Fireside (37 page)

“We can start by making love tonight. Right now.”

His hand slipped down, found the hem of her dress and moved slowly upward, teasing and caressing. Still kissing her again, he did something simultaneously with his hand and tongue that completely shut down her brain. He lifted his mouth from hers, and she had one more chance to protest, but she didn’t. She couldn’t, because he whispered a suggestion in her ear that set a torch to her blood. Objections meant nothing. So what if this guy was every bad decision she’d ever made, personified? He had magic hands, and the things he whispered to her made her desperate.

“All right,” she said, tipping back her head while he kissed her throat. She was filled with the giddy relief of surrender. And it
was
relief, because until this moment, she hadn’t known whether or not she still knew how to trust a man. “All right…” She uttered no other coherent words for the rest of the night.

He slid her dress to the floor and she stepped out of her shoes. Impatient with lust, she peeled off his shirt and jeans, and her fingers raced over him, tracing his smooth skin and hard muscles, drawing him against her. She was mesmerized by everything about him—his amazing physique and the way he tasted, the sound of his breathing and the sigh of her name on his lips. They sank onto the bed, their limbs tangling. There were a thousand more kisses, and laughter between the gasps and sighs of pleasure, and Kim let herself get lost in him, in a place that felt safe and fulfilling, a place she never wanted to leave.

She didn’t let herself think about what would happen afterward. Maybe one day the memories would be as sharp and painful as a physical ache, but right here, right now, she wanted it all, his kisses and his laughter and the long, heated hours in bed with him. Regrets might come later, but for now, he was everything she’d ever wanted.

Over the next few days, Kim somehow managed to stumble through work, but she lived for the night, when she could be alone with Bo, and they could explore the searing passion that only seemed to grow stronger each time they were together. After everyone in the house was asleep, he would come to her room, and the secret, dark hours belonged to them. Sexual satisfaction was one thing, but this was something more, a singular sensation of emotion she’d never felt before, not with this intensity, this certainty. One night, when the house was completely quiet, she lay with her head on his bare chest and listened to the beating of his heart, and a sense of utter clarity took hold. The feelings swept over her in a wave.

“Hey now,” he said, no doubt feeling the damp heat of her tears. “What’s the matter?”

“Everything,” she said. She thought about not telling him, but could think of no reason to hold back, not anymore. “Bo, I love you.”

He didn’t move a muscle, but she felt his heart trip into overdrive. “I’m glad you said it.”

“It’s not…the first time,” she felt compelled to admit.

“Not for me, either. I reckon we’ve both had plenty of practice.”

She laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“What I’m saying is, I don’t mind if it’s not your first time. What I hope, what I’m asking you, Miss Kimberly van Dorn, is that I want it to be your last time.”

His words were so unexpected that her eyes filled with tears. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Hell, yeah, I mean it. You know, I first fell a little bit in love with you when I saw you at the airport, before I even knew your name. Just the sight of you hit me hard.”

“What do you mean, you fell a little bit in love?”

“Come on, Red. You know what that feels like.”

“No, I don’t. Describe it to me.”

“You just want to hear me talk about love.”

“Guilty as charged. I want to hear you talk about it as though it means something.”

“It means everything. So listen, because I’m not so good at all this emotional stuff.”

“I think you’re better at it than you know.”

“Okay. When I first saw you, it was like I went blind to everything else. You were all I saw. I started trying to find things that match the color of your eyes—like a leaf or a watermelon-flavored Jelly Belly. Don’t laugh—you said you wanted to know.”

“I’m not laughing. And I do want to know. Bo—”

His phone rang—Sophie’s ring tone.
It must be love,
Kim thought.
I’ve memorized his ring tones.

He put her aside and sat up, already groping for his clothes.

She glanced at the time displayed on the glowing digital clock on the nightstand. This could not be good. She flicked on a lamp.

“Yeah, Sophie,” he said. “What is it?”

Kim saw his bare back stiffen as though he’d been stabbed. He turned to her as he rang off. His face had gone completely pale.

“It’s Yolanda,” he said. “She’s been deported.”

Twenty-Three

I
t was even worse than they’d feared. Rumors were rampant in the detention center, and Yolanda had heard that her detention in the U.S. could last for years. She’d panicked and opted for immediate voluntary deportation. She believed that would allow her to apply for reentry. By the time her lawyer in Texas discovered what she’d done, she was already gone.

Lacking documentation for Mexican citizenship, Yolanda was placed in a detention center on the other side of the border. Now she had to wait until her case could be reviewed by the Instituto Nacional de Migración. There was no option for re-entry, not now.

Bo broke the news to AJ as gently as he could. The two of them were in a field near the house, building a snowman. It was totally unlike Bo to voluntarily subject himself to the cold like this, but he did it for AJ’s sake. After the snowboarding, AJ had developed an insatiable appetite for new adventures, particularly those that took place outdoors, in the snow, in subzero temperatures.

Bo explained about the new development as they rolled a boulder-sized snowball around the field. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” he said.

“How can she be deported and still be in detention?” he asked, ramming his shoulder into the ever-growing snowball, like a football player with a practice dummy.

“It’s only until they find her birth records, and those of her parents,” Bo said. It was more complicated than that, but he didn’t want to throw too much at AJ all at once.

“Can I call her? I really need to talk to her.”

“The center only has a few public pay phones. You have to have a calling card. The problem is, the cards have to be purchased at a store.”

AJ’s face turned hard. “And they won’t let her go to the store because she’s a detainee.”

“It sucks, I know. The advocate in Texas is doing everything he can to reverse the deportation.” According to a report from Sophie’s associate, women had to wait days for an open phone. There was no privacy while they made their calls and they had to scream to be heard. Bo didn’t tell AJ any of this, knowing it would only upset him more.

The snowball was nearly too big to roll. They positioned themselves side by side, shoving their hands under it to give it one final turn. “On the other hand,” Bo said, “there’s an upside. The center in Aguacaliente in Mexico has placed a limit to the length of her stay, so the records search can be expedited. You know what
expedited
means?”

“I know what everything means.” AJ dropped to his knees and started rolling another snowball.

“I hear you, buddy. I do.” Bo helped him with the rest of the snowman. The whole time he was working with AJ, Bo forgot to be cold. He forgot he hated winter. He forgot everything, just watching his boy. Well, almost everything. He couldn’t forget the fact that Kim was sitting by the fire, watching them through the window.

She was the one bright spot in all of this. Against all odds, they were falling in love. He was done holding back his feelings for her. He was officially crazy about her. He wanted nothing more than to spend every minute with her, but they both understood that AJ had to come first.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.”

It took the two of them to hoist the midsection into place. “You’re pretty strong,” Bo remarked.

“For my size,” AJ said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

“I meant exactly what I said. You’re strong. And that’s good.” He added the bowling-ball-size head to the snowman.

AJ didn’t say anything else, but it seemed to Bo he stood a little taller. That was good, because after the news about Yolanda, it was more important than ever to make AJ feel confident. And safe.

“He needs arms,” AJ said.

“What’s that?”

“Arms,” AJ repeated. “He needs them.”

“He looks fine without arms.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to go inside and get warm.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of funny that way. I like being warm.”

AJ shook his head. “Arms.”

Bo heaved a frosty sigh as they trekked across the yard in search of low hanging branches. He found a couple, which they stuck in the sides of the snowman to create serviceable arms.

“Done,” he declared, stepping back to regard their handiwork.

“Not quite.” AJ put a Hornets baseball cap on the snowman’s head, and a snowball in the twig fingers of his left hand. “There. Now he looks like something.”

And so did AJ. He looked brave and sad all at once, and his doggedness at trying to keep his chin up broke Bo’s heart. Where did he get that strength?

“High five,” said Bo.

“Good times,” AJ replied.

“Now can we go inside?”

“Whiner.”

Kim called the campaign to help Bo’s son “Operation AJ,” and for that, Bo loved her all the more. She and everyone else at Fairfield House wanted to help the boy with his fears and insecurities. He was like an accident victim, missing a limb, but that didn’t stop Kim from believing she could make things better. And sometimes it worked. Sometimes she and Bo were able to surprise and delight him, to bring a smile to his face. Unlike Bo, AJ had no aversion whatsoever to the snow, and he raced home from school each day to take part in snowshoe expeditions, making snow angels in the yard and snowmobiling in the Catskills Wilderness.

“So I was thinking this might be a good day for ice-skating on Willow Lake. When the weather’s clear and cold like this, conditions are ideal,” she said one afternoon. “What do you say?”

“I’ll pass,” Bo said.

AJ was perched on a kitchen stool, devouring his favorite afternoon snack—Cheetos. “I’d like to try.”

“It’s the bomb, AJ. You’ll love it.” She sent Bo a look of triumph, and within a short time, had everything organized. She even called Noah and Sophie Shepherd to invite them along. By now, Bo knew resistance was futile.

The lake was swarming with skaters, the sledding hill alive as kids dragged their sleds and saucers up and then sped down, hurrying before twilight fell. A few tourists braved the cold to photograph the town’s winter centerpiece, a house-sized ice sculpture in the shape of a colonial fort.

Kim fitted AJ with rental skates and led him out onto the ice. Her patient, protective way with the boy drew him out and gave him confidence, and before long, he was wobbling across the ice, laughing with Kim. Bo stood at the edge of the skating area, watching the two of them. If he squinted his eyes and opened his heart, he could imagine them as his family.

“Never thought I’d see you out here,” Noah remarked, joining him. “You used to be allergic to winter.”

“Still am,” Bo said, abashed by his own sentimental thoughts. “Good thing I don’t want any more kids, because I’m freezing my nuts off. I’ll be sterile after today.”

“Your boy sure loves the winter.”

“Yeah, who knew? But he’s not doing so hot. Since we heard his mom was deported, he’s…I can hear him tossing and turning at night. He looks pale to me, with dark circles under his eyes. I won’t lie to you, Noah. I’m worried.”

Noah didn’t make light of Bo’s concern. A gifted vet, he had a natural compassion for wounded creatures. However, when he spoke, it was as a father. “After Buddy and Aissa first came to us,” he said, referring to his children from Africa, “they had issues. Especially Buddy—he was five, which is old enough to remember too much.”

Bo was surprised. From his perspective, the Shepherds seemed like the all-American blended family. “What do you mean, issues?”

“All the violence,” Noah said. “The loss. They’re haunted by it. I’m not saying AJ’s experience was anything like my kids’, but that kind of separation, of loss, it cuts deep.”

Good God, thought Bo. Noah was right. AJ was showing symptoms of trauma. “What do you think I should do?”

“You’re doing it. Being here for him, helping him.”

As they watched, AJ tentatively joined a group of kids his age and Kim skated off on her own with the grace of an ice dancer.

“How’s everything else going?” Noah inquired. “The media training and stuff.”

“I had no idea how much of baseball was not about baseball. Oh, and I have the hots for my teacher.”

“I figured as much.” Noah didn’t seem at all surprised. “Don’t worry about it. It always happens that way in Pygmalion stories.”

Bo scowled. “Pig—what?”

“From mythology. A guy called Pygmalion sculpted the ideal woman out of stone. Nowadays, it’s shorthand for getting a makeover. You had your makeover. Now you’re her ideal man. And no offense, bud, but it’s about time.”

He thought about the shopping trips, the visit to the barber—correction,
stylist
—the lessons in manners, elocution, dealing with sponsors and media. “You talk like something was wrong with me before.”

“Oh, sorry, bro. You were perfect before.”

“I’m not claiming I was, but geez. She’s turning me into something…” Someone she can stand to be around, he thought.

“You like her, then,” Noah said. “Now you have to decide what to do about it.”

“I know what I want to do about it, but I’m not her type,” Bo said. “We’re
Lady and the Tramp.
”

“Thanks to my kids, I know how that one ends,” Noah said. “They have a litter of pups and live happily ever after.”

“Right. Like that’s going to happen.”