When I Need You (Need You #4)(57)

She glanced at my phone in my hand. "All clear with your sitter?"

"Yep."

"I feel like we should be hitting the bar for an adult beverage."

"Ice cream sounds better."

"Roger that." She shoved her Jackie O –styled sunglasses back in place. "Follow me. I know a shortcut."

I refrained from pointing out that the last time she said that we ended up jumping a curb and driving the wrong way-on a one-way-for a block.

Sebastian Joe's was always busy, even in the winter when the temps dipped below zero, so when the weather warmed up, the line was long.

Daisy did a quick sweep of the crowd before leaning in closer to murmur, "You and The Rocket. Every detail. Now."

I told her about how he'd basically taken over the night I'd come home sopping wet, in a lousy mood about the camp cancellation. "He hung out with Calder and watched Dancing with the Stars with us because he'd never seen an episode."

"I'm sure Calder rectified that immediately," she said with amusement.

"Yes, he did, with absolute glee. Boggled my mind that Jensen enjoyed it."

"Get the eff out." Daisy tipped her head and peered at me over the tops of her sunglasses. "He was cool with Calder . . . the way he is?"

Daisy was the only person I didn't bristle up at when asked that question. My boy was sweet, kind, loving, funny, smart, adventurous, athletic and artistic. He was also effeminate. But that was part of who he was. I loved everything about my son. I accepted everything about him, as did the people in our lives who mattered to us. I'd never understood why some people felt it was their right to pass judgment on him. Or to make rude, nosy or just plain nasty comments about a little boy who'd never dream of uttering something so cutting to a stranger. It wasn't possible to shield him from everything, but I'd be damned if I'd let anyone into our lives who didn't treat my kid with the acceptance he deserved.

"Ro?" Daisy prompted.

I looked up at her. "Jens has never been anything but wonderful to Calder. Even when Calder head-butted him in the groin. He listens to him with the patience that's needed to deal with any six-year-old. They watch Chopped sometimes and he's even read Harry Potter to him." 

"So it's Jens now, huh?" she teased.

I blushed. "He told us he doesn't want to be called The Rocket off the field. Calder sometimes calls him Rocketman but Jensen seems amused by it, not annoyed. His behavior doesn't jibe at all with the reputation he has. Then after Calder was in bed, he came back over because he said he could ‘tell' something was bothering me."

"Did he make a move on you?"

"No. We talked. I told him about the camp problems and he came up with a solution on the fly. Being cynical, I sort of said, yeah whatever. Then he proved me wrong. You know he's one of the Lunds. They have their own organization-Lund Cares Community Outreach-that provides services for community groups. LCCO stepped in and stepped it up, keeping our same dance instructor from the previous camp, but also adding in theater, art and vocal music to the curriculum. No football or sports of any kind."

"I'm impressed," Daisy said. "Unless you're freaked out because you think he's got an ulterior motive for being Mr. Helpful and that's why you were a little psycho with him today."

Immediately I bristled up. "What? I wasn't psycho. Protecting myself isn't psycho! He was completely out of line by singling me out in front of everyone. We're not supposed to be-"

"That no-fraternization rule is total bullshit," Daisy argued. "It was outdated in the '70s. Hello, we're two decades into the new millennium and we're all well past the age of consent. Let us make up our own minds about who we want to fraternize with."

I didn't disagree with her. I hated to admit that when I was with Jensen I didn't think about that stupid rule at all. I was too busy trying to figure out what to do about the magnetic pull between us, which was why I was so upset with him for bringing it to everyone's attention today.

"But, honey, admit it, your reaction to him merely talking to you was . . . slightly psycho."

"Fine. I overreacted." I sighed. "I'll try to explain it to him later."

"Good luck with that. He was pissed off."

Yet another thing everyone noticed.

An ear-piercing shriek echoed in front of us.

Daisy said, "Someone is taking the ‘you scream, I scream' portion of the ice cream rhyme literally."

I laughed.

After we chose our flavors-Red Papaya sorbet for her and Caramel Coffee Oreo for me-we wandered back to the parking lot.

Daisy said, "I have an idea. Let's show off these fine bodies that we've slaved to maintain. Grab your kid, pack swimsuits and an overnight bag and come to my place. We'll spend the afternoon lazing by the pool admiring all the manflesh that populates ye old ce-ment pond. Then we'll kick back, color and play games with Calder, eat a disgustingly healthy dinner and after your boy is tucked in, we can share a bottle of wine and watch Thor or anything starring hot, half-naked men."