Linda Lael - The Marriage Season

Bex laughed. “Looking at paint and wallpaper, hmm. Are you asking me out? I hope I’m not being presumptuous here—but it sounds like an interesting first date.”

“Personally I consider running ten miles together a first date. So that would technically be our second date. Dinner’s on me.”

Date. She’d rarely said that word out loud since she’d heard about Will’s death. Sure, she’d danced at weddings and even flirted once in a while, but for the most part, she’d gone out with her friends and immersed herself in her business. She hadn’t given any serious thought to a relationship in many years.

Tate Calder wouldn’t be the place to start, though. She didn’t have time for a built-in family, especially since she had Tara and Josh living with her these days. And if Greg was unwilling to even pay for his son’s lunch at school, it was going to be a very messy divorce. At least Tara recognized that she no longer had any option, other than divorce...

What she hoped would happen was that Tara would finally get control of her life now that she’d actually made the decision. Some depression was natural, of course, but she needed to think about her son.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Bex said as they jogged along, sticking to the runners’ side of the path as two cyclists whizzed past. “I’ll be more than happy to offer my unbrown opinions in exchange for advice on six-year-old boys. Lunch cards? I remember them from when I was in school, but you couldn’t load them online then. It never occurred to me to ask Josh if his was paid for. What else am I missing? He’s a sensitive kid, and he doesn’t discuss whether he misses his dad. I don’t have video games or anything like that yet, and if I asked Greg for anything, he’d tell me straight where he wants me to go.”

“He’d better not.” Tate’s voice had a hard edge.

Nice to know that between him and Tripp, not to mention Spence, she had some male backup.

He added, “You have a deal. His class has a field trip coming up, and they have to bring a sack lunch. It’s next Tuesday. If you like, I’ll pack a couple and send them both with Adam. I have two cupboards, one labeled What You Want Them to Eat, and the other What They’ll Eat When You Aren’t Watching. I’ve learned to combine them and hope for the best. I’ve tried to stare down young Ben Calder over his aversion to cooked carrots before with no success, and then discovered he would eat them raw. The bonus is that they’re actually healthier that way. I pick my battles, and with that one, I figure I came out the winner.”

This new responsibility scared her a little. Well, more than a little. Tara would emerge from her emotional stupor—she had to—but when? Until then, Bex knew she was in charge by default.

“I’m not up for this, am I?” she said ruefully.

“It is definitely a learn-as-you-go process, and it seems to me that you’re doing just fine.”

She wasn’t too sure about that, but at least she had another ally now, one with on-the-ground experience, so to speak. “I’m trying.”

“If you really don’t mind helping me out, would you like to see the house sometime soon? Maybe it’ll help you visualize the project.”

“Sometime soon,” Bex agreed, with no hesitation at all. “How about after the marathon?”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NEXT MORNING, Tate found himself riding herd over three boys as opposed to the usual two.

He could handle it, but they were kind of a wild bunch. They’d eaten a civilized breakfast—he’d insisted some fruit be included, not just pancakes and syrup—and then they’d gone to the park. Josh seemed happy enough, and he and Adam got along well, while Ben obviously enjoyed being the kingpin.

Bex could’ve requested a better day for the marathon, though. Later on, about two hours into the race, a storm front rolled through and the weather turned bad.

Into every life some rain must fall, but a lot was falling at the moment. He did carry an umbrella somewhere in the back of his rig and he dug it out when the clouds began to gather. True to form, the boys were immune to the inclement weather, especially when the first person crossed the finish line to a chorus of cheers and shouts. “I thought Aunt Bex would win.” Josh looked deflated all of a sudden.

This was the delicate part of being a parent, Tate knew. The smallest nuances could make a major impact, so situations like this had to be addressed carefully. In as offhand a voice as possible, he said, “The men will come in first for the most part. We’re built a little differently. We can run faster. It’s just how it is. She might still win, but in the women’s race.”

“It’s the same race,” Josh pointed out.

Interesting territory.

“But the male and female runners are judged differently, with different times.” He handed Josh a juice box.

“Why?”

A kid who took things literally. Tate considered his response. “It’s like flying a Cessna,” he eventually said. “Those are sleek planes that can do just about anything, but you don’t want to be the pilot in a storm. On the other hand, a 757 can generally handle all sorts of weather.”

The plane analogy was lame, but he meant well, and it was what he knew. In the end he put it in simpler terms. “Men and women aren’t built the same. It’s a biological thing. In plenty of ways, the female of the species has the advantage over us guys.”

He might have elaborated but more runners were crossing the finish line. As predicted, all men so far, but the boys were enjoying the spectacle, soaking up the excitement, the thrill of achievement, and that was never a bad thing.

When the kids spotted Bex, they started hopping up and down, yelling and waving, and she managed a smile and a small wave as she crossed the line and began to walk it off, accepting the bottle of water one of the volunteers handed her.

Bex hadn’t won, as it turned out, but she placed third. Tate was impressed. He kept the boys corralled until she finally walked over. He was merely going to give her the lightweight jacket she’d left with him; instead he draped it over her damp shoulders in what felt, for some reason, like a very intimate gesture.

She met his eyes and said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Well done, by the way.”

Despite the umbrella, the boys were completely wet because they couldn’t stay still, but luckily it wasn’t all that cold out. She limped next to him as they walked to his vehicle. Her smile was rueful. “No matter what I do, my feet are always bleeding after I run one of these.”

“And you feel like Rip van Winkle, I know. Asleep for twenty years and just woke up.” He wasn’t quite sure, since she was already drenched, why he felt the need to hold the umbrella over her, but he did it, anyway. “A hot bath will do wonders. How was your time?”

“Personal best.” She smiled as she said that, looking pleased.

And beautiful, even soaking wet and exhausted, with no hint of makeup on her face. He had a hard time keeping his gaze from slipping downward to where her shirt clung to her breasts. For someone so athletic, she still had very feminine curves, not to mention those long, toned legs.

He realized she’d caught him staring when her brows went up a fraction. “Please tell me my shirt isn’t transparent now. I’m too tired to look down.”

“Unfortunately not.” He pressed a button on his key fob to unlock the SUV. The boys had scampered ahead and had almost reached the back doors. “But it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if it was. If you need any help getting out of those wet clothes, just call me.”

“Generous of you, but I think I can manage.” Her wry expression changed. “How was Josh?”