sure, Mom, but…” Joey shrugged. “It would be nice to have a daddy like Sammy does. They do men stuff together.”
“Well, you do…men stuff with Uncle Ben and Uncle Brandon, and even Uncle Taylor when he comes up from Phoenix. They take you fishing, camping, hiking—all kinds of things.”
“Yes, but…” Joey sighed.
“But what, sweetheart?” Jennifer said, leaning toward him.
“When I’m done doing men stuff with Uncle Ben, and Uncle Brandon, and Uncle Taylor, I have to give them back. I don’t get to keep them, Mom. I don’t have a daddy all the time like Sammy does.”
“I see,” Jennifer said softly, struggling against threatening tears. “But you know that’s because your daddy is in heaven with the angels, Joey. I can’t change that, sweetheart.”
“You could be a bride like you’re supposed to be ’cause you caught the flowers,” Joey said, nearly yelling. “All you need is a guy to wear a suit and tie and buy you a yellow ring like Uncle Ben got Aunt Megan. How come you won’t do that, Mom?”
“Joey, I realize that you don’t understand and that you’re getting angry at me because you don’t. When you’re older, bigger, this will make sense to you.”
Joey scowled and dropped his chin to his chest. “No, it won’t.”
Jennifer stared at her son, her heart aching.
She had known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this discussion would take place one day, she thought miserably.
When Joey was three years old, he’d asked why he didn’t have a daddy, but had readily accepted the explanation that his father was in heaven with the angels.
Now, at five years old, Joey was comparing his family to that of his best friend, Sammy, and deciding it came up very short.
She’d worked so hard at being both mother and father to her son, and was eternally grateful to Ben, Brandon and Taylor for stepping in as father figures for Joey whenever they could.
But now her little boy wanted his own daddy, just like Sammy had. His uncles just weren’t enough.
Oh, Joey, I’m so sorry, Jennifer thought, blinking back tears. What he wanted, she would never give him. She could not—would not—marry again. All she could do was weather this emotional storm of Joey’s and hope, pray, it would soon pass.
Added to that heartfelt prayer was the ongoing one that Joey would never learn the truth about his father. No one knew the true facts of her past with Joe Mackane, and, heaven help her, no one ever would.
“Well,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice, “you must be a hungry boy. How would you like pancakes made in the shape of animals?”
Joey’s head popped up. “Yeah. Cool. I want a horse and elephant and hippopotamus.”
Jennifer laughed and got to her feet. “A hippopotamus? Goodness, I don’t know if I’m that talented a pancake artist, my sweet, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
Joey slid off his chair. “I’ll pour my own milk into a glass. I need milk for my bones and teeth.”
“Indeed, you do, sir,” Jennifer said, taking a bowl out of a cupboard. “You’ll grow up big and strong like…like your uncles.”
And be a fine, upstanding man like your uncles, with no hint of the lack of morals and values of your father, she mentally tacked on, as she began to prepare the pancake batter.
Joey looked so much like her—it was as though Joe had had nothing to do with the child’s creation. Joey had her wavy, strawberry-blond hair and fair complexion. His eyes were a sparkling green, and his features resembled hers. Anyone could tell that he was her son.
No, there was no hint of Joe Mackane in Joey, thank God, and there never would be as she continued to teach him the important lessons of integrity and honesty. Ah, yes, honesty. That was definitely something Joe never possessed, nor knew the meaning of.
Joe had been killed in a construction accident a week before Joey was born. In heaven with the angels? Jennifer mused. No, not even close. He wouldn’t have begun to qualify for admission. But that was something her son would never know.
After cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, during which she’d received a passing grade for her pancake hippopotamus, Jennifer showered and dressed in jeans and a green sweater that matched her eyes.
While Joey was putting away scattered toys in his room, Jennifer opened the drapes on the windows in the living room, then frowned.
There was a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. He was tall, extremely handsome, with dark, auburn hair, rugged features, wide shoulders, and long, muscular jeans-clad legs. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, and he was staring at the top of the house, apparently unaware of her sudden appearance in the window.
What was he doing there? Jennifer wondered. Who was he? If he was a thief casing the place, he wasn’t being very subtle about it.
All right, he had two minutes to be on his way, or she was going to march out there and confront him.
Jennifer narrowed her eyes.
Maybe that was dumb. Friendly, small-town Prescott or not, it was probably foolish to demand an explanation from a perfect stranger.
Perfect? Well, on a score of one to ten, the man was an eleven as far as looks and build went—but that was beside the point. She was a woman alone with a small, vulnerable boy to protect.
No, she’d give it another minute, then call Sheriff Montana and tell him about the stranger who was still—darn him—scrutinizing her home, her safe haven. He would handle this in the proper manner.
Okay, buddy, she thought, it’s now one minute and counting.
Jennifer’s breath caught as her gaze connected with the stranger’s. He smiled, sketched a salute, then spun around and walked down the sidewalk.
A frisson of heat coursed through her and settled low in her body. She wrapped her hands around her elbows, then moved to the edge of the window, watching until the man disappeared from view.
Dear heaven, she thought, that smile of his should be registered as a lethal weapon, along with the loose-limbed, oh-so-sexy way he walked.
It had been many years since she’d had a sensual response to a member of the opposite sex. It was unsettling, to say the least, and very unwelcome.
It was also borderline crazy. She’d had a physical reaction to a man she didn’t even know, and who might very well be a thief contemplating breaking into her house to steal her worldly goods, such as they were.
What on earth was the matter with her? she thought, shaking her head. On that horrifying day of Joe’s funeral, when she’d learned the truths that had shattered her world, she’d begun the process of building a wall around herself.
Never again, she had vowed, would a man awaken her sexuality. Never again would a man touch her heart or her body. Never again would
