Dear Cupid (28 page)

That sounded like fun, especially if he could eat with Mike.

“Okay.” He lunged toward his new friend.

“Whoa!” Mike staggered back, surprised at how fearlessly the kid had jumped. “You’re pretty brave for a little guy.” He settled the boy on his hip.

“I’m gonna be a stunt man when I get big.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” He glanced at Kate and saw she’d gone pale. “I think you’re mom might have something to say about that.”

“I’m okay,” she said, coming over to straighten Dylan’s shirt. To her credit, she kept her smile in place, even through he could tell she was panicking inside. “You really liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yep.” The boy bobbed his head.

Mike put Dylan on the ground. “Come on, buddy, let’s grab some grub.”

“You bet.” Dylan took off up the hill. “I’m starved.”

“Thank you,” Kate said quietly.

“For letting him ride, or for getting him down?”

“Both.” She laughed as they followed Dylan at a slower pace. “I know I come off as a totally over protective parent, but it’s hard not to be with Dylan.”

“I know. After seeing him in the hospital, I can understand.”

“It doesn’t help that Dylan’s allergic to just about everything. How do I know he’s not allergic to horses?”

“Sometimes there’s only one way to find out.” When she frowned, he sent her grinned. “Jump in and try.”

She shook her head with that look that said she found him exasperating and amusing at the same time.

“Life is a contact sport, Kate.” He tipped his head. “You can either spend it on the sidelines watching, or you can jump in, take a few knocks, and keep on playing. The second is a lot more fun.”

“And painful.” She laughed.

He started to tell her no one should bench themselves for life just because they’d taken one hard hit, but Dylan charged back to them.

“You guys coming?”

“We’re coming,” Kate assured her son.

“Hey, Mom, Trey and Jesse live on a ranch!” Dylan took his mother’s hand, pulling her along. “Well, not a real ranch. Jesse said it’s a ... it’s a ...”

“Rescue reserve for exotic animals,” Mike supplied.

“They have camels and donkeys and ostriches.” Dylan took Mike’s hand as well and leapt forward so he swung between them, like a monkey swinging from two vines. “And they even have a tiger. Don’t they, Mike?”

“They sure do,” he answered.

“Can I go see it?” Dylan asked, his blue eyes pleading with his mother. “Pleeease. Mike said he’d take me.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” She raised a brow and he could see she wasn’t sure about the idea.

“Did I mention Rowdy, the tiger, is tame as a kitten and has no claws?” he offered hopefully.

“Can I go see him, Mom?” Dylan jumped up and down, pulling on their arms. “Can I?”

“We’ll see,” she said in a neutral tone.

Dylan’s shoulders slumped as he looked up at Mike with surprisingly adult eyes. “That means she’s hoping I’ll forget so she won’t have to say no.”

Smart kid
. Mike nodded. “I guess we’ll just have to work on her then, eh?”

“You betcha.” With renewed enthusiasm, Dylan dropped their hands and raced ahead toward the tent.

“Talkative little guy, isn’t he?” Mike smiled, watching the boy. “And here I thought he was standoffish the first time we met.”

She frowned as if equally surprised by the way Dylan had latched onto Mike, and not entirely happy about it. “Dylan isn’t the type to give his friendship lightly.”

“Gets that from his mom, I guess.” He slipped his hand into hers and gave it a light squeeze. The gesture seemed so natural, he did it without thinking. But that simple contact, the mere holding of her hand as they walked, made everything inside him settle into place. This was so right.

She raised her gaze to his, and he saw the same feeling flicker in her eyes, only to be followed by a small questioning frown, a wary crease between her brows. Why couldn’t she relax and let this thing between them follow its natural course?

“Mike, about Dylan, I think it would be best if—” Before she could finish, Dylan came running back.

“I found us a table,” the boy panted. “But hurry up, before it’s gone.”

Mike stifled a sigh of frustration as they made their way into the cool shade of the tent. As much as he was enjoying the day, he wished he and Kate could go somewhere quiet and talk. They’d had very little time for that all last week. Sooner or later, he had to let her know how he felt. Except, he feared knowing how he felt would scare her even more. It had to be said, though, because this pretense of casualness couldn’t go on forever. He’d go out of his mind.

They took their seats with Dylan between them at one of the long portable tables that had been set up by the catering service. Bowls of potato salad, pinto beans, and coleslaw sat on the red-checkered plastic tablecloth.

“What would you like, sweetie?” Kate asked Dylan as she retrieved paper plates for each of them.

“Everything,” Dylan answered, arching his back to pat his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

Kate began filling his plate with side dishes as Mike accepted one of the platters of meat being passed around the table.

“I’m going to be in a show,” Dylan announced as he took a giant-sized bite of beans.

“You are?” Mike responded with exaggerated surprise.

“Not a movie, or anything.” Dylan’s mouth twisted into a smirk with a smear of sauce on one cheek. “It’s just a dumb show at my school.”

“Dylan,” Kate gave an oddly nervous sounding laugh as she wiped the sauce from his face. “I’m sure Mike would rather hear about your computer game than school.”

“No, I’m interested,” Mike assured. “What play are you doing?”

Dylan made a point of swallowing before he answered. “It’s not a play, exactly. We’re just gonna do a bunch of skits. You know, like vawdy-villa.”

“Vaudeville?” Mike dug into his brisket. “Sounds cool.”

“Ya think?” Dylan’s eyes brightened as he looked up at Mike.

“Absolutely. I love vaudeville shows nearly as much as the Three Stooges and old Marx Brothers movies. They’re fun.”

“That’s what my teacher, Miss Marshall, says. She says she likes family acts best, like Eddie Boy.”

“You mean Eddie Foy?” Mike asked. “I’ve heard of him. Didn’t he have a whole bunch of kids who performed with him?”

“Yeah.” Dylan’s shoulders slumped as he stirred his potato salad and coleslaw together. “Some of the cool kids at school decided to do something like that. Jason’s dad said he’d play Eddie. They all think they’re such a big deal, just because Jason’s dad plays in a band. Sounds pretty dorky, huh?”

“Dylan, really.” Kate’s smile grew stiff. “We don’t need to talk about the play.”

“It’s okay,” Mike said, wondering why Kate seems so uptight all the sudden.

Dylan poked at his food, refusing to look at him. “I asked my dad if he’d do something with me.”

“Oh?” Mike glanced uncomfortably from Dylan to Kate. She sent him an anguished look, apologizing with her eyes. But apologizing for what? “Dylan,” she said quietly. “Try some brisket.”

Dylan heaved a big sigh, ignoring his mom. “My dad said no. He’s real busy, though. You know, doing important stuff.”

If Mike hadn’t already decided Edward Bradshaw was an A-1 asshole, the dejected look on his son’s face would have done it. “You know,” he said, “if I had a son as neat as you, I’d find the time to be in your play, no matter how busy I was.”

Dylan’s head shot up, and the look of wonder shining from his eyes squeezed Mike’s chest. “You—you mean it?” Dylan whispered. “You think I’m a neat kid?”

“Absolutely.” Mike nodded.

“Only”—Dylan lowered his voice even more—“what if I wasn’t your kid? Would you still want to be in a play with me?”

Mike glanced at Kate, hoping for guidance, but she stared back at him with such horrified fear, he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to say yes or no. “I—” He hesitated. Then glanced down at Dylan’s hopeful face, and caved. “I’d love to do a skit with you, I mean if your mother says it’s okay.” He added the last hastily, in case he’d answered wrong.

“Too cool!” Dylan kicked his feet under the table. “Since you make movies, we could do something really big, like blow up the whole stage.
Ka-pow!
” He motioned with his hands as if his plate of barbecue had exploded. Then he turned to his mom. “Isn’t that neat, Mom? Mike’s gonna be in my play.”

One look at Kate’s furious eyes, and Mike knew he’d done something really wrong.

KATE
stared straight ahead as she drove away from the location shoot, so furious, she feared she snap. How could Mike have blithely made a promise to her son she knew he’d never keep? Beside her, Mike sat sideways, listening to Dylan, who sat in the backseat, chattering on about everything they’d seen and done that day. With each mile that passed, her nerves stretched tighter. Did the man have no concept of what a huge deal this was for Dylan? She wanted to kill him.

Just before they reached Lakeway, Dylan’s excitement finally turned to exhaustion and he fell asleep mid-sentence. Chuckling softly, Mike turned toward her. “I was wondering when his battery would wear down.”

“Children don’t have batteries,” she said in a flat tone. They weren’t robots. They were made of blood and bones and tender feelings.

“No, of course not.” He frowned at her, obviously confused by her brusque behavior. “I appreciate your giving me a lift home.”

“Don’t mention it.” She tried to shrug but the gesture barely moved one shoulder. “After all, I couldn’t very well have left you stranded there, now could I?” Especially after Dylan had practically insisted Mike ride with them.

“I could have ridden back with Frank,” he pointed out.

“I told you,” she said with strained patience, “it’s not a problem.”

He drummed his fingertips on the armrest. “Look, Kate, you’re obviously mad at me, so would you mind explaining why?”

She glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Dylan. The boy was dead to the world, but this was hardly the time or place for her to tell Mike she didn’t want him anywhere near her son—that Dylan had been hurt enough, and she refused to stand by and let him get hurt again.

She reached for the radio as a distraction. Mike placed his hand over hers before she could turn it on, and the gentleness of his touch was almost her undoing.

“Kate,” he said softly, so as not to wake Dylan, “would you please talk to me?”

She pulled her hand away. All she had to do was make it to his house, tell him good-bye, then never see him again. The thought made her throat tighten.

“It’s about the play, isn’t it?” he persisted. “What did you want me to do, tell him no?

They passed through the entrance of Lakeway and she gave thanks. Just a few more blocks.

“Come on, Kate,” he pleaded, barely above a whisper. “You saw how he was looking at me. There’s no way I could have turned him down. And I did tell him I’d only do it if you said it was okay.”

“Oh, yes,” she whispered back, no longer able to keep silent. “Thank you so much for making me the bad guy.”

“What do you mean?” He shook his head. “Are you saying you’re not mad because I agreed to do the play, but because I said I’d only do it if it was okay with you?”

“I’m mad at you for both.” She glanced in the rearview minor to be sure Dylan was still asleep and lowered her voice even more. “Now, no matter what happens, he’s going to be hurt, and it will be my fault.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Don’t you see?” Exasperation strained her voice. “If I say no now, he’ll be angry and disappointed and he’ll blame me for days. But if I don’t interfere, he’ll be crushed when you let him down, and then it really will be my fault because I didn’t interfere when I knew I should. How could you do this to him?”

“What make you think I’m going to let him down?”

“Because I know your schedule!” She fought not to shout. “You’ll do one rehearsal, maybe, before reality sets in and you beg off.”

“I’m not going to let Dylan down.” He scowled as if offended. “All you have to do is agree to let me do the skit, and the problem is solved.”

She tightened her hands on the steering wheel as she turned onto his street. When she reached his house, she braved the steep driveway to park in the shade, then lowered the automatic windows to catch the evening breeze. Without a word, she got out of the car. Mike followed suit. Neither of them spoke until they reached the protective overhang by his front door.

“Are you coming in?” he asked.

“No.” She glanced toward the car where her son slept. “I just needed to talk to you away from radar ears.” She took a deep breath. “Mike, I want you to call Dylan tomorrow and tell him you can’t do the play.”

He pulled back as if she’d struck him. “Are you forbidding me?”

“No. I just—” She folded her arms tightly against her. “You and I both know you don’t have time to be in an elementary school play.”