“Say hi to the Muffin Man for me.”
“Right.”
Tiger was strapped into his booster seat when Darek climbed into the Jeep. He’d just have to show up smelling like a walleye.
Darek caught a glimpse of the three boys wrestling on the grass near their cabin as he pulled out of the driveway.
Yeah, he remembered when he thought of this place as paradise, when he thought growing up here was the best life a boy could have.
He glanced at Tiger in the rearview mirror, the dirt on his shirt, grimy hands, the hint of a sunburn on his nose, his windblown hair. “How big was that fish?”
“This big!” Tiger held out his arms as wide as they could go.
Darek laughed. Yes, maybe it still could be paradise. Something simple—family. A piece of the northern shore woods to share with the world. The life Felicity had wanted for them. If only he hadn’t been too immature to see it.
They pulled up to the library, and Tiger was unlocking his seat belt before Darek applied the brake. “Hold on there—”
But Tiger was out the door and scampering up the sidewalk to the building. Darek followed him and found the ring of kids seated inside the children’s reading area, decorated like a zoo, complete with faux bars, cutout giraffes, hippos, elephants. Tiger sat in a molded ostrich chair.
Darek pulled up a child-size chair and settled himself on it, listening to the “Muffin Man”—their creative town librarian—read to the children in her giant cupcake hat, her fuzzy padded costume. She had single-handedly sparked a reading inferno with her Wednesday night story time. And it just might be the only time Tiger sat quietly.
Darek smiled at the other parents as they glanced at him. He tried not to think about the way his son looked like he’d gone a few bruiser rounds with a local bully. He fell, Darek wanted to shout, but that would only draw more attention.
At least Nan Holloway didn’t sit in the audience, although he wouldn’t put lurking in the shadows past her. He glanced around, just to check.
Wait.
His gaze stopped on the petite redhead flipping through a book in the fiction section. He’d been too defensive to really notice how cute she was on their so-called date. Now, dressed in a pair of capris and a pink sleeveless shirt, her hair pulled back, she seemed almost soft, even sweet.
Not at all his vision of a lawyer.
Or of the woman he’d treated so badly. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to get to know her. Just resented her and her intrusion into his life.
It wasn’t her fault that he had so much baggage, it could crush any chances of a fresh start.
And it wasn’t her fault he’d already blown his opportunity for happily ever after. For a family like the one he’d met today. Maybe if he wasn’t so angry and hadn’t behaved so badly . . . not just to Ivy, but Felicity, too.
No, he didn’t deserve a second chance, but—
Maybe she sensed his gaze on her, watching her flip pages, because she looked up. Right at him.
Her eyes connected, her mouth opening just a little.
He should look away. But he was caught there, his crime becoming more glaring as she blinked, recognized him.
And then, suddenly, she smiled. It was sweet and slow and caught him so off guard he didn’t know what to do. Just stared back like an idiot, a deer in the headlights.
“Daddy, read this to me.”
Tiger slapped a book onto Darek’s lap—a copy of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, one of his favorites. The Muffin Man had finished and now was pointing out her selection of books to the audience.
“Okay, pal,” Darek said. No doubt they’d leave the library with a stack of new books, enough for hours of nighttime reading. He hooked an arm around his son, pulled him onto his knee. Opened the book.
Glanced up to where Ivy had stood.
She was gone. And with her, any chance for the smile he should have given her.
Jensen logged five hours and thirty-seven minutes of community service before the sun hit the apex of the blue sky.
He’d started his Thursday morning routine at the harbor beach before 6 a.m., stopping by the Java Cup and bringing Phyllis McCann at the parks and rec department a vanilla latte while he logged in, then arming himself with gloves, a bag, and a stake, managing to fill the bag with the detritus of the week’s activities. Banana peels, hot dog boats, candy wrappers, gyro papers, SoBe bottles, apple cores, and even a few Java Cup containers. By the time the sun turned the rocks to gems, the beach shone spotless.
At eight, he headed over to the thrift store, bringing Sharron a freshly fried skizzle from World’s Best Donuts, and spent two more hours sorting the five garbage bags of clothing they’d received, checking them for damage, hanging or folding the acceptable pieces on the correct racks and shelves, sending more out to be laundered, pricing them, and listing the best items for advertising purposes on the community intranet. He snagged a pair of rubber boots for himself, something to help him should a sump pump at Pine Acres ever go out again. Sharron signed his card, and he headed over to the Deep Haven animal shelter.