me. I grabbed up the dropped doll, called to the girl, and—” He stopped, unable to say anything else.
This was where the rubber met the road. The time had come to stop talking and just show her. He tugged off his left glove, revealing his artificial hand. Then he took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeve to where the prosthesis connected to his stump.
Shock etched her features, just as he knew it would, but the revulsion never came. Instead, she looked him straight in the eyes and said, “All the more reason for you to refurbish the carousel. You can’t let this define who you are. The job is yours if you’re up for it. That dinner you invited me to? Why don’t you come to my house instead? Monday night. I’ll make meat loaf, your favorite. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
A fter Gideon had left and the movers had unloaded and stacked the carousel parts in the middle of the lot, reality finally sank in. Gideon had lost his left hand—his dominant hand—and she’d just invited him to rebuild her carousel. Not only that, but she’d also asked him to dinner because she had her own metaphorical bomb to detonate.
Danny.
Speaking of her son, she was over an hour late picking him up. On the way over to the babysitter’s house, she practiced saying the words out loud. “Gideon, this is your son, Danny. Danny, this man is your real dad.”
She groaned and snagged her own gaze in the rearview mirror. “This is not going to be easy.”
When she got to the sitter’s house, she was surprised to find Crockett Goodnight on the front lawn in his funeral suit playing catch with her son. He had his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie tucked into his front pocket. She got out, shaded her eyes with her hand.
“Hey, Mom!” Danny called, easily snagging the ball Crockett sailed his way.
His two front teeth were missing and he was at that ungainly stage where he seemed to be all elbows and knees. She walked over to settle a hand on the back of his shoulder. He smelled of fresh-mown grass, dandelions, and the oil he rubbed into his baseball mitt every night.
“Hey yourself.” She glanced at Crockett. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your father’s wake?”
“I couldn’t go back to the ranch with all those chubby-cheeked, casserole-bearing ladies clucking their tongues and gossiping about Dad. And I couldn’t face the thought of my empty condo, so I took a walk and saw Danny out here in the yard trying to play catch by himself.”
“Crockett says I’m a natural.” Danny beamed.
“Does he now?”
“I wish my dad was here,” Danny said. “I wish he could see what a good player I am.”
For one startling second, Caitlyn thought he was talking about Gideon, but then immediately realized he meant Kevin. “I know, buddy.”
“Crockett’s dad died too.”
“It’s a sad thing to have in common.”
Crockett gave a hangdog look for Danny’s benefit. He still had a black eye and bruises from his fight with Bowie in her flower shop. She remembered how he’d pulled the switchblade knife on his brother, and an uneasy feeling slid down her spine. As much as Danny enjoyed throwing the ball around with Crockett, she was thinking maybe that wasn’t the best idea in the world. Especially now that Gideon was back.
Gideon was back.
Her heart fluttered. She felt it then, a rush of heat and hope and anticipation. Gideon had always been able to make her hot and bothered with one simple look, and nothing was different on that score. But what did it mean? He was so changed.
It might sound bizarre, but she found the changes in him incredibly sexy. When he was young, he’d been something of a loose cannon—impulsive, edgy, wild. She supposed, for a good girl who’d always toed the line, that was the attraction.
This new Gideon was controlled, steely-eyed, immovable. What had once been unfocused youthful energy was now deadly intense concentration. He was even more dangerous
This was where the rubber met the road. The time had come to stop talking and just show her. He tugged off his left glove, revealing his artificial hand. Then he took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeve to where the prosthesis connected to his stump.
Shock etched her features, just as he knew it would, but the revulsion never came. Instead, she looked him straight in the eyes and said, “All the more reason for you to refurbish the carousel. You can’t let this define who you are. The job is yours if you’re up for it. That dinner you invited me to? Why don’t you come to my house instead? Monday night. I’ll make meat loaf, your favorite. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
A fter Gideon had left and the movers had unloaded and stacked the carousel parts in the middle of the lot, reality finally sank in. Gideon had lost his left hand—his dominant hand—and she’d just invited him to rebuild her carousel. Not only that, but she’d also asked him to dinner because she had her own metaphorical bomb to detonate.
Danny.
Speaking of her son, she was over an hour late picking him up. On the way over to the babysitter’s house, she practiced saying the words out loud. “Gideon, this is your son, Danny. Danny, this man is your real dad.”
She groaned and snagged her own gaze in the rearview mirror. “This is not going to be easy.”
When she got to the sitter’s house, she was surprised to find Crockett Goodnight on the front lawn in his funeral suit playing catch with her son. He had his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie tucked into his front pocket. She got out, shaded her eyes with her hand.
“Hey, Mom!” Danny called, easily snagging the ball Crockett sailed his way.
His two front teeth were missing and he was at that ungainly stage where he seemed to be all elbows and knees. She walked over to settle a hand on the back of his shoulder. He smelled of fresh-mown grass, dandelions, and the oil he rubbed into his baseball mitt every night.
“Hey yourself.” She glanced at Crockett. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your father’s wake?”
“I couldn’t go back to the ranch with all those chubby-cheeked, casserole-bearing ladies clucking their tongues and gossiping about Dad. And I couldn’t face the thought of my empty condo, so I took a walk and saw Danny out here in the yard trying to play catch by himself.”
“Crockett says I’m a natural.” Danny beamed.
“Does he now?”
“I wish my dad was here,” Danny said. “I wish he could see what a good player I am.”
For one startling second, Caitlyn thought he was talking about Gideon, but then immediately realized he meant Kevin. “I know, buddy.”
“Crockett’s dad died too.”
“It’s a sad thing to have in common.”
Crockett gave a hangdog look for Danny’s benefit. He still had a black eye and bruises from his fight with Bowie in her flower shop. She remembered how he’d pulled the switchblade knife on his brother, and an uneasy feeling slid down her spine. As much as Danny enjoyed throwing the ball around with Crockett, she was thinking maybe that wasn’t the best idea in the world. Especially now that Gideon was back.
Gideon was back.
Her heart fluttered. She felt it then, a rush of heat and hope and anticipation. Gideon had always been able to make her hot and bothered with one simple look, and nothing was different on that score. But what did it mean? He was so changed.
It might sound bizarre, but she found the changes in him incredibly sexy. When he was young, he’d been something of a loose cannon—impulsive, edgy, wild. She supposed, for a good girl who’d always toed the line, that was the attraction.
This new Gideon was controlled, steely-eyed, immovable. What had once been unfocused youthful energy was now deadly intense concentration. He was even more dangerous
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