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While he wasn’t a parent himself, he relished his role as uncle for two very impressionable nieces. If Lexi thought she would update the wardrobe of this sleepy town, she had another think coming. It would serve her right if he outbid her on the purchase of the bakery next door. Stephen had started off his career as a location scout for a Hollywood producer and kept up with his connections. A lot of the Southern producers in Atlanta were looking for a picturesque, one-streetlight town; Southwood, Georgia, could hold the title. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted anything better. Hell, he might just keep it, considering his bedroom-slash-office was becoming cramped.
The locksmiths were pulling out of the driveway by the time Stephen’s driver dropped him off. He shook hands with the elder man and thanked the crew before waving them off with the invoice for the completed job in his hand. The two-story brick home with black shutters sat in a typically quiet neighborhood. The setting reminded Stephen of the street he grew up on in Florida. They were far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown but not too far for a morning job. One of these days Stephen planned on taking the girls down to the park, but with a pool, slide and jungle gym in the spacious, fenced-in backyard, he’d become lazy. Things were going to change around here.
The unmistakable catchy tunes of a PBS show echoed down the hall. Five-year-old Philly had clearly returned from weekend visitation with her grandparents. The beige carpeted steps were l
ittered with pink doll clothes and shoes. Sticky pink handprints covered white walls right under the family portraits leading the way to the second floor. Thank God for wipe-away paint.
“I’m home,” Stephen called out, shutting the door.
“Uncle Stephen!” Philly, in her favorite pink tutu and purple unicorn top, came tearing into the foyer and threw herself into Stephen’s arms. “I had cotton candy.”
“I can tell.” Stephen shifted Philly onto his hip and walked into the family room. The child ate like a horse but weighed next to nothing. Her biggest downfall was her sweet tooth, something her grandparents overindulged. “Did you have fun?”
Philly nodded, the two ponytails high on her head, wrapped with pink ribbons, bobbing back and forth. “We went on a picnic this morning.”
Sprawled out on the couch, Kimber Reyes glanced up and rolled her hazel eyes toward the spinning ceiling fan. She sighed heavily and stomped one foot on the hardwood floor, then the other. Was she supposed to be mad at him? And when did she get her phone back? Stephen was sure he’d taken the bedazzled gizmo from her. Her colorful nails swiped the pink screen of the phone in her hand and she popped a piece of bubble gum between her teeth.
“Philly, will you find the coloring book we were using last week, the one with the princesses?” Stephen leaned over and placed Philly on the ground. Knowing he’d put the book up in the desk in his room, he banked on a few extra moments of quiet with Kimber. Stephen turned off the TV and sat down on the empty cushion beside her.
An audible sigh emerged from her, clearly warning him to tread carefully. “Kimber, put the phone down.”
In dramatic fashion, Kimber tossed it beside her and folded her arms across her chest. “Do we have to do this?”
“What?” Stephen chuckled. “Talk? I can’t help being concerned about you, Kimber. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I would hang out with my friends. Some of them happen to be boys.”
“Boys?” Stephen spat.
As he choked on her news, Kimber pleaded with him, batting her lashes. “C’mon, Uncle Stephen, don’t act like you didn’t date when you were my age. Abuela told me all about you, Daddy and Uncle Nate. She didn’t imprison you in your home.”
“I dated,” he said with a nod, “but growing up in Villa San Juan back then was a whole lot different than growing up here where you’re sneaking out at all hours of the night, dressed as you were, to meet up with...boys.” The term barely came out of his mouth. “Besides the new bars on your window, I’ve also eliminated some of the other temptations.”
Kimber turned her face toward his. “What did you do?”
“I went to the dress shop. Can you believe the owner claims to not recall selling this to you?”
Kimber banged the back of her head against a pillow. “Tell me you didn’t.” Kimber, a miniature replica of her beautiful mother, turned bright red. “You went to Grits and Glam Gowns?”
“Where did you think I went?”
“Maybe the police station or something.” Kimber gaped. “I wish you wouldn’t have gone.”
“I wish you’d tell me where you got the nerve to put a piece of trash on and walk out of the house.”
“Okay, fine. I went to meet my boyfriend, okay?” Her bottom lip quivered.
The sound of bones cracking when he rolled his head filled the family room as Stephen squared his shoulders and cracked his neck. He glowered at his niece and clenched his fists together at the idea of some boy trying to grope her. Wasn’t it last Christmas she’d asked for a Barbie dream house? “You’re sixteen.”
Kimber hugged herself and shrugged, not making eye contact. He doubted Ken would have allowed such shenanigans. “I’m not too young.”
“Okay, Kimber.” Stephen chuckled. “I don’t know what’s going on here or who even said you could have a boyfriend, but I say you’re too young. Do you understand how much danger you were in last night? Thank God that police officer spotted you.”
“I wouldn’t have had to walk to meet Marvin if I had a car.”
The absurdity of this request for a car did not fall on deaf ears. Stephen found the other part of what she said important. “Who in the hell is Marvin?”
“Uncle Nate met him.”
