smiled. His feelings were a tiny bit dented. Hero-worship from the crowds at the flaming star awards ceremony had just felt insanely wrong. He’d felt a fraud. But from this little guy…it felt good. He didn’t want to think that Leighton handed that out to just anyone.
Oh, get a grip. ‘Police officers and soldiers have a bit in common.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep. Both charged with protecting the community, both highly trained, both taught to respect the uniform they wear and what it represents.’
‘I’m going to be a soldier.’
Oh, your mother’s not going to like that. ‘Why not a police officer?’
‘Or, yeah, a police officer.’ Little grey eyes shot wide with sudden realisation. ‘Ooh! Or a fireman!’
Getting warmer…
‘What about a wildlife ranger? They have to protect the forest and they wear a uniform and have special training.’ And you’d make your mother the happiest woman on the whole planet.
He seemed to consider it seriously and then his eyes grew more distant, hesitant. ‘My granddad was a soldier. A big one.’
Back to the soldier thing. And knowing what little he did about Romy’s relationship with her father, Leighton’s slip-up was not good news. ‘How do you know that? I thought you didn’t know your grandfather?’
Leighton slowed his steps and looked away. Clint could practically see the lie starting to take shape on his lips. ‘The truth, champ.’
He looked balefully at Clint. ‘He used to come and see me sometimes, at school. In the lunch break.’
Clint’s whole body tightened up. What the hell was his school doing letting that happen? And what the hell was a man like Colonel Martin Carvell doing sneaking around a primary school?
He kept his voice carefully neutral. ‘Does your mother know about that?’
The cautious stare turned angry. ‘Are you going to tell her?’
Clint considered him as they approached the house. How did Romy negotiate this minefield every day? This precarious balancing act called parenting. Where every word counted. ‘Nope. But might be a good idea if one day you do, just so she knows. You two shouldn’t have any secrets between you.’
‘You have secrets.’
Ah, there was that delightful eight-year-old petulance rearing its head. Clint frowned. ‘Like what?’
‘I heard Mum saying you were full of secrets.’
He couldn’t imagine her chatting freely to just anyone about him, but his gut tightened up on instinct. ‘Who was she talking with?’
‘No-one. She was doing the vacuuming and getting angry.’
He had no trouble at all picturing that. So, Romy Carvell liked to beat on him while vacuuming? He smiled. That wasn’t bad news. Not at all.
He liked that he affected her.
‘Leighton! Again?’ Romy’s frustrated wail met them from across the clearing as she stomped down the house steps. Her focus wasn’t even on Clint, but his body reacted instantly to the sight of her even at a distance. Remembering how she’d felt. How she’d smelt. How she’d almost tasted.
The hungry predator in him sniffed the air and salivated.
‘See…’ Leighton muttered, watching the steam train approaching.
Clint cleared his throat. ‘You’ve brought this one on yourself, kiddo. You know you’re not supposed to come to my place but you did it, anyway. You’re going to have to take the consequences like a man.’
Leighton stared at him, but instead of turning on the pout, Clint saw something shift in his eyes and it translated in his body, in the way he pushed his shoulders back and faced his mother.
Faced his punishment.
Only there was none. Romy looked severe for just a moment before slipping her arms around her son’s shoulders and pulling him close. Then she gave him a gentle shove towards the house. He ran off, every bit the child again. Entirely off the hook.
Clint sighed. Baby steps. Today was a start. For both of them.
He steeled himself against the woman in front of him.
Her hands went up. ‘Don’t start.’
‘With what?’
‘I’ll be talking to him later about going off without permission. I didn’t think this was the time or place.’
He burned to say something about the value of immediate reinforcement but he let it go. He had no right to tell her how to parent. Less than no right. He could clearly see how hard it was for her to discipline Leighton. He was like her Achilles heel. Besides, her full lips were dominating his focus right now. They were moving, and the pink of her tongue peeked in and out tantalisingly. And then they were pressing together. Oh…
‘Sorry, what were you saying?’ His voice was more gravelly than he would have liked. One kiss—not even that—and he was losing all composure. He had to pull it together.
She flushed, and he wondered whether she’d read his thoughts. Or maybe his expression. Well, it wasn’t him that had run away from their encounter the other night. He’d been completely onboard with it.
Then.
Now, it just seemed a patently bad idea.
‘I guess I’ll see you at work sometime,’ she repeated.
Sometime. That was code for ‘not any time soon, thanks.’ Well…If not for getting Leighton home just now, he’d be in the middle of giving Romy all the space she needed. And then some. Getting his life back on track. Back to how he liked it.
Quiet. Predictable. Everything within his control.
He didn’t want Romy and her subtle lavender scent lingering in his consciousness any more than he wanted it lingering in his house. As if he could control either of those things. That made his choice easy.
‘Maybe not. I’ve got some work to do around the tree house. I probably won’t be getting down to the admissions area much.’
At all. It couldn’t be disappointment staining her cheeks. She wanted him far away and he was taking care of that. She should be happy.
‘Oh, okay. Well, then…I’ll see you round, Clint.’
Not if he saw her first. All it took was that hint of gentle confusion in her eyes and the wild thing in him was clawing to be released. Until he could guarantee his stomach wouldn’t lurch when he smelled her and his eyes wouldn’t stray to her when she walked by…
The best defence was absence.
