Ignoring her, Buzz rummaged through his backpack, found two protein bars and tossed one to her. She caught the bar, then stalked over to a flat-topped rock a few feet away where she ripped off the wrapper. She ate without pleasure, all the while her eyes scanned the surrounding woods.
Buzz had to admire her; she’d done well considering the circumstances. He knew what parents were like when children turned up missing. Most were more of a hindrance than a help when it came to the search. He should have known Kelly would be different. She might be missing her son and scared spitless, but she’d taken control of the situation as best she could. Kelly had never been one to sit on the sidelines. When she didn’t like something, she changed it. Or tried to, anyway. Buzz supposed her take-no-prisoners attitude was one of the factors that had led up to their divorce. She hadn’t been able to change him.
Not that Buzz was the most flexible man in the world. He wasn’t.
He thought about Eddie and wondered how in God’s name he was supposed to be a father. He didn’t know the first thing about fatherhood. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a role model. Russell Malone had done most of his talking with his fists. What the hell kind of father would Buzz make? How did a man go from childless divorcé to having a young son with a sexy-as-sin mother he’d never managed to get out of his system?
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the strong north wind hissing through the pines above.
“Tell me about Eddie,” Buzz said after a moment.
Kelly looked over at him as if the question had startled her. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, what’s he like?”
She smiled, but it was fringed with a deep sadness. Buzz had forgotten how pretty she was when she smiled. She hadn’t exactly had a lot to smile about in the last hours. But even sad and tired and unhappy as she was, he could still feel the power of her smile tugging at him.
“He’s sweet and smart and incredibly intuitive for such a little guy.” Her smile deepened. “He likes Matchbox cars and Labrador retrievers, and he wants to be a race-car driver when he grows up. He likes Little League. Shortstop. He hates carrots. Loves rocky road ice cream.” Tears shimmered in her eyes when she looked over at Buzz. “He’s got freckles on his nose. A mole just behind his ear. A wart on his left thumb. I cut his hair a couple of weeks ago and his bangs are crooked.” A breath shuddered out of her. “He’s a world-class snuggler. He likes to get in bed with me on Saturday morning and turn on the television. We snuggle and eat Cap’n Crunch and watch cartoons with Brandy, our dog.”
Buzz didn’t want to bear witness to the hurt he saw in her eyes when she talked about her little boy. Their little boy. Aware that his heart was beating too fast, he looked down at his boots, hoping she didn’t break down and cry. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle it if she did.
“You got any more pictures? I mean, with you?” he asked.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, she reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a small folding wallet. “I took these last year when we got our Labrador pup.”
Buzz reached for the photos. Something shifted hard in his chest when he looked down into the laughing eyes of the little boy. “He looks like you.”
“He looks like you, too. The eyes, mostly.” Rising, Kelly knelt beside Buzz and pointed to a photo of Eddie in the pool with a gangly black dog. “He’s a good swimmer. Strong. And he loves Brandy.”
“Dogs are good for kids.”
“He reminds me of you.”
Buzz wanted to look at her, but he didn’t dare. Not when she was so close he could see the shimmer of her hair in the dim sunlight.
He cleared his throat. “Must be that race-car driver thing.”
“No. His mannerisms. The way he thinks. He already wants to conquer the world.”
Buzz forced a laugh, but it was an odd, humorless sound. “Sounds like he takes after you.”
“I don’t want to conquer the world.”
“You just want to control it.”
She laughed. “Maybe that’s why we couldn’t make things work.”
“Or maybe we both just have really hard heads.”
“That, too.”
He looked at her, realized they’d broached a subject he had no desire to discuss. Quickly, he moved to change topics. “Who’s Taylor Quelhorst?”
“I work for him. I met him last year when I was doing cross-country ski tours in Breckenridge.”
“What are you doing now?”
“I’m an assistant manager at the Snow Moose Lodge.”
“Nice place.” Buzz whistled. “So you work together?”
“Not really. Taylor owns the lodge.”