the waxy brown paper that lined those baskets that made the food taste better.
Or maybe that was just a good association. Whenever he saw food served like that, it reminded him of the good times of his childhood. Of Gina sneaking food out the back door to him when his mother hadn’t been home in weeks, or she was too stoned to care. The taste had always been like heaven.
It had been years since he’d eaten in a place like this. Now it was all business dinners, charity balls and food prepared by a personal chef.
But as soon as the scent hit him, with a follow-up punch of nostalgia, all that had been wiped away. There was a part of him that wished he was still that screwed-up kid coming to beg food from her. She’d always had a smile for him then. He never had to doubt what she wanted from him.
He’d been worth something to her then.
Some movement caught his eye and he turned to see the object of his thoughts. Having seen her from a distance that morning in court still didn’t prepare him for the reality of her. For the hurricane of emotions that swept through him when he saw her. It was like a physical blow that knocked the breath from his lungs.
At first, he didn’t think it was her—it couldn’t be. She’d been demure this morning, a pale version of herself.
Yet it was her, in all the glorious flesh.
She was wearing a Bullhorn shirt that was stretched snug across her breasts, the horns of the bull curled enticingly over her wares. Gina had never filled out the shirt like that before...
It was tucked into cargo pants that hugged her hips and ass in the most enticing way. And he wasn’t the only one looking. Her ponytail swung as she expertly negotiated the floor with trays of ribs and pulled pork, and he wondered if her hair smelled like that flowery shampoo she loved or if she’d smell just a bit like barbecue. Both made his mouth water.
“Gina-bee!” a small voice exclaimed and someone held up a large, red plastic cup. “Root beer, please?”
He froze, his assessment of Gina finished for the moment. That small voice was a cold splash of reality. Suddenly, he was afraid to look. That could only be Amanda Jane. Her blond curls bounced as she wagged the cup around for Gina’s attention. She looked so much like him, it was uncanny.
His heart did something in that moment. It froze, it melted, it shattered—it did everything a heart could do. He was overwhelmed by the fact that he was a father. This little person—he’d helped create her. She was part of him.
And he didn’t even know her.
His fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t know her because they didn’t want her to know him. Crystal didn’t tell him. He’d have expected Gina to try to get in touch with him, at least.
She had. Now that she knew he had money.
“Certainly not. You’ve had enough.” Gina’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“But I said please.” Amanda Jane’s lower lip curled into an exaggerated pout.
“Yes, you did.” Gina smiled and the expression lit up her face. “Thank you. How about water?”
The pout inflated, but then disappeared. “May I have root beer and ribs tomorrow?”
“I’m surprised you’re not sick of ribs.” Her voice had an indulgent tone to it.
Amanda Jane shook her head. “Never,” she said vehemently.
Gina slid a new glass, presumably filled with water, toward the girl on the way to clear another table.
For a moment, he had a glimpse of a life he’d been afraid to want. Of being a father to a sweet-faced girl who looked much like his own baby photos and being a husband to a woman like Gina.
If he’d had any sharp utensils near, he would have gouged that thought out of his head any way he could. But it was possible. All he had to do was say yes. Gina would do this, if only to keep custody of Amanda Jane.
As if she felt the weight of his gaze, she turned and Gina froze in the midst of wiping her hands on a napkin.
He watched her face change like the ebb and flow of the tide. She was always so easy to read. Reed would’ve thought the world might have hardened her more, taught her to hide her emotions. But everything she felt bloomed bright on her face with no reservations.
For a second, she was surprised to see him, then there was a happiness in her eyes that startled him. He hadn’t expected that—genuine happiness at the sight of him. But it faded quickly into a scowl.
“What do you want?”
“Lunch.” Reed didn’t mean to sound so cavalier, but it was his only defense against her. What else could he say? I came here because I wanted to see you?
He was conflicted about what that thought wrought in him. He didn’t want her to be working the same job, stuck in the same cycle, wasting away—all her potential squandered. But if she was chasing his bank account, what else would she be doing?
Still, she didn’t seem unhappy.
She was gentle with Amanda Jane, patient. That wasn’t the behavior of an addict. That hurt him, pierced his skin and burrowed into his bones. If she hadn’t fallen into the same trap that he and Crystal had, what was she doing still in Glory?
“Maybe you should get it somewhere else.” Her mouth thinned.
“Maybe I should,” he agreed easily. “I wanted to see you.”
“Now you’ve seen me.” Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists. “Wasn’t this morning enough?”
“That I have.” He nodded. Reed didn’t know what to say to her. He hadn’t planned on speaking to her, but he should’ve known his presence wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. “And I’m wondering why you’re still working here?”
Her eyes narrowed and for a moment, he thought for sure she was going to do violence.
“Why am I still working here? That’s really what you’re going to ask me after seven years? The last time I saw you was the night before my sister almost died and all you can think to say to me is why I’m still working at the Bullhorn?” Her voice was almost a growl. “I’m working here to support your daughter. What about you? What are you doing to take care of her?”
He hadn’t expected this from her—hell, he didn’t know what he expected. Reed supposed that if he didn’t believe she’d gotten out of the cycle, why should she believe that he had? The balls on this woman: to sue him for child support and then imply she could somehow mandate the terms of his visitation.
There was a part of him that raged at her for daring to speak of it, for digging underneath his skin and tearing at old scars and still prescient fears. That he’d never be anything more than a junkie kid from Whispering Woods.
But he was. He was so much more than that now. He was a man in control of himself and his destiny. He could buy the Bullhorn and fire her, if he chose.
“Don’t push me too hard, Gina. You’ve already shown you can’t
