“So exactly how long has it been since your husband passed?” Thomas asked, voice neutral. “If you don’t mind talking about it, that is.”
“I don’t mind.” She cleared her throat. A fist of pain tightened over her heart. “It was three and a half years ago. He had cancer. It wasn’t an easy passing.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. The contact was oddly intimate. She swallowed hard and forced herself to concentrate on the here, the now, and the surf and turf platter on the restaurant’s menu.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze unwavering.
“Don’t be. It may have been difficult, but…” The words stuck in her throat. “Once we found out, it was a matter of months. As if, once he knew, he didn’t want to leave us hanging. Like he wanted it to be over.”
“I’ve seen that happen before.”
“It hit Zach the hardest. Maybe because he’s the oldest. Katelyn handled it well enough, but she’s young still. Cody was only six, so he barely remembers his father.”
Thomas’s grasp tightened. “Is Zach acting out?”
Brianna tilted her head. Was he actually interested in her children? Her chest ached. No. He couldn’t care about her. Not after two quick flings and this impromptu date. He was being polite. “Not really,” she said. “He gets fabulous grades. Plays soccer. Star forward.”
“Soccer, hmm?” His brows rose.
“Don’t tell me. You played forward, too?”
“All four years in high school. I can still balance a ball on my head with my eyes closed and a few beers in me.”
“So can a seal.”
“Ork ork.” He chuckled. “Think he’d mind kicking the ball around the yard with a has-been?”
Her stomach sank, heavy and cold. What would Michael think, another man taking his place and coaching his son? Why was she even thinking about this when Thomas was likely putting on a brave face and wouldn’t even stick around long enough to meet Zach? The initial spark of excitement left her flushed with guilt.
She shouldn’t be thinking about this.
She’d been doing fine without anyone else’s help, but being a single parent was exhausting. There was no good cop, bad cop. She had to be the bad cop, then kiss it better. She had to be mother and father, and there were some things she just couldn’t teach her son. Like how to shave his first stubble—though she’d have tried if Zach had wanted her to. She would have lathered up her face right alongside him if he asked.
Anything for her kids.
She looked away from Thomas. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to.” His thumb stroked along her knuckles. “I would probably have fun.”
She swallowed hard. “I—then—we can think about it. I don’t want to introduce you too soon. You could be gone in a week for all I know.”
He drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table and watched the restaurant—a quiet bustle of activity and energy as waiters and waitresses floated from table to table. “I’m here for at least two more weeks.”
“That’s not very long. Will you go back to California then?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
She shook her head. “So we’re doomed from the start?”
“I know we don’t have long, but I’d hope it’s long enough for us to figure out if there’s something worth pursuing. If there is something here, then we can figure out what to do when the time comes. We could work something out.”
Work what out? If he left, they would never become anything. “What do you mean? Like a long-distance relationship?”
“Shit, I don’t know. I’m not very good at planning stuff like this. Or talking about my feelings.” He cleared his throat. “But I do like you enough to try this thing. Enough to risk another ass-to-window serenade from your son.”
Her breath caught. Oh, God, please no. “He didn’t.”
“He did.”
She groaned. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time I’ve been mooned. I don’t think it’s fatal or catching.” He gave her a small smile. “If I go around mooning people, then we’ll worry. Until then, I’m fine.”
She groaned. “When I get home, I’m going to ground him until he dies.”
“From the look on your face, that won’t be very long.” His gaze flicked over her face, leaving behind a warmth that crept down her jaw to her neck. “You didn’t answer me.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No.”
“You didn’t ask me a question.”
He reached across the table and brushed his fingers beneath her chin, sending chills over her skin. “I’m asking if you want me to stick around for two weeks or not.”
“I—yes. Okay.”
“Just ‘okay’?”
“You’re not the only one who’s not very good at talking about this.”
“Then I’ll take what I can get.” He let go of her hand with one last lingering caress. “Now…on the matter of your shoes. Remind me to give them back before my truck turns into a pumpkin.”
She smiled but shook her head. “I can’t believe I ran out barefoot.”
“Stocking-foot Cinderella.” The way he said the name, rolling each syllable with rumbling amusement and pleasure, made her shiver. “Though I’m no Prince Charming.”
The waitress interrupted them, her ponytail bouncing as she cruised to a halt at their table. “Evening! Can I start you off with a drink?”
Brianna laid her menu on the table. “I’ll have a vodka tonic.”
Thomas raised a brow. “I pegged you for more of a wine girl.”
“I’ll have you know I drink vodka, wear my fat pants on weekends, and look like hell under my makeup just like any other girl.”
He laughed, full and rumbling and deep. He didn’t laugh nearly enough, she thought—as if he didn’t want the world to know when he was happy. If he ever was happy. What was he missing in his life, she wondered, that he was so desperate to hide himself from everyone?
He flashed the waitress a brief, polite smile. “I’ll have the same.” The waitress left after a coy look for Thomas, which he completely ignored. He shook his head. “Vodka tonic. Not very prim and proper.”