Vicki Essex - Her Son's Hero

Fiona’s mouth went dry. He looked like a cross between a Greek god and a marine, with a little Holly wood hottie mixed in. He was all muscle, sculpted from lean hips to broad torso. His hair was only the barest shadow of dark stubble, but he had a perfect head for the bald look. His eyes, blue as the sky, widened as he took her in. His lips curved up, and she felt her body warm. That was one lady-killer of a smile.

And then she noticed the bruises.

Her blood went cold. She would never get involved with a bad boy ever again. Not after Mitch.

“Hi, Mom!” Sean wiped the back of his hand over his sweating brow. “This is Dominic Payette. He’s moving in for the summer.”

The wattage of the man’s smile turned up. “It’s Dom to my friends,” he said with a slight New Orleans drawl. He held out a hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she repeated.

He blinked slowly, retracted his hand. “Sean’s very graciously volunteered to help me move my stuff in. He asked if I could teach him some self-defense moves.”

“If he had hurt his back or dropped something on his foot and broken it, you’d have been liable.”

“Mo-o-om,” Sean complained.

She tried hard not to be a helicopter parent, but Sean was so little, had been through so much, it was hard not to want to protect him. “He shouldn’t be learning how to fight.”

She saw the man’s blue eyes flicker, saw the lines on his face deepen. “If you wouldn’t mind a word aside?”

He guided her by the arm, and she flinched from his light touch. They moved a few steps away from Sean. “I caught a bunch of boys in…an altercation with your son.”

She cursed under her breath. “Did you see who it was? Was there a big, chubby boy with bright red hair and piggy eyes?”

Her new neighbor’s mouth twitched. “That sounds like him.”

Rene Kirkpatrick. His mother was definitely going to hear from Fiona.

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Dom said. “Sean needs to learn how to defend himself. If he doesn’t—”

“Excuse me, but I’ve been teaching my son to resolve his issues nonviolently.” Not effectively, but still. “I don’t want him learning how to beat other kids up.”

“I wasn’t teaching him how to beat up anyone, I was teaching him how to fend off his attackers,” Dom emphasized. “Look, I’m a certified karate teacher and—”

“I’m sorry, but I’m his mother.” This man could hardly judge her, Sean or their situation within a few minutes of meeting them. He had no idea what they’d been through. She wasn’t about to let some stranger boss her around. She crossed her arms. “Sean doesn’t need this.”

“He does,” Dom insisted. “He has so little self-esteem. I can see it in the way he stands.”

She glanced at her son. He was toeing patterns on the ground, his shoulders hunched. “He’s afraid,” Dom told her frankly. “If he doesn’t learn to face his fears and meet his opponents head-on, he’ll never learn to stand up for himself.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She lifted her chin, indignant. “That’s my job.”

“Your job is to be his mother, not his bodyguard.”

“Are you calling me a bad parent?” She’d had enough of people telling her what to do and how to do it. She’d had a whole lifetime of being criticized, and she wasn’t about to take it from some meathead bodybuilder.

His gaze passed over her in what she could only call cool calculation. “I apologize, Mrs. Mac Avery,” he said, his voice irritatingly calm. He took a step back. “You’re right, of course. He is your son.”

The fight left her, and she felt suddenly foolish. To her son, Dominic Payette said, “Sean, better go home with your mom.”

“But…you still have so much stuff to move.” Sean glared at her.

“I’m sure my friend will arrive soon to help. He’s just late getting here.”

Fiona could see right away that Dom was lying. Who could he know in this tiny town? What was he even doing here?

Not that it was any of her business. Still, she couldn’t help but glance over at the moving truck. It was jam-packed with boxes. As athletic as Dominic looked, the man was going to be hard at work for a while, moving all that stuff in himself.

“Thanks for your help,” he said to Sean. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” He sent a smile her way. She tried to return it, but was sure it came off as a sneer. She couldn’t seem to lift her lips high enough.

Sean said goodbye.

“I’m sorry if my son was getting in your way, Mr. Payette. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s Dom, please.” He tried to reassure her with another smile. “And he wasn’t in my way. If it weren’t for Sean, I’d probably be out here past mid night.”

He’ll be fine. He’s a big, strong man. “I’d better get back. Time to make dinner,” she muttered, and hurried Sean across the street.

Her new neighbor’s gaze felt like a sack of sand on her shoulders. But it didn’t weigh nearly as much as her conscience did.

DOM WATCHED MRS. MACAVERY hustle her son across the street. The woman was gorgeous. Naturally, down-to-earth beautiful. And there was no question she was Sean’s mother. She had long, sandy-blond hair that caught the sunlight and glinted with hints of bronze. A fine, pointed chin and high cheekbones, along with a cute little nose, made her look elegant but girlishly pretty, too. Her bourbon-brown eyes and slightly smoky voice reminded him of sultry nights in the French Quarter in N’Awlins. With a son Sean’s age, she had to be older than his twenty-eight years, but he preferred women with a little more experience.

He liked feisty women, and Sean’s mom was about as feisty as they came. At one point, with her tightly balled fists on her hips, she’d looked ready to do battle. He’d nearly burst out laughing. But he understood her need to protect her son. Heck, he’d wanted to protect Sean. Dom knew he was right about the boy needing to learn basic self-defense. Sean needed confidence, not a mother who cosseted him.

But Dom was the new guy in town, after all, and it wasn’t in his nature to pick fights with single mothers.

Even if they were smokin’ hot and looked as if they could go a few rounds with him.

Damn. He’d come to Salmon River to train for the championship belt. And to avoid distractions. But it appeared he’d just moved in across the street from one.

FIONA WAS IN A SURLY MOOD the next morning as she dropped Sean off at the community center’s Saturday day camp and drove to work.

Yesterday’s encounter with her new neighbor had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Not just because he’d tried to dictate to her how she should raise Sean, but because her son seemed to agree with him.

It had started at dinner. Sean had been wolfing down his food with uncharacteristic abandon. To her utter shock, he’d shoveled his much-hated nemesis, broccoli, into his mouth without his usual complaints against vegetables.

“Broccoli has lots of iron. Iron’s good for building muscles and strength,” he’d said, as if all her past lectures about the importance of greens had fallen on deaf ears.

“Since when did you become so interested in nutrition?”

“Dom said it’s important to eat right.” He stuffed another floret into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “He said he eats a lot of broccoli and fish to help keep him strong. Do you think we can eat more fish, Mom?”

Fiona sat back, floored. Sean hated greens, but he loathed fish. How on earth could he have changed his mind after only just meeting Dominic Payette? How could some musclehead make her son want things she’d been begging him to eat for the past ten years?