favorite hangout.”
“I’ll agree with that. And I won’t point out how you sidestepped the question.”
When she turned her attention to the baby, he studied her. Layne’s cheeks looked nearly as red as the cherry on his banana split. The color might have come from the cold outside or from flu symptoms she was hiding. He didn’t know. But when she shivered again, he knew he couldn’t attribute it to ice cream. She hadn’t had any. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”
She shook her head. “And I didn’t sidestep your question. I’m just following a logical train of thought. We would probably have hung out at SugarPie’s more often if she hadn’t been so strict about all of us watching our manners.”
“She sure hasn’t let up any in that regard. When I went to get lunch, she gave me a piece of her mind. In that sweet Southern way of hers, of course.”
“Really? About what?”
“About us. Or to be more accurate, about me.” She didn’t respond, but all that bright color drained from her cheeks. “About the way I’d left you. She doesn’t think too kindly of me for that. And I just ran into Mitch Weston at the Cantina, and he tells me your brother doesn’t have me too high on his list of favorites, either.”
“Did you expect either of them would?”
Not wanting—or not able—to admit the truth to her, he stabbed at his ice cream with his spoon.
“Mommy.” Scott held up his cone.
She took it from him and turned the cone slowly, making one long swipe with her tongue to clean up the dribbles of melting chocolate. Now he was the one shivering, but not from the temperature or the flu or his banana split.
“Yucky, Mommy.” Scott smacked his sticky hands together.
Jason handed him a paper napkin from the dispenser at his elbow. The boy rubbed the napkin on his hands, then tossed it on the table—or tried to. The shredded paper clung to his ice-cream-covered fingers.
“I go wash.”
Jason eyed the set of double doors at one end of the shop. They led to a hallway at the back of the building shared by the adjacent convenience store. At the midpoint of the hall the restrooms flanked the emergency exit. In their school days, kids looking for excitement sometimes ducked out through that exit with items they hadn’t paid for. Or they visited the restrooms to carry out some minor act of vandalism. “I’ll take Scott back to wash his hands.” He was halfway out of his seat when Layne shook her head.
“I’ll go with him.”
Slowly, he sank back into his chair. “Okay. I’ll watch Jill.”
“I’ll take her with us. She probably needs a change.”
Scott had wandered off toward the direction of the hallway. He stood near the front counter, his sticky fingers splayed against the glass front. Shay wouldn’t be too happy to see the results.
Jason looked at the baby, who was sleeping soundly, one fist curled under her chin. “She’s out. No sense waking her up.”
“She’s used to it.”
Layne reached for the handle of the carrier. He put his hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” But again, she wouldn’t look his way.
He stared at her. “ Something’s up. What, do you think I’ll walk off with the baby? Or take Scott out the back entrance on our way to the bathrooms?”
“Don’t be so silly,” she snapped.
“Then don’t be so damned stubborn,” he shot back. “These past few days at your apartment, you were willing enough to take my help. But now we’re out in public, something’s different?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“Then, what has?”
“This.” She gestured with her free hand and shook her head in annoyance, but kept her voice down, probably thinking of Shay in the back room. “I’ve already thanked you for your help, but you know I wouldn’t have accepted it if I could have found someone else. And I can’t take this...this assumption you can just step into my life—our lives—and act like you’ve
“I’ll agree with that. And I won’t point out how you sidestepped the question.”
When she turned her attention to the baby, he studied her. Layne’s cheeks looked nearly as red as the cherry on his banana split. The color might have come from the cold outside or from flu symptoms she was hiding. He didn’t know. But when she shivered again, he knew he couldn’t attribute it to ice cream. She hadn’t had any. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”
She shook her head. “And I didn’t sidestep your question. I’m just following a logical train of thought. We would probably have hung out at SugarPie’s more often if she hadn’t been so strict about all of us watching our manners.”
“She sure hasn’t let up any in that regard. When I went to get lunch, she gave me a piece of her mind. In that sweet Southern way of hers, of course.”
“Really? About what?”
“About us. Or to be more accurate, about me.” She didn’t respond, but all that bright color drained from her cheeks. “About the way I’d left you. She doesn’t think too kindly of me for that. And I just ran into Mitch Weston at the Cantina, and he tells me your brother doesn’t have me too high on his list of favorites, either.”
“Did you expect either of them would?”
Not wanting—or not able—to admit the truth to her, he stabbed at his ice cream with his spoon.
“Mommy.” Scott held up his cone.
She took it from him and turned the cone slowly, making one long swipe with her tongue to clean up the dribbles of melting chocolate. Now he was the one shivering, but not from the temperature or the flu or his banana split.
“Yucky, Mommy.” Scott smacked his sticky hands together.
Jason handed him a paper napkin from the dispenser at his elbow. The boy rubbed the napkin on his hands, then tossed it on the table—or tried to. The shredded paper clung to his ice-cream-covered fingers.
“I go wash.”
Jason eyed the set of double doors at one end of the shop. They led to a hallway at the back of the building shared by the adjacent convenience store. At the midpoint of the hall the restrooms flanked the emergency exit. In their school days, kids looking for excitement sometimes ducked out through that exit with items they hadn’t paid for. Or they visited the restrooms to carry out some minor act of vandalism. “I’ll take Scott back to wash his hands.” He was halfway out of his seat when Layne shook her head.
“I’ll go with him.”
Slowly, he sank back into his chair. “Okay. I’ll watch Jill.”
“I’ll take her with us. She probably needs a change.”
Scott had wandered off toward the direction of the hallway. He stood near the front counter, his sticky fingers splayed against the glass front. Shay wouldn’t be too happy to see the results.
Jason looked at the baby, who was sleeping soundly, one fist curled under her chin. “She’s out. No sense waking her up.”
“She’s used to it.”
Layne reached for the handle of the carrier. He put his hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” But again, she wouldn’t look his way.
He stared at her. “ Something’s up. What, do you think I’ll walk off with the baby? Or take Scott out the back entrance on our way to the bathrooms?”
“Don’t be so silly,” she snapped.
“Then don’t be so damned stubborn,” he shot back. “These past few days at your apartment, you were willing enough to take my help. But now we’re out in public, something’s different?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“Then, what has?”
“This.” She gestured with her free hand and shook her head in annoyance, but kept her voice down, probably thinking of Shay in the back room. “I’ve already thanked you for your help, but you know I wouldn’t have accepted it if I could have found someone else. And I can’t take this...this assumption you can just step into my life—our lives—and act like you’ve
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