The Family Man (5 page)

H
ER LAUGHTER AT
the driver’s dirty joke made Adam smile. Their group, riding along the desert road in the Humvee, looked like one of those “Which item doesn’t belong?” games. Three big army guys in camo, armed with guns and ammo galore, who liked to tell jokes in all shades of the blue spectrum and a petite, blonde aid worker with a heart the size of her home state of Texas.

She was doing a number on his heart, too. He wondered sometimes if the lack of women who weren’t wearing as much camo and armament as him or donned in burqas was why he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He doubted it. Hadn’t been able to during the entire month he and his unit had escorted her and her fellow aid workers to sites outside of Baghdad. If he’d met Jessica back home, she would have spun him for a loop there, too. Fighting gun
battles were nothing compared to trying to keep his hands off her as she sat in front of him. Irrational jealousy that Art, the driver, got to sit next to her flowed through Adam.

“I can do you one better than that,” Jessica said as the hot wind whipped through the Humvee and caused tendrils of her honey-blond hair to fly about her flushed and slightly smudged face. She started to tell a dirty joke of her own, much to his disbelief.

Fate interrupted. Instead of a joke, what came out of Jessica was a scream. Adam reached for her as the Humvee went airborne and flew backward. But searing pain engulfed his leg. He screamed then froze as his eyes locked with the sightless ones on Jessica’s bloody face. He screamed again as the world went black.

Adam shot up in bed, breathing hard, his throat raw at the remembered scream that had ripped from him a world away. He cursed and punched the mattress. Why the hell did he have to keep having the dreams?

Because you didn’t keep her safe
.

Adam cursed again and threw the sheet off his sweaty body. Why did that accusation always haunt him? What could he have done besides insist it was too dangerous for her to come along? Well, that hadn’t exactly been his call, had it?

He’d made his point and been overruled.

He felt like punching holes in the wall, to punish himself again and again for not having been stronger in his opposition. Yes, it was some nut-job militant
who’d put that roadside bomb in their path, but he couldn’t shake the conviction that he’d had a duty to keep her safe and he’d failed.

Sweat trickled down his forehead. He swiped at it then headed for the bathroom to wash his face. He knew better than to try going back to sleep immediately. The dream would just come back, as if he’d hit the pause button on a DVD player. If he could have the part of his brain that remembered Iraq surgically removed, he’d do it without a second thought.

Snoring from the couch told him that David hadn’t bolted. Adam hoped he had enough food in the fridge to make the kid a decent breakfast in the morning.

In the bathroom, he ran cold water and splashed his face. Still dripping, he looked at his shadowed image in the partially lit room. Fatigue hit him anew, and it had nothing to do with the hours he’d worked. No, this was the type of exhaustion that came from keeping up the front, trying to make everyone, including himself, believe he was just a happy-go-lucky, not-a-care-in-the-world beach lounger. God, how he wished it were true beyond the surface.

He shoved away from the sink and wandered back into the hallway.

Normally, after a dream he’d watch a little TV to fill his head with other images, but he didn’t want to wake David. Though it was possible the kid was so tired he wouldn’t even wake up.

Adam eased into the living room and stopped when he saw how David was sleeping. Curled into the fetal position with his hands protecting his head.

Flaming, dangerous anger lit inside Adam. A teenage boy wouldn’t sleep like that without a reason, unless he felt he was in danger.

God help the person who’d put that type of fear in the boy.

Adam didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Instead, he sat on the side of his bed thinking, trying to decide the best course of action. As the sun rose on another gorgeous Gulf Coast day, he corraled the three eggs and two pieces of bacon left in the fridge and fixed them with some toast. He placed the plate of food, a half jar of grape jelly, silverware and a mug of coffee on the table before David ever stirred.

Adam guessed the boy had slept about as much as he’d eaten since he’d run off from home.

Finally, David rolled over on the couch then came awake with such a jerk that he ended up halfway on the floor.

“Watch the coffee table. An elephant could dance on that thing, so I’m guessing it’d leave a mark if you hit it.” Adam kept his words casual and friendly, in a teasing sort of way. He needed David to feel comfortable so he’d agree to what Adam had finally de
cided to do in the early morning hours. “Come on and eat before it gets cold.”

David straightened his rumpled T-shirt as he got up and slowly approached the table. He eyed the hot food, but then he looked back at Adam.

“You call the cops?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said I wouldn’t yet.”

David glanced at the food again.

“Go on.” Adam nodded toward the meal as he took a long drink of black coffee.

David slid into the chair he’d sat in the night before and took several bites before meeting Adam’s eyes again. “Why are you helping me?”

Adam shrugged. “Looked like you could use it.”

“I can take care of myself,” David said, all teenage bravado.

“No doubt.”

They occupied their opposite sides of the kitchen, David at the table, Adam leaning against the counter next to the coffeepot, for several minutes. Finally, Adam filled his thermos with coffee and walked to the end of the bar separating the kitchen from the living room.

“I’ve got to go to work, so here’s the deal. You can stay here today, but don’t go outside.” He didn’t want to send the kid back to a bad home, but he didn’t want to be arrested for harboring a runaway, either. He just
wanted to give David a chance to tell him why he’d run away. Adam needed to figure out what would happen to David if he turned him over to the authorities.

Damn, the entire situation reeked of responsibility, but what was he supposed to do? Call the police and have the kid possibly end up back where someone made him feel he had to protect himself as he slept? That was no way for a kid to live.

“That sound okay to you?” Adam asked.

David nodded. Adam gave a quick nod back then headed out the front door. They’d have to talk later, but Adam didn’t know exactly what to say. He needed the day to think it through. Plus, David didn’t appear to be ready to do the sharing thing yet, but hopefully he’d open up after a day of relative safety. Adam paused before opening the door. “I’m Adam, by the way. I work down at the pier, just in case you need to know.”

As he drove to work, a new devil poked his pitchfork into him. The thought that if Sara knew what he was doing, she wouldn’t like it—or him—one little bit.

S
ARA STARED IN
the mirror the morning after the bar fight, gently examining the ugly bruise on her face. She winced at the tenderness. Geez, she looked like one of the battered women she’d helped over the years.

“Hope the other guy looks worse,” Tana said from where she stood in the doorway to the bathroom, one hand propped against the door frame.

“Meeting violence with violence isn’t the best answer,” Sara said, trying to sound firm but not preachy. Through trial and error, she’d found that reaching a teenager required a certain type of non-confrontational approach. They wanted to be talked
to
, not
at
.

But, even as she said the words, she was pretty sure the other guy looked worse this morning. He’d taken a beer bottle upside the head, as well as several punches.

“Your breakfast is ready,” Tana said, then disappeared from the doorway.

Sara did her best to cover up the bruise, but it was a lost cause. She ran a brush through her hair and headed for the kitchen. An English muffin topped with strawberry jam and a cup of coffee greeted her.

“Mornin’, Mommy,” Lilly said and smiled wide, as usual.

“Good morning, sweetie-pie,” Sara said as she leaned down to hug her daughter. “You are the smiliest girl in the whole world.”

“Ugh, morning people,” Tana grumbled from where she was pouring a bowl of cereal for Lilly.

“Ignore your sister,” Sara said to Lilly and rubbed her nose against the little girl’s.

Lilly barely touched her fingertip to Sara’s bruised cheek. “You have a big owie.”

“Yep, Mommy ran into something at work. But
it’s okay.” If you counted throbbing and making her wish her cheek would fall off okay.

A knock at the door sent Lilly flying.

“Remember to ask who it is,” Sara called after her.

“Who is it?” Lilly asked in a singsongy voice, knowing full well it was likely Ruby come to pick up her and Tana.

“It’s the Wicked Witch of the West,” Ruby said through the door, making Lilly giggle.

Sara shook her head and smiled. Ruby, despite her age putting her firmly in the grandma years, acted as young as Lilly sometimes.

“Good glorious morning, all,” Ruby said as she entered the kitchen. She caught sight of Sara’s face and grimaced. “Okay, maybe not for all. What happened to you?”

“Wee disagreement among drinking buddies got out of hand at the Beach Bum.”

Ruby examined the bruise a bit more closely. “Girl, I think dating might be safer on your next night off.”

Sara snorted and pointed toward her proof of fisticuffs. “I don’t think I’ll be attracting any men anytime soon.”

“I don’t think Adam would mind,” Tana said, mischief in her voice.

“Who’s Adam?” Ruby asked.

Sara gave Tana the evil eye, which only made her smile her “Ha, ha, I got you” smile.

“No one,” Sara answered Ruby.

“He’s this totally good-looking guy Mom met when she had to investigate a prowler at his house.”

Ruby shoved her tanned hands into the pockets of her white capri pants. “Do tell.”

Tana started to speak, but Sara jumped in before she could get a word out. “Contrary to Tana’s wild imagination, there is nothing to tell. It was Adam Canfield.”

“Oh, he is easy on the eyes.”

“And knows it,” Sara mumbled.

“There was definite sparkage going on between them,” Tana said, amusement in her words.

Sara’s mouth fell open before she caught herself. “Tana, don’t lie!”

“I’m not. I may be thirteen, but I’m not blind.”

Sara rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She took a long drink of coffee and dreaded the next few years of hormonal teenage girl.

“He’d be a catch if someone managed to do it,” Ruby said with an eye twinkle of her own.

“Yeah, he’s a real catch. He ‘works’ at the pier and hangs out at the Beach Bum as his main form of recreation.”

“So he’s a laid-back type of guy. Too many uptight people in the world, if you ask me.”

Sara looked at Ruby. Did the older woman think Sara was among the uptight throng?

“You should ask him to the Helping Hands Ball,” Tana said, her voice going up in excitement.

“I think not.”

“Why not?” Tana asked.

“Because he’s not the type of guy I’m looking for, okay, Miss Pushy. Now go get ready for school.”

Tana might be getting old enough to notice guys, but Sara didn’t feel like trying to explain how she didn’t want to let herself think about Adam in a romantic way. She tended to care for a guy too easily, and she didn’t want to fall for someone who would only end up hurting her. She’d seen how it had hurt her father.

Tana threw her hands up in exasperation then headed for her room.

Lilly tired of the grown-up conversation and took her doll into the living room and parked herself in front of the Cartoon Network.

“I think a date with Adam might work out better for you than drinks with coworkers,” Ruby said as she gestured toward Sara’s bruise.

Sara turned and poured the last few drops of her coffee down the sink and rinsed the cup. “He’s good-looking, yes. Looks aren’t important though when compared to other attributes.”

“He saved a child’s life.”

“I’m aware of that.” As if that negated the entire con column about dating him.

She walked past Ruby and ushered the girls toward the door. “Come on, I’ve got to get to work.”

The girls went out the door, but Ruby paused
before stepping over the threshold. She nodded toward Sara’s collection of classic TV shows on DVD.
The Andy Griffith Show. Little House on the Prairie. The Waltons
.

“You need to stop looking for Mr. Perfect because he doesn’t exist. He’s fiction. If you keep passing up real guys for the myth, you’re going to grow old alone. And trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

It was the first time Sara had ever heard Ruby express any sort of hint of dissatisfaction with her life.

“I just don’t think he’s the sort of guy for me. You know his reputation.”

“It’s a date, Sara.” Ruby squeezed Sara’s hand. “Stop pressuring yourself to find the perfect daddy for those girls. And stop thinking that taking time for yourself in some way makes you a bad mother. You need space.” She nodded in the direction the girls had taken. “They need space.”

With that, Ruby made her exit, leaving Sara searching for a response that never came. Slowly, she closed the door and leaned against it. Adam was delicious…

“Arrggh,” she said and pushed away from the door. She couldn’t let Ruby and Tana’s tag-team matchmaking get to her. There was a perfect guy for her, she knew it. She only had to find him.

She hurried to her room for her badge, gun and car keys. When she picked up her badge from the top
of the dresser, she glanced at her marred face in the mirror. Ruby’s words played over in her head, then the events of the night before. How her coworkers had tried to tease her and instead of admitting that she was attracted to Adam, she’d felt the need to deny it. Sure, that made sense if she wanted to maintain good working relationships and keep the guys from treating her as if she was frail, but it didn’t do anything to help her shaky self-esteem as a woman.

She sighed and slowly ran her fingers over her face. It hit her anew how much she’d missed out on by not having a mother or sisters to teach her how to be beautiful, feminine, sexy. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong in the female world or the male one. She existed somewhere in between, always waging a constant battle with herself over which way to go. Sure, she had pretty clothes and jewelry, but she was always so self-conscious about wearing it, fearing she’d look like a fake.

With a sigh, she left the mirror and her house behind. She needed the cases sitting on her desk to take her mind off these things that didn’t matter. Helping find David Taylor, raising her daughters to know how much she loved them, not lowering her standards—those were the things that mattered. Not all the things she could fantasize doing with Adam Canfield.

Despite her determination to not think about Adam, snippets of the night before kept replaying in
her mind. Considering how he’d taken care of her, how much he’d seemed concerned about her well-being, maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. In fact, she half expected him to call and check on her.

Or was that thought as crazy as the belief her father had always harbored that his wife, Sara’s mother, would someday come back to them?

S
ARA CAUGHT HERSELF
staring at the phone much too often, but Adam didn’t call. Which just proved she’d been right to begin with.

But then why did she find herself being upset or annoyed when she should be focusing on following up on case leads or out canvassing the area for David Taylor?

She decided not to delve into examining the reasons too closely. Instead, she redoubled her efforts at work and planned to spend some extra quality time with the girls. She would put a stop to Ruby’s matchmaking. Maybe she could forget Adam Canfield if she made sure she didn’t see him.

Of course, the size of Horizon Beach was working against her. She couldn’t very well push thoughts of him away when she ran into him at Wal-Mart after work. The pale green T-shirt he wore showcased his tan and the green hue of his eyes. It was a miracle every woman in the store wasn’t following him from aisle to aisle.

She spotted him in the cereal aisle before he saw
her and nearly made like a coward and retraced her steps. Okay, that was just stupid. History proved that she was going to run into him from time to time. Besides, if he meant nothing, why did it matter if she spoke to him next to the Frosted Flakes?

“Hey,” she said, affecting a casualness she wished she actually felt.

“Hey. Oh, ow.” He glanced at her cheek. “You were right. Nice shiner.”

“Yes, I think everyone in town has made exactly the same comment.”

“It’ll be gone before you know it.”

“I hope so. I’m just sorry I didn’t get in a good punch myself.” She couldn’t admit that to Tana, of course.

A woman trailed by with four kids in tow, all of whom were pleading for different kinds of cereal, causing Sara to push her cart closer to Adam’s. She noticed the amount of food in his.

“Did you come to the store hungry?”

“What?” He looked at her and then at the contents of his shopping cart filled with chips, cookies, bacon, eggs, 24-packs of Coke. “Uh, just haven’t been in awhile. Don’t like shopping.” He backed his cart away from hers. “I’ve about had my limit, so I’ll see you later.”

She stood in the aisle listening to the continuing debate about which cereal had the best prize as she watched Adam flee. What the…? Surely she wasn’t
that scary-looking. She eyed a box of fudge-covered Oreos at the end of the aisle. The perfect pouting food.

She took a couple of steps before a wave of frustration engulfed her. She wasn’t a chicken, so why did this man make her feel as though she was acting like one? She turned her cart around and hurried up the aisle past the frustrated mother who now had three types of cereal in her cart.