All That You Are (15 page)

“You live with your mom?”

Almost apologetically, she explained, “It worked out better that way because of Terran.”

Terran kept his head down, intent on his coloring and tuning out the grown-up talk.

“How about you?” she asked. “Where do you live?”

“I've got a house in Boise. My sister's keeping an eye on things for me. It's nothing fancy, but it's paid for.”

Dana had often dreamed of having her own place again. The days when she'd been single, she'd had an apartment, but then she got pregnant and all that changed. One day, she'd like to buy a house. But for now, such a situation was unfeasible.

“Does all your family live in Boise?” In the weeks
she'd known Mark, she hadn't wanted to touch deeper on this subject. He'd told her he worked for his family's construction business, but beyond that the details hadn't been something she'd pressed him about.

“Two older brothers. Sister and brother-in-law. My mom. I told you about my dad.” She could see her reflection in the lenses of his smoky glasses. “It was a tough one. We've all had to adjust. Just like you had to.”

She didn't want to talk about herself. She'd always found that difficult, even as a child. Her mixed heritage had been a source of embarrassment when she was a young girl in grade school. Now she embraced it, proud of who she was. But she still didn't like to dwell on facets of her personal life with people she didn't know well.

And while she'd invested a lot of faith in Mark to renovate her bar, confiding in him about personal matters was awkward.

Actually, her reasons were more than that: she didn't trust herself with him. Better to remain as neutral as possible.

“Momma, is it almost done yet?” Terran expelled a troubled sigh, as if he were starving to death.

“Pretty soon, baby.”

Mark studied the drawing. “Nice truck. I have a real one just like it.”

Terran's nose crinkled. “You drive it?”

“Yes. And I have backhoes, SkyTracks, forklifts—any kind of heavy equipment you can think of. I know how to use all of it on a job site.”

“Hey, Mark? That's cool.”

Mark smiled. “Not as cool as how you color, dude.”

“I stay in the lines,” he replied somberly.

Dana gave the colored page a mother's kind glance. Her son hadn't stayed in the lines very well, but his effort was a sincere one.

“Good job, Terran,” she offered with enthusiasm.

She fervently hoped he'd thrive in kindergarten. She couldn't believe that the day was fast approaching when she'd drop him off in front of the school. They lived close enough that he wouldn't have to take a bus.

“My dad colors good,” Terran said, chin down and scratching a streak of red over the truck's tailgate.

At moments like this, when Terran made an offhand remark about Cooper's abilities, Dana winced. She couldn't pinpoint why, exactly. Maybe because of the reminder that she and Cooper co-parented from a distance and Terran had to jump from house to house, doing individual things with each of them rather than together as a family. Loyalties had to be a struggle for her son at times.

“That's nice that you and Daddy color together,” Dana said, unable to look at Mark when she spoke. Discomfort filled her.

“Yep—we do lots of things together.”

Mark's gaze followed her every move and it unsettled her. She didn't like attention focused on her—definitely not on her single parenting. She loved her son dearly, but not being part of a loving and traditional family for her baby did serve as a source for regret more often than not.

She didn't want Mark prying, asking questions about things. Her life was what it was. Making the best of it was all she could do and things worked out.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Mark didn't
release her from his observation. Self-conscious, she felt like a tiny bug under a microscope. All she could do was sit there, not react, and hope he'd move on and find something better to focus on.

She wished their food would come so she could eat and get out of there. Especially when Mark steered their filler conversation in a direction she didn't want to go. She could do without reminders of last night.

“I never knew I liked saxophone music,” Mark commented with a half grin, bringing to life an evening she'd wanted to forget. “I equated a saxophone with that perm-haired pans—” He sliced the word off.

Pansy.
Nice, Moretti. She glared at him, grateful he didn't spell it out in front of her son.

“—uh, that guy, Kenny G.”

Informing him tartly, she said, “Kenny G's a pop artist, not a jazz musician.”

“Okay, good. I feel better. If he was into jazz, then I'd have to like him because I loved the jazz you played. Unbelievable. You're great.”

“I'm passable.”

“No—you're great.”

She wasn't sure if he was talking about her music abilities or her. Thankfully a server brought their order and she didn't have to give it any more thought.

Dana had ordered the halibut with chips. It was the best, even compared to anything on the menu at the Cape Fox Lodge or from Annabelle's Restaurant. Both Terran and Mark had picked the shakes and cheeseburgers.

Burger Queen had the largest variety of milk shakes in the state, maybe the country, including flavors like passion fruit, toasted marshmallow, root beer, Kahlúa,
macadamia nut. If she liked ice cream, which she didn't really, she would have gotten one. Instead, she'd ordered a diet cola.

Mark tried his peach shake. Beneath his breath, he said, “Mmm. Tastes sweet. Just like you.”

Dana refused to show any reaction and, instead, helped her son cut his burger in two. He'd ordered his fairly plain. Just meat, cheese and ketchup.

Fitting the straw into the gap of his mouth, Terran sucked his chocolate shake. “How do they get the choc'late in here, Mommy?”

“It's a syrup.”

“Mine, too, Mom?” Mark teased, licking the shake off his top lip with a slow grab of his tongue. She aimed the point of her boot at him and kicked his shin. Trouble was, he was faster, and before she knew it, his knees pressed her calf between his strong legs and held her tightly. Without causing attention, she tried to break free. No luck. His hold on her was like a vise.

“That'll teach you.” He laughed, enjoying the moment.

Ketchup bracketing his mouth and an arch to his brows, Terran asked, “Teach what?”

“Never mind,” Dana quickly responded.

She had to eat her lunch with Mark keeping her leg captive. Every so often, he slowly rubbed his knees together, evoking shivers across her skin and scalp. He knew exactly what he was doing, this toying with her, and she hated it. Perhaps hate wasn't exactly it…she hated that she responded to him. Everything inside her warmed to mush. She felt hot and annoyed, wanting him to let her go so she could cool off and enjoy her lunch.

The instant she felt Mark slightly relax his grip during a long-running exchange of questions with Terran, she yanked her captive leg free and gave Mark a smug smile.

“I can ride things out—I have patience,” she said in a low tone, gloating.

“Good for you, but I have more, sunshine.”

She almost snorted. Why did he always have to one-up her? It drove her crazy.

Terran was finished eating before them, and he asked if he could check out the rocks. He enjoyed hunting for treasures when they ate outside. He'd poke loose shale pieces with a stick. She'd cautioned him on touching broken glass—that was a big no-no. But he did seek things that shone and caught his attention. If he wanted to pick up something, it could only be the rocks.

“Baby, you stay where I can see you.” Her caution was stern and brooked no argument. “Like only as far as the top of the stairs and your bedroom door. You understand that distance? No farther than that, okay?”

“Okay.” He went off to scavenger hunt.

Mark popped a long French fry into his mouth, eating with an indolent relaxation she wanted to cuff him for. She'd watched every bite and chew, making sure she didn't have food where it shouldn't be or spill on herself. “So I've been wondering something. What'd you do before you ran the bar?”

Taking a drink to quench her parched throat, she set her cup down. “I was a checker at the Safeway.”

“No kidding.”

Somewhat perturbed, she questioned, “Why would I make that up?”

“Don't know. I was thinking of you as a hostess in some fine restaurant. You'd look killer in a black cocktail dress.”

“Well, since Ketchikan doesn't have any fine restaurants with a call for hostesses, I chose to go into another line of work. And I'd have to check in my closet, but last time I looked, I didn't own a black cocktail dress.”

“Why's that?”

“No reason to wear one.”

“I could think of a few.”

The suggestive comment warmed her to the tips of her toes. It was just like him to hint at something that heated her skin. Like the strike of a match head, she felt herself burning with visions of their mouths fused together in the rain. That kiss had rattled her, shaken her to the core. She didn't want to remember it. She refused to let it happen again.

She couldn't put more into this relationship than there was. Not technically his boss, he did work for her in a roundabout way. He'd proved himself skillful in many things relating to carpentry. Already he'd added the door, widened the hallway and fixed her leaking roof. If their arrangement hadn't been founded on conditional terms, she might have invested something emotionally. Then again not. Boise was too far for a long-distance thing. And she had no intentions of a one-night stand. That wasn't her.

So there was no purpose in romanticizing their relationship. It wasn't realistic.

“You get along all right with Terran's dad?” The unprompted question infiltrated her thoughts and brought her back with a zap.

“Well enough.”

“That could mean anything.” Mark leaned forward. “How do you feel about the guy? You still love him?”

Mark's words smacked her emotions and she quickly hid her true feelings. She had once loved Cooper Boyd with all her heart and mind. But that was no more. Now she tolerated him for their son's sake.
Love?
She didn't think she knew the meaning of the word—if she ever had.

“You're overstepping,” she replied. “I wouldn't ask you if you ever loved anyone.”

Not breaking a beat in the friction surrounding them, he threw out, “Why not?”

For long seconds, neither of them spoke, then she broke the silence. “Okay, hot stuff—have you?”

“Many times. I've loved long hair, short hair. Any length of hair in between. I've loved curvy women, thin women. Blondes or brunettes. Some with smoky-black hair.” The latter was spoken in a honey-sweet tone that sluiced over her like warm water. “Women with some spice, women who were nice. I guess you could say I've loved all over the menu.”

Eyes narrowed, Dana contemplated whether or not he was just jerking with her or being honest. She could see him dating a lot but never settling down. He didn't come across to her as the homebody type. Another strike against him. If she ever fell in love again, he'd have to want to deal with chicken nuggets for dinner once in a while and Spiderman blankets.

Caustic in her reply, she summarized, “So you just love to love women.”

“In a manner of speaking.” The straw on his shake was
taken out and he licked the bottom so it wouldn't drip. She couldn't help being fixated by the swirl of his tongue. Finding her eyes on him, he gave her a smile. “But I can be taught new tricks.”

Dana didn't want to teach him anything. She'd much rather he find his own—

A woman's voice called, breaking the mood between them.

“Oh, hey! I thought that was you. Hi.”

No mistaking the purr belonging to Tori Daniel.

Dana turned on the bench to watch the woman come toward their table wearing a short-sleeved knit dress and sparkle flip-flops. Her bare legs were coppery as if she'd been soaking in some UVs in a tanning bed. Today, not even the leggings would hide her goodies. One sneeze and she'd be showing the world all she had.

While the dress wasn't exactly short-short, it was short enough to make Dana wish she had the long legs that could wear a dress like that. Not that she would in public, but just for her man's eyes only. If she had a man to rev an engine for.

“Hi,” Mark replied, giving Tori a light smile.

To Dana, Tori said, “Hi, Dana. What've you been up to?”

“Same old, Tori,” she replied blandly. “You?”

“I'm working at a day care. I love kids.” She glanced over her shoulder, her fine blond hair falling midway down her back. Dana knew Tori could do a shampoo and air-dry and her hair would retain that stick-straight look, whereas it took her forever with her iron to achieve the same result. “Where's Terran?”