A Texas-Made Family

Again, Rebecca turned her thoughts to the father. What kind of man bought his teenage son a convertible? Grant must have bought it, because Ryan clearly didn’t work. It would help if he did.

Some men had skewed values. Jack, for example. The only reason Rebecca was willing to meet with a strange man was to ensure that Lisa was better equipped to deal with the Jack Geroux types than she’d been. That was why she’d canceled two clients who hadn’t been able to come in later. Rebecca could see money flying out the window, and she’d have to juggle her bills again. Did single dads have as much difficulty making ends meet?

For the first time Rebecca wondered what had happened to Ryan’s mother. Most likely she’d died, since the kids lived with their dad. Rebecca caught herself momentarily feeling sorry for the children. For Grant Lane, too. Single parenting was hard, regardless of the circumstances.

Lost in her thoughts, Rebecca almost missed the entry to the Lanes’ housing development. Reading off street names, she found the one she was looking for, and made a right turn onto a tree-lined avenue. The homes were spacious, and their landscaping immaculate. Rebecca’s house would fit twice into any one of these Spanish-style mansions. But somehow, after seeing Ryan Lane’s convertible, the affluent neighborhood didn’t surprise her. No doubt the boy had been born into money, and had a future loaded with potential.

She hoped Lisa wasn’t dazzled by all the material things beyond her reach. Frowning, Rebecca braked in front of a driveway that led up to a sprawling house. Multiple arches, red-tile roof, a pristine lawn. The number matched the address Grant Lane had given her.

She wished she’d suggested they just meet at the café he’d mentioned. Her hands felt damp and slippery on the steering wheel. Wouldn’t it be awkward going up to knock on a strange man’s door—especially here, where she was so out of her element? Grant had a nice, melodic voice, she reminded herself. Rebecca hoped he had a personality to match it.

Even as she debated turning around, the decision was taken out of her hands.

The front door opened and every thought sailed right out of her head. The elder Lane came halfway down his brick walkway to pick up his paper. To say he was good-looking was too tame.

Rebecca’s heart thudded. As she tried to settle it, he came up to her car and gestured for her to roll down her window.

“Are you Rebecca Geroux, or just lost in the neighborhood?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and Rebecca managed to say, “I’m Rebecca.”

“Good. Let me throw my paper in the house. My car’s in the garage. I’ll back out and you can follow me.”

Rebecca had noticed the dark blue SUV in the driveway when she drove up. Now she wondered if that was also his, or if Grant Lane was seeing someone. Although if he was, it didn’t matter to her.

Watching him jog back to the house, Rebecca admitted she’d been expecting someone older. He couldn’t have more than a few years on her. Surely a man his age must still work.

She waited, and finally the garage door lifted. Rebecca wrenched on the ignition, giving silent thanks when the Nissan purred to life. She’d just released the parking brake when a red sports car shot out past the SUV. Grant punched a remote control hanging on his sun visor and the door lowered.

Rebecca admired the Porsche Boxter convertible as it sped off down the road. She gave herself a shake. Here she sat drooling like an idiot, and he’d turned the corner at the end of the block. She barely managed to get under way and keep him in sight. He navigated the suburban streets with confidence.

Rebecca thought she’d lost him after he pulled into an area of strip malls. She caught him at a light and saw that he was signaling a turn into a parking space in front of a brightly lit café she would otherwise have missed.

She pulled in farther down the street, but couldn’t help noticing that Grant was already out of his car. Reaching back in, he hung his sunglasses over the visor.

Boy, he was trusting, leaving his top down and his expensive shades in plain sight. She’d installed motion detectors around her house, and attached a Club to her steering wheel every night to discourage car theft. But that was the difference between her neighborhood and Grant Lane’s.

He waited for her beside the café door. As she walked toward Grant, Rebecca cataloged more things about him. His hair was shorter than his son’s and not as dark—more of a honey shade, thick and sun-streaked. But it wasn’t as short as the military types she saw around town. And there were a lot of those, as San Antonio was home to many military families. The slightly mussed style suited him. He wore khaki pants and a navy-blue T-shirt that showed off toned muscles. He looked…darn good. Suntanned. Carefree.

Rebecca glanced at her reflection in the café window to see if she appeared as harried as she felt. Satisfied that she looked okay, she reminded herself that she couldn’t stay long. Her first client was booked for eleven-thirty.

Smiling again, Grant opened the restaurant door wider, allowing Rebecca to pass. It was a nice touch and she gave him points for being a gentleman.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I usually sit in a booth by the window, but why don’t we get a table at the back where we can talk more freely?” He gestured for her to go first. Rebecca felt conspicuous in her work clothes and comfy shoes, but she refused to slouch.

The waitress arrived seconds after they sat down. “I thought you’d skipped breakfast today,” she said to Grant. “Do you want the usual? And what about the lady?”

“Just coffee for me. Black, one sugar,” Rebecca said.

“Make it the same for me.” Grant turned over both cups that already sat on the table.

Pasting on a smile, Rebecca gripped the handle of her cup. “I’ll pay for my coffee,” she said.

He frowned. “Not necessary. I invited you.” He followed that with another smile of his own that sent heat all the way to Rebecca’s toes. For a moment, her carefully prepared speech lodged in her throat.

“I’ll get right to the point, if I may,” she said, refocusing her attention. “Your son seems to be a good kid, but he’s all wrong for my daughter. Perhaps I wasn’t clear, but she’s a junior and this year is very important. If she has any shot at scholarships, her grades must remain exemplary. I’ve had no luck convincing her to stop seeing Ryan. I thought that, as another single parent, you might understand and help by persuading Ryan to move on. Lisa has to focus on school. That’s all there is to it.”

“At their age, shouldn’t they have a say in how they spend their free time and who they spend it with? I mean, she sounds like a wonderful girl. One a father would be happy to have his son date.”

“You don’t get it at all.” Rebecca twirled her cup around and around. “She’s spent money she can’t afford on a pass for Ryan’s ball games. Money that should be going into her college fund.”

“Why isn’t she doing what you ask?”

Rebecca’s eyes flashed. “I suppose because she’s flattered by his attention. She’s not used to it. The new boy. An athlete. All of that gives her social standing, according to my son.”

“How old is he? Doesn’t he have any influence with his sister?”

“Apparently not.” Rebecca held her cup so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I honestly thought I’d taught Lisa the importance of a good education.” Sipping her coffee, Rebecca shook her head sadly.

“Choosing to watch a high school ball game isn’t the end of the world. So she gets a little off-track. Don’t all kids do that at least once? Or have you planned for every contingency and lived a perfect, orderly life?”

“Hardly. Which is why I want more for my children. But this isn’t about me. It’s about making sure our teens stay on the right path.”

Grant shrugged.

“Is that your answer? Maybe this doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me.” Rebecca slid out of the booth, dug in her purse and slapped two one-dollar bills down on the table. “Thanks for nothing.” She stormed out of the café, got in her car and pulled into traffic, all the while muttering under her breath about what a jerk Grant Lane was.

GRANT WATCHED Rebecca leave in a huff. He sat glaring after her. She had some nerve trying to manipulate him into a confrontation with Ryan when her own daughter wouldn’t listen to a word she’d said. Although maybe she’d inadvertently handed him a way to bond with his son. If Ryan liked the girl, and she liked him, why shouldn’t they date? It was what normal teens did.

He paid for his coffee, and followed in Rebecca’s wake. She’d already gone through the light at the corner by the time he climbed into his car.

The flash of her ocean-colored eyes haunted Grant as he eased the Boxter into traffic. The hell of it was she’d managed to garner his sympathy, too. He thought about Brandy. If he were in Rebecca’s position and it was his daughter getting into a romance with her son, Grant had to admit he might feel differently. He knew well enough that sometimes a young man was ruled by baser instincts. Rebecca probably knew, too.

But didn’t she trust her daughter?

Adjusting his sunglasses, Grant stopped to wonder why Mrs. Geroux didn’t just ground her daughter, the almost-genius, if she was really that concerned.

It irritated Grant all over again as he replayed their conversation and realized Rebecca had made it seem as if Ryan was totally to blame for leading the brilliant Lisa astray. What if Rebecca had a skewed vision of her daughter?

By all reports his son was a good student, although if truth be told, Grant couldn’t claim much credit for it. Still, Lisa wasn’t the only one who’d be going to college.

This full-time-dad role also meant Grant ought to concern himself with what kind of friends Ryan hung out with. Who knew better than he how easily a young man could screw up his life?

Did Lisa Geroux look like her mother? Rebecca was attractive. Especially when she was passionately standing up for her daughter. Grant hadn’t exactly processed all of Rebecca’s complaints, because he’d been distracted by her pretty eyes and lush lips. She made quite the picture with her shoulder-length red hair curled in wild disarray around her face. Grant found he’d been most drawn to Rebecca’s eyes. They held fire and life, yet he saw a hint of tragedy in their luminous depths.

For the first time in a long while, a woman—a slightly brusque one who didn’t care for him at that—had provoked a yearning Grant had thought was dormant, if not dead. He’d purposely avoided serious relationships since his ordeal with Teresa.