Christyne Butler - A Daddy for Jacoby

That was stupid. Of course, she was interrupting.

The boy leaned around Justin. “Jack!”

The dog barked in response, and Gina angled one leg to keep the animal from jumping against the screen. “Hope you don’t mind us stopping by. When I heard about—When I found out you…”

Her voice trailed off as Justin gave a deep sigh, rose and headed for the door.

He didn’t want her here. And if a little boy hadn’t been standing in the middle of the room waiting to see Jack, he probably would’ve slammed the inside door in her face.

Instead he put his hand against the frame and paused, but then pushed open the screen door. Jack crossed the threshold and headed straight for the boy, but Gina waited to be invited.

“I’m not really in the mood for company.”

She turned her gaze up at him. Way up. She stood only five and a half feet tall, even in her favorite Tony Lama boots, and Justin easily towered over her. “I’ve got plans. I won’t be here long.”

Silence stretched between them. He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his hands braced on the frame and the mussed tufts of his dark hair skimming the top of the doorway.

He pushed the door open wide. “Well?”

She didn’t move forward, but she didn’t back away either. It was a small victory. “Well what?”

He cocked his head to one side, his gaze burning a path from her face to her boots as he took his leisurely time studying her. “Are you going to stand out there like Little Red Riding Hood with her basket,” he asked, “or are you coming in?”

She swallowed hard and glanced down. Beneath her jean jacket, her long-sleeve jersey top was a deep wine color and the lace-edged tank top that peeked from beneath the scooped neckline was black, but she guessed it was close enough.

“Coming in.”

She hefted the basket and took a step, bumping it into Justin’s midsection when he didn’t move back fast enough.

“I’ll take that.”

He let go of the door and reached for the basket’s handles. The heat of his calloused hands scorched her skin, taking her back again to when he’d caught her midtumble from the ladder. It was the closest they’d been in each other’s personal space in months.

Even when they happened to be working the same shifts at the bar, they’d managed to keep a respectable distance from each other, especially after he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in being friends, or anything else.

Not after that cold January night when he’d laughed at her attempts at playing pool and then demonstrated, his strong arms wrapped around her, how to hold a pool cue. He’d taught her to aim, shoot and celebrated with her when she’d finally managed to get the ball into the pocket. A celebration that she was sure was going to include his mouth on hers until—

With a mental shake, she dispelled the memory, pulled her hands from the basket and scooted into the cabin. An oversize toolbox and a variety of power tools littered the floor. The only furniture was a couple of camping chairs. Rolled sleeping bags sat atop a group of rumpled blankets.

Cardboard boxes, some open, others still taped up, lined one wall of the large room. Nothing covered the many windows, allowing the dark night to creep in. The only bright spot was a cheery fire blazing in a beautiful stone fireplace.

“Hey, Jacoby.”

He sat on the floor, teddy bear on his lap and a water bottle in one hand. Jack laid next to him, flat on his back, never one to pass up a belly rub. “Watch out, that mangy mutt will expect you to rub him for hours.”

Jacoby offered a small grin, but his gaze shifted past her. He then ducked his head and concentrated on the dog.

“What are you doing here?” Justin crossed the room and placed the laundry basket on the countertop that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Does my sister know Jack’s with you?”

She followed, her gaze drawn to the darkened kitchen. The antique stove and refrigerator, complete with chrome accents, reminded her of her late grandmother’s house.

A throat clearing told her he was waiting for an answer.

“Of course Racy knows.” She joined him at the counter. “She’s the one who suggested I bring him after seeing Jacoby with him earlier.”

“So your brother knows you’re here, too?”

“Not that it matters, but my brother is at work. I went back to the bar because I forgot my paycheck.” she paused, then lowered her voice “.with all the craziness earlier. Racy told me about you bringing Jacoby home instead of—well, you know—”

“Passing the kid off to yet another stranger?” Justin half turned, resting his arms on the basket. His tone matched hers. “Throwing another curveball at him? I mean, it’s not like he’s had enough to deal with today.”

Okay, she deserved that. She tucked a strand of curls behind one ear that included the pink one and forced herself to look him in the eye. “That was so unfair of me. I apologize.”

The uncertainty in his gaze was achingly familiar; she’d seen the same wariness in another set of dark brown eyes.

Jacoby’s.

“I figured you might not have stuff a little boy needs.” She pulled a paper bag from the basket and set it on the counter. “I grabbed a half-gallon of milk, some apples and bananas, a box of cereal that my brother Garrett refused to touch. Too healthy, he says—”

“I’ve been living here for the last few weeks,” Justin interrupted her. “I do have the means to keep from starving.”

“Oh, well…I didn’t think you’d have real food.”

He waved a hand toward the refrigerator. “What do you think that is? An oversize beer cooler?”

“I meant food for a child.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what kind of food do they eat exactly?”

Gina opened her mouth, but clamped it shut again when she realized she didn’t have an answer.

“The appliances might be ancient, but despite their outward appearance, they’re clean and in working order.” He took a step back. “Go ahead, take a look.”

He should be angry that she’d assumed he lived in a place equivalent to a fraternity house with nothing but beer and junk food, but he wasn’t. He sounded almost amused.

Gina’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment that probably matched the pink in her hair. She grabbed the bag and made a wide circle around him into the kitchen. She pulled on the refrigerator’s tarnished handle and the door popped open. Light spilled out, highlighting the aged but spotlessly clean interior and its contents. Milk, orange juice, bottled water, eggs and sandwich meats lined the three shelves. Two drawers at the bottom were filled with fruits and vegetables. A half-dozen beer bottles stood in line on the narrow door shelf. It took only a moment to put most of her meager offerings inside.

“I brought a pack of baloney, but the meat drawer is full.” She didn’t look at him, only tapped a fingernail against the metal door to the inside freezer. “Can I put it in here?”

“Sure.”

She opened the door and shoved it inside, noting the frozen chicken and steaks, a few ready-to-eat pizzas and the open end of a bright yellow box. She looked over her shoulder. “You even have popsicles…”

Her voice faded as he moved into the darkened kitchen, stopping to lean against the counter. The only light in the room came from the open refrigerator, but considering Justin’s height, it only shined on his lower half, emphasizing long legs encased in well-worn jeans.

“I like the taste of something sweet every now and then,” he said.

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask .

It took pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stop from wondering aloud what his favorite flavor was. It worked, just barely, and she closed the door. She offered a silent prayer the dimness of the room was enough to hide the blush heating her face.