“I don’t know,” the boy on my back answered in a muffled tone I recognized as him being embarrassed.
I tried to keep my snicker as quiet as possible, but it was still loud enough for Dallas to hear it and turn around. The way his eyebrows were shaped said he was amused. I couldn’t say I didn’t like that about him. After he’d brought his Xbox over, I’d watched how patient he was with Louie. Maybe he was still acting a little weird with me, but he hadn’t been the same way with either of the boys that night. When Josh and the boys had come out of the bedroom, demanding to be fed, they had all been excited to see Dallas there. Kids were awesome at sniffing out assholes, and I guess this man couldn’t be so bad if none of them complained. God knows Josh wouldn’t keep his opinion to himself on someone.
It also helped that the thing Trip told me about Dallas’s ex helped me not take his coolness personally.
“We’ll find it. Don’t worry,” he assured the monkey on my back.
Obviously, he’d never lost a child’s shoe before, because it wasn’t that often they were found. A lot of times they disappeared never to be seen again like socks in the dryer. But I didn’t want to ruin his optimism. A few kids streaked by us, oblivious to our treasure hunt. We probably searched for another five minutes before a boy ran right in front of Dallas. Quick as lightning, he struck his hand out and grabbed the kid on Josh’s team by the back of his workout jersey, hauling him to a stop.
“Dean, you seen a shoe?” Dallas asked Trip’s son, the hand on the back of his shirt moving up to touch the back of the kid’s neck in an affectionate pat.
The dark blond, a little taller than Josh, frowned. “No.” He seemed to think about it a second. “What kinda shoe?”
Our neighbor gestured toward Louie and me. “Little boy shoe. A tennis shoe.”
“Oh.” The kid swiveled his attention to us, his smiling creeping up in a way that didn’t seem like it belonged on a boy about ten or eleven. “Hi, Ms. Diana.”
“Hi, Dean.” I smiled at him.
The grin on his face really was something else. “I’ll find it,” the boy said right before taking off in the direction he’d come, back toward a small group of kids younger than him.
Not really expecting much, I figured I’d wait a few more minutes before we headed home. I was resigned to the inevitable: having to buy another pair of shoes, this time from Walmart. Plus, it was getting late, and I’d left chili cooking in the Crock-Pot that morning. It was more than likely only a minute later before Dean rushed back toward us, his hand extended. In it was a red and black tennis shoe that I now accepted was brand spanking new. Mrs. Larsen really had tried to pull a fast one on me. Huh.
“What do you say, Lou?” I asked as I took the sneaker from him.
“Thank you,” he mumbled a little lower than he usually would have.
“Thanks, Dean,” I emphasized. “We really appreciate it.”
The boy did that smile again that my gut said was all trouble. “Anything for you, Ms. Diana.”
This kid was something else.
“Thank you?” I said, shooting a glance at Dallas, who had this ridiculous expression on his face like he didn’t know what to think either.
“See ya, Josh,” the boy called out to my nephew before bumping fists with Dallas and running off again. “Bye, Uncle Dal.”
Louie slid off my back, plopping down on the dirt, oblivious to the fact he was wearing his khaki school pants and the ground was damp from an earlier rain shower. He started putting his shoe on, slapping the Velcro straps over to the other side.
“Thank you for asking him to look,” I told our neighbor, keeping an eye on Lou at the same time to make sure something else didn’t magically disappear.
“Yeah, thank you, Mr. Dallas.”
“Dallas, and you’re welcome. I told you we’d find it.”
Lou climbed to his feet, rolling onto his knees as if getting his butt dirty hadn’t been enough. “We’re gonna have chili tonight. You wanna come?” he asked so suddenly, it caught me completely off guard.
I froze, snapping my gaze up to Dallas, smiling tightly.
He is married, I reminded myself. Married. The last thing I wanted to do was give him the impression we were trying to wrangle him in to our lives more than he needed to be.
Those hazel eyes bounced back and forth between Louie and me. “Chili?”
“It’s real good.”
Louie didn’t know a damn stranger. He was so honest and innocent in his answer it made me wish everyone was so upfront. It also made me want to protect his feelings that much more. “I’m sure Mr. Dallas—” I started to say before getting cut off by our neighbor.
“Just Dallas,” he cut in.
“—has plans already, Lou. We can invite him another day, not at the last minute.”
The boy blinked up at the man with those blue eyes that could conquer worlds if he ever put his mind to it. “You got things to do?”
Our neighbor opened his mouth, hesitation right there, an apology, an excuse, something, on his tongue, but he closed it just as quickly. He seemed to take in Louie completely, and I knew what he was seeing: the cutest boy in the world. “It’s real good?” he asked Louie, a soft, gradual smile crossing his mouth.
The enthusiastic nod of my boy could win over the biggest Grinch. It was both a blessing and a curse. He used it on me on a regular basis.
Our neighbor was done.
“If your mom doesn’t mind….” He trailed off, giving me an almost apologetic look.
To anyone else, the frown that came over Louie’s face at the “M” word wouldn’t have meant anything other than a kid not liking the chance he might not get his way. But to me, I knew what that frown was for, and Louie’s answer didn’t make me feel better. He ignored the “M” word and went with, “Buttercup doesn’t care, do you?”
*
“Can I help with anything?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I shook my head at the tall man standing in my kitchen for the third time in a week. “It’s only a couple of dishes. I’m almost done.”
Dallas scanned the kitchen, eyeing it the same way he had the first time he’d come in, probably looking at all the imperfections I would get to fixing eventually. “Thanks for dinner.”
Rinsing off the last dish and setting it into the rack, I dried my hands on the towel I had hanging off the stove. “You’re welcome.” I turned to face him as the sounds of the boys in the living room told us they were arguing. What was new?
“It was real good,” he said, and if I wasn’t completely imagining it, there was a playful hint to his tone.