Her Second Chance Family Read online

  Jason stepped out onto the porch, handing Kevin a mug of root beer. “The glove belonged to my son.”

  Kevin looked at him, frowning slightly. “Won’t he need it?”

  Jason sucked in a deep breath. The question was innocent enough. Yet, the thought of answering it rocked him. “No,” he said finally. “He won’t need it.”

  Thankfully Kevin did not pursue the issue further. After taking a sip of his root beer, he set his mug down on the step beside him. He slipped the glove onto his hand, looking at it admiringly.

  “It hasn’t been used for a couple of years,” Jason told him. “It probably needs to be oiled.”

  Kevin smacked a fist into the palm of the glove.

  “Have you played much baseball?” Jason asked, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.

  The boy shook his head. “Nah, I’ve never been on a team.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “We move too much.”

  The explanation piqued his interest. But before Jason could ask the boy about the moves, they were interrupted.

  “Kevin?” Despite the alarmed tone, he recognized Maggie’s voice. In a moment she was standing right in front of him, her hair windblown, her breathing ragged, as though she’d just sprinted across the yard in a blind panic. “What are you doing over here?”

  In his haste to get to his feet, Kevin dropped the glove and nearly knocked over his mug of root beer. While he didn’t look scared, he did look chastened. He hurried to her side. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Myriad emotions flickered in Maggie’s eyes, none of which Jason understood. She’d changed out of her work clothes. Now she wore a pair of faded blue jeans that emphasized her long legs and a yellow T-shirt that hugged her slender curves. Her feet were bare, as though she’d been in too great a hurry to bother slipping on a pair of shoes. Despite her casual appearance, she looked no more approachable than she had this afternoon in the diner. “I’m sorry,” she said to Jason. “Kevin won’t bother you anymore.”

  “He’s no bother. In fact, I’ve enjoyed his visit.” He shot Kevin a grin. “You’re welcome to stop by anytime, Kevin.”

  Kevin didn’t answer. And Jason knew his offer would probably be ignored.

  Maggie placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “We need to go inside now.” Then she added, by way of explanation, “It’s getting late.”

  They turned to leave.

  Jason stood. He scooped up the glove and stopped them. “Don’t forget this, Kevin.”

  The boy hesitated. Uncertainty danced in his eyes as he looked longingly at the glove. Then he looked to his mother for permission.

  Maggie hurried to answer. “Oh, no—that isn’t necessary. We couldn’t—”

  “I insist,” Jason said, holding the glove out to the boy. “Kevin told me he hasn’t had much chance to play baseball. The glove’s old, but it’s comfortable and broken in. Just needs a little oiling.”

  Maggie glanced at her son. The silent plea in the boy’s eyes was obvious even to Jason. She relented with a defeated smile. “All right” She raised her eyes to Jason’s and said stiffly, “Thank you, Mr. Gallagher.”

  Jason smiled. “Jason, please.”

  Color flooded her skin. And Jason wondered why she seemed so discomfited by the informality.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gallagher,” Kevin said, echoing his mother. He reached for the glove, his response a little more exuberant than Maggie’s. His face lit up in a grin, the first Jason had seen on the boy.

  “Let’s go, Kevin,” Maggie said, putting a hand on her son’s shoulder.

  Still smiling, Kevin said, “Good night, Mr. Gallagher.”

  “Good night, Kevin.”

  Maggie licked her lips, looking nervous and anxious to leave. “G-good night, Mr. Gallagher.”

  Lord, but the woman was stubborn. He felt an obstinate streak of his own surfacing.

  “Good night, Maggie,” he said, drawing out her name slowly, tenderly, the way a lover might.

  Jason regretted his attempt to tease her the minute he heard her sharp gasp of surprise. Surprise that turned quickly to anger. With her pert nose tipped skyward in indignation, she closed ranks and herded her son to the safety of her own house.

  He watched her departure with a sinking heart. Shaking his head, giving a wry chuckle, he muttered, “Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies, Gallagher.”

  The butterflies in Maggie’s stomach still fluttered as she tucked her son into bed that night. She didn’t know what upset her most—her son cavorting with the enemy or the enemy’s attempt to cavort with her.

  Jason Gallagher was becoming more dangerous by the moment.

  Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he was having a profound effect on her life. Not only was he influencing her son, but he’d had an influence on her. A disturbing one at that.

  For the first time in years, she’d been tempted by a man.

  When he’d said her name, she’d felt as though she’d been caressed by a lover. The sensations tripping through her body had been electric, shocking her. The words had fallen from his lips with such sweet tenderness that she’d wanted to reach out, run her fingers through his hair and sample his mouth for herself.

  It had been years since she’d felt anything but fear around a man.

  “There’s an autograph on the glove,” Kevin said, interrupting her thoughts. He opened the palm of the glove to show her. “Look, it says, Andy Van...”

  “Slyke,” she said, finishing the name for him. “It was nice of Mr. Gallagher to give you his glove.”

  “It’s not his. It belonged to his son.”

  “His son?” She felt a prickling of curiosity. Jason wore no wedding ring. Other than the baseball glove, she saw no sign of a child’s presence in his home. She couldn’t help but wonder about his family life.

  “He said his son wouldn’t need it anymore,” Kevin explained. “That’s why I can have it.”

  She frowned at the glove, resenting not so much its presence as what it represented. “Kevin, why didn’t you tell me you wanted a baseball glove? I could have gotten you one.”

  He fingered the lettering of the autograph, not answering right away. Finally he said, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Kevin, it wouldn’t have been a bother,” she admonished gently. Hesitantly she asked, “Do you want to play baseball?”

  He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “You have to live in a town a long time before you can be on a baseball team.”

  The simple explanation was a sharp reminder that her son was being robbed of his childhood. Maggie drew in a shaky breath. “Not necessarily. Lots of boys join teams in the middle of a season. I bet there are some boys in your class who might be playing ball right now.”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. “Tommy Marshall’s dad coaches a team.”

  “Do you want me to ask him if you could play?”

  “You mean it?”

  She tried to laugh, making light of the situation, but the attempt fell flat. “Of course I mean it. There’s no reason you can’t play ball while we’re staying in Wyndchester.”

  Her son sat up in his bed and enveloped her in a hug. His gratefulness was like rubbing salt into an already stinging wound of regret. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Tears threatened. Before she ruined the moment by becoming maudlin, Maggie brushed away his gratitude. “It’s time for bed.”

  She plucked his glasses from the bridge of his nose and kissed his cheek.

  He grinned at her. In his hand, he still held Jason’s glove.

  “Get some sleep,” she said, reaching for the light.

  Darkness settled over the room when she turned off the lamp. Kevin sat up in bed. “The night-light, Mom,” he said, his voice bordering on shrillness. “The night-light.”

  “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, hurrying to soothe his fears. The darkness...the unknown...still frightened her son. Silently she berated herself for allowing the years of turmoil he
r son had had to endure. She snapped on the night-light.

  Releasing a pent-up breath, Kevin settled back in bed, clinging to the baseball glove like a lifeline.

  “Good night, Kevin.”

  “Good night, Mom,” he said, his voice back to normal. With a yawn, he rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

  Maggie lingered at the doorway for a moment, then quietly shut the door. It was late, but she felt too restless to sleep. Instead, she headed downstairs. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she descended the stairway. It felt hot in the kitchen, stuffy and airless. Feeling too on edge to sit still, she opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch.

  The cool night air soothed her. Inhaling deeply, she walked to the edge of the porch and sat down on the wooden swing that hung from the porch ceiling. Allowing the swing to sway on its own, she let the inky shadows encompass her.

  Unlike her son, in Wyndchester she didn’t fear the darkness. Nor did she feel the need to lock her doors and hide. Here, she felt safe.

  In time, so would her son.

  A door opened in the house next door. Jason stepped outside onto his porch.

  Maggie reacted instinctively. She tucked her feet beneath her and curled into a tight ball of invisibility, watching him from a safe distance.

  He was still dressed in jeans and a worn polo shirt. His weary sigh drifted across the yard, setting off an odd tingling sensation in the pit of Maggie’s stomach. Leaning a shoulder against the porch rail, he looked as tired and as unsettled as she felt.

  She wondered what demons kept him awake at night.

  She wondered about the son whose baseball glove he’d been willing to part with.

  She wondered why her new neighbor intrigued her so.

  Jason ran his fingers through his thick dark hair, tousling the curls, making him look disheveled and dangerous. He raised both hands above his head, touching the ceiling of the porch, stretching like a cat as if to unkink his tightly coiled body. The movement caused the fabric of his knit shirt to stretch tautly across his chest, emphasizing his welldeveloped muscles.

  In most men, such a show of strength and power would have intimidated her, frightened her. But she’d seen the gentleness with which he’d treated her son. In her heart, she knew she had nothing to fear from Jason Gallagher.

  Except the balance of her life, and that of her son’s.

  Jason was still an officer of the law, she reminded herself. A law she’d willfully and knowingly broken. If he were to find out the truth, he would have no choice but to destroy her hard-sought equilibrium.

  A shudder of regret traveled down her spine. Because of Jason, she would soon be forced to leave this haven. It was only a matter of time.

  Until that day arrived, however, her biggest challenge would be to keep a discreet distance between her family and her new neighbor. Already her son was showing signs of rebelling. Kevin’s allegiances were being influenced by an easy smile and a gentle manner.

  Maggie’s temptation had a more primal root. She glanced across the yard at the man next door. Even in the dim light of the porch, she could see his rugged good looks. The quiet strength and determination in his stance. He was a man who exuded confidence.

  Jason Gallagher might be different from most men she’d known in her life, but she’d never allow him to get close enough to find out.

  Chapter 4

  “Looks as though our police chiefs headed this way,” a white-haired customer at the counter in Mel’s said. He nudged his buddy next to him, nodding toward the street window.

  “A-yup,” his friend agreed. The older man lifted the cuff of his plaid shirt to glance at his watch. “Ten o’clock on the dot. Time for a coffee break.”

  At this hour of the morning, the breakfast rush had thinned to a trickle. Still holding court at the counter were a group of diehard customers. Retired and with extra time on their hands, these older men wiled away the hours as they discussed local events and sipped their morning coffee. Most days, Maggie enjoyed their company, entertained by their teasing banter. When the subject turned to Wyndchester’s newest resident, however, she couldn’t help but wish she were miles away.

  Unable to help herself, Maggie glanced outside where Jason was crossing the street. In deference to the warm day, he’d left his cap and jacket at the police department. A soft wind lifted his dark hair, sending it tumbling across his forehead. Sunlight glistened against his bare forearms. His long, determined stride spoke of a self-assuredness Maggie envied.

  “He’s getting to be a regular, ain’t he?” another man observed.

  “A-yup,” the white-haired customer agreed.

  His friend lifted a curious brow. “Must not like the coffee at the police department.”

  “Oh, the coffee’s okay. I think he’s just comin’ here for the company.” The white-haired man glanced at Maggie, a twinkle of amusement in his gray eyes. “Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

  Heat suffused her face. Not trusting herself to answer, she picked up a sponge and busied herself with an unnecessary cleanup of the spotless counter. At her obvious discomfort, a round of chuckles sounded across the diner.

  Only one man remained sober. Bob Williams—her favorite of all the geriatric gossips—reached out and patted her arm, stilling her frenetic cleaning. “Ignore them, Maggie. The ol’ coots don’t mean any harm.”

  “I know. It’s just—” Maggie gave a quick, self-deprecating grimace “—I never was good at taking a little teasing.”

  “Not many of us are,” he assured her with a weak smile.

  For the first time, Maggie noticed the older man’s flushed face. “Are you feeling okay, Bob?”

  He waved away her concern, although his blue eyes were clouded with unmistakable pain. He tapped his chest with a fisted hand. “Just a little heartburn. I knew sooner or later too many of Mel’s breakfasts would catch up with me.”

  “I could scrounge up an antacid if you’d like.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” He scowled, although a hint of a smile lingered behind the stern expression. “Now how did the conversation turn to me? I was trying to help you, Maggie.”

  Her grin returned. “I don’t need help, Bob. I’m just fine.”

  Her good humor and bravado melted with the sound of the bell over the door. An instant quiet descended upon the restaurant as Jason entered. The men at the counter shifted in their seats, angling for a better view, chorusing a round of hellos for the new arrival.

  Maggie froze as Jason scanned the diner, taking in the nearly empty tables and booths. A shiver traveled down her spine as his blue-eyed gaze came to rest on her. With a nod of acknowledgment, he headed for the counter.

  Ignoring the chuckles and the whispered I told you so’s from the crew at the counter, Maggie picked up a pot of coffee. Her pulse fluttered as she made her way to her newest customer.

  “Momin’, Maggie,” Jason said, his deep voice echoing in her ear, sending a shiver of awareness through her body. His easy grin seemed much too friendly, enticing her to respond in kind.

  “Good morning, Chief Gallagher,” she said stiffly, fighting temptation.

  His grin deepened. Undeterred, he leaned close, elbows on the counter, his tone confiding, and said, “One of these days, Maggie, I’m going to come in here and you’re going to call me Jason. And I don’t know who’ll be more shocked, you or me.”

  Heat flooded her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to shake her neighbor’s persistent attempts at winning her friendship. Even worse, he was coming awfully close to accomplishing the deed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt quite so tempted by a man.

  Flustered, she grabbed a cup and saucer from the shelf beneath the counter. Slamming them down with more force than she’d intended, the rattle of china on china resonated throughout the room. Embarrassed, she felt her hand shake as she poured the coffee. Refusing to meet Jason’s gaze, she asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

&nbs
p; “A smile would be nice.”

  She did not answer. Her blush deepening, she glanced down the counter at the gray-haired men valiantly trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Lowering her voice, she said, “Look, I don’t want to seem rude, but Wyndchester’s a small town. Everybody knows everybody else here. People talk. Word gets around pretty quick. I’ve got a little boy at home. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression about you...and me.”

  A discomfiting silence gaped between them.

  Maggie hazarded another glance at her neighbor.

  There wasn’t a trace of amusement in his blue eyes. His expression somber, his gaze unwavering, he said, “Giving anyone the wrong impression is the last thing I want. I wouldn’t dream of hurting you or Kevin. All I’m looking for is a friend, Maggie.”

  The sincerity of his tone caught in Maggie’s chest. Her resolve to keep Jason at arm’s length slipped a notch. For just a moment, she considered surrendering in this battle of wills. He seemed so honest, so open. What harm could possibly come from letting him into her life?

  What harm?

  Unwanted memories collided in her mind. All too vividly she remembered her encounters with the police in California. On the occasions she’d called for their assistance in stopping her ex-husband’s rampages, once it was known who her powerful and influential husband was, the police had looked the other way.

  She’d suffered unforgivably because she’d been foolish enough to put her trust in those officers who were supposed to uphold the law.

  How could she believe Jason was any different?

  “What’s wrong with just being good neighbors?” he persisted, startling her out of her unwanted memories.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, with a flat-sounding chuckle. Pushing away the bitterness, she strove for a light tone. “rve always heard good fences make for the best of neighbors.”

  Jason did not smile. He looked disappointed. Disappointed at her answer. Disappointed with her.

  Her heart thumped unevenly in her chest. She felt hollow, empty inside, as though she’d lost a chance at something very special. Anxious to escape his reproachful gaze, she said, “If there’s nothing else, I’m busy right now—”