Chance and Cassie followed a step behind.
Brown eyes as curious as a chipmunk’s stared at Cord. This time, he was the one who swallowed convulsively. “What’s going on, Jolie?”
“Who’re you?” The boy’s lips pursed and his brows knitted together.
Tilting his head so he could watch both Jolie and the boy, Cord replied, “I’m Cord Barron. Who’re you?”
“I’m CJ. Do you know my mommy?”
“I thought I did.” Cord was pretty sure his voice dripped icicles. Cassie was right. Everything about the kid screamed Barron. His aggressive stance, his expression. Looking at CJ was like seeing a picture of himself as a kid.
“Cord...I...I can explain.”
Jolie looked terrified as he pushed the wheelchair toward her, only to be brought up short by his brother’s hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Cord. Let me handle this.”
Chance was using his lawyer voice. Rather than shaking off his hand, Cord inhaled deeply. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper. Not here in the middle of the sidewalk. Was it possible CJ was his? He knew nothing about kids, or how to judge their ages, but the boy couldn’t be more than four, five at the oldest. He stopped breathing for a minute. St. Patrick’s Day. Five years ago. The Bricktown Street Party. Hannigan’s Pub. He felt the color drain from his face and now he surged forward, jerking away from his brother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jolie backed up several steps, dragging the boy with her. CJ pulled free and charged. His little fists hammered Cord’s thighs as Cord jerked the chair to a stop to avoid running over the kid.
“You leave my mommy alone.”
Cord picked him up, hiding the twinge of pain in his ribs, and placed him in his lap, one arm corralling the kid’s legs so he couldn’t kick. Oh, yeah. CJ was all Barron. He had no doubt.
“Cord? Please...”
He glanced around CJ to stare at Jolie. She had her hand raised, reaching toward her son, her eyes pleading with him. Folding the kid in his arms, he settled the child he was pretty damn sure was his son more firmly on his lap. “Is he mine?” He was pleased his voice remained calm and sounded reasonable. Inside he was a seething cauldron of anger.
CJ stopped squirming, as if he sensed something momentous about to happen. His eyes jittered between his mom and Cord.
“I...” Jolie looked away. “Cord... You don’t understand.”
“No. I guess I don’t. Since you didn’t give me a chance. Or explain. But you didn’t answer my question. He is mine, isn’t he?”
Anger cramped his gut, but his touch remained gentle as he held the boy in his lap. His eyes stayed fixed on Jolie, and even though they burned, he didn’t blink. How could she do this to him? Did she hate him that damned much? When he’d caught her crying over him in the ICU, he’d hoped for a second chance, but she’d obviously wiped the slate clean and eradicated him completely. His heart turned to granite when he realized what Jolie had done—and had done deliberately. If he said a word, his face would crack, shattering just like his heart was doing. But he had to know.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Jolie flushed and her chin rose to a stubborn angle. The anger in her green eyes flashed like emeralds lit by firelight. “No, Cord. No, I wasn’t.”
“Let go of my son, Cord.” Jolie reached for CJ, but the boy shook her off, curling in closer to Cord’s shoulder.
CJ ignored his mother and cupped his hands on Cord’s cheeks. The boy pulled his head around to draw his attention.
“Do you have a little boy?”
Where the dickens had that question come from? Cord studied CJ’s face, noting the similarities.
“Yeah, it seems like maybe I do.”
“Oh.” The kid’s expression shuttered as he tucked his chin against his chest. He squirmed a little, as if to get away.
With a touch of his index finger, Cord got him to look up. None of this was CJ’s fault. But he had to know. Was there another man in Jolie’s life?
“Do you have a dad?”
“No.” The boy lifted his shoulders up around his ears and shot his mother a guilty look as he whispered, “I kinda wish I did.”
The kid’s voice did something to Cord’s chest. He remembered wishing the same thing, but his old man was always too busy. At the same time, relief washed over him. There didn’t seem to be a father figure in the boy’s life.
“Dads are important.” He offered CJ a hesitant smile.
“Cord...” Again Chance’s voice, brimming with unspoken legal advice, intruded. “We need to step back from the emotions here, talk about this someplace else.”
“Like your office?”
“Or home.” Chance sounded diplomatic.
Cord focused on CJ. “Have you ever met your dad?”
The kid shook his head, a little smile beginning to tweak the corner of his mouth. Then he glanced around at the serious faces of the adults, and his budding smile wilted when he fixed his attention on Jolie. “Mommy? Are you cryin’?” He squirmed to get off Cord’s lap.
“Don’t do this, Cord. Please. Not like this.”
Cord swallowed around the fist-size lump in his throat and ignored the tears shining on Jolie’s cheeks and the plea in her voice. Her anger had leached out, leaving only sadness. “There’s something you should know, CJ. I’m your—”
“Cord, no!” Jolie’s anger was back, and it prickled his skin like dozens of needle pricks.
“Dammit, Jolie—”
“Uh-oh. You aren’t s’posed to say that word.”
Cord absently rubbed CJ’s back as he controlled his own anger. “Yeah. I know, bubba. I’ll have to start a swear jar for when I forget and say words like that in front of you.”
“A swear jar?”
“Yup. Whenever you or I say a bad word, we’ll have to put money in the jar. To remind us not to say them.”
CJ cut his eyes to his mom and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Am I gonna see you again?”
“We have to go, CJ.”
Jolie stood rooted about four feet away, as if afraid to approach. Probably a good idea. Not that Cord would physically harm her. He didn’t hit women. But damn if he didn’t
