Cord had finally steered CJ away from the midway, but then the kid grazed his way down the food row. Deep-fried cupcakes. Deep-fried watermelon. Funnel cakes. Hot dogs-deep-fried with chili. Cotton candy. Fresh-squeezed lemonade. A suicide snow cone.
"Dang, bubba. Where are you puttin' it all?"
"Uh-oh. Is dang a swear jar word?"
"Nope. Dang is safe. But seriously, CJ. Haven't you had enough to eat?"
"Nuh-uh. One more, Daddy. 'Kay?" CJ tugged him down the row of food-vendor trailers. He stopped in front of a place advertising deep-fried strawberry shortcakes. "Please, Dad? I want one. I promise I won't eat anything else. Please? Please, please, please."
Hiding his grimace, Cord stepped to the window and ordered. When the food arrived, he walked CJ over to a picnic table and made the boy sit before putting the treat and a handful of napkins in front of him.
"Want a bite, Daddy?"
"Ah...no." Cord did his best not to look askance at the glob on CJ's spoon. He liked deep-fried food as much as the next red-blooded American male but some things were just not meant to be dipped in batter and fried.
CJ inhaled his dessert, declared he was thirsty and pouted briefly when Cord insisted he drink a bottle of water.
By the time CJ was done, the midway was shutting down. The little boy was dead on his feet as they walked toward the parking lot. Halfway there, Cord picked him up and carried him. Despite walking all over the fair, Cord felt remarkably fit.
CJ was all but asleep by the time they reached Cord's sleek little sports car. He buckled his son into his car seat, and a few minutes later, they were headed across town to Cord's condo in Bricktown.
He was happy to be home again. Once his physical therapist had cleared him and he'd started back to work, the commute from the ranch was a pain-not to mention he wanted his own space. Of course, he'd worked his butt off in PT to get out of the damn wheelchair and then to get rid of the walker.
Waking up when Cord unbuckled him, CJ groaned. "I want Mommy," he whined. "My tummy hurts."
Cord picked up the boy in a reverse piggyback across his chest. "I'll call her as soon as we get upstairs, bubba. Just hang in-"
Something hot and wet splattered down Cord's back. He barely set CJ down before the next wave of vomiting hit. He went to grab his cell phone, but stopped when he realized the thing was in his hip pocket-the pocket covered with deep-fried something.
Thankfully, he had a private entrance on the ground floor. He got CJ inside, undressed him and laid him down on the couch with an ice pack, a wet washcloth and a plastic bucket.
Stripping out of his clothes with the utmost care, Cord donned a pair of rubber gloves he found in the supply closet and fished the important stuff out of his pockets. Luckily, his phone didn't seem any worse for the wear. He dialed Jolie's number just as CJ called for him. He got back to the living room barely in time to hold the bucket.
"Cord?" Jolie's voice echoed from the other end of the line.
He wiped CJ's mouth and snagged his phone. "Jolie? Thank God. Can you come over?"
"What's-?"
"Is that Mommy? I want Mommy." CJ raised his voice. "Mommy? My tummy hurts and I upchucked."
"Cord, what in the world is going on?"
"We're at my condo. Can you come? I'd come to you but... Hold on."
After he dealt with another round of sickness, he grabbed the phone again. "CJ's-"
"I can hear, Cord. I'm on my way."
By the time the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, CJ had been able to hold down a few sips of ginger ale and was dozing on the couch. Cord realized he was wearing nothing but his socks and boxers only after he opened the door to Jolie's arched eyebrow.
"Let me guess, you haven't done laundry and you had nothing else to wear."
"Well..." Cord scratched his chest. "Actually, I threw the clothes we were wearing in the washer but I haven't started the cycle yet. I've been a little busy."
"I can imagine." Jolie stared at his chest-was that a look of hunger in her eyes? At his suggestive chuckle, she dragged her gaze back to his face. "How is he?"
"Better, I think. He had some ginger ale and is asleep."
"See, you can handle it. Not sure why I'm here."
"Because he wanted you?" There was no rancor in his voice. He remembered being sick as a kid and wanting his mom-his real one or Helen, the second Mrs. Barron. Too bad neither of them had survived to see the Barron boys grow up.
He offered what he hoped was a winning smile. "C'mon in. I'll go grab some jeans."
Cord insisted Jolie precede him. No sense letting her see just how much she affected him-which was all too evident by the activity in his boxers.
He grabbed a clean pair of jeans from the dryer, started the washer and headed back to the living room.
"Can I get you something to-?"
"Rule number one, Cord."
He stopped dead in his tracks as she held up one finger. Remaining silent, he simply arched a brow.
"Little boys do not need to eat everything in sight."
"Yeah, I sorta figured that out."
"Rule number two." She added a second finger. "Little boys will beg to eat everything in sight. Refer back to rule number one." The way she enunciated the last three words made Cord want to laugh.
He worked on his expression so he could appear chagrined rather than amused. Hoping boyish charm would help, he said, "I'm sorry, Jolie. This is all sort of new to me, y'know?"
Her face clouded up and he once again held up his hands, palm out, in hopes of placating her. "Whoa, sunshine. I was simply stating a fact, not casting blame. Okay?"
Jolie huffed out a breath that ruffled her bangs and nodded. "Okay."
He tried another dose of charm by way of a crooked grin as he pressed his suit. "And you know, we could have avoided this whole situation if you'd just come with us."
She glared at him but he caught the twinkle in her eye. "Oh, so this is my fault?"
"Why don't I get you something to drink while we figure out who's at fault?"
Jolie followed him into the kitchen. "Don't think for one minute that your charm will get you out of this one, Cord Barron." She narrowed her gaze and all but shook her finger at him.
"Ah, so you admit I'm charming." He flashed another grin and waggled his brows at her before ducking behind the refrigerator door. Cord bit back his laughter at her exasperated huff. He emerged with a pitcher of tea and fixed her a tall glass with ice from the freezer door. As he watched her take a sip, the tightness in his chest eased-and the tightness farther south ramped up a little. He'd gotten the sweetness in the tea right, judging by the look on her face, but seeing her swallow put all sorts of thoughts in his head, thoughts he throttled given their son slept on the couch in the next room.
He offered her a chair at the kitchen table, sitting once she'd settled. "I'm sorry, sunshine. I told you I need to learn to be a dad. Those self-help books don't help at all."
She choked back a quick laugh, but her gaze softened as she regarded him. Progress. "I should have warned you but there's no better teacher than experience."
Unable to resist the urge, he touched the back of her hand, and then ran his fingertip up her arm. Goose bumps. Yeah, he liked that he could still affect her like that. "Thanks for coming when I called."
"You're welcome. I suppose I should get him home."
"Do you have to go?"
She gazed at him and he didn't flinch. There'd been too much secrecy between them. He wanted everything out in the open. Ever since their talk at the ranch, when he'd barely stopped from making love to her, he'd been wearing down her defenses. He wanted her in the worst way, but he wanted to do it right this time. He wanted to build a real relationship-one based on trust and friendship as well as the heat they generated. Chemistry made for great sex, but it took more to make a relationship. And he wanted a relationship with Jolie, one beyond the fact she was the mother of his child. The time for hesitation was over.
"Go out with me, Jolie."
"What?"
"Go out with me. A date. Dinner."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I think it's an excellent idea. I'm not ashamed of CJ, Jolie. Or you."
"What about your father?"
"Let me worry about Cyrus. Frankly, I'm more worried about yours."
"Dad?" Confusion filtered into her expression. "Why would you worry about Dad?"
"He warned me away from you. Last summer."
"It obviously didn't work."
"Nope. It sure didn't. So? Dinner?"
Eleven
Mrs. Corcoran, the nanny, answered the door, and Cord did his best not to fidget under her intense gaze. A week had passed since the state fair fiasco, but from the way the woman glared, Jolie had told her all about it. As she continued to stare, he brushed past her and surreptitiously checked his fly to make sure it was zipped.