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Justin slammed the door to the truck, tugged his hat down low on his forehead, and marched into the main building of Jefferson High School. Anger tightened his jaw.

A young woman looked up at the thunder of his heels on the wooden floor. "May I help you?"

He removed his Stetson. "I'm looking for Mrs. Coleman's classroom."

The young redhead's eyebrows arched knowingly. "Yes, Mr. Wheaton. To the left, third door on the right."

He nodded, turned, and hurried down the wide hall lined with the same gray metal lockers he'd used as a kid. At the third door, he stopped and took a deep breath. Mrs. Coleman had no right to suspend his daughter, and he intended to tell her so. His hands shook with suppressed rage as he twisted the ancient doorknob.

Mrs. Coleman stood at the front of the room with her back to him. She turned at his entrance.

For a moment, Justin was stunned; he hesitated through a step. The new teacher was younger than he'd expected, and a lot more attractive. A short-sleeved tan sweater hugged a slender but shapely figure, and brown jeans stretched over long legs. She wore her blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her golden-brown eyes flashed like shards of dark glass in the sun.

Things had changed since he was a student.

He frowned. This was no time to notice the woman's looks. He had business to take care of, and clutched at what was left of his anger in order to do it.

"Mrs. Coleman, I'm Justin Wheaton. I know you're new here and don't know my daughter. Her record is spotless. I don't know what she has done, but it's her first offense. You can't suspend her." He stopped in front of the new high-school teacher.

She looked more annoyed than interested in what he had to say. "Mr. Wheaton, I think--"

"Look, Raven's a good kid. You ask anyone. Whatever she's done can't be bad enough to ruin her shot at a scholarship." Justin stepped forward, using his height to intimidate the woman. It wasn't something he normally did, but he was more than just a little upset.

Mrs. Coleman simply frowned up at him. How could this appealing woman be so cold-hearted? Didn't she understand what she was doing?

"You're ruining her life," he said, practically shouting.

Justin turned at the sound of someone clearing her throat.

A large, middle-aged woman approached. "Mr. Wheaton? I'm Betty Coleman. Thank you for coming."

Acutely aware of the woman he'd mistaken for Mrs. Coleman standing right behind him, he shook the plump hand the teacher extended.

"I see you've met Ms. Van Buren," Mrs. Coleman said.

Justin glanced back. His face burned as his anger crumbled into an embarrassed heap, and he couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Please," Mrs. Coleman said, "have a seat." She waved toward the front row of chairs as she leaned back on the edge of her desk.

The blonde sat and folded her hands in her lap. Justin left an empty seat between them and placed his hat on the desktop to his left.

Mrs. Coleman smiled. "I've asked you both here so we can discuss this situation."

"What situation?" Ms. Van Buren asked.

"The situation with your children."

Justin narrowed his eyes.

"Raven and Alex skipped school together yesterday," the teacher said.

A sour knot instantly formed in Justin's stomach, and he turned to the woman seated beside him. "Alex?"

But the woman ignored him and frowned at Mrs. Coleman.

The teacher continued. "I've checked Raven's and Alex's records. Neither of them has been in trouble before. That's why I've asked you two here. I want to head off any problems, if we can."

"What should we do?" Ms. Van Buren asked.

"You should talk to your children. I know fifteen's a tough age, but if you confront them calmly, they'll probably answer your questions."

The younger woman nodded. "Mr. Wheaton is concerned about how this will affect their permanent records."

Justin's face warmed again.

"Since this is a first offense," Mrs. Coleman said, "I think we can work something out. I'll discuss it with Mr. White."

"Where did they go?" Justin asked.

Mrs. Coleman shrugged. "Neither of them was willing to say. This is the age when even good kids sometimes have to try to get away with something. It's the child's way of saying 'I'm an adult now.' I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, as long as it doesn't become a regular occurrence." She stepped forward, indicating the close of the meeting.

Justin tried to deny all the possibilities that flashed through his mind as he followed the women from the room. Betty Coleman stopped in the hall to shake hands and thank them again for coming, then left the parents alone. Justin matched Ms. Van Buren's step.

"Look, Ms. Van Buren--"

"Amy."

"What?"

"My name is Amy," she said.

"Amy." He opened the front door and held it, then fell in beside her again as they traversed the sidewalk. "Justin," he said.

She nodded.

He put on his hat. "Did you know about this?"

"No."

"I didn't either. What do we do?"

"Well, let's see," she said. "Talk to them?"

He sighed. "That's easier said than done."

She glanced at him with something resembling disdain. "Maybe you should approach your daughter more calmly than you approached me."

"Look, I apologize." He stopped in front of his truck. "I don't suppose Alex is short for Alexandra?"

"Alexander," she said, pausing near him.

He frowned and muttered, "Damn." Then he glanced at her. "Sorry."

She raised one eyebrow.

"Well," he said, tipping his hat, "good luck."

"You, too." She turned and continued into the parking lot.

Justin watched Amy Van Buren walk away. Her ponytail swung across the middle of her back, and her hips moved in a subtle way, as if she didn't know how attractive she was. He should have realized that she was too sexy to be a high school teacher. Things couldn't have changed that much.

* * *

Amy started the Toyota as Justin Wheaton backed his maroon pickup out of the parking space.

"Figures," she said, noting the gun rack covering the back window and the large silver toolbox draped over the front part of the truck bed. Mr. Justin Wheaton was a number one redneck.

He also happened to be one of the best-looking men she'd seen in ages. When she'd turned around in the classroom and found him striding toward her, she'd nearly gasped out loud. Wavy, dark brown hair was long enough to be slightly wild, broad shoulders topped a well-muscled frame, and he frowned from a tanned, chiseled face. She found it impossible not to notice how nicely his blue jeans gripped his thighs.

But it was his sky-blue eyes that really took her breath away. They were eyes that demanded truth, even in casual conversation. They were eyes that seduced the most disinterested.

Still, he wore cowboy boots.

She sighed.

Unfortunately, most of the men and half the women in Destin, Texas, wore cowboy boots. Everywhere she went, she found people she couldn't begin to understand. Destin was a long way from Boston--in more than just distance.

Amy backed from the parking space and pulled onto the street. The maroon pickup roared ahead, then turned onto a side road. At the traffic light, Amy headed north.

Another truck passed her with county and western music blasting from the speakers and she cringed.

It wasn't that she had anything against Texans, or even cowboys. It was just that she disliked being viewed as someone who needed to be coddled and protected. She also hated the way everyone stared when she spoke. At any moment, she expected someone to mutter, "Yankee."

Trying to wipe the annoyance from her brow with the sweat, Amy turned into the driveway, shut off the car, and hurried up the old wooden stairs. The front door was unlocked--something she still wasn't used to.

"Alex? Where are you?"

"In here," her son answered.

She followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen where she found him wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He stood in front of two steaming pots on the stove. A large bowl of freshly tossed salad waited on the counter.

"This won't help," she said.

He shrugged, his smile dimmed only slightly with worry. When had he grown so much? His lanky frame had filled out enough to lose the air of clumsiness, and long blond hair framed a face that seemed to have matured overnight. No wonder girls noticed him.

Amy sighed as she sat at the kitchen table. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Alex kept his distance, leaning against the counter. "There's nothing to tell. A friend asked me to help her, so I did."

"Is this friend a girlfriend?"

The boy shook his head. "No, Mom, she's just a friend."

"And what kind of help did she ask for?"

He frowned at that, then turned and stirred the contents of one of the pots with a wooden spoon.

"Alex?"

"Mom," he said over his shoulder, "I promised I wouldn't tell."

"What?"

He didn't respond.

"Okay, Alex, over here. Now. Sit."

With a heavy sigh, he did as ordered and took a seat across the small table from her. Amy pushed back the hair that had escaped from her ponytail. "Why did you skip school?"

"My friend--"

"Raven?"

He nodded. "She asked me to go with her somewhere."

"Where?"

"Mom, I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone. You've always told me I should keep my promises, no matter how hard it is."

Amy couldn't deny her own words. She usually voiced that sentiment, however, when she was thinking about Alex's father. "Were you doing anything illegal?"

"No."

"Are you planning to do this again?"

"No."

She studied his eyes. They were his father's green eyes with one exception--Alex's eyes shone with truth instead of deceit.

"How long is your suspension?"

"Three days."

She shook her head. "You know that I'm upset about this, right?"

"Yes."

"I expect you to spend these three days productively. There are plenty of things to fix around here, and I want to see you studying, too."

He nodded.

It was impossible to be upset with him for long. She'd been blessed with the most wonderful son imaginable. Through all the years of misery with Ron, and the seven years of struggling to get by since his departure, Alex never made life difficult. Many nights Amy had come home from waiting tables--her second job--to find her own table set and a meal prepared. Alex would serve the food with flare and even have a tub of hot water drawn so she could soak her aching feet while she ate. And through it all, he'd managed to excel in school. A mother couldn't ask for more.

"What's for dinner?"

He grinned. "Chicken spaghetti."

Amy reached across the table and touched his arm. "Sounds good."

* * *

Justin dropped his hat onto the hall table and slammed the door behind him. "Raven!"

His daughter yelled from upstairs, "What?"

"Get down here."

He waited with his hands on his hips, trying not to grit his teeth.

"In a minute," she said.

"Now!"

After audible muttering and door slamming, the girl descended the stairs, holding his stare without flinching. "What?"

"What? Since when do you talk to me like that?"

She rolled her eyes, which infuriated him. He pointed to the sofa. "Sit."

"Daddy!" another voice yelled.

Justin leaned over the railing and peered up the stairs. "What is it?"

April stood at the top with her fists on her slender hips. "Rob locked his door and he won't let Eli in to get his Power Ranger."

"Rob," Justin called out.

"Yeah?"

"Give Eli his Power Ranger and keep your door open."

"I'm trying to do my homework," Rob answered from his doorway.

"You can do your homework with your door open until after dinner." Justin nodded to April. "Get dressed for dinner and help Eli get ready, okay?"

The girl frowned. "Why? Is Linda Sue coming over?"

"Ms. Boxlitner is coming over and she's bringing dinner with her, so be nice."

The twelve-year-old stomped down the hall.

Justin sighed and returned his attention to his oldest child. Mrs. Coleman had no idea just how difficult an age fifteen really was. Until this year, Raven had been helpful, and agreeable, and quiet. Now she was none of those things. It seemed like they were always yelling at each other. She was moody and unpredictable, and most of the time he had no idea what was wrong with her. In short, she was on the verge of becoming a young woman. That fact terrified him.

"I talked to your teacher today," he said, standing in front of her.

She waited for him to continue, the corners of her mouth curled with exaggerated indifference.

"Why did you skip school?"

She shrugged. "Because I felt like it."

"Because you felt like it?"

She nodded.

"What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Justin turned around, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't throw her over his knee, and he had no idea what to say. Silently, he cursed Kathy for leaving him with a daughter who was now a teenager, the sugar and spice transformed into hormones.

He turned back to her and frowned. "Christ, Raven, I don't know what's wrong with you these days."

"There's nothing wrong with me. Maybe it's you."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." She looked away as if more interested in the wall than in anything he could possibly say.

Biting back his anger, Justin marched upstairs and into his daughters' room. . April stopped brushing her hair to watch. He unplugged the small television, wrapped the cord around the handle, and lifted the set.

April stepped forward. "But, Dad--"

"You can watch the one in my room," he said.

Raven stood in the hall, arms folded.

On his second trip, Justin took the phone. Then he returned to the living room.

His daughter stopped in front of the sofa. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You're grounded. For one month there will be no television and no phone calls. You aren't leaving this house except to go to school. Do you understand?"

She glared at him.

"Dammit, Raven, I refuse to let you throw your future away. You're smart and you've always made good grades. If you apply yourself, you can get into any engineering school in this state. With a scholarship. Do you understand what that means?"

She continued to glare.

Justin took a deep breath and blew it out. "Go upstairs and get dressed. Linda will be here in half an hour."

Raven turned and slowly climbed the stairs. Justin frowned at the black fingernail polish he hadn't noticed before.

He wasn't going to make it through the next three years.

Shaking his head, he walked to his room, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled off his boots. If he hurried and changed clothes, he could get in a little more work before Linda arrived. The bid on the new high school was due in two days and he couldn't afford any mistakes.

* * *

Amy settled into a rocking chair and gripped the warm mug in both hands. Night air had cooled off enough to make the porch comfortable, and a soft breeze blowing through the screen made it feel almost exotic. She had to admit that there were some nice things about living in Texas. Being able to sit on the back porch most of the year was one.

Alex leaned through the doorway. "You want anything else?"

She smiled. "Company would be nice."

"Okay."

He carried his own cup of tea out and took the chair beside hers. They drank in the semi-darkness.

"What was Aunt Sally like?" he asked.

Amy smiled. "To tell the truth, I don't remember much about her. My mother used to talk about her sister who ran off to marry a cowboy. But Aunt Sally was a dozen years older than Mom. I only saw pictures of her."

"Why did she leave us this house?"

"I guess she didn't have anyone else to leave it to. She never had any children."

Amy tried her best to keep their financial problems hidden from her son, but it wasn't difficult to see what an improvement the sprawling old house in Destin was over their run-down Boston efficiency apartment. There were odds and ends around the place that needed attention, but nothing important. And all she had to do was make enough money to pay the utilities, groceries, taxes, and buy supplies. For a change, she would only need one job, assuming she eventually found something better than Spike's Donuts. In such a small town, jobs weren't plentiful. But she had faith that the right one would turn up, and then the afternoons would be free for her artwork.

"I wish I'd known Aunt Sally," Alex said.

Amy nodded. "Me, too."

As they sat quietly, crickets and frogs sang all around them, filling the night with the noise of tranquility.

"I have an idea," Amy said.

"What?"

"I think we should turn the old garage into a studio. We can build a wall down the middle, and then I can display all of my pieces in one half, and work in the other. That way we wouldn't have paint all over the kitchen table. What do you think?"

Alex watched her from over his cup. "Mom, we don't know how to build a wall."

"How hard can it be?"

The boy frowned, and Amy laughed at the unfamiliar look. She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm sure we can figure it out."

Alex squeezed back before releasing her hand. "If you say so."

They sat quietly, rocking and drinking tea.

"I don't suppose you have any carpenter friends at school," she said.

He shook his head. "No."

* * *

Justin pushed the porch swing back and let it move forward on its own. Dinner had been filled with cold stares, unanswered questions, and innuendos. He felt like he'd been through the ringer.

"Still alive?"

He glanced over at Linda. "More or less."

She smiled sympathetically.

Justin stretched his arm over the back of the swing. Linda moved closer so that her head nearly rested on his shoulder. She was an attractive woman, not petite, but not too large, with frosted hair that was always perfectly styled. She had blue eyes hidden behind large glasses, and she wore just a little more makeup than really suited her. Although she was only twenty-eight, Linda had been married twice. Her first husband ran off with his secretary, and the second one turned out to have an affinity for hot checks She'd divorced him shortly after he was incarcerated.

Linda was a good woman. They'd been seeing each other for three months. At first, he'd been somewhat interested in taking her to bed, but she told him she wanted to be sure about their relationship before they went too far. Now he rarely thought about it.

"Daddy."

"Yes, Eli."

The eight-year-old walked out in his pajamas, his hair still wet from a bath. "Night."

"Did you brush your teeth?"

The boy nodded.

Justin tousled the child's hair. "Good night."

Linda pulled the boy into a quick hug before Eli tiptoed inside.

April stepped out as soon as Eli went in. "Daddy, can I watch TV with Rob?"

"Is your homework done?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can watch TV until nine."

"Thank you." She stepped up and kissed his cheek. At twelve, she was still eager to please him. Justin considered just how nice that was after the earlier encounter with Raven.

"Dad, telephone." Rob walked out and handed his father the cordless phone.

"Hello." Justin straightened in the swing.

"We've got a problem." The voice on the other end belonged to Custer, his foreman.

"Yeah? What kind of problem?"

"We're pouring the slabs tomorrow and some of the guys called in sick."

"Shi--ah, shoot." Justin cringed at Linda apologetically.

She smiled, rose from the swing, and herded the kids inside.

"Are they stonewalling?" Justin asked.

"I don't think so. They sounded really bad."

Justin closed his eyes for a moment. "How many men are we left with?"

"Two."

"That's it?" He sighed. "Well, I'll see if I can pick up one or two downtown and meet you there in the morning."

"Okay, boss. Sorry to call you so late."

"Don't worry. See you tomorrow." Justin pushed the button to hang up the phone, then drank the last sip of his iced tea.

If he came straight home after the pour, he could still get in at least eight hours of work on the bid. It would make for a long day, but it should be worth the effort. Building the new high school would provide a year of good, steady income. He'd be able to catch up on bills, and even tuck some money into the college fund.

Justin stood slowly and carried the phone and empty glass inside. Linda sat on the edge of the sofa feigning interest in a show about teenage computer nerds. She smiled up at him.

"Sorry," he said.

She rose. "That's all right. I was just enjoying a few minutes with April and Robert."

From behind Linda's back, April rolled her eyes. Justin scowled a quick reprimand at the girl.

"Problems?" Linda asked him.

"Nothing major. Just means I'll have longer hours tomorrow."

"Dad," Rob said, "you're driving the team tomorrow."

"What team?"

"The baseball team. You're signed up to drive us to Austin tomorrow."

Justin sighed. "Rob, I'm sorry, but I can't make it."

"But, Dad--"

"I can't make it tomorrow. Next time, buddy."

"You're not signed up for next time," Rob said, turning back to the TV with a pout. "Who's going to take us tomorrow?"

"Look, Rob, I'll make arrangements for someone else to drive."

"I can do it," Linda said. "Really, I don't mind."

Rob glanced over with a marked lack of enthusiasm.

Justin emptied his hands, took Linda by the shoulders, and led her toward the door. "Thanks, Linda, but I'll get one of the other dads to do it. Sam Tucker already knows where the game is."

"I don't mind--"

"No, really, Sam even has a van." He held the front door open and waited for her to get her purse and casserole dish.

"Good night, kids," she said.

"'Night," Rob and April mumbled.

Justin led Linda out to her car and held the door open. She placed her stuff on the seat, then stood in front of him and slipped her arms around his waist.

Kissing Linda was pleasant.

The thing that worried him, though, as they stood together kissing in the darkness, was that he realized how little interest he really felt. The kiss ended fairly quickly.

"I should go," she said.

"Thanks again for dinner."

"Anytime. You know I love to cook for ya'll."

Justin smiled as she climbed in, then pushed her car door closed. He waved and watched her drive away, but didn't return immediately to the bosom of his family. Instead, he stopped in the front yard, shoved his hands into his pockets, and studied his house.

A light was on in the girls' room. Raven must be up there, probably sulking. The boys' room was dark where Eli was falling asleep.

For a long time, he'd hated Kathy for leaving him alone. It wasn't her fault that she got cancer. He knew that. Still, she was the one who wanted the kids. Damn her.

Then he always felt guilty for getting angry. He and Kathy might not have been a match made in heaven--more a match made in the cab of a '78 Ford F150--but he'd cared about her. Loved her, even. After four years, he still missed her.

What was he going to do about Raven? Kathy would probably have known what to do. It must be something mothers instinctively knew. All he seemed to be able to do was make things worse.

And what was he going to do about Linda?

Sighing, Justin kicked the grass and started slowly for the front door. Linda was the first woman he'd gone out with more than once since Kathy died. At dinner, as he watched his children making faces behind Linda's back, he'd caught himself thinking that maintaining a relationship with her was more trouble than it was worth.

Hell, with four kids and a struggling business, he had enough to worry about already.

Maybe if he kept his distance for a while, she'd lose interest. He shook his head in disgust. It was the coward's way out.

"Coffee's burnin'," Spike said, as he passed behind Amy.

"Got it." She handed change and a bag of pecan Danish to an elderly woman who waited at the cash register. "Thank you, and hurry back."

"Oh, yes, dear," the woman said, "I'm here every Thursday morning."

Amy turned her attention to brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Spike, frowning and silent as usual, carried a tray of sugar-raised doughnuts from the kitchen. Several long strands of black, greasy hair fell in front of his eyes, but he ignored them as he slid the doughnuts into place in the glass case, removed an empty tray, and returned to the back room.

Maybe it was getting up at three in the morning that made him so unpleasant. It couldn't be financial worries that darkened his features; business was good. The entire town seemed to wander in during the course of the day. In fact, she was sure Spike could afford to pay her a lot more than he did. But in the five days Amy had worked for the man, she'd never seen him smile.

"Hey."

Amy glanced over her shoulder as she shoved the coffee holder into place. "Hey, Alex. What are you doing here?"

The boy perched on one of the counter stools. "I'm on my way to the grocery store and thought I'd see if you needed anything."

She leaned on the counter. "Did you get the list from the refrigerator door?"

He nodded.

"I can't think of anything else," she said.

Spike grunted as he emerged from the kitchen again. "I ain't paying you to socialize."

Amy stuck her tongue out at the man's back.

"I'll get you a newspaper," Alex whispered, "so you can check the want ads."

She winked at him, and then watched him leave as she gathered condiment holders.

The bells on the door clanged as two young women entered, discussing soap operas in thick Texas drawls.

* * *

A steady beep echoed across the ground as a concrete truck backed toward the slab.

Justin handed the vibrating hose to one of the temporary workers. "Make sure you get it down to the bottom of the footing, but don't overdo it."

The older man nodded and lowered the metal end into the wet concrete.

Justin grabbed a shovel. He motioned to Custer and hurried to the end of the chute. The truck driver leaned out of the window. Justin whistled and concrete began to flow.

As soon as the first bit hit the ground, Justin whistled again and waved his arm. The flow stopped.

The driver climbed from the cab and swaggered around to the back of the truck, hitching up his jeans. The blue company shirt barely covered his gut.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He turned his head and spat, leaving a brown tobacco stain in the yellow dirt.

"What is this?" Justin pointed at the splatter inside the forms.

"It's concrete. What the hell do you think?"

"I think it has a ten inch slump."

The man spat again and peered around the end of the chute. "Well, maybe it's a little thin."

"A little thin? It's all water. Get this load out of here."

"Oh, bullshit," the man said. "All you gotta do is mix it into the footings. No one will ever know. Hell, Connell would take it."

Justin stepped closer to the driver and glared, anger tightening his jaw. "I'm not Bruce Connell. Get this crap out of here. Now."

The man turned and ambled to the cab. "If you was Connell, you'd be remodeling city hall instead of pouring outhouse slabs." The driver yanked the door open and heaved himself back inside. He gunned the engine before pulling away.

"Storage unit slabs," Justin yelled.

He watched the truck take the corner, then turned to find Custer grinning. "What?"

"Nothing, boss. It's just good having you on the job."

"Would you have accepted that load?"

"Of course not." Custer lifted his cap and wiped his sunburned forehead with his arm. "But it's more fun watching you send 'em back."

Justin propped his shovel against the side of his truck. "That was the last one for a while. I'll go across the street and get some coffee. Think you can keep everyone in line?"

"I think I can manage. But I know where you are if I need help."

They both smiled. Lionel Custer had been in construction longer than Justin had been alive. The man knew how to get a good day's work out of a crew, and the workers liked him. Justin's specialty was project planning. Boss or not, he was just one of the boys when he was on the job site, deferring to Custer's authority. They made a good team.

Traffic on the road was heavy for Destin; Justin saw one car coming from each direction. He waited for them to pass, then strolled across the street, pulling off his cap and running his fingers through his hair. It was hot for late September. He smacked his cap on his leg to break loose the clumps of concrete, then pulled open the glass door. A blast of cool air and the scent of fresh coffee made him smile.

* * *

"Get that," Spike said.

Amy had already turned toward the clanging of doorbells. She dropped the tray into the wash water as she passed the sink and pushed open the swinging door.

"May I...help you?"

Justin Wheaton stood at the counter. He couldn't have looked more surprised if the governor had walked out of the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head a little and smiled. "Nothing. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh? Then I guess you didn't come in just to talk to me."

"Uh, no."

She waited for a moment. "What did you come in for?"

"Can I have six coffees and a dozen doughnuts?"

"What kind of doughnuts?"

"I don't know, surprise me."

She shaped a box and began filling it with assorted pastries.

"How did it go with your son?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. "And with your daughter?"

"Oh, fine."

She closed the top of the box and placed it on the counter, then started filling cups.

"You know where they went, don't you?" he asked.

Amy glanced up to find him watching her, his blue eyes sparkling. "Of course, don't you?"

"Yeah."

She could tell by his expression that Raven had been as tight-lipped as Alex. After replacing the coffee pot, she turned to catch Justin's gaze jumping up to her face from much lower on her body. His cheeks even reddened a little when she raised one eyebrow at him.

"You know they're just friends," she said.

He nodded like it was old news.

"So, uh, what does your husband do?" he asked.

"Mostly flirts with strangers. Maybe he should have been a Texan."

Justin's eyes widened.

"And he's my ex," she added.

His grin reappeared.

Amy placed plastic lids on the Styrofoam cups and traced the edges with her thumbs. "Why were you so surprised to see me?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "I guess I took you for one of those snotty rich women."

"Why? Because I put more than three words together at a time to form sentences?"

"Something like that."

"That's three," she said.

He placed his cap on his head and withdrew his wallet from his back pocket. "Something like that, ma'am," he said, with an accent thicker than molasses.

Amy wedged the coffee cups into the cardboard holder as she batted her eyelashes. "Oh, I can't tell you what effect that Texas drawl has on me. It just, well, turns my stomach."

Justin laughed and tossed a ten on the counter. "Maybe you don't know what you're missin', little lady."

Amy handed him the change, then pushed the coffee and doughnuts forward. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

He laughed again.

She liked the sound of his laugh--deep and sexy. She stepped around the counter, opened the front door, and held it for him so he wouldn't spill the coffee.

He nodded at her. "Thank you kindly, ma'am."

"Ya'll come back now," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said from the sidewalk, "I sure will."

After the door closed, Amy watched Justin cross the street. He shook his head a little as he walked.

God, the man was gorgeous. She returned to the counter, amazed that she'd found herself flirting with a redneck. Her face warmed as she thought about the way he'd flirted back.

* * *

"Here it is," Justin said, placing the box and coffee holder on the tail of the pickup. Custer, Jimmy, Slick, and the two fill-ins hurried to join him. The fill-ins were quiet as they pulled doughnuts from the box and lifted coffee cups. Both were older men with faces aged by alcohol and hard living. He'd picked them from the bunch that waited in front of Saint John's Mission. He probably could have gotten more work out of two younger guys, but he couldn't stand the thought of these two going hungry. At lunch he'd buy sandwiches. That way he'd know they had something solid in their stomachs, no matter what they decided to do with the day's wages.

Justin withdrew a chocolate-covered doughnut and carried it and a coffee cup to the shade. Sitting with one leg propped up to hold his arm, he took a bite and washed it down as he stared across the street.

Amy Van Buren stood out in Destin like the sun in the midnight sky. When she'd walked out of the kitchen, he'd been surprised all right, and she knew it. He just hoped she didn't realize how attractive he'd found her in that short brown dress that buttoned up the front. He'd wanted to reach over and ease the buttons out of their buttonholes as she filled coffee cups.

Justin frowned at his doughnut. Amy Van Buren was the first woman he'd caught himself fantasizing about since Kathy died. There had been plenty of fantasies about other women when she was alive, but he thought he'd buried them with her casket.

"Hey, boss, what's up?" Custer eased down beside Justin. "Damn," he muttered, "these old joints are about played out."

Justin huffed. "You'll be out here working when I'm in the old folks home. And nothing's up. I'm just thinking about the bid."

"Yeah? How does it look?"

"Pretty good, so far. I've still got a few hours to put in on it."

"I hope we get it." Custer sipped from the cup. "You could use a steady job. Maybe it'd keep you out of trouble."

Justin watched a young couple walk into Spike's. "I doubt it," he said.

* * *

Amy handed her son a cold bottle of root beer and stood beside him, sipping from her own. They surveyed the garage where, for the last two hours, they'd stacked and swept and scrubbed. It was a large wooden building, probably constructed in the thirties as a shop-garage combination. The high ceiling provided lots of room to display her wall hangings. Except for the pile of trash by the door, the structure was finally empty and mostly clean.

"Wow," Alex said.

Amy nodded. "Yeah."

"What next?"

"Well," she said, "I still think a wall in the middle would work."

Alex glanced at her, his brow furrowed.

"Don't worry." Amy squeezed her son's shoulder. "We'll find a book or something." She turned, led the way out into the yard, and sat in one of the iron chairs in the grass facing the setting sun. Alex took the chair beside her.

"Tell me about Raven," she said.

"Mom."

"I'm not asking where you went. I just want to know about your friends."

He studied her for a moment before responding. "She's nice."

"Is she in your class?"

"Yes. She's my lab partner in biology."

"Is she popular?"

Alex sighed. "Not really. She's having a rough time. Her father's an asshole."

"Alex."

"Well, he is."

Amy watched the last orange rays of the sun spotlight a line of scrub oaks along the fence. "What makes him...a not-so-nice person?"

"He decided she's going to be an engineer."

"And she doesn't want to be an engineer?" Amy glanced over at her son.

Alex shook his head. "He never asks her what she wants."

"What does she want to be?"

"A musician. She plays the flute."

"Is she any good?"

The boy shrugged. "She sounds great to me."

"You've heard her play?"

"Yes."

"But you're just friends?"

Alex frowned at her. "I told you that."

"I know, I'm just checking. Things change."

"Not overnight, Mom."

Amy smiled sadly at the fading light and tried to remember what it was like to be innocent. Things changed a lot faster than her son realized. It took less than five seconds to open the door to a room and have one's entire life altered.

* * *

Justin cleared the adding machine and started again. There was no way he was going to miss anything. Following the page with the index finger of his left hand, he punched in numbers with his right.

"Dad?" April leaned into the study.

"Yeah?"

"Rob won't help with the dishes."

Justin stopped at the end of the list of site work. "Rob," he yelled.

"What?" his son answered from the living room.

"Help your sister with the dishes."

"It's not my turn," the boy said.

"I don't care. Help anyway."

When there was no audible answer, April hurried away. In a few moments, Justin heard plates clanging as they were tucked into the dishwasher without much care.

He returned to the adding machine. The old gears whirled and tape spit out of the top as he made it through the framing costs.

Someone was watching.

He glanced over to find Eli standing only inches away. Holding his place on the list with one finger, Justin leaned back in his chair.

"Hey, bud."

The boy frowned. "Can I play in here?"

"No, son, not tonight."

"But I want to."

Justin tilted his head in reprimand and the boy sighed.

"It's your bedtime, isn't it?"

Eli shrugged.

"I think it is." Justin nodded toward the door. "Scoot."

The boy dragged his feet as he left the room. "Night," he muttered from the doorway.

"Good night."

Ten minutes later, Raven's entrance wasn't nearly as clandestine. The girl stopped in front of her father's desk and folded her arms.

Justin looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm supposed to call Sharon to get the homework assignments, but I guess I can't do that since I'm grounded."

His daughter's anger hadn't waned. Justin sighed. "You can call Sharon. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes to get the assignments, right?"

Raven didn't answer. She spun around and marched from the room.

"Call from the kitchen," Justin said.

She mumbled a reply that he knew he didn't want to hear.

He flipped to the next page and started again on the finish carpentry items, then moved on to insulation and roofing. He was about to start on the windows when the phone rang. It rang a second and third time before he reached over and plucked the receiver from the cradle. "Hello."

"Justin, I hope I'm not bothering you."

He cringed at the soft voice on the other end. "No, Linda, I'm just doing a little work."

"This late? It's after nine."

"Yes, I know." He wanted to tell her the truth--that he didn't really want to talk to her--but he couldn't bring himself to form the words.

"How about dinner tomorrow night? Ya'll can come over here and I'll fix chicken 'n dumplings."

"That sounds great, but tomorrow's going to be busy. I'm afraid I won't be good company." Why couldn't he just tell her that he didn't want to see her anymore?

"Oh," she said. "Well maybe we can grill something this weekend."

Because she would be hurt, that's why.

"Maybe."

She hesitated a moment. Justin closed his eyes.

"I'll give you a call Saturday or so," she said.

"Okay."

After hanging up the phone, Justin leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. He should tell Linda the truth. It was the honorable thing to do.

Later. At the moment, he needed to focus on his bid.

The house quieted as he worked. Rob and April wished him goodnight from the door. Raven, of course, stomped up the stairs without a word. All that was left was the creaking of old lumber in the floor and walls and the chirping of crickets from outside the study windows.

Justin punched the keys swiftly, adding up columns and writing sums. As he hit the final tally, he wrote the number carefully, then dropped his pencil.

That was it. Rubbing his face with both hands, he rose and stretched. What he needed was a drink. He pulled the bottle of brandy out from behind the books, filled a glass, and carried the drink to the porch. The clock in the study struck one as he walked outside.

As tired as he was, he knew he wouldn't sleep anytime soon. His bid on the high school was solid. No one--not even Connell--could underbid him without losing money. He'd gone through the whole thing three times. There were no holes. He'd turn it in on the way to the job site. It was due at city hall at four in the afternoon, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Brandy warmed his throat and stomach.

He'd told Custer he'd help out as soon as he dropped off the bid. Then, after the bid opening, he could take the rest of the day and Saturday off to relax. The entire crew was expected to make it Saturday; they wouldn't need him.

Justin tilted the glass up to get the last of the golden liquid, then stretched his arms out across the back of the swing and pushed it around in a slow circle. Chains creaked against eyehooks.

As hot as the day had been, the night was amazingly cool and comfortable. He closed his eyes to a soft breeze. A lone truck whined as it slowed on the highway in the distance.

What he couldn't figure out was why he was thinking about Amy Van Buren again--picturing her. She handed him a steaming cup of coffee, then licked her lips slowly and smiled as she ran her fingertips along the collar of her brown dress. With slender fingers, she undid the top button.

* * *

Amy's favorite place in the old house was the bathtub in the master bathroom. When she climbed into the ancient enamel-covered, cast iron, claw-footed tub, warm water came up to her neck, and she had plenty of room to stretch out.

She closed her eyes and listened to the last few drips from the faucet hit the water. The echo seemed to fill the room, bouncing off tile walls. Nothing invaded her solitude--no street noises, no sirens, no yelling neighbors. There was only peace and quiet.

All evening, she'd caught glimpses of the past flashing through her thoughts. It must have been the conversation with Alex. The past wasn't something she usually dwelled on. Mainly because it tended to depress her. But, for some reason, she felt the need to remember, so she released her tight-fisted control on the memories.

The first thing that hit her was Ron as he'd looked on their wedding day. Although his features weren't refined enough to be considered handsome, his clothes and the way he carried himself told the world of his confidence. As a third generation lawyer, Ron Simmons had written the book on poise. And he'd married Amy after grooming her through the first year of college. Her middle-class upbringing hadn't prepared her for Ron's world.

The second picture she saw was her son on the day of his birth. A large black nurse handed her the newborn, whose face was hidden by a blue baby blanket. The instant Amy pushed the blanket back, she'd fallen in love. There was no postpartum depression for her--no regret or jealousy. Just love, as pure and bright as the sun. The memory made her smile.

Then she saw Alex's second birthday party. The child had no idea that his father's friends--the men and women standing around the yard in jeans and funny hats--ran the city of Boston. The only thing Alex knew was that chocolate cake was fun to squish through his fingers, and people laughed when he ripped paper from his presents. The world was perfect then. Amy couldn't imagine anything that would ruin it.

The first time she caught Ron, Alex had been only five. There was that moment when Amy pushed open the bedroom door and met her husband's shocked stare. The snap of her world breaking in half had nearly deafened her. Ron's green eyes glistened with passion, and sweat dripped from the ends of his hair. His arms shook from exertion when he froze, perched above the naked body of his female assistant with the young woman's legs locked around his waist.

It was three years later that she walked out carrying a suitcase and leading her son. Ron's handprint glistened across the side of Alex's face, the result of the boy accidentally knocking over his father's briefcase so that pictures of the latest assistant spilled onto the floor.

"I won't allow you to see Alex," she'd said. "Ever."

"I don't give a damn if I never see either one of you again," Ron had answered, sneering. "He's too much like you to be worth anything to me." He'd ambled forward, stopping two steps in front of her. "And you want to know why I see other women? It's because you're useless in bed. Screwing my grandmother would be more exciting. So take your brat and get out, and don't expect a penny from me. Ever."

And that was the way it had been. She'd seen his picture in the paper when he won major cases and when he got married again two years later. Every time she caught a glimpse of his cosmopolitan portrait, she remembered him telling her that she was a rotten lover. It had been his final, vicious blow, and it had sliced clean through her.

Amy sighed when the pictures faded, relieved as if a festering wound had just been lanced.

For seven years, she'd dedicated her life to her son and her artwork. But she was only thirty-four, a far cry from an old hag. Her libido, still quite active, had kicked into overdrive earlier in the day under Justin Wheaton's gaze. The man was much more handsome than Ron, and probably just as good at charming women. He didn't wear a ring. Divorced, more than likely. What would it be like to be seduced by such a man? He probably made a game of enticing women to his bed, just as her ex had. Somehow, though, she imagined Justin more earthy than Ron--more masculine. Did he do the kinds of things she'd imagined a lover should? Could he make her forget her inhibitions? Would she ever be able to just give in to passion without worrying about the consequences?

The questions made her body tingle with excitement. If nothing else, Justin Wheaton was a wonderful fantasy.

Trying to ignore the morning sun's promise of a scorcher, Justin parked in front of the century-old limestone building. Blocks speckled with fossils had been used to construct walls to house city hall, the jail, and the post office. The post office and jail had long since moved out, giving way to doctors, lawyers, and a bail bondsman.

For the first time in fifty years, the building was getting a facelift. Justin glanced up at the stark line between stone that had already been blasted to its original pale yellow and the stuff that was still gray. He had to admit, it would look nice when the job was complete. He pulled open the oversized door and stepped into relative darkness.

Fanny Alder, assistant to the city manager, sat in front of a sheet of plastic that extended from the twenty-foot ceiling to the floor and cut the size of the entrance down to almost nothing. She studied him through glasses that rested near the end of her nose when he stopped in front of her desk.

"Here's my bid," Justin said, holding the manila envelope out to her.

She took it with a nod, pushed the corner into the time-stamp machine, and then initialed under the stamp. She filled out a receipt and handed it to Justin. "Here you are, hon."

"Thanks." He folded the receipt and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "What time is the opening?"

"I'm afraid the opening has been postponed until Monday morning at eight."

"Postponed?"

Fanny nodded. "Mr. Beatty's out sick today."

Justin frowned at his package.

"Don't you worry a bit, though," she said. "I'm putting this right in the safe. It'll be good as new on Monday morning." As if to prove her sincerity, Fanny rose and crossed immediately to the old green vault, pulled the door open, and placed the envelope gingerly inside. She closed the door again, but didn't lock it.

Justin didn't feel good about leaving his bid in the office over the weekend. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice if he wanted the bid to stand. He sighed and nodded to Fanny, then turned. Down the hall, a s Skill saw buzzed, and he caught a glimpse of Bruce Connell's ratty overalls as the man disappeared through a doorway.

Outside, Justin took a deep breath and tried to shake off the concern. The envelope was sealed. No one would see what was inside. Besides, he was certain that no one could touch his bid, even if they knew what it was.

One of Eli's friends walked by holding his mother's hand. "Hey, Mr. Wheaton," the boy said.

"Hey, Billy."

Across the square, The major waved. Justin waved back. The old man followed the ugliest dog that had ever lived. The two were inseparable. They walked the streets of Destin every day, no matter what the weather. It was probably the exercise that kept them both alive.

Justin climbed into his truck, started the engine, and pulled out. The job site was only a few blocks away.

So was Spike's.

He grinned.

* * *

A maroon pickup appeared across the street shortly after eight. Amy couldn't really see workers, but she heard power tools running all morning. Every time she glanced across the street, she silently chastised herself for doing so.

She'd almost quit thinking about Justin when the bells clanged about ten-thirty and she looked up to find him walking in. His clothes, hands, and arms were covered with dirt, but his blue-eyed Texas grin stole her breath.

"Good mornin'," he said. He stopped in front of the glass counter and pushed his ball cap back on his head. "I sure am happy to see you."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"'Cause you're prettier than a blue ribbon on a prize heifer at the county fair," he drawled.

When Amy laughed, Justin's grin grew downright mischievous.

"I told you what that kind of talk does to me," she said, holding her stomach.

"Oh, yeah." He leaned forward on his elbows. "Then maybe I better just order coffee and doughnuts."

"Six coffees and a dozen doughnuts?"

He nodded.

Amy turned her back on him in order to fill the Styrofoam cups. She felt his stare like hot coals running down her back.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

She carried two of the cups to the counter and glanced up. "In Destin?"

He nodded.

"About ten days."

"Ah," he said, "so that's why I haven't seen you before."

She ferried the rest of the cups in silence as Spike walked behind the counter and down the hall toward the restroom. As she put the tops on the drinks, she smiled. "I think the line is, 'Haven't I seen you somewhere before?'"

He straightened as he helped place cups in the cardboard holder. "Oh, no," he said, "I'd know if I'd seen you."

Amy tucked the box flaps into the openings and began filling the box from the trays. "I think you're just a no-good charmer, Mr. Wheaton."

"Now, darlin'," he said, "I don't think you should call me that until after our date."

"Our date?"

"Sure. Go out with me Saturday night and decide for yourself if I'm good or not."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Pa-lease. I don't go out with cowboys."

"Why not? You should give it a try." He straightened, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the counter. "Just write your phone number on here and I'll call you Saturday."

She pushed the paper back at him, placed the box of doughnuts on the counter, and punched the numbers into the cash register. "Seven twenty-five," she said.

He put the money in her hand. "Now, Ms. Van Buren, I sure wish you'd reconsider. I promise to be a gentleman. Unless you decide that's too boring." His eyes sparkled playfully.

Spike marched from the hallway to the kitchen, throwing a nasty glare in Amy's direction.

Amy's hands shook as she tore the receipt from the cash register, wrote her phone number on the back, and handed it to Justin.

He smiled and tipped his cap. "Thank you, ma'am."

She watched him leave, stacking the coffee on top of the doughnut box while he opened the door. His strides were long and relaxed as he crossed the wide road.

She couldn't believe she'd just given him her number.

* * *

"Boss, you look like a cat pickin' his teeth with canary feathers." Custer took a seat on the tailgate.

Justin grinned. "Do I?"

"Yep."

"I can't imagine why."

The old man sipped his coffee and watched Justin through narrowed eyes. "You know," Custer said, "you don't always have to be the one to get the doughnuts."

He was a quick old bird. Justin grinned. "Oh, I don't mind."

"I bet," the man mumbled.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Custer chuckled. "I was in there Wednesday. She sure is a looker. You ask her out yet?"

Justin shrugged.

"I thought so," the older man said, his grin filled with something akin to fatherly pride.

Justin handed him a doughnut. "Mind your own business."

"Yes, sir," Custer said.

The other men gathered around for seconds on doughnuts.

"It looks to me like the sidewalks are ready to pour," Justin said. "Slick, did you check those back forms?"

The man nodded, sending red curls into a frenzied dance across his forehead.

"Okay. The first truck should be here right after lunch." Justin turned to Custer. "You need me for this?"

"Naw, we've got it covered." Custer smiled. "You better get home and start soakin'. It'll take a while to get all that grime off."

Justin frowned, but the old man ignored him.

* * *

Pickups filled the parking lot at Big Al's Hardware. The sweet smell of freshly cut lumber wafted from the yard, sent aloft by blaring electric saws.

Amy pulled open the front door and cringed at the loud country and western music as she stepped inside.

Three men stood at the front counter dressed in red shirts with "Al's" embroidered across the pocket on the left side, and their own names embroidered across the right. One customer, wearing jeans, boots, and the standard cowboy hat, leaned on the counter, holding up some kind of metal valve. They all stared at Amy.

No one spoke to her until she stood with both hands on the counter.

"Can I help you?" the largest of the men grudgingly asked. According to his shirt, his name was Buck.

"Yes," Amy said. "I want to build a wall."

"Well," Buck said, "my brother-in-law's a pretty good carpenter. I'll give you his number." He pulled a piece of yellow paper from a small pad and began writing on it.

"No," Amy said, "you don't understand. I want to build a wall."

The man's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm looking for an instruction book," she continued. "Do you have something like that here?"

"Well, I...guess we do." Buck scratched his bushy beard as he studied her, then, shaking his head, he walked around the counter and down an aisle.

Amy followed.

He stopped in front of a skimpy bookshelf, frowned for several long seconds at the selection, and handed her a book called Framing and Finishing. "This is about all we got."

Amy thumbed through the thin book, thrilled to find lots of pictures. "This will be fine."

Buck didn't say much as he rang up the purchase and waited for her to count money out from her pocketful of change.

Clutching the book, Amy hurried from the store, leaving Buck and his coworkers to wonder why on earth a helpless female would want to build a wall.

The four-block walk home, although a little warm, was still pleasant. Destin was the definition of a small town: kids rode bikes down the middle of streets, older couples sat on their porches and waved at everyone, and dogs ran free without fighting. She'd only seen one police car--recognizable by the large dent in the rear fender--although there were at least two different drivers. Crime was something that happened elsewhere.

Amy pushed open the backdoor. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

He sat at the dining room table in front of a pile of open books and a notebook.

"What's this?" She turned one of the encyclopedia volumes so that she could see the map of Africa.

"Homework."

Amy smiled. "Good. When you're finished, I have something else for you." She handed him the book she'd bought at Big Al's.

He glanced up at her as he thumbed through it.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we can do it."

"I know we can." She perched on the edge of one of the chairs. "We can put together a plan tomorrow."

He nodded.

"How does tuna casserole sound?" she asked.

"Good."

Amy nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm thinking about going out Saturday night. What do you think?"

"On a date?"

"Sort of."

Alex smiled at her. "I think that's great, Mom. Who are you going out with?"

She had no desire to tell her son that her date was with Raven's father. Alex had a strong opinion of the man already. If his opinion was right, she would save them all the embarrassment by simply never seeing Justin again. If Alex's opinion was wrong...well, she'd deal with that later.

"A guy I know from work," she said.

"Oh."

"You don't mind?"

"No."

"Good." She rose and kissed the top of her son's head before leaving the room.

In the kitchen, Amy pulled the casserole dish from the cupboard, coated it with margarine, and started adding ingredients. She didn't think much about what she was doing as she threw in tuna, soup, green beans, and fried noodles. Her mind was elsewhere.

After leaving Ron, she'd been out on less than a dozen dates. All of them had been disasters of one form or another. Ralph the plumber had turned into a horny pig before they even got to dinner. The first blind date she'd agreed to was a mortician with an annoying habit of closing his eyes when he spoke. The second was a lawyer who reminded her of Ron. Then there was Gerry, the one who couldn't talk about anything but his ex-wife all night. And there were others she'd completely forgotten.

The only man she'd dated more than once was Ryan. He was a musician, a few years younger than Amy. When they met, she'd thought he was incredibly sensitive and kind. After seeing him for two months, she'd realized that he couldn't decide what to eat for dinner, much less what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. When she'd voiced her concern, he'd shrugged, left, and started dating the twenty-year-old brunette in the next apartment.

Why was she even considering going on a date? The easiest way to avoid trouble was to tell Justin to forget it when he called.

Amy's throat tightened at the thought of spending an evening with such an attractive man. A little voice inside of her said, "What the hell? Life's short."

She smiled to herself. Maybe just one date.

* * *

Saturday morning was the typical madhouse. Justin made pancakes, April scrambled eggs, and Rob unloaded the dishwasher to set the table.

Raven refused to participate, and complained when the syrup ran low. "How am I supposed to eat this without syrup?"

Justin flipped pancakes. "Go next door and ask Mrs. Momper if she has some."

"I can't," Raven said. "I'm grounded, remember?"

He bit back the desire to curse, took a deep breath, and then glanced back at Eli. "Bud, go next door and ask Mrs. Momper for syrup."

The boy nodded and hurried from the table.

After breakfast, the group scattered. Rob had baseball practice at one and wanted to warm up with his friends across the street. April went next door to play with Karen. Eli invited Billy up to his room where they took out all the action figures that were stashed in the closet.

Justin found Raven in her room with the headphones on, lying on her bed, her eyes closed.

"Raven."

She didn't respond.

He sat beside her and shook her leg.

She glared, then reluctantly moved the headphones down to her neck. "What?"

He frowned. "Come on, Raven, shape up."

"Shape up? Oh, gee, thanks for the words of wisdom, Dad."

He sighed, clasped his hands, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Raven, I don't know what's going on, but this has to stop. You're making everyone miserable." He turned his head to look at her. "You want to talk?"

She didn't answer.

"Fine." He stood. "Let me know when you do. In the meantime, I want you to baby sit tonight."

"Why not?" she said. "I can't go anywhere."

He decided to leave before he lost his temper.

Downstairs, Justin turned his attention to getting a load of clothes in the washer. He wanted to wear his best jeans. Fortunately, his favorite shirt was clean. He pulled it out of the closet and studied it. Maybe just a quick touch up with the iron. But before ironing, he decided to polish his dress boots.

As he buffed the polish to a shine, he realized--with surprise--that he was nervous. And not just a little nervous. When he picked up Amy...

Oh, Christ, he hadn't called her yet. She could still say no. In a bit of a panic, he searched the house for the shirt he'd worn the day before and found it in the corner of his room. He pulled out the receipt, grabbed the phone, and dialed the number. It rang a half-dozen times before she answered.

"Hello?" She sounded breathless.

"Amy?"

"Yes."

"This is Justin Wheaton." He flinched. Why had he given his last name? It sounded dorky.

"Hi."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pictured her face. "You aren't going to back out on our date now, are you?"

Her silence made him cringe.

"Is that the best you can do?" she asked.

He smiled. "Only on the phone, ma'am. I'm much better in person."

She huffed. "What time are you picking me up?"

"Six-thirty."

"Does that mean you're taking me out to dinner?"

"Well, I was gonna roast a pig in the backyard, but it's kind of hot out, and I don't want to waste my energy. You know, just in case you want to dance, or neck, or something. So I thought maybe we'd go to one of them fancy sit-down places."

"Okay, okay."

He heard the amusement in her voice and imagined her smiling. "So," he said, "are you going to tell me where you live, or do I have to guess?"

"Thirty-five Elm."

"Really?" He hadn't imagined a waitress at Spike's living in the nicest part of town.

"Yes. Why, is something wrong?"

"Not at all. I'll see you at six-thirty."

"All right."

When he hung up the phone, Justin sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the receiver. He would probably regret this--as nervous as he was, he'd no doubt make an ass of himself. Still, he couldn't imagine being fool enough to walk away from Amy. She was certainly beautiful, but there was more. Her eyes shone with intelligence and challenge. He couldn't resist her.

And he had to admit, the daydreams he was having about her were amazing. If they came close to being fulfilled, he was in a world of trouble.

* * *

Amy made her way slowly back to the garage, giving herself time to get the silly grin under control. Somehow, as they'd struggled through the wall design, she'd reached the conclusion that Justin Wheaton was all talk--that he had no intention of calling her. She'd even convinced herself that it was just as well when she heard the phone ring and her heart leapt into her throat.

Alex sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a pencil, the book and a piece of paper in his lap. "Who was it?"

She shrugged. "The guy I'm going out with tonight."

"Oh." He returned to writing.

Amy started to ask again how he felt about her leaving him for the evening but decided not to make too big a fuss.

"It says here that two-by-four studs usually come in eight-foot lengths," Alex said, frowning at the book.

"So?"

"So the garage is thirteen feet high in the middle."

She studied the peak of the ceiling. "Oh, I see what you mean. There must be a way to join two pieces together."

Alex shrugged. "Probably, but I haven't found it yet." He closed the book and looked up at her. "Mom, how are we going to get this stuff home?"

"In the car?"

"Eight-foot long boards? And four-by-eight sheets of plywood?"

She hadn't really considered the technical details. Of course, they didn't matter much. It would be awhile before she could afford lumber. "Hmm. I'll have to think about that."

"Mom," Alex said, "I want to get a job."

"Alex, you need to concentrate on your schoolwork."

"But I really want to. If I promise to do all my homework and keep my grades up, will you let me?"

Amy sat down in front of her son. "What kind of job do you want?"

He shrugged. "This guy in my class works for a contractor sometimes. He says he could introduce me."

"A contractor?"

Alex nodded.

Amy studied his face. The poor boy probably wanted money to spend on dates and clothes and things teenagers need, and was afraid to ask for it.

"If you need more money--"

"No, Mom, that's not it. I want to work. I want to earn my own money."

She smiled, realizing how fast he was growing. "All right," she said. "If you don't work too many hours, and you don't fall behind in school."

Alex returned her smile. "Thanks."

* * *

"April," Justin called out.

"Yes?" The girl ran into the living room in stocking feet and slid to a halt in front of him.

"Go tell your sister that it's time for her to come downstairs."

"Yes, sir." April ran up the stairs.

Rob lay on the sofa, watching television.

"You doing okay?" Justin asked.

The boy nodded. "Yes, sir, I'm just tired."

"You played a good game today." Justin's chest had swelled with pride when his son hit the winning run.

"Thanks."

"Do me a favor and help your sister tonight, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"And don't let your brother watch anything too scary."

Rob nodded.

Justin pulled his pants legs down over his boots, stood, and glanced around. "Where's Eli?"

"He was in the kitchen drinking milk a little while ago," Rob said.

Justin stepped into the kitchen, but found it empty. The milk glass stood half-empty on the table.

"Eli?"

Hearing a noise somewhere behind him, Justin turned.

"Eli, where are you?"

The noise grew a little louder. It sounded like sniffling.

Justin opened cabinets until he found the one concealing his eight-year-old. The boy sat with his legs tucked under him and looked up through tear-filled eyes.

"Son, what's wrong?" Justin knelt in front of the cabinet.

The child shrugged and wiped his face with the heels of his hands.

"Come here." Justin pulled the boy from his hiding place and rose, holding him like he used to when Eli was much smaller. He crossed the room and sat in one of the kitchen chairs, turning Eli so that the child sat on his lap. Justin brushed the boy's hair back from his face. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You're...leaving."

"What?"

"I heard you...tell Rob...you're leaving," he managed to get out between stuttered gasps. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks.

"I'm just going out for a little while. I'll be back."

"What if...you don't...come back?"

"Eli, I'll be home right after you go to bed. What makes you think I won't come back?"

The boy stared at him as more tears spilled out. "Mama didn't."

Justin gulped at the lump in his throat. He pulled his son to his chest and held him as the boy sobbed. His own eyes burned with threatening tears.

After a few minutes, Eli quieted.

"You remember the night your mom left?"

Eli nodded against his chest.

"You were only four. I didn't know you remembered."

"I do," the child whispered.

Justin stroked the boy's hair as he spoke. "Eli, I know it's hard to understand, but your mama was sick. She didn't want to leave, but she had to. You know?"

He nodded again.

"Bud, I'm not sick. You hear? I'm not leaving you. I'm just going out to see a friend, like you do when you go to Billy's. That's all. When I get in tonight, I'll come up to your room and tuck you in, okay?"

After hesitating for a moment, Eli nodded.

"Good. Now you go watch TV with your brother for a little while."

"Okay."

Justin pushed the child's dark hair back again and smiled at him. "I love you, Eli."

"I love you."

When Justin eased him to the floor, Eli ran from the room, his bare feet slapping the tile.

Justin sighed deeply as he rose. Eli's fears had caught him off-guard. He was going out with a beautiful woman tonight. The last thing he wanted to think about was Kathy's death.

"Dammit," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair and walking quickly into the living room. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late.

Raven had made it downstairs and was draped across the love seat. Eli sat beside Rob on the sofa. April waited at the door, holding his hat.

"Going out with Linda Sue?" April asked.

Justin took his hat from her. "No, I'm taking a friend out to dinner."

"Oh?" The girl put her fists on her hips. "A girl friend?"

He leaned over and pinched her cheek. "No, a woman friend."

April rolled her eyes, then gave herself away with a grin.

Justin straightened. "Raven, I have my cell phone, in case you need anything."

"Fine."

"Good night, everyone."

He got various levels of enthusiasm in the responses. April kissed his cheek and whispered, "You look nice."

"Thanks," he whispered back.

Outside, Justin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh evening air. The sun was halfway into the horizon, and the sky glowed bright orange. He put his hat on, pulled it down on his forehead, and hurried out to the truck.

Tilting the bench seat forward, he tossed the tool belt behind it, added empty coffee cups and fast-food bags, then pushed the seat back and climbed in.

"Here goes," he muttered, as he started the engine.

* * *

Amy smoothed the front of her dress for the twentieth time. She'd had trouble deciding what to wear, since she had no idea where they were going, and she wasn't about to ask. So, opting for something that wasn't too formal or too casual, she'd chosen the calf-length, fitted print dress that buttoned up the front. Tiny brown and blue flowers adorned honey-colored cotton. The tan leather clutch that waited on the entrance table matched her tee-strap mid-heel sandals. Checking in the mirror one more time, she assured herself that she didn't look like a redneck's date.

"Mom, a guy just pulled up in a pickup."

Amy closed her eyes for a second before hurrying from the bathroom.

"Wow," Alex said, "you look great."

She grabbed her purse, then kissed her son. "Thank you," she said. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

He nodded.

Amy pulled open the door and hurried out. "I'll be back before midnight," she said.

She wanted to head Justin off before he got to the door and she had to introduce him to Alex. It worked. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, he rounded the front of his truck.

He wore a black felt cowboy hat, a dark blue shirt that set off his sparkling eyes, new blue jeans, and shiny black boots. The black belt that encircled his trim waist held a buckle rimmed with turquoise. The man was all Texan, and incredibly gorgeous. He looked like he'd just stepped off a movie set.

Justin stopped at the passenger's door, opened it, and pushed his hat back as he grinned.

Amy tried not to be embarrassed by the fact that he studied her from head to toe. "Is this okay?" she asked, holding her arms out.

He took a deep breath