“Good. Me, either.” He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. “I meant what I said, Pia. I’m all in.”
Until he said those words again, she hadn’t realized there was a knot in her chest. It loosened and suddenly it was easier to breathe.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Me, too.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again, lingering this time, making her body heat up from the inside.
“Want to come over for dinner?” he asked. “I’ll cook.”
“You know how?”
He shrugged. “I’ll barbecue. Fire good.”
She laughed. “It’s cold outside.”
“It’s in the forties at night. I’ll survive the time it takes me to grill a couple of steaks.” He pressed his mouth against her ear. “There’s this new thing called a jacket. I have one.”
“You’re so cutting-edge.”
“Tell me about it.” He straightened. “Was that a yes?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. I’m heading up to the school now, but when I’m done there, I’ll go get steaks and some salads. Does six work?”
“Sure.”
He kissed her one more time before she left and headed back to her own office. As she walked, she felt a faint tingle on her lips—the lingering effect of his mouth on hers. The man could sure get to her.
She liked him. Considering they were getting married, that was a good thing. But Liz was right—she had to be careful. Liking him too much would leave her vulnerable. She’d already been hurt enough in her life. She didn’t need to go looking for trouble. Most of the time, it seemed to find her without any help.
RAOUL ARRIVED AT THE CAMP just as the kids were let out for afternoon recess. It was cool but clear, with blue skies visible between the breaks in the trees. He found himself in the middle of a rush of children wanting to make the most of their twenty minutes of playtime.
“Hey, Raoul,” Peter called as he ran past. “Come play.”
He’d seen the boy a few times since they’d had lunch together. Peter was smart, friendly and interested in sports. There hadn’t been a hint of any kind of abuse. Maybe Raoul had imagined Peter flinching that first day during the fire. Or maybe the fire itself had made the boy nervous.
He followed the kids onto the playground. The noise level grew as the play began. There were shrieks and calls, along with plenty of laughter.
Looking around, he was pleased at what the camp had become. This was right, he thought as several girls tried to coax him into turning one end of a jump rope. Finally he agreed.
They lined up to be the next one to jump.
“Faster,” a little girl with curly hair demanded. “I jump really good.”
He and the teacher holding the other end obliged, spinning the rope more quickly. The girl kept up easily, laughing as she jumped.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several boys on the jungle gym. A flash of red caught his attention. He turned and saw Peter climb to the top. In a moment that was like something out of the movies, Raoul saw what was going to happen, even as he knew he was too far away to stop it.
Peter started to lower himself down. His hand slipped. Raoul took off running, the boy grabbed for the bar, slipped again, screamed and tumbled to the ground. Despite all the noise around him, Raoul would have sworn he heard the thunk of the fall. Peter landed on his arm, and Raoul knew before he reached him that it was going to be bad.
“Stay still,” he instructed as he reached the kid’s side.
Peter looked more stunned than hurt. He started to get up, then his face went pale and he gasped. Raoul saw the awkward angle of Peter’s forearm.
The boy’s face screwed up. “It hurts,” he said and began to cry.
“I know. It’s your arm. Do you hurt anywhere else?”
Peter shook his head. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
He helped the boy shift his arm against his chest. Peter screamed once, then continued crying. Raoul gathered him up in his arms and stood.
A bunch of students had gathered around. Teachers came running.
“He’s broken his arm,” Raoul said as he walked. “I don’t know if he’s hurt anywhere else. I’m taking him to the hospital. It’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance. Call the hospital and let them know we’re coming. Call the police and see if they can meet me at the bottom of the mountain to escort us to the hospital, then find his foster parents.”
Peter weighed practically nothing, Raoul thought, hurrying out to the parking lot. One of the teachers had come with them and fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. She opened the door. He crouched down and carefully slid the boy onto the seat.
Mrs. Miller appeared on his left. “I’m coming, too. I’ll drive my own car and follow you down.” She bent down and smoothed her hand over Peter’s face. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll take care of you.”
The boy continued to cry.
Raoul fastened the boy’s seat belt. Mrs. Miller stepped back and he closed the door.
“You know where the hospital is?” she asked as Raoul hurried to the driver’s side.
“Yes.”