came the trio in chorus.
“Please, just one more game?” the girl said.
Brett was glad the child hadn’t turned that cajoling tone on him, or he might have given her his car and thrown in a twenty-CD changer for good measure. A bad idea since he was driving a loaner from his dad’s dealership tonight.
Not taking time to wonder why he wanted to spend even more of his Saturday night in a bowling alley with a mom and her passel of children, he approached the taller of the two petite brunettes.
“Come on, Mom,” he said, using the same tone the girl had used. “Just one more game. You won’t get the chance after this place closes.”
The way “no” was written in her stiff posture made him glad he hadn’t offered to spring for the game. She probably thought he was an ax murderer who bowled while his ax was being sharpened. He’d already turned to retrieve his badge from the bi-fold wallet in his jacket pocket when she finally spoke.
“That’s probably not a good idea—”
“I’m not a criminal, really.” Maybe not a criminal, but desperate—he sure sounded that. To cover the awkward silence, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Brett Lancaster.”
He would have continued by saying “Michigan State Police,” the way he usually did, but this lady blanched at his name alone. Now that was a reaction he’d never received from a woman.
Unable to resist a call to protect, he reached beneath her elbow to steady her. Her skin was so smooth where she’d pushed up her shirt sleeve, he could have sworn he’d grasped fine silk. He almost worried he’d snag it with his own calloused palm.
“Is there something I can get for you, ma’am? Water?”
She shook her head, but she still appeared dazed. The children weren’t any help, crowding their mother and making worried sounds instead of giving her room to breathe.
Finally, when he couldn’t decide whether to shake her alert or call for a paramedic, she offered a strange, apologetic smile and extended her free hand. “Hi, I’m Tricia Williams. And these are my children Lani, Rusty, Jr. and Max. Kids, this is Mr. Lancaster.”
Tricia Williams? His frustration from earlier began to fester again but the feeling subsided. This was too funny to make him mad. Who ever heard of getting stood up and then ending up meeting face-to-face out on the town, anyway?
Coincidence? Not really. The village of Milford, Michigan, was too small for any chance meeting to be called a coincidence. There just weren’t that many places to go. And since he hadn’t called in to pick up his messages—and her cancellation—until he was already on Milford Road just outside the village limits, he’d figured the bowling alley was as good a place as any to blow off some steam. He deserved at least that after being idiot enough to let his sister badger him into a blind date in the first place. Had he learned nothing from his last relationship fiasco? Like never to get involved again?
“Tricia. So we finally meet.” Brett chuckled as he reached to shake her hand, but his laughter died as soon as they touched. Her hand felt so small, while his was huge and clumsy. As their gazes connected, he glimpsed sadness beneath her smile, but Tricia glanced at the ground and pulled her hand away. When she looked up at him again, whatever he’d seen before had disappeared.
“Yes, finally. Charity has been trying to arrange this thing forever.”
“Oh, yeah, Charity, my sister Jenny’s friend from the hospital. So that’s how this whole thing got set up.”
Now that he knew her identity, he also remembered the vague details his matchmaker sister had provided: attractive, Christian, age twenty-six, widowed mother of three. That last detail had nearly made him call the whole thing off, but his sister’s persuasive skills were legendary. Before, he’d suspected that this woman had been deserted, but now that he knew who she was, he also understood Tricia had been forsaken in a more painful and permanent way.
“Mommy, look at this,” Lani called out.
They turned to see the children taking turns leaning over the ball return, the fan blowing their hair.
“Okay, guys, we’ll finish this game and play another quick one. Then it’s home to baths and bed.”
Squeals of delight caused others at nearby lanes to shoot curious glances their way.
But Max drew his eyebrows together. “No bath.”
His mother whisked him up in her arms and started spinning. “Yes, bath. With lots and lots of soap.”
The child made a face only a mother could love and scrambled out of her arms. Rusty, Jr. was already winding up for his frame, while his sister sat at the desk, attempting to keep score. Happiness lit Tricia’s eyes as she turned back to Brett.
“So this is what you cancelled on me for?” he couldn’t help asking. Tricia’s shoulders shifted. “Your exact words on my machine were ‘I’m sorry, but something important came up.’”
She nodded. “And something important did. Actually, three important things.”
“I can see that.” He could. So why did he feel strangely jealous over the children she had chosen to spend time with rather than him? He should have been used to having women toss him away by now.
“I tried to reach you before you left home. Charity told me you rent a house in Brighton.”
“I do, but I had some errands to run and came into town early.”
She didn’t ask him to elaborate, which was just as well because he would like to forget about his visit to his parents’ house in Bloomfield Hills and the disappointment he still sensed every time his dad looked at him. When would his family finally accept that he was doing something for himself this time and they weren’t going to change his mind? On the next lane over, he watched several pins fall, except for a lonely six pin. He, too, was standing alone these days. It wasn’t the life he’d expected, but at least he’d regained his pride by following his heart.
Surprised he’d been daydreaming again, Brett glanced back at Tricia and caught her studying him. Though she looked away, a sensation of warmth settled in his chest.
“Well, I’m up pretty soon, so…”
He should have appreciated her attempt to make it easy for him to bow out, but he found he wasn’t ready to leave. Instead of answering her, he crossed the hardwood surface to where her little girl was preparing to bowl.
“You know, Lani, I bet you’d hit more pins if you tried this.” He pointed to the arrows on the floor. “Try aiming your ball at the very center arrow.”
Soon, he had all three children vying for his bowling tips and the grown-up attention from “Mr. Brett” that went with them. No way would he admit it to his fellow troopers at the Brighton Post, but this had to count as his best Saturday night in months. No, he wouldn’t allow his thoughts to go there and spoil the happy moment.
In the middle of an arms-looped celebration dance with Rusty, Jr. over the boy’s first strike, Brett caught sight of Tricia watching him again, her expression stark without the contented mask she’d worn all night.
How
