Christyne Butler - A Daddy for Jacoby

Justin could relate.

What in the hell was he doing? He didn’t have any experience with kids other than being one himself. Agreeing to bring Jacoby home had been instinct, born out of his hellish childhood memories. He was flying blind here, praying he was doing the right thing.

Whatever that might be.

He stepped outside, leaving the oak-planked door open, glad for the screen door he’d installed just yesterday. The overhead lamp automatically came on, lighting up the porch that ran the length of the cabin. The night air had a bracing chill, and he inhaled deeply as he stepped onto the dirt driveway. There was still a load of wood to get out of the back of the truck, but at the moment, he just gazed up at the stars.

This morning, his biggest worry was deciding which of the bedrooms in the cabin to tackle next. This afternoon, it had been reaffirming his vow to stay far away from Gina, knowing he was the wrong guy for her despite how great it felt to have her in his arms again.

And now? Now he might be a father.

A crashing noise had Justin racing back inside. Jacoby stood at the kitchen sink, an overturned wooden crate next to him and a plastic cup on the floor.

“I was thirsty,” he said.

Surprised that the boy had finally spoken, Justin pulled in a deep breath and commanded his heart to stop its wild pounding in his chest. It wasn’t listening.

He grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and plopped down on the overturned crate. “Here.”

The boy didn’t move.

“It’s okay. You can have it.”

“I won’t finish all that.”

Justin unscrewed the lid and offered it again. “No worries. We can put the top back on.”

The boy took the bottle and drank. It was then Justin noticed the photograph clutched in his hand. “What’s that?”

His small fist, and the photo, disappeared behind his back.

“I’m not going to take it. I’m just wondering who’s.” Justin’s voice faded.

Could that image be a clue to finding Zoe? He reached into his T-shirt pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d tucked there, behind Jacoby’s birth certificate. He showed it to the boy. “See this?”

Curiosity had the boy leaning forward. “It’s me.”

Justin’s gut tightened, a reflex against the emotional punches he’d been taking all night. “No, actually that’s me. Back when I was your age.”

Jacoby slowly pulled the picture out and turned it around. “This is you, too.”

Creased down the middle, the fold split the image of a couple sitting arm in arm on a beat-up sofa. They held beers in their hands and goofy smiles on their faces. Him and Zoe. It must’ve been taken the night they met.

And the hits kept coming.

Justin swallowed hard before he spoke. “Did your mom give you that?”

The boy nodded. “She said it’s her and my daddy. She said my daddy had gone away for a long time, but soon I’d go and live with him and he’d take care of me ‘cause she can’t anymore.”

There it was.

The final blow. A solid right hook that sent him to the mat. Thank goodness he was already sitting because he doubted his knees would’ve held him upright.

She’d planned this.

Zoe had come to town purposely to leave her son with him. That meant even if by some strange twist, he wasn’t the kid’s father, he was still left holding the bag. One that was every bit as precious as the one Jacoby dragged along behind him.

“I don’t know about this. It might not be a good idea.”

Gina looked at Jack. The golden retriever sat on his haunches in the passenger seat, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, panting in anticipation.

“I’ve been overflowing with less-than-stellar ideas lately. Just look at my hair. Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

Jack barked once and she took it as an affirmative.

Her car crawled over the dirt road, the beam from the headlights bouncing off the thick forest of trees. She glanced at the clock. Almost eight. She still had over an hour before she was supposed to meet Barbie and her friends in Laramie.

“Then again, I’m sure everything we’re bringing is needed.” She glanced at the list resting in the cup holder. “Yes, this is a good idea, a great idea. I can do this. I’ll just drop the stuff off, make sure they’re okay and leave. How’s that sound?”

Jack leaned forward and licked her ear. Another yes.

She pulled up next to Justin’s battered pickup and cut the engine. She hadn’t been out here since last fall when Gage had shown the family around his newly purchased land. Her older brother had wanted this old camp ever since he’d bought the ten acres on the other side of the lake where he’d built the log home he and Racy now lived in.

With the help of the full moon and clear skies, she could make out a few of the eight cabins that dotted the shore on this side of the lake, one of the largest right in front of her.

Justin’s cabin.

She waited, but when no one stepped outside, she shoved the list into her pocket, grabbed the laundry basket from the backseat and headed for the front porch. Jack led the way.

The smell of freshly cut wood mixed with the pungent scent from the pine trees that surrounded the house. A light shone on newly built porch planks that stretched the length of the cabin.

Even as her breath puffed before her face in chilled air, she could easily picture a pillow-laden swing hanging from overhead chains at the far end of the porch, facing the water. A perfect spot to enjoy a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer evening while listening to the lake and the woods.

“Oh, stop daydreaming,” she muttered and turned back, giving the screen door a quick knock while managing to hold on to the heavy basket.

Nothing.

She leaned closer and peered inside through the mesh. There, in the kitchen. Justin sat on a crate with his back to her while the little boy, barely visible beyond Justin’s wide shoulders, stood directly in front of him.

Should she interrupt? Maybe she should leave the basket—

No. She’d decided it was important enough to pull these things together and get them here. Tonight. Add the touch of guilt she’d felt because she’d actually thought Justin was going to let that sweet little boy go off with strangers.

Okay, deep breath.

She knocked harder and this time Jack added a deep woof.

Justin spun around, his dark piercing eyes fixed on her. A ripple moved across her lower stomach, momentarily taking her breath away. It was a familiar visceral response to this man she still hadn’t gotten used to. It’d happened the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him, that afternoon in Racy’s office back in January, and every time he’d looked at her since.

Because he didn’t just look at her. No, his gaze locked with hers, like a radar beam on a target. And she was always the one who looked away first.

Except for the night he’d been battered and hurt. That night it’d been Justin who couldn’t hold her gaze as he sat on the opposite side of the room while she crawled beneath his sheets—

She scrubbed the memory from her mind, but noted that same intuitive feeling had taken root low in her belly earlier today when he’d held her in his arms in the storeroom. She hadn’t fallen on purpose, no matter what he thought. And once she was in his arms, her femme fatale plan to get him to pay attention to her had gone up in smoke the moment his dark eyes latched on to her.

Why was it she could use her newly acquired flirting skills on Ric with no problems? Because he flirted back? Not Justin.

He didn’t flirt.

He smoldered.

Gina pasted a smile on her face, and decided to forgo the flirting and settled for friendly. “Hi, am I interrupting?”