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I scolded myself. Maybe he was just a safety freak. That wasn’t my business. Could be a phobia about fire. Who’s to say?
“Dinner!” Carter announced gruffly from the other room.
There was no time to ponder his reactions anymore, because that steak smelled too delicious to delay.
In the other room, Henry was already seated, his short legs dangling from the chair, and despite his apparent annoyance, Carter was standing behind a pulled-out chair, gesturing for me to take a seat. Even in his frustration, he was a gentleman.
“Thank you,” I said with a blush, sitting down as he slid the wood beneath me. That wasn’t meant to be dirty, gosh, get your mind out of the gutter.
The table was simple but elegant. Silverware, plates, placemats. A vase with a bundle of fresh flowers — baby’s breath, the cheapest kind, I noted. Cloth napkins. He really had brought art to every corner of his life.
“It looks wonderful,” I told him. Then, to Henry, “And those carrots look delicious.”
Henry giggled, and reached with his fingers for a carrot stump.
“Henry!” Carter chided. “What’s the rule?”
The little boy huffed, but picked up a serving utensil from the bowl and spooned himself some carrots.
“Sorry,” Carter said to me with the apologetic tone every parent does so well. “We’re working on table manners.”
“I want steak!” Henry crowed.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Pleeeease!”
Carter smiled, then set to cutting Henry a small piece of steak. In his hands, the knife was fluid, an extension of the arm. It was a dance of domination, and I envied that steak. If only he would touch me like that, I thought. Rough but masterful. Rough but ready.
He made short work of the steak, placing a piece of it onto Henry’s plate.
“Would you like some?”
I nodded, and in no time, a fine cut of steak was deposited in front of me.
“It looks delicious.”
“It is,” he said with a wink.
The tension melted a little and I breathed in deeply.
We all dug in. I was, in truth, famished. It’d been many hours since I’d laid sight on a piece of food. I vowed to take Jo-Beth back some steak, but sometimes, she got like this — not eating out of spite for her situation. If you ask me, you’re better off eating first and feeling pissy later.
After the first initial rush of consumption, I sat back a little in my chair.
“So,” I began, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “Do you have any other family in Rough and Ready?”
Carter’s eyes shot to Henry and then back to me, before replying, “Not really.”
I was taken aback. “None at all?”
“We don’t talk about it,” Carter said through taut cords.
“I’m sorry—”
“I think that’s enough on that,” he replied. “Anyone ever told you you’re a little nosy?”
“Anyone ever told you you’re a little closed off?”
He nearly choked on his steak with laughter. “Oh, if you only knew — never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
Carter made a big show of turning to Henry, signaling an end to the discussion of family. “Henry, how’d I do on the steak?”
“Grrrreat!” Henry growl-screamed.
We all dissolved into laughter, underneath which lay a relief at the dissolution of tension.
What wasn’t Carter telling me? Why did it seem to cut beneath is every word and action? Where was his family? The mysteries kept stacking up in an ever more precarious pile.
Our feet collided beneath the table, the tips of his cowboy boots scuffing the rubber soles of my sneakers. We locked eyes, and for a moment, I forgot the mysteries, the hiding, the obfuscation and just saw the man sitting across from me — a delicious, deep person with muscles to spare.
Ugh, living inside my brain was so damn confusing. What the hell did I want?!
“Daddy?”
“Yes?” Carter said, not turning his eyes away from mine. Our feet were still touching. It felt so unspeakably naughty.
“Is Phoebe my new mother?”
If I’d been drinking water, I’d have done a spit take.
Both Carter and I raced over ourselves to correct this error.
“No, kiddo—”
“Oh, Henry, um, I’m not—”
“But she’s just like a mommy!” he told us, as though the point were obvious. “She could be my mommy!”
Carter’s face paled, so I took the lead.
“I’m just visiting,” I explained, careful not to confuse him. “Because my car broke. So I’m staying here. I’m not — your dad and I aren’t—”
Aw, hell. Just when I needed my psych training the most, it was totally failing me. How do you explain to a kid who apparently didn’t have a mom in the picture that you couldn’t be that for him?
“She’s just a friend,” Carter finished, at last finding his words.
That may have satisfied Henry, but it stung me, despite its truth. Was I just a friend? Because our feet were still connected beneath the table, and I felt like I might be something more.
“Are you done with dinner?” Carter asked his kid.
