set Jethro to the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom. “I am so ready for this day to be over.”
This was the first time she’d prepped a new fleet of rental Jeeps without Granddad’s supervision. With so many details, she feared overlooking something. It was a labor-intensive and time-consuming process, yet one that would pay off when the vehicles went to auction at the end of the season.
Standing by the bathroom sink, she grabbed her face wash and squeezed a small puddle of the creamy cleanser onto her fingertips. It was that attention to detail that kept customers coming back to Granddad’s place year after year. Details Ross Chapman would never understand.
Who did he think he was, barging into her shop, threatening Adventures in Pink? The man made her angry enough to spit fire. The only good part of his visit was the look on Trent’s face when he realized they weren’t alone.
Fear tapped at the edge of Blakely’s mind as she hovered over the marble vanity, scrubbing her face. Why did Trent have to show up now, after all these years? How would she explain things to Austin? He’d always been curious about his father, especially once he started school. Would he be mad at her? At Trent?
She pressed a hot-water-soaked washcloth against her cheeks and forehead. Trent must think her the same girl who’d once fallen for his boy-next-door routine. Accusing her of keeping Austin a secret in the next.
She tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed a soft white towel from the bar on the wall. I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you, Trent. Just know that I’d never keep this child, your child, from knowing his or her father.
How she’d agonized over that dumb letter.
“Handwritten letters flow from your heart,” Gran maintained, presenting Blakely with personalized stationery on every birthday, instilling a long-held appreciation for the dying art.
Well, that was one letter she wished she hadn’t written. She never imagined Trent would wait ten years to take her up on her offer.
Slipping the towel back into place, Blakely glimpsed something in the mirror that she thought she’d buried long ago. Yet there it was, hidden behind steely determination and hundreds of freckles.
The sting of Trent’s betrayal.
She took a deep breath and shook off the self-pity, vowing not to allow Trent or Ross to rob her of an enjoyable evening with her son.
In the kitchen, Blakely stared into the freezer, discounting chicken and pork chops before spotting a bag of frozen meatballs. She checked the pantry, giving herself a mental high five when she found both spaghetti sauce and noodles.
“Can’t get much easier than that.” Unless you counted cereal as a meal. And to her knowledge, Austin was the only one in the house who did.
She put a pot of water on to boil, then emptied the meatballs into a nonstick skillet. She nudged them around the pan as they sizzled.
Time had been kind to Trent. He’d always been ruggedly handsome, but now he was downright gorgeous.
Blakely froze, her spatula in midair. She’d lost her mind.
“You’re just tired,” she mumbled, returning her attention to the stove.
Not to mention lonely.
“Grrr.” She transferred the contents of the skillet to a saucepan and dumped in the jar of tomato sauce.
“Maybe you could stay for dinner.” Somewhere outside the window, Austin schemed with one of his friends. Luckily, spaghetti meant plenty to go around, so she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing that disappointed frown of his.
A few moments later the front door flew open.
“Mom?” He rushed into the kitchen. “Can I invite a friend for dinner?”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“Trent.”
Chapter Four
Trent’s apprehension over Austin’s dinner request paled in comparison to the look of horror on Blakely’s face when she emerged from the kitchen. Pausing at the back of the sofa, she dug her fingers into the soft beige fabric until her knuckles were white.
He knew he should feel sorry for her, but sympathy was mitigated by his desire to spend time with his son. A son Blakely never told him about.
Austin seemed oblivious to the tension, though. “Mom, look what Trent taught me.” In one quick movement, he gave his basketball a spin and uprighted it on his index finger, just like Trent had taught him. His brown eyes sparkled as he watched the rotating orb.
“Hey, you mastered it.” A smiling, and seemingly more relaxed, Blakely dashed for a bookshelf. “We need a picture of this.”
“Mom. You don’t have to take a picture of everything.”
Camera in hand, she paused. “Son, you know me better than that. Of course, I do.”
Trent’s gaze traversed the combined living and dining area. Nearly every surface, both vertical and horizontal, was adorned with family photos.
He had two. One of him as an infant with his mom and dad, and one of him and his mom, not long before she died.
He urged Austin forward. “Don’t give your mom such a hard time.”
Blakely held the digital camera in front of her and stared at the screen. “Ready?”
Austin gave the ball another spin and smiled.
After a brilliant flash, she checked the shot. “That’ll make the scrapbook.”
“The kid’s got a persistent streak.” Trent patted Austin on the back. “He worked at it all afternoon until he got it right.”
Blakely’s smile faltered. “You...spent the afternoon together?”
“Uh-huh.” Austin shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you and Trent are friends.” He set the ball beside the front door. “I can’t wait to show Zach.”
Trent and Blakely friends? At this point, that was stretching it. Though he could certainly hope.
“So you and Trent were playing basketball?” She shoved the camera back into its case, her wary gaze darting between father and son.
“At the park. He’s really good.”
“What are you talking about?” Trent poked a thumb in Austin’s direction. “This turkey ran circles around me.”
Ellie Mae sashayed into the room, stopping between Austin and Trent.
“There she is.” He rubbed the dog’s floppy ears. Just a big old bundle of love, that’s what she was. “You’re a good girl. Yes.”
“Why, hello, Trent.” Rose strolled into the room with Jethro tucked under her arm.
The
