that question in the night. “Are you my daddy?”
He would never think about the little boy’s large green eyes or her somber golden brown ones again.
He would make a clean getaway. In moments he would be back to his neat and tidy life. He was willing to bet the prank phone calls were over.
But his clean getaway was impeded by a sturdy little body that was suddenly planted in front of him.
“What grade do you teach?” Justin asked, his words laced with just a touch of desperation.
Desperation that made Bowen realize the only one he’d been fooling was himself. He could never walk away from the Burnadettes without knowing the answer.
Was he this little boy’s dad? The possibility was remote. One in a million. One in a billion. One in a trillion, maybe.
But people did win lotteries all the time. And they got struck by lightning. Weird coincidences threaded human existence. At school last week, all the female teachers had been talking about a TV program they’d seen where two guys who met in a bar and became best friends for life later discovered they were brothers.
He could see that Ashton was not happy about this delay in his departure, and he had a purely masculine need to change that, to know if she felt even a little bit of the same sizzle he was feeling.
“I teach grades ten, eleven, and twelve boys P.E.,” he said. “And I coach football. Our senior team has been division champs three years in a row.”
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