blue eyes almost took her breath away. Too bad he chose to look so serious all the time. He wore a navy blue polo shirt, but the sleeves barely fit around his arms. The standard jeans fit very, very well, indeed.
She smiled a simple superficial greeting, while odd tingles threaded along her skin. “Come in,” she said. “We just finished.”
“Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, son.”
Steven gathered his piano books and rushed toward his father. “Ms. Desi is a really cool teacher!” They hugged, and Desi could see the honest-to-goodness love they shared. It was the same kind of you and me against the world love that she and her mom used to have, and the display touched her deep inside. Maybe she’d cut the big guy some slack.
“That’s great,” he said to his son, then looked at Desi with near alarm in his glance. “Are you taking over for Mrs. Rask?”
“Just today. Her arthritis is flaring up.”
“Won’t you be my teacher next week?” Disappointment poured out of Steven’s voice.
“We’ll see how Gerda feels, okay?” She walked back to the piano and picked up the wrapped candy, then came back to Steven and handed it to him. “I promised to help you practice, remember?”
He took the treat as if he’d gotten the biggest present in the world. “Gee, thanks!” Throwing his arms around her hips, he hugged her and squeezed, his cheek flat against her stomach. Such a sweet boy. She couldn’t say he was attention starved, not by the way his dad watched over him, but Steven sure liked being around her. It made her wonder where his mother was.
Midhug, she glanced up at Kent, her grin quickly shifting to a more serious expression. Though he tried to hide it, caution and warning flashed in his azure eyes, and the hair on the back of her neck alerted her to let go of Steven and back off.
She’d reacted instinctively to the boy and must have crossed over a deeply engraved line. She didn’t have a clue why she’d tripped the alarm, but she’d respect Kent’s nonverbal message. He watched steadily as she stepped away, and when they’d said their necessary goodbyes, all she could do was wonder what she’d done wrong.
“Dad. Dad!” Steven pulled Kent’s arm as he unlocked the front door, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Ms. Desi’s the coolest piano teacher ever!”
“Mayor Rask is your piano teacher. Ms. Desi is just filling in.” He wanted to set that straight, right off.
Steven charged for the electric keyboard in the corner of the dining room the second they’d hit the front door. As he turned it on, the excitement in his bright blue eyes was almost contagious. Kent held firm, refusing to get swept up in his son’s enthusiasm. It wouldn’t be a good idea to let Steven get attached to every woman who was kind to him. And that had been his pattern since his mother had left.
No one could fill the void his son must feel.
Steven had his music book opened and seemed raring to go before the keyboard was even warmed up. Transformed before Kent’s eyes, the boy was the embodiment of eagerness—this from the kid who normally had to be dragged to piano lessons and who forced Kent’s patience to get him to practice. Steven pounded out a simple song that had definite blues overtones, and it wasn’t half-bad. The infectious smile on his face forced Kent to grin as he leaned against the wall, arms folded, listening. He loved seeing his son happy, especially after the rough couple of years they’d been through.
Blast it. The last thing he needed was for his son to have a crush on his substitute piano teacher—the woman who showed up in the dead of night and who might take off the same way. He couldn’t bear to see any more disappointment in Steven’s eyes.
How in hell was a child supposed to get over the heartbreak of his mother walking out at such a tender age, with not so much as a phone call on his eighth birthday?
If Kent had his way, Steven would have a couple of siblings by now, but that was the last thing Diana had wanted. Born and raised in Heartlandia, just like him, she wanted to move to a big city where she could spread her cosmopolitan wings and play wife to a doctor who made a staggering salary. She wanted parties and designer shopping sprees. She did not want to be married to a guy running his own urgent-care facility and having to be both businessman and doctor rolled into one. A guy who couldn’t predict which side of the red line they’d land on at the end of each month.
She’d thought being married to a doctor meant she’d be home free, rolling in dough. What with staff salaries to pay, the never-ending need for supplies or new equipment, liability insurance up to his ears and the lease on that overgrown building, some months he had to take a rain check on his own salary. Good thing he lived in the same house he grew up in, the one his parents practically gave away when they sold it to him and moved to Bend, Oregon, to enjoy their retirement.
Bottom line, Diana had wanted out. She’d wanted to be far away. She’d wanted San Francisco, not Heartlandia. She’d wanted to be single again. Single without a child hampering her whims.
“See, Dad? I can almost play all the notes.”
“That’s great.” He applauded. “If you practice every day, maybe you’ll have it memorized by next week.”
“Yeah! That would be the coolest. I could surprise her.”
“Now don’t go getting ahead of yourself. She’s only substituting for Mayor Rask. She may not even be here next week.” Kent went into the kitchen to throw some food together for dinner. Steven tagged along, practically on his heels.
“Can we invite Ms. Desi to the festival this weekend, huh?”
Kent didn’t want to speak for someone else, but he was quite sure Desi would be bored senseless at their hokey small-town Scandinavian festival. Wasn’t that what Diana used to call it? “I don’t know.”
“I could buy her some aebleskiver with my allowance. I just know she’d love them.”
Kent wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and hold him close, tell him to be careful about getting his hopes up where women were concerned. Instead, he pulled open the cupboard and rustled around the canned foods for some baked beans. He hoped to change the subject with food, one of Steven’s favorite topics. He’d grill some chicken and steam some broccoli, and pretend he didn’t hear Steven tell him “for the gazillion-millionth time” that he hated broccoli.
“Dad? Dad! Can we?”
Kent quit opening the can, inhaled and closed his eyes. “We’ll see.”
“Please, please, please?”
“I’ll think about it. Okay?” Feeling a major cave coming on, Kent went the diversion route. “Now go wash your hands.”
Already having his father pegged, Steven triumphantly pumped the air with his fist. “Yes!”
The never-say-die kid sure knew how to work his old man. Kent quietly smiled and went back to cooking.
After dinner and a lopsided conversation with Steven talking about life on the school playground and one quick confession that he
