Putting Out Old Flames (6 page)

Even his fantasy-self laughed at that. She wouldn't be apologizing anytime soon.

The chief pulled to the curb in front of the Apothic Gardens, climbed out with Chance. Chance raised an eyebrow.

“Thought I'd say hi to Josh,” Finnegan said.

Chance shrugged. The chief hadn't seemed like he was a big fan of kids, but whatever. Finnegan's motives could remain his own. Chance had bigger fish to fry.

The door to the store was locked, and a little faux-clock in the window said the store would reopen at four. Chance and the chief took the staircase in the small alley next to the building, and knocked on the upstairs door.

Pans crashed, the sound muffled through the wall, followed by silence. Chance and Finnegan eyed each other.

Chance raised his hand again to knock, but stopped when Edith's voice called out, “Just one moment.”

Some shuffling, a couple of bumps, and hushed whispers made Chance frown. He knew the sounds of trouble being covered up.

The door swung open, and Edith's long tunic billowed in the breeze. “Oh. Hello, Chance. Chief.”

The smell of something sweet floated out the open door. “Baking something?” Chance asked.

“Just some granola.” She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “And I'm burning a candle.”

“Good.” Chance moved inside, Finnegan a step behind him. “Because Josh can get really hyper with sweets, and his dinner's not far away.”

“Of course.” Smiling, Edith led them down a narrow hall. “I remember you telling me that.” She raised her voice. “Josh. Your father's here.”

The sound of running water cut off. Josh raced out of the bathroom, sliding to a stop in front of Chance. “Hiya, Dad. You done with your chores already?”

Edith stepped between the two, her back to Josh. Reaching back with her arm, she swiped at Josh's face, never taking her eyes off Chance. “Josh was a doll to watch. Anytime you need a babysitter, just let me know. If you and Jane want to go out, I'm available.”

“That's mighty generous of you,” Finnegan said, his voice low, aggressive. “I didn't know you had so much free time.”

Edith narrowed her eyes. “I always have time for those who are important to me.”

Chance gave Edith a weary smile. It would be nice to have a backup for when Katie was busy, although Chance had no illusions about needing a babysitter in order to date Jane. But she wasn't the only woman in Pineville. He might need a babysitter for a date with another woman.

He rubbed his chest. “Thanks.” Reaching around Edith, he snagged his son by his shoulder. “By the way, you missed a spot.” Chance wiped a smear of chocolate off Josh's cheek. “Frosting?”

“We made brownies.” Josh jumped up and down and squealed.

“Oh boy.” It was going to be one heck of a night.

K
atie popped a tablespoon of sugar-free vanilla ice cream into her mouth. “I can't believe anyone would want to marry that train wreck,” she mumbled around her mouthful. Pushing the ice cream carton away, she wrinkled her nose. “This tastes like ass.”

“Nice language.” Chance looked over at his son. Josh was snapping plastic blocks together at the kitchen table, oblivious to their hushed conversation about his mother.

She leaned over from her perch on a barstool at the kitchen counter, darted a glance at her nephew. “I'm just saying, what kind of man decides to marry that W-I-T-C-H?” she asked.

He paused from stirring his marinara sauce, spoon raised. “You'll spell out that word but say ‘ass'?” Shaking his head, he leveled the spoon at his sister. “She should be here in about half an hour, and you need to play nice. I don't want Josh sensing trouble between us.”

“I know.” She poked at her ice cream, then looked up at him with a hopeful smile. “It will be easier for me to keep my mouth shut if you put real food in front of me.”

“Spaghetti and meatballs is real food.” He had backed down from steaks in the interests of keeping the peace, but no way was he giving up his meatballs. Annette could just push them off her plate.

She shrugged. “Yeah, that's okay. But I'm tired of those funky-tasting shakes you keep buying and this fake-dessert crap you keep pushing at me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Adding chopped garlic to his sauce, he leveled his sister with his sternest big-brother look. “You got out of the hospital just yesterday because you screwed up managing your sugar levels. You're already complaining about the diabetic-friendly food I'm serving?”

Shoulders rounding in on each other, Katie's lower lip trembled in a way that made him feel like the biggest jerk in town. But he wasn't going to back down on this. “I think we should come up with a food plan, maybe plan meals a week in advance.”

She rolled her eyes. “You and your plans. I just need some time to adjust. I'll be fine.”

“And when I'm on a three-day shift? What are you going to cook for yourself?”

Digging her spoon into the carton, she flicked a glob at him. “Can we stop talking about what I eat?” He stared at her until she glanced away. “I'll look at those recipes you printed out, okay?”

Tearing off a paper towel, he bent and wiped the mess off the floor, brushed at the stain on his apron. “I'm so happy I have a child watching over my son. And good.”

“You know I'm grateful that you're letting me live with you guys, right?” Katie pushed a wedge of brown hair behind her ear. “If I had to live with Mom and Dad while I took my online courses, I think I'd lose my mind.”

Chance snorted. “I hear that.”

She poked him in the arm with her spoon. “And you're grateful that you don't have to hire a nanny, right?”

He kept stirring.

“Right?!”

Laughing, he leaned over and mussed her hair. “Of course, goober. We're lucky to have you.”

“Dad, look at my castle!”

Chance put his elbows on the counter and looked over the blue, green, and yellow cube, giving it the attention and admiration of a tourist at Notre-Dame Cathedral. “That looks fantastic. Fit for a king.”

“No, it's for a knight,” Josh said, making a green plastic horse gallop around the structure.

“Can you put your knight's castle into the living room, buddy? We're going to be eating soon.” Chance watched as Josh carefully picked up the cardboard square he had been building on, his small hands unsure with their bundle, and shuffled out of the kitchen.

His heart clenched. Josh was the best part of him. He couldn't lose him. Turning back to the stove, he told his sister, “Annette says she's going to sue for custody. That since she's getting married she'll have a better chance of getting him.”

He waited for Katie to laugh at that idea. When she remained quiet, he turned to face her.

She chewed her lip. “Some judges might take that into account.”

“Over the fact that she's a gambling addict who brought criminals into her son's life?” His gut still twisted every time he thought about that day he'd come home from work and found the strange tatted-up man kneeling on the front lawn talking to his son. It had taken all his self-control not to rip the guy's head off when the bookie had told Chance who he was. If Josh hadn't been watching, he didn't know that he wouldn't have.

“I don't know, Chance.” Tapping the spoon against the counter, she shook her head. “If some doctor says she's better? And don't judges still think a child should be with his mother? I don't think this is something you should take lightly.”

He added the cooked meatballs to the sauce and put the garlic bread in the oven. “I don't take anything having to do with Josh's safety lightly. That's why I moved back to Michigan.”

Nose wrinkled, Katie asked, “I know Annette was less crazy in college”—Chance shot her a look—“but if it hadn't been for Josh, would you have married her?”

Checking that Josh was still in the living room, he sighed. “Annette was exciting, fun, and very supportive of my dream to become a doctor.” She had been one hell of a study partner, doing unspeakable things as encouragement when he'd get the answers right. “But no. We wouldn't have married.”

Katie nodded. “Good. I can respect that a lot more. I was fifteen when you brought her home to meet the family, and I thought you were a typical man, an idiot letting a piece of hot tail lead him around by the nose.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Josh raced back into the room, this time clutching a toy plane in his hand and making a noise that was supposed to sound like an engine. “Josh, I need you to set the table. There's going to be four of us tonight. Your mom's coming over.”

“Mom's coming! Cool.”

Katie slid off the stool. “I'll help. Come on, big guy.”

Chance watched his son lay out the silverware, half of the pieces upside down. He smiled. No, he wouldn't have married Annette if they hadn't gotten pregnant. But he was damn glad she did.

Draining the noodles, he couldn't help but wonder how his life would be different if he'd been a little more discriminating over whom he had a child with. Running into Jane again, it was only natural. She'd be a great mother, he had no doubt.

Katie pulled out salad ingredients and brought down a large bamboo bowl from over the refrigerator. “I've got it! The solution to your”—she bobbed her head at Josh—“problem.”

“What's that?”

“You need to get married, too,” she crowed, as though that were the most obvious answer in the world.

“Is someone going to buy you as a husband at the ox-chin, Dad?” Josh crawled up onto the barstool.

“What are you talking about, buddy?” Chance mixed the spaghetti and sauce together and checked his watch. Annette was late. Why wasn't he surprised?

“The batch ox-chin.” Josh swiped his hand under his nose. “Miss Edith told me about it. The firemen are getting sold to women.”

Katie hooted. “That. Is. Awesome.”

Chance's jaw hung open. Katie elbowed him in the side. “I think he meant a bachelor auction featuring you and your brothers.”

“That's what I said. Batch ox-chin.”

No. No way in hell. Jane would have told him . . . He bit back a curse. No, Jane wouldn't have told him. She would have thought it was funny as hell that he was left in the dark. Well, he wasn't going to do it. Being cochair of the fundraising committee was enough of a good deed.

“I'm not getting married,” he told his sister. Raising an eyebrow at his son, he said, “And I'm not letting a woman buy me.” He wiped at a smudge of God-only-knew-what on Josh's cheek. “Go wash up for dinner,” he told his son.

Chance didn't know what to be more pissed about: Annette with her threats, or Jane trying to put one over on him with that stupid auction. “‘Items for the auction,' my ass,” he muttered, now understanding why she'd flushed such a pretty pink at their meeting. Like firemen were items.

He blew out a big breath, ignoring his sister's smirk. Okay, those problems were pretty easy to prioritize. Jane was irritating. Everything about her, from the way her eyes scrunched up every time she saw him, to her tight jeans, to the grudge she just wouldn't let go.

She was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Annoying, but he could live with it.

Annette was a threat. He couldn't live without Josh. Between Jane and Annette, it was like comparing a sparkler to a stick of TNT.

The doorbell rang, and Josh ran shrieking to the door, eager to see his mother. Chance tried to get his shoulders to relax as he joined his son. Time to face his dynamite.

* * *

Jane held Cyclops clutched tightly to her chest. She didn't know whether it was to protect the ginger cat or to use him as a shield. Probably a little bit of both.

“It'll be okay, Cy. He's more afraid of us than we are of him.”

Cy's disdainful snarl told her he didn't believe it. Neither did she. One black hairy leg twitched before the spider raced up the wainscoting in her apartment. At the hip-level ledge, it paused, its thick body bobbing up and down, like it was doing its own version of push-ups.

“Gaaa!” Jane took another step back. That was the biggest spider she'd ever seen. She'd been sitting on her couch, calling around to the shops in town, trying to line up an item for the silent auction after one she'd been counting on had fallen through.

When she'd first felt the soft little brush against her toe, she'd thought it was Cyclops, playing around.

A shudder wracked her body, and she gripped the cat tighter. Just remembering those long legs prodding at her foot made her want to take a bath. In bleach. Cy hissed at the grip she had on him. It would have made a wide receiver proud. But the cat made no attempt to leap down. Coming across an insect half the size of his own head had turned even her bully of a cat into a coward.

The spider stopped its calisthenics and seemed to settle in place for a nap. Perfect. Just one more thing to make this day great. It was Sunday, supposed to be her day to lounge on a couch and read. Instead, she'd woken up to an apologetic phone call from the hot air ballooning company outside of town saying due to insurance concerns, they couldn't offer a free ride for the silent auction after all.

Chance had left two more angry text messages demanding she contact him about the bachelor auction.

And now she was being held hostage in her apartment by the Godzilla of spiders. She risked a glance toward her open kitchen window. The spider hadn't seemed amenable to her attempts to herd him outside using a greeting card as a prod.

The card in her hand was slightly crumpled, pressed as it was between her hand and Cy's haunch. It had seen worse. Over the nine years since she'd found it lying on her front porch, it had been jammed halfway down a garbage disposal before she'd changed her mind on its destruction, had come an inch away from a hot flame multiple times, and had more tear stains dotting its surface than craters littered the moon.

Her mother would have been appalled to know she still kept Chance's breakup card. It
was
rather pathetic. But she held on to it as a reminder. Even the guys who seemed so trustworthy could let you down. The card, with its sad clown face on the front and its printed message on the inside—
So sad, my bad, but this isn't going to work. Life moves on, we must be strong, and quit while we're ahead
—had clearly not been produced by Hallmark.

For reasons even Jane couldn't explain, her teenage self had searched, in a near frenzy, for the store that would sell such a card. She'd found it at a novelty store in downtown Lansing. It was part of a collection. There was even a card to end your marriage.

Jane hoped that one was merely a gag, that no one would be low enough to use it.

Chance, in his nearly indecipherable handwriting, had added his own message at the bottom.
Sorry Jane, but I'm going to college in California. Have a good life
.

Not even a “Love, Chance” to soften the blow.

Finding that horrible card on her porch that day, that day of all days, had devastated her eighteen-year-old heart. She and Chance had planned a summer road trip before driving to the University of Michigan and settling in. She'd been up half the night packing, so excited for two weeks alone with Chance. Her mom had given her a box of condoms and a ziplock bag full of homemade granola for the trip. She'd expected to find adventure, romance, and some good stories they could tell their future grandchildren.

She'd found the card on the doormat instead. For the most part, it had stayed tucked away in a shoe box along with photos of her and Chance. It was something she only pulled out when she needed a reminder not to raise her hopes. Since Chance had walked back into her life, all cut muscle and playful smiles, she'd needed that reminder so often the card had remained out of its box.

That card had been a big part of her life for the past decade.

But it was still too small, didn't give her fingers nearly enough buffer room to get that spider out of her apartment. Maybe it was time to move.

Someone pounded at her door. Sidling around an end chair to give the spider a wide berth, Jane sidestepped to the front door and flung it open, not taking her eyes off the hairy interloper.

“Why the hell aren't you answering your phone? Or responding to my texts?” Chance's angry voice was enough to drag her gaze off the wall. The chest beneath the faded AC/DC T-shirt was heaving and a tinge of red flushed his cheekbones. Both signs that he'd lost his temper.