LITMIR.BIZ

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He ruffled the boy’s hair, stalling for both a breath and the chance to absorb these new details. Sarah was not only a mom, but she was Aiden’s mom, and for some reason, she hadn’t wanted him to know either of those things. Why not?

      “How’re you doing, buddy?”

      Aiden beamed up as he eased him back, and Jamie’s stomach clenched. How could he have missed the resemblance before? Sure, he’d never seen them together since the babysitter rather than a parent always picked Aiden up from Kids’ Space. But even so. The child’s huge, almost impossibly light blue eyes were just like his mother’s. And his mother’s hit him like a gravel truck with a full load every time she looked at him. Which at the moment she was avoiding.

      She spoke to her son instead. “Aiden, you know it’s not nice to throw yourself at people.”

      Aiden took another step back, but his mischievous grin remained. “Sorry, Mr. Jamie.”

      “Thanks. I think I’ll live.” He held his hands wide. “Hey, I heard you get to skip school today.”

      “We had a day off, but Mommy made me come to work with her.”

      “Yeah, moms are mean that way sometimes,” she murmured.

      “You got to come to work with Mom?” Jamie slid his gaze to Sarah. “Looks like we have a pretty important someone in common.”

      She finally nodded.

      “And the note was really about this guy?” He gripped the giggling boy and rubbed his knuckles on that blond head.

      “Yes, but I’d better—” She jerked to look down at her son. “Wait, did you say, timer?”

      “Mr. Mike already took out the pies,” Aiden announced.

      Jamie could have kissed the kid. Sarah wanted to answer his questions about as much as a suspect in an interview room, but her son hadn’t learned the art of excuses and wasn’t helping her to escape. “That’s great that Mr. Mike helped you out.”

      “Mommy, can we eat breakfast with Mr. Jamie?”

      She shook her head so hard her dangling earrings jiggled. “Sorry, sweetie. I still have a few things to finish in the back.”

      “You said we could leave when the pies were cooked.”

      “Yes, I did.” Then she smiled. “So, we’ll finish and then leave right away.”

      Aiden opened his mouth, but then drew his eyebrows together as he must have realized that he’d won. Or lost.

      “But I want to stay,” he whined.

      “Yeah, he wants to stay.” Jamie gestured with a tilt of his head toward the dining room. “And if the line out there has moved at all, I’ll have a table soon. You don’t want me to eat alone, do you?”

      Jamie couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. They sounded more like something ladies’ man Nick or reformed womanizer Shane would say. Not him. He would have said anything then to convince her not to leave, but she was already shaking her head again.

      “Please, Mommy. It’s Mr. Jamie.”

      Her son’s words must have made the difference, because she dampened her lips and then nodded.

      “Yay!” Aiden called out.

      It was all Jamie could do not to shout, or at least grab the kid in a bear hug.

      The boy slid past Jamie and scampered down the hall before turning back to them. “I’m going to go tell Mr. Ted.”

      Sarah watched him go, her eyes awash with the kind of affection that a mother reserves for her child. Funny how Jamie wished she’d look at him that way.

      She did look back at him then and caught him watching.

      “He’s so full of energy,” she mumbled. “But then you already know that.”

      “You’re right about that.”

      Again, she glanced at her son, a watchful mother even though he was only twenty feet away.

      “Thanks again for being so kind to my son. Making friends is always a struggle for him.”

      “Really? I don’t know why. He’s such a great kid.”

      “I wish the boys in his class could see that.”

      Jamie brushed off her worries with a wave of his hand. “He’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

      “What mother doesn’t?”

      He had to give her that. His own parents had hovered over him for months after Mark’s death, even to the point of ignoring their own grief.

      “Well, I’m glad I’ve gotten to know Aiden,” he said. “And I know a lot about him...if I can believe half of what a six-year-old tells me.”

      She blinked several times. “Probably less than that.”

      Her words were light, but her chuckle sounded strange.

      “Okay, then, I’ll believe just 25 percent.”

      She nodded, though from her look, she still wasn’t satisfied with that bargain. What didn’t she want Aiden to share?

      “Then it’s good that we’ll be having breakfast together.”

      Her gaze narrowed. “Why’s that?”

      “So you can tell me which quarter to believe.”

      This time she smiled, and the slow burn he always felt when she was around edged up a notch.

      “I’ll be sure to do that,” she said.

      “And while you’re at it, maybe you can do one more thing.”

      “What’s that?”

      “You can tell me why you didn’t want me to know you were Aiden’s mom.”

       Chapter 4

      At the clink of the bells, Sarah startled, her head twisting toward the sound. Another group of customers had squeezed inside the diner’s entry area and were waiting for their fill of eggs, pancakes and breakfast meats.

      For a moment, she’d almost relaxed. She couldn’t afford to do that. Not with Aiden sitting next to her, right out in public where anyone could see them. Not when her back was to the restaurant door as Trooper Donovan had taken her preferred seat facing the exit.

      And especially not while in the presence of the officer, who was too curious about her and her son.

      She turned back to the table, where Jamie had settled in his chair, his arms crossed. Could he see right through her? Could he sense that she was living a lie?

      “I never get used to those bells,” she explained, and then licked her lips.

      “I hate them, too.” He forked another bite of his eggs but didn’t lift it off the plate. “They’re jarring.”

      At least he hadn’t pointed out that she’d nearly climbed out of her skin over something she heard dozens of times each day. Something that should have been as familiar to her as the shrill of his patrol car’s siren probably was to him.

      But instead of asking her about it, Jamie took a bite of his pancake. She was grateful for the reprieve but didn’t kid herself into believing that the officer’s earlier question about her son wouldn’t pop up again. If only she knew how to answer when it did.

      “Aren’t you hungry?”

      She glanced down at her plate, where she’d only scooted around her eggs and toast. “Guess not.”

      His

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