Page 505 of Summer Heat
Lance chuckled. “You’re right.”
Cody read the page, and by the way he stumbled and sounded out words according to the way they looked, Lance realized he wasn’t reciting, but actually reading. At the end of the page, he said, “I’m very impressed, Cody. How old are you?”
“Four.”
Tamara came back into the room, bearing a neat little wooden tray with a teapot in a cozy, a bowl of sugar and pitcher of milk, and two cups. “He’s almost four and a half,” she said.
“Mommy, I read this whole page!” he said.
“Very good, honey.” She put the tray on the coffee table. “Why don’t you go and play in your room now for a little while? I’ll give you a bath later.”
“Can I take my books?”
“Of course. They’re yours.”
Cody gathered the slippery books close to his chest. “Bye,” he said.
“Bye. Thanks for reading to me.”
Cody nodded and ran off to his room.
“Cute kid,” Lance said. “Are you teaching him to read?”
Tamara straightened, looking after her son with a perplexed expression. “No. He has little magnetic letters on the fridge, and he watches ‘Sesame Street’ all the time, so he must have started putting them together in his head somehow.” She shook her head, and gave him a smile that was very sweet. “I only realized this afternoon that he was really reading, not just picking out a word here and there.”
Her whole attitude tonight was quite different from what it had been the other times he’d seen her. She seemed kinder, warmer, not so bristly.
But maybe it was because he was putting out something different tonight. He had no energy left to flirt or tease or come on to her. When she handed him a cup of tea, he felt only grateful. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She poured herself a cup, and then looked at him earnestly. Gone were the harsh, tight lines around her mouth, the wariness in her eyes. “Lance, it was very kind of you to help me this morning.”
“Glad to do it. No big deal.”
“It was a big deal.” She took a breath. “It was your father’s funeral today, wasn’t it?”
He looked down into his cup. The herb tea was a deep, rich red. “Yeah. It was.”
“If I’d known, I would never have asked for a favor.”
“You wouldn?
?t have needed to take your test?”
“Of course I would have. But I just—I feel kind of bad. I’m sorry for your loss.”
That thick, unbearable weight sunk against his chest again. “Thanks,” he said, and heard how rough his voice sounded.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you don’t look very good tonight. Can I do something?”
If he hadn’t been so damned worn-out, he would have summoned up something suggestive to counter that. Instead, to his horror, he felt the long-held tears in his throat suddenly rise. “No,” he said abruptly. He put the tea aside and stood up, feeling a panicked need to get out of there before he completely humiliated himself. “No, I’m fine.”
He rushed toward the door, blindly, without thought, certain of only one thing. Something about this warm house and the comfort of tea and a little boy’s warmth against his side had destroyed his defenses, and he had to get out of there.
Now.
Chapter Five
Stunned, Tamara watched Lance jump up and bolt for the door. He was out on the porch before she managed to collect herself enough to go after him. “Lance!” she called, going through the door.
