Rebecca stood on the back porch and watched them walking down the long stretch of lawn, the dogs trailing lazily behind, Grayson struggling with the pail he had insisted on carrying as he looked up at Matt with pure adoration.
She hadn’t realized—at least not so clearly as in this moment—that a man like Matt was exactly what her son needed. She had thought he needed his father, but it was more than that—he needed a man he could look up to. That very basic and unfulfilled need was what made Grayson so angry with her when he came home from a visit with Bud. He wanted a dad and he wanted his dad to be like Matt. And he was too young to understand why he couldn’t have both a mom and a dad like he deserved. Rebecca could remember feeling that way, too. She’d been a little older, but the need for both parents had been as real to her as it was to Grayson now.
In Matt, he’d found a male figure to make up for the absence of a rotten father. That Matt didn’t seem to mind, and in fact, seemed to like Grayson’s company, touched her heart so thoroughly that her eyes were suddenly burning with gratitude.
Oh, man. Oh, man . . . she was in too deep, over her head. Grayson’s infatuation with Matt could not possibly be a good idea. She wasn’t part of Tom’s campaign anymore and she feared setting her son up for more disappointment.
But would it be another disappointment? Was she making an assumption that she and Matt could not see each other, could not even be friends, really, after the things they had said to each other that night at the Four Seasons? If she believed they couldn’t, then what did she make of that kiss on the dock? What about the electricity that had flowed between them, had always flowed between them? And did the man who had a reputation of having been with every woman around town spark that electricity in everyone, or was it hers alone? Was it possible she had fallen under his charming spell once again and was giving in too quick? Was she being played for a fool? Or was it possible that for once, she could trust her instincts? Was it even possible that she could, for perhaps the first time in her life, act on her instincts?
This was such difficult territory, such ominous caverns and valleys and peaks in her mind and heart that she had never before explored. Most of her adult life she’d been with the same man. In the last few years, she’d been with that man almost hating him, certainly resenting him, wishing things were different. Her days had been filled with regret, not hope. Was this hope?
She picked up a paperback and sat on the back porch, but her mind was racing; she was too full of doubtful questions and wishful thinking to read. Just a few days ago she had decided to eschew all the self-help stuff—the lifelines she had clung to in the last year. She had decided to go with her gut, whatever may come. And her gut had told her to stay as far away from Matt Parrish as she could get. Now she didn’t know what to think; she couldn’t seem to find her true north. All she knew was that this man, for whatever reason, lit a fire in her like no man had ever done before, and she really didn’t know how to turn away from that. Or even if she should. Or even if she could.
Welcome to your life, Rebecca. Nothing is certain anymore.
Twenty-Seven
I know nothing about sex because I was always married . . .
ZSA ZSA GABOR
When Matt and Grayson returned an hour or so later, Rebecca was still sitting on the back porch, still holding the book from which she had not read a single word, still conflicted by her emotions. It therefore took her a moment to notice that Matt’s pants were rolled up to his knees, and that he was carrying his boots. His white shirt was splattered with mud, and Grayson and the dogs were soaking wet.
“Find any frogs?” she asked dryly, while hoping to high heaven they would not actually show her any gigged frogs.
“No,” Grayson moaned, clearly disappointed. “They wouldn’t come out.”
“It didn’t help that old Bean here was doing his own version of frog hunting,” Matt said as he leaned up against the railing of the porch. “There’s something seriously wrong with that dog.” Rebecca laughed; Matt smiled. “So what have you been doing while we were watching Bean eat frogs?”
“Reading.”
Matt looked at her book. “Must be riveting.”
Rebecca glanced down, noticed that her book was upside down, and quickly put it aside. “Well!” she said brightly, gaining her feet and running her damp palms down the side of her hips. “I know a little boy who needs a bath!”
“I know a bigger boy who could use one, too,” Matt suggested. “I have a clean shirt in the car if you would let me borrow a shower.”
As ridiculously juvenile as it was, the thought of him naked in her house sent a very warm and unexpected shiver up Rebecca’s spine. “Absolutely!” she said. “Yes, sir. A shower. We’ve got plenty of those, huh, Gray?”