Текст книги "Reaper's Legacy"

Автор книги: Joanna Wylde

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Fuck.

I looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan. I needed to stop him, and I needed to do it in a way that wouldn’t end with someone dead. I crawled quickly around the side of the house, where the open front porch held two wooden chairs and a small table. I tried peeking in the front window to see what was happening, but shades covered it.

Then I heard Em scream.

No more time.

I grabbed one of the chairs, pleased to find that it was solid wood and had a nice heft. Then I rang the doorbell and waited, holding my chair ready.

“Who’s out there?” Skid called.

I stayed quiet—I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? Please come out so I can hit you? Using my elbow, I rang the bell again. My muscles started to burn from holding the chair. Hurry up, asshole.

“Fuck off!” Skid yelled. Em must’ve done something to mess with him because I heard a crashing noise. I rang the bell five or six times in a row with my elbow like an annoying kid.

Skid threw the door open.

I clocked him hard in the face with the chair. He staggered and the gun went off, thankfully missing me. I ignored the ringing in my ears and swung the chair around and hit him again. He shuddered, then lunged toward me, blood running down his face from his smashed nose. I screamed as he grabbed the chair by its legs, jerking it away and raising it high.

Then Em was on him from behind.

She attacked like a rabid ferret, arms tightening around his neck as she bit and scratched and kicked. He lurched forward and I joined in, grabbing the second chair and swinging it at his knees. He gave a high scream as he pitched forward off the porch, Em riding him down into the dirt. I jumped after them, landing between his legs and kicking him in the crotch over and over again. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any little Skidlets in his future to carry on the family legacy.

Skid screamed like a baby the whole time.

And Em? I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.

Ten minutes later, we’d handcuffed Skid’s bruised, bleeding body to a porch pillar. He’d passed out from the pain, which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to look into his evil eyes or listen to whatever bullshit he might spew.

Now I sat in one of the porch chairs, his confiscated gun carefully braced against my leg, cocked and ready to shoot. I didn’t want to kill him, but I’d do it if I had to. I didn’t doubt that for a second.

Em hobbled out of the house, her leg bandaged in strips of sheet from the bedroom. Thankfully, the bullet had just lightly grazed her thigh. Still, her face was white and drawn from the pain.

Despite it all, she managed a small smile, holding up a cell phone in triumph.

“Dumbass has Google maps installed,” she said. “I know exactly where we are. I’m calling Dad to come and get us.”

She dialed.

“Hey, Dad? It’s me. We’re okay. Could use a ride, though.”

Her eyes flickered toward Skid as Picnic’s muffled voice burst out of the phone.

“No, it’s all good,” she answered. “But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space.”

She gave them directions and hung up.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Em told me. “They sounded pretty happy to hear from us.”

“Was Hunter with them?” I asked. As soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted it. Did I really want the answer? Em swallowed and looked away.

“No,” she said. “The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He’s got good luck.”

I raised a brow, but kept my mouth shut. Em dropped the phone to the ground, then stomped on it, and I heard the crunch of glass and plastic.

“What the hell?” I asked, startled. “Why’d you do that?”

“GPS,” she said shortly. “I don’t want the Devil’s Jacks tracing us with it, and we can’t leave it here.”

“What if we need it again?”

“We won’t,” she said. “Dad and Ruger will find us. Don’t worry. By tomorrow it’ll be like this never happened. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it. Got me?”

“Got you,” I said, narrowing my eyes. Em grabbed the second chair and dragged it over toward me, sitting down.

“Want me to take the gun for a while?”

“Thanks,” I said, handing it over. It was surprisingly heavy, and after the first few minutes my hand had started cramping. I stretched my fingers, looking out across the long gravel driveway into the trees.

“No offense,” I said slowly. “But that was the shittiest girls’ night out ever.”

Em gave a short, startled snort of laughter.

“Ya think?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RUGER

They crested the small rise overlooking the house and Picnic slowed, raising a hand for the others to stop.

Ruger pulled up next to him.

Holy fuck.

“That’s my girl,” Picnic said, his voice full of pride. “Goddamn, did something right with her.”

“Both our girls,” Ruger muttered. He felt his chest unclenching, a ball of tension he hadn’t even realized was there letting go. “Shit, didn’t know she had it in her.”

Em and Sophie sat on the front porch like two neighbors visiting over sweet tea, except Em held a gun trained steady on Skid. His mangled, bloody form lay in the dirt, arms stretched up behind him and wrapped around the porch pole.

“Think she killed him?” Ruger asked.

“Hope not,” Picnic replied. “Bad enough already, without her having to live with that. Not to mention messy as fuck for us to clean up.”

“That’s the truth,” Ruger replied.

“It’s Dad, we’re here for you!” Picnic yelled down, waving at her. Em kept her eyes on Skid and her gun didn’t waver.

“Glad you came,” she called back. “I could really use some help.”

“He the only one?” Pic asked.

“Hunter left a couple hours ago,” she shouted. “It was only the two of them.”

They rode slowly down the hill toward the house. Ruger studied Sophie carefully as he parked his bike, but he couldn’t see any signs of serious harm. She looked exhausted, her eyes darkened with smudged makeup, but that was all. Em seemed worse off—her face was pale and a bruise was starting to form on her cheek. White, bloodied strips of fabric had been tied around her leg.

“Stay where you are, girls,” Pic said shortly as he dismounted his ride. Ruger did the same, following him over to the man on the ground.

Skid was in rough shape. He wasn’t moving, and Ruger saw trickles of blood seeping from his nose and mouth. More soaked the dirt, although he couldn’t see where it was coming from. Ruger approached the man carefully, kneeling down to check his pulse.

Still alive. The beat was faint but steady.

“He’s not dead,” he said. “What’s the plan?”

Picnic rolled Skid with a foot. Now they saw the wound—he had a gaping gash on the back of his head.

“He’s been bleeding, but not too bad,” Em said. “Don’t know if he’s passed out from a head injury or from shock. Sophie kicked his nuts to hell and back.”

Ruger felt an instinctive shrinking in his own nether region and glanced up at Sophie. She gazed down at them, her face as smooth as a sphinx’s.

Perfectly calm. Way too calm. Shock, Ruger figured.

Picnic stepped up to his daughter and held out his hand for the gun. She gave it to him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close.

Ruger looked to Sophie again and she turned away. Then he heard the crunch of footsteps in the driveway behind him.

“How we gonna play this?” Bam Bam asked, eyeing Skid. Ruger glanced over at his president, wondering the same thing. Would they put the bastard in the ground or not?

“Not in front of the girls,” Picnic said, squeezing Em tight. “Ruger, you and Painter take them, get them safe. Call the medic. He can meet you at the clubhouse. We’ll clean up here.”

Em shook her head, growing tense.

“Don’t kill him,” she said. “You do that, there’s going to be even more fighting.”

“This is about the club, Em,” Picnic replied softly. She glanced down at Skid, then leaned up on her toes, whispering in her father’s ear.

Picnic stiffened.

Em pulled away, eyes clearly pleading.

He shook his head at her and she crossed her arms, taking a step back. Interesting. Picnic narrowed his eyes, and the two stared at each other for long seconds. Then Picnic sighed.

“Okay, we’ll take him with us and dump him somewhere he’ll be found,” he said. “See if you can find something to bandage him up with, Bam.”

Ruger looked down at Skid. Intellectually, he knew letting him live was probably a good idea. All other issues aside, Em and Sophie didn’t need that kind of baggage.

He still wanted the fucker dead, though.

They could always take him out later. If they did it right, the girls would never know.

SOPHIE

I didn’t know how to feel as I rode home with Ruger, exhausted and drained from the adrenaline. We’d separated from the rest of the club, which broke into different groups going different places. He’d wanted me to get checked out by a friend of the club who was an EMT, but I insisted I was fine.

Which I was. Physically.

But now that it was over, I was so furious with Ruger that I wanted to scream and hit and kick his big, dumb ass for getting me into this shit. I also wanted him to hold me and make me feel safe again, which was ridiculous.

I’d never be safe around him.

More than anything, though, I wanted to get back to Noah. I wanted to hold him tight and make sure we never, ever had to worry about something like this happening again. Different plans kept running through my head, including changing my name and moving to a different state entirely. But I had a good job now, one that might actually let us get ahead.

I just needed a wall between me and Ruger. I’d draw the line—him on his side and me on mine, with no crossover. If I did that, we’d be fine.

But even angry with him, it felt right and safe to lean against his back as we drove, arms wrapped tight around his stomach. Every inch of Ruger was strong and solid. The leather of his cut lay under my cheek, broken by the embroidered fabric of his Reapers patches. His stomach was made of hard muscle that rippled under my fingers every time he leaned to take a curve.

For now—just for the next twenty minutes—I’d let myself touch him, savor his presence.

Then we’d go our separate ways.

When we finally pulled around the back of Elle’s barn to the little gravel parking area in front of my new apartment, I dropped my arms and let him go. I didn’t let myself feel sad.

I tried not to let myself feel anything.

He swung off the bike and took my hand, leading me over to the door, which was a good thing. I felt like I was trapped in a dream, everything distant and surreal.

“Crap,” I muttered, looking at the lock. “I don’t have my keys. They’re in my purse, and I have no idea what happened to it, or my phone.”

“They might find your purse at the house,” Ruger said. “Your phone is gone. I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”

He let me go and turned back to his bike, digging through one of the saddlebags to pull out a small black leather pouch. When he came back and opened it, I saw a collection of strange little tools.

“Lock picks,” he said shortly.

“So this is just another part of your life?” I asked, numb. “You just go around, ready and waiting to break into places?”

He glanced up at me and opened his mouth to speak. Something in my face must have caught his attention, because his expression softened.

“Babe, I’m a locksmith, used to be my job,” he said, his voice gentle. “Locksmith, gunsmith—if it’s made of metal and has tiny little parts, I like working with it. When I was a kid I built shit out of Legos; now I have big-boy toys. For a while I worked full-time doing lockout calls. Sometimes it’s not about scary stuff, okay?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him.

“Whatever,” I murmured. The door clicked open and I walked in, looking around. Everything was just like I’d left it the day before. Normal. All normal. It could almost have been a dream.

“You need to get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll call Kimber and tell her to bring Noah home in an hour or so. I don’t want him freaking out.”

“Was he worried about me?” I asked, walking over to get a drink of water. I considered offering him one, and then didn’t, because fuck Ruger. The little surge of anger was good—made me feel less numb.

“I’m sure he was,” he replied. “Kimber’s been with him the whole time, though. They’ve been watching movies and shit. I talked to him for about five minutes this morning but I haven’t seen him. I was focused on getting you back.”

I turned to look at him, so big he seemed to fill my tiny living room.

“Soph, we need to talk,” he said slowly, looking almost nervous. “I need you to tell me everything that happened. Did they … hurt … you?”

I snorted.

“Um, yeah, they hurt me,” I said, reaching up to touch my bruised cheek. “They threw me in a van, tied me up, and held me prisoner while threatening to kill me because of some bullshit with your club that I don’t understand or care about. So yeah, that part kind of sucked. Thanks for asking.”

“Did they rape you?” he asked bluntly. I shook my head. His face softened with relief, and he walked toward me. I held my hand up flat, halting him.

Limits. Time to set them.

“Ruger, we’ve been playing around, and it’s over,” I said, focusing my eyes on his chest. His 1% patch taunted me, reminding me exactly why this had to happen. “I know I’ve said that before, but everything’s changed now. It doesn’t matter how you make me feel or how nice you are. Your club is dangerous, and I don’t want anything to do with any of you. Noah and I, we can’t afford that.”

He stilled.

“I can see why you might feel that way—” he started to say, but I cut him off.

“No, you really can’t,” I said. “You didn’t spend the night handcuffed to a bed, wondering if you’d get raped or murdered. You didn’t hear your friend screaming in the dark, or hear a gunshot when you tried to escape. We could have died, Ruger … So here’s the way it’s going to be from now on. I’ll let you see Noah once a week. We’ll make the plans in advance. You’ll keep him away from your club and you won’t talk to him about motorcycles. You won’t wear your damned colors and you won’t do anything that could ever lead to any kind of danger. You’ll call me to make arrangements and you’ll pick him up and drop him off when and where I tell you.”

His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. I felt his anger and frustration in the air around me like a tangible thing, which was actually kind of funny because I didn’t give a flying fuck what he thought of my plans.

Not anymore.

“You’ll follow my rules,” I continued. “Or I’ll never let Noah see you again. Believe me, I’ll do it. In fact, I’d like to do it right now, but I know how much he loves you and it would be devastating to him. So we’ll try this out, and if it works, great. It doesn’t work or I feel like he’s in danger? You’re gone.”

“You can’t do that,” he said. He started toward me again. I stood my ground as he closed in, doing that domination thing, getting into my space. I stared up at him, his chest about three inches from my chin, and I didn’t care how big and scary he was.

I didn’t care about anything.

“I’m his mother. You have no rights. None. I let you see him because I’m a nice person, and I can stop being nice at any time. Do not fuck with me, Ruger.”

He reached up and touched my face lightly, running his finger across my cheek. It sent shivers down my back, and just like that I wanted him.

“I won’t fuck around,” he said. “Just so you know. I nearly lost you. I won’t risk that again. I told you before I’d never be a one-woman man, but I was wrong.”

I looked in his face, studying his eyes. He meant it. I thought about lying in bed with him … I wanted to give in. I wanted him.

It didn’t matter.

“Too late,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m done with you, and I’m fucking serious. Get. Out. Of. My. House.”

He held my gaze, then the miracle happened.

Ruger listened.

He backed away, turned, and walked out of the house. I heard his bike roar to life outside and then the sound of him riding away.

I’d done it. I’d finally managed to put Ruger in his place. Unfortunately, I was too tired to enjoy it.

MONDAY

KIMBER: How u doing?

ME: Ok. Noah’s still kind of clingy. You did a good job but he was still scared. Thank you so much for taking care of him. Im so glad he was safe

KIMBER: That’s what friends do—u wud do it for me. I’ve been thinkng about u … U want to get together, maybe talk?

ME: No. Just want to lay low for a while

WEDNESDAY

MARIE: Hey Sophie! Me and Maggs and Dancer want to hang out tomorrow night … Want to join us?

ME: Thanks but probably not. You have fun

MARIE: Okay. How are you?

ME: Im fine

MARIE: You talked to Em?

ME: No. She ok?

MARIE: Not sure. She wont tell me anything. I’m worried … Did anythng happen we should know about? I mean, while you guys were … wherever? Maybe we can get together and talk

ME: Im fine, just want to stick to myself and Noah for a while. Em and I werent together the whole time. If you want to know more, you need to get it from her

MARIE: Okay. We’re worried about you too … How are things

ME: Fine. I just want space

MARIE: I get that. But please call if you need us ((hugs))

THURSDAY

DANCER: Hey. how goes it? Maybe we could let the kids play this afternoon?

ME: Um, we’re pretty busy right now.

DANCER: Know how that goes … Did you remember Maries bachelorette party? Its a week from Friday. We have a sitter, she offered to watch Noah too

ME: Not sure I’ll maek it. I’ll find my own sitter

DANCER: Okay. Don’t hide out too long

FRIDAY

KIMBER: This is bullshit. I get ur pissed at Ruger and Reapers but I’m not one of them, u can’t freeze me out. You guys come over tonight or I’m sending Ryan to get u

ME: Noah and I are watching movies at home

KIMBER: No. Ur coming to my house. We’re having a party. I need backup!!! NO Reapers. Nromal people. Kids too. U and Noah be here at six or I will come and get you. Not fucking around.

ME: Your a pushy bitch

KIMBER: Ya think? Get ur ass here or I’ll come for u. No excuses. Bring swimsuits and a dessert

My brand-new iPhone said it was five fifty-six when we pulled up to Kimber’s house. Ruger had dropped it off the previous Sunday, the day after my little adventure with Em. I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but I needed a phone, and I figured he could afford it better than I could. I didn’t feel guilty about it, either. It was his fault I’d gotten kidnapped in the first place, so I might as well blame him for drowning my phone.

I didn’t let him into the house. Noah wanted to go to his house and I told him no. Then I shut the door in Ruger’s face.

Now it was Friday night and I’d caved to Kimber’s ultimatum, because I knew she was serious when she said they’d come and get me. I held a plate of brownies in one hand and a bag of swim gear in the other, and when Kimber’s husband, Ryan, opened the door, I had to smile. He wore neon-green swim trunks and a purple Hawaiian-print shirt. On his head was an orange cowboy hat, and he held a Super Soaker in one hand.

Coming here had been a good idea, I realized.

“Welcome to the party,” he said, smiling at me broadly.

“Nice look,” I said, eyeing his outfit.

“Hey, it takes a very confident man to pull something like this off,” he said without an ounce of shame.

“Did you lose a bet?” I asked, smirking.

“As a matter of fact, he did,” said another man, coming over to stand next to Ryan. He had longish, scruffy brown hair and a great smile, and the look in his eyes said he appreciated my appearance. He also held a Super Soaker, although he wore perfectly normal trunks and a T-shirt that said “Code Monkey Like You.”

I’d seen his picture before—this was the guy Kimber had wanted to set me up with.

“Ryan and I had a little programming challenge at work, and I kicked his ass. Hi, I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, glancing down at my full hands helplessly. “Um, sorry, I’d offer to shake your hand, but …”

He laughed, and then his eyes widened almost comically as he saw the brownies.

“Let me help you with those,” he said, reaching out to grab the treats. “And who is this?”

“I’m Noah,” my boy announced. “Do you have any more of those Soakers, Ryan?”

“I have a whole box out back,” Ryan replied. “You want to come pick one out? We have a bunch of kids out there. I’ll bet they’d love to play with you.”

“Mom?” He looked up at me, eyes pleading.

“Go ahead,” I said, feeling almost carefree. Kimber was right. I had needed to get out, and coming to a nice, suburban party like this was just what I needed. No Reapers, no kidnappings, nothing bad at all.

I could do this.

Noah took off through the house, followed by Ryan. Josh looked down at me, offering a friendly smile.

“So, once we get this stuff settled, could I get you a drink?”

“Sure,” I said. “So tell me, how long have you and Ryan worked together?”

Three hours later I was feeling pretty good about life. Josh turned out to be a great guy, spending a good chunk of the night hanging out with me, but not so much that it felt weird. Ryan grilled burgers and hot dogs, the kids played in the pool, and Kimber’s blender ran almost constantly, churning out margaritas in every imaginable flavor. I stuck with iced tea and laughed so hard I nearly cried when Ryan caught her and threw her into the pool.

The mob of kids kept growing, and I met so many people I couldn’t begin to keep them all straight. Most were from Kimber’s neighborhood or Ryan’s work—sleek, polished yoga moms and their slightly dorky husbands who worked as accountants and IT professionals. Nothing like the Reapers’ party.

The first time I’d met Ryan, I didn’t understand him and Kimber together. He was so geeky and she was so wild and cool—but they balanced each other out perfectly. I was holding Ava and sitting by the pool after eating when Josh came over and flopped into a chair next to me.

“So,” he said, grinning at me. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You and Noah want to hit Chuck E. Cheese’s for dinner tomorrow?” he said. “I know it’s not the most romantic setting, but I’ve got this theory about skee-ball that needs testing, and I figured he’d be an excellent assistant.”

I burst out laughing.

“Are you insane? Chuck E. Cheese’s on a Saturday night is crazy. I bet you wouldn’t last an hour.”

His eyes brightened.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked. “You sure you’re up to it?”

“You’re too funny,” I said, shaking my head.

“Funny enough to get a date with you tomorrow?” he said, offering a sly smile. “I’d go for the brooding, manly thing and try to be all mysterious, but I’ve never really been able to pull it off.”

I sobered, thinking of Ruger. The two men couldn’t have been more different, that was for sure.

“Um, I’m not really looking for a boyfriend,” I said slowly. “And I’ll be honest—you bring a seven-year-old on a date, you’re probably not gonna get some at the end.”

He shrugged.

“It’s just an evening,” he said. “No big deal. Besides that, I’ve got a deep, dark secret to share with you.”

He leaned toward me, waving me in close. I shifted, balancing Ava as he spoke in my ear.

“I really do have an amazing skee-ball theory,” he said, his voice grave and serious. “It needs experimentation. You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

I started laughing again, pulling away.

“Does that line actually work for you?” I asked. He smiled at me.

“I don’t know, does it?”

I thought about Ruger, how he made me feel and compared it to this man. Josh didn’t give me chills when I felt his breath against my ear, but he was nice to look at and seemed fun and friendly. And how much trouble could we get into on a date at a kiddie pizza place, anyway?

“Okay,” I said, feeling proud of myself. I’d move past Ruger—this was the perfect first step. “That would be fun. But just friendly. I’m really not looking to get serious with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, grinning at me. “We’ll just go and have some fun—and Ryan can vouch for me. I’m not an undercover supervillian, no dark secrets, nothing. What you see is what you get.”

I started to reply, but a thick stream of water suddenly hit the side of my head, drenching me as Ava shrieked. I look up to see Noah running away with a small pack of boys, screeching in triumph. Little shit …

“I need to go dry off,” I told Josh.

“Want me to go defend your honor?” he asked, holding up his Soaker.

“Yeah, you do that.”

He stood and saluted me, eyes dancing with laughter, then tore off after the mob of children shooting each other and running around the grass.

I found Ryan by the grill. He held a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, and as he shifted them to take Ava, he smiled at me.

“You know, Josh’s a real good guy,” he said. “I’ve known him a couple of years.”

“Um, he seems nice,” I replied awkwardly. Ryan laughed.

“Don’t worry—no pressure,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know he’s not a serial killer.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Thanks for having me over. Thanks for everything, actually.”

“No problem,” he said. “Kimber thinks you’re the shit. You know, it’s not that easy for her to find friends, despite what you’d think. You’re special to her.”

That startled me.

“Kimber’s always had more friends than anyone,” I said, laughing.

His face sobered and he shook his head. “No, she’s always got more people at her parties than anyone. There’s a big difference.”

I didn’t know what to say. Ryan shrugged, and smiled again.

“Go get dried off,” he added. “We’ve got sparklers for the kids once it’s totally dark. I’ll need help, and Kimber’s useless after three margaritas.”

I smiled hesitantly and walked inside. Off to the left was a family room, with the kitchen and a breakfast bar off to the right. My sandal caught on the doorway, pulling the strap loose, so I dropped down to fix it just inside the entry.

“Jesus, did you see what Ryan’s wearing?” I heard a woman say in the kitchen.

“I know,” said another. “And Kimber’s not much better. Could that bikini be smaller? You know she’s a giant slut, right? She used to be a stripper. I just hope they leave before Ava hits school. I don’t want Kaitlyn in her class.”

“No kidding. That’s why I moved to this neighborhood—I wanted all our neighbors to be normal, not trashy. And her friend … God, she must’ve been, what, ten years old when she had her kid?”

“I saw her skanking all over Josh. Disgusting.”

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket to find a text from Marie.

Hey. I know things are weird, but I really hope you’ll come to my bachelorette party next weekend. We’re all hanging out tonight and thinking about how much more fun it would be with you here! xoxo

“So, my pedicure girl moved to a new salon. All Vietnamese, and I hate how they talk to each other without speaking in English. So rude!” said the woman in the kitchen.

“You’re sooo right. I never leave a tip when they do that. They should be speaking English if they’re going to live here …”

I stood up and walked through the kitchen, piercing each of the women in turn with a sweet smile. Bitches. How dare they gossip about Kimber, in her own house? I couldn’t believe they’d get drunk on her booze while ripping her apart like that.

At least nobody was whipping out knives.

Not metal ones, anyway.

I wanted to go home.

“You got it, bud,” Josh said, watching intensely as Noah lined up his shot at the skee-ball machine. I had to laugh. Josh had been joking about his theory … mostly. The man really did love the game. It turned out Noah loved it, too, so things had worked out pretty well.

We’d been at Chuck E. Cheese’s for nearly three hours, and I’d had a blast. Josh was easy to be around. He didn’t stress me out and he didn’t scare me. We’d eaten dinner, and to give him credit, he ate the nasty pizza they served without a single snide comment (not even I could pull that off). Then he bought Noah more tokens than he’d ever seen before and we’d hit the games.

Now it was almost nine and I knew we needed to get Noah out soon or things could get ugly. I touched Josh’s arm, catching his attention. He turned and grinned at me, looking like a big, happy puppy.

“We need to head home,” I said, nodding toward my son. “He’s tired. Don’t want to push him too hard.”

“Understood,” Josh replied. He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, giving me a squeeze. “You’ve got a good kid there.”

I smiled, because I knew he was right. Also because I liked his arm around my shoulder. Josh didn’t make my heart explode like Ruger did, but he had a good sense of humor and was fun to be around. That had to count for something.

We fed all of the tickets we’d won (and it seemed like thousands of them) into the chomping machines, which caused Noah intense delight. Then we spent another twenty minutes at the prize counter as he agonized over which tiny plastic rings or erasers to pick.

The sun had set when we finally walked outside. The pizza place was in one of those strip malls with free-standing restaurants in the parking lot. I looked over at the steak house longingly, still a little hungry—I’d only managed to choke down half a slice. Josh bumped my shoulder.

“Maybe next time we can get a grown-up meal,” he said.

“Is that your way of asking me out again?” I asked, coming to a stop next to my car. Noah bounced around next to me happily, playing with his new treasures. I looked up at Josh and smiled. He smiled back, and I was struck by how cute he was. Geeky cute, like Ryan.

I could do a lot worse.

“Depends on what the answer would be,” he replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I hate getting shot down.”

“I don’t think you’d get shot down,” I said. He leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. It was nice—not hot and intense, but pleasant.

“Uncle Ruger!” Noah yelled, and I felt him take off running. I pulled away from Ryan instantly, my mommy radar fully engaged. I bolted after him, shouting his name and yelling at him to stop. He ignored me, jumping into Ruger’s arms where he stood on the sidewalk outside the steak house.

Several other guys from the club were with him.

“Noah, you can’t run off like that!” I said, catching Noah’s chin so his eyes had to meet mine. “You could get killed. You know better—you’re a big boy now.”