased it down, thinking about what Marcus had just said. The plight of the only child wasn’t something that he was familiar with, not with three younger brothers always underfoot, but he was more interested in the comment about Marcus’s father. Ronald Overholt died in a car accident almost eleven years ago. The timing was right.
He passed the ball back to Marcus. “I’m sorry about your father. Did he play basketball, too?”
“Um... I don’t know,” Marcus said distractedly, passing the ball back and forth from hand to hand behind his back.
“Your mom never told you anything about him?” The moment the words left his mouth, James felt like a jerk. He was pumping a child for information on his late father. If he had any doubt that he wasn’t cut out for investigative work, the wave of contempt he felt for himself put it to rest.
Marcus pressed the basketball to his chest and eyed James with suspicion. “Not much. She doesn’t like to talk about him.”
James could feel Marcus closing off, and the loss felt like a punch to the gut. “Here, can I show you a little trick that will help you with your free throws?”
He had Marcus widen his stance just a bit and showed him how to loosen his wrist more and let it fall forward more naturally as he took the shot. The awkwardness from moments earlier faded away as the ball sailed through the air and into the basket.
“Wow, thanks,” Marcus said with a smile that sent a bolt of pride sailing through James’s chest.
“Not bad for an old dude, huh?” He gave Marcus’s shoulder a pat. “I may not be much of a ballplayer but my brother Brandon was all-state in high school. I paid attention.”
“Is he coming to visit you soon?” Marcus’s grin was wide.
“Alright, alright. Why don’t you practice a bit more while I take my old bones over and talk to your mom.”
James walked toward Erika, an unfamiliar feeling rising inside. Marcus was caring, intelligent and quick-witted—a great kid. James hadn’t had a lot of contact with kids. Ryan and his wife had just had their first child, and while James knew her three uncles would spoil her as rotten as her parents allowed, she was still an infant.
He sat on the bench next to Erika, pressing his hand against his thigh. All the bouncing and shooting had aggravated his injury. The palm of his hand felt as if it was vibrating.
“Thank you for doing that.”
“No problem. He’s good and, more importantly, he’s a terrific kid.”
“He is.” She smiled.
“He mentioned his father passed away. I’m sorry.”
Erika stiffened. “Thank you.” A beat of silence hung between them. “What’s wrong with your hand?”
So she’d noticed. He gave his standard answer. “Damaged tendon.”
“Is that why you left the military?”
Silence stretched between them for a long moment before he answered. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
He thought about evading, shutting down the line of conversation as he normally did whenever anyone but Ryan or one of the other guys he’d served with brought up his time in the military. But he surprised himself when he realized he wanted Erika to know.
“A suicide bomber.” The words made his lungs constrict. He beat back the images that threatened to deluge him and forced himself to continue. “A piece of shrapnel tore through my palm. Can’t have a marine sniper who can’t shoot straight so I took a medical discharge.”
There must be something in the water in Carling Lake. In the span of two hours, he’d shared his story with more people than he had in the last six months.
Erika covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, but there are a lot of guys who have it harder than I do.” And a lot of guys who didn’t make it home. He had no right to complain or wallow.
“That doesn’t change your loss,” Erika said as if she’d read his mind.
He wasn’t so sure she was right, but he didn’t want to discuss it, either. “That’s part of why I’m in Carling Lake. To take some time and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
Erika’s mouth turned up into a smile. “How’s it going?”
“So far, not good. I went to the shooting range with the sheriff earlier today. He seems to think I could pass the firearms test to become a sheriff’s deputy but I’m not sure law enforcement is for me.”
“What is for you?”
He thought about the call from the gallery owner and the dozens of drawings he had in his apartment before pushing the thought away. Becoming a professional artist was an even more fantastical idea than joining the Carling Lake sheriff’s department.
“I have no clue,” he answered honestly.
“I was in a similar place when I first came to Carling Lake.”
He arched an eyebrow. “How so?” He watched as she wrestled with whatever she was about to say. If she was really Erika Overholt, she’d spent years keeping that secret. He couldn’t believe she would just blurt out the truth to a virtual stranger in the park.
“I married Marcus’s father when I was twenty-one. My mother had just died, and I was alone. I met my husband, and he seemed like my knight in shining armor. By the time I realized he was anything but, I felt trapped. I got married right out of college. Never had a real profession. My husband was not nice. He made sure I was completely dependent on him. Then he died, and I found out I was pregnant. And that’s a whole different level of terror. But eventually Marcus and I landed in Carling Lake, and I don’t know, one day at a time I figured things out. I’m sure you will, too.”
Erika shook her head, and he got the feeling she was shaking away the painful memories.
His gut twisted with the instinct to protect this woman and her son. And to show the man who was supposed to have protected them, who’d been lucky enough to have had Erika in his bed every night, just what he thought of him.
Which was something he was definitely not supposed to be thinking or feeling. Yet with each passing day, Erika filled more and more of his thoughts. The floral fragrance of her perfume. The kindness in her smile. The way her cheeks flushed when she was irritated or angry.
“We should get going,” Erika said, pulling him from his thoughts. She rose and walked toward the basketball court.
Marcus trotted over to meet her, then looked past her at James. “See ya later, James. Maybe we can play again?”
He waved at the boy. “Anytime.” It shocked him to realize just how much he meant it. Wrong or right, he was falling for Erika and her son.
Chapter Ten
“I understand. If your schedule opens up...” Erika heard the dial tone before she ended her statement “...please let me know.”
She set her phone down on the table and crossed off the last name on the list of contractors she’d written up when she’d gotten home from the hospital earlier that day. There was no one within a thirty-mile radius who could take on her job immediately.
She glanced out of the kitchen window at James’s cabin. Well, almost no one.
