He didn’t remember that, but he knew the name. She was the one who’d given up Em’s ex at the Founders’ Day picnic. A swell of anger raged in his chest when he remembered how he’d first met Em—crying and humiliated, so raw and fragile. All because of Louella Palmer.
Why was he angry? It was a shitty thing to do. He acknowledged all things shitty. They didn’t make him want to send a hit man after the person who’d done the shitty thing.
Because she hurt your woman. Guys get protective about their women.
She’s damn well not my woman, Jake. And who are you to preach to me about protective and guys, right? Go the fuck away.
The pretty blonde with no heart put her hand inside the window. Covered in a tan glove, she offered it to him and smiled again, but she leaned in too close, didn’t smell like pears and worked too hard. Or something like that. “Then this is the perfect time to get reacquainted, don’t you think? My niece DeeDee and your daughter, Maizy, are friends in class. I thought it might be nice if we get them together for a playdate sometime.”
Maizy’s head, bouncing in the line of children pouring out of the school, took his attention away from Louella and her playdate. He didn’t particularly care for the idea of Maizy having a playdate with anyone related to Louella, anyway.
Maizy was chatting excitedly to another little boy while she hauled the sparkly backpack that was almost the size of her over her shoulder.
Jax’s heart swelled with pride every time he saw her. Every time he was able to think, “That’s my kid.”
He yanked the lever on the door. “Excuse me, Louella, but that’s Maizy, and she’s all caught up talking instead of paying attention. Kids, you know?” He didn’t bother to stick around for her response.
Not when, in the swarm of parents and children gathering at the mouth of the school, there was another redhead. One just like his. But she wasn’t six and she wasn’t his.
Jax saw all kinds of colors flash in front of his eyes before he took off running.
Thirteen
Em grabbed Gareth’s hand and squatted on her haunches when he asked, “Why are you here, Mama? Grams is coming to pick us up from school today. Grampa Amos said we can shoot cans with his BB gun if we eat all our supper.”
She snuggled him closer and rubbed her nose against his cold one. “You can still go with Grandpa Amos. I just needed some Gareth hugs before I go home. That’s all. You okay with that, little man?”
Gareth’s willingness to still indulge her with a snuggle warmed her, and she was going to take as many snuggles as she possibly could before he took them away like Clifton Junior. She pulled him into a tight hug and inhaled the scent of Play-Doh and grape jelly before he squirmed his way out of her arms.
She tweaked his chin and rose to leave when she caught that brilliant shock of red hair swathed in a big, purple bow. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Maizy Hawthorne,” she said with a smile. Maizy tugged her maternal instincts in a totally different way than the boys did.
Maybe it was her sweet plea on the phone that night. Maybe it was the impish grin she used to try to hide her curiosity while her eyes devoured Gareth and Em together. Maybe it was just that she was a little girl and looked like the kind of little girl who loved all things having to do with being a girl, just like Em. But something about her drew on Em’s heart, pushed it around in her chest and made it stand up and take notice.
Maizy hung back for a minute in the shadow of the maple tree—tentative and shy.
But Em gave her a warm smile of encouragement and crooked her finger at her. “I like your bow. It’s the perfect color for you.”
Maizy took a step closer, her light-up sneakers flashing in the coming dusk, her eyes, uninhibited by emotions adults are eventually taught to hide, were full of pleasure. “I like your gloves. They have fur on them. That’s my favorite. Well, glitter’s really my favorite, but I like fur almost as much.” She reached a chubby hand out to touch the fluff at Em’s wrist.
Em pulled it off and offered it to her. “Want to try it on?”
Maizy nodded, dropping her backpack on the ground by Gareth’s feet. Em helped her put it on, and they both laughed when Maizy held it up, the fingers flopping.
A commotion off to their left had Em’s instincts pulling Gareth and Maizy close, her eyes scanning the mass of children for Clifton Junior.
“Maizy!”
Jax?
“Maizy! Where are you?”
Em heard the panic in Jax’s voice—it was the panic of a parent who thought they’d lost their child. She threw her hand in the air and waved it. “We’re over here!”
Jax’s bulk appeared in the throng of parents and children, almost lifting people off their feet to get to Maizy. His eyes zeroed in on her, and she was all he saw. Strong arms swooped down and scooped her up, hugging her tight. “I couldn’t find you,” he said, almost like an accusation, the words ragged and full of fear.