One In A Million

Adam reached for the backpack he’d left on the floor and pulled out a folder. He passed a single sheet of paper to her.

Stephanie scanned the directions, then glanced at Brett. “What about you?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s up in my room. We have to do about two pages. I want to do mine on the computer. Are we getting a new one? You said we’d talk about it when school was out.”

“You’re right. And unless I’m reading the calendar wrong, school isn’t out yet.”

“We’ve got four days left.”

“Which gives me ninety-six hours until you can start bugging me.”

Brett tried to hide his smile, but she saw it. He’d been after her for a new computer for the better part of a year. While there was nothing wrong with the one they had, it didn’t play the really cool games. She figured she could probably put him off until Christmas when her “twenty dollars a week” fund would have reached computer size. Then the new computer would be a family gift.

Adam bounced in his chair. “I have a new joke,” he announced. “Knock knock.”

“Those are baby jokes,” Brett said as he took a cookie.

“They are age-appropriate,” Stephanie told him. “I listened to yours when you were his age.”

Brett sighed, then dutifully went through the joke with his brother who squealed with delight when he repeated the word who enough for Adam to ask him why he was being an owl. Jason giggled at his older brother.

As the three of them took turns talking about their day, Stephanie found her attention sliding to the man in the next room. He was sitting out there alone while she was in here with her family. She kept having to fight the impulse to invite him to join them. Which was crazy. She’d never once encouraged guests to befriend her children. Besides, if Nash was alone, it was by choice.

He was probably married, she told herself. Or he had a serious girlfriend back in Chicago. She knew he had family here—he’d mentioned the Hayneses, although not how he was related to them.

Indecision made her fidget in her seat until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the boys and stalked out of the room.

This was insane, she told herself. She was asking for trouble. Worse, she was asking for humiliation. She needed therapy.

As there was no psychologist standing by to offer advice, she walked into the dining room only to find Nash where she’d last seen him. Standing in front of the window looking out onto the street.

A quick glance at the tray told her he hadn’t touched the food she’d brought him. He hadn’t even poured any coffee.

He turned around and raised his eyebrows in silent query.

After clearing her throat, she tried to figure out what to say. Nothing brilliant occurred to her so she was left with slightly awkward.

“You must miss your family,” she said.

His eyebrows lowered and drew together. “I haven’t met them yet.”

What? Oh. “I meant your family in Chicago.”

“I don’t have any there. I’m not married.”

Score one for the hormones, she thought, trying not to feel or look relieved. The good news was that when Nash left, she would have a great time remembering all the surging feelings she’d experienced while he was here. It would be a lot more interesting than sorting coupons or ironing.

“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “You can tell me no. It’s completely crazy and not even why you’re here. I don’t usually even ask. Why would you want to?” She shook her head. “Forget it.”

She took a step back.

He blinked at her. “Was there a question in there for me?”

“I don’t think so.” She waved toward the kitchen. “We’re just hanging out in there. The boys tell me about their day at school and they have a snack. You seemed…” She tried a different line of thought. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. Or you can simply run screaming from the room and I’ll get the message.”

He looked surprised, and not exactly comfortable with the idea. Of course. He was a sexy, successful, single guy. Men like that didn’t hang out with three kids and a single mom.

Heat crawled up her cheeks and she had a bad feeling there was a blush to match. “Never mind,” she said brightly. “It was a silly suggestion.”

She started toward the closed door that led to the kitchen, but before she’d gone more than two steps, he called her back.

“I would like to join you,” he said.

She eyed him. “Why?”

He smiled and her internal organs did a couple of synchronized swimming moves.

“Because you asked and it sounds like fun.”

“I’m not sure about fun, but I can promise loud.”

“Close enough.”

Now that he’d accepted, she felt foolish about her invitation, but it was too late to retract it. She moved to the table and collected the tray, then tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen.

“Brace yourself,” she said and pushed open the door with her shoulder.

All three of her boys were talking at once. They barely noticed her, but the second Nash walked in behind her three pairs of blue eyes widened and three mouths snapped closed.

“This is Mr. Harmon,” she said as she put the tray on the counter.

“Nash,” he said easily.

“Okay. Nash. These are my boys. You’ve already met Brett, who is rapidly becoming a macho tool guy. And these two—” She walked to the table and put her hands on their shoulders. “—are my twins. Jason and Adam. Say hi to Nash.”

The twins offered an enthusiastic greeting, but Brett didn’t say much. His expression turned wary and Stephanie wondered if he was about to say something that would make her cringe.

“We’re having chocolate chip cookies, grapes and string cheese,” she said quickly in an effort to forestall Brett. “You’re welcome to that or the shortbread.”

“How about shortbread and grapes,” he said.

“No problem.”

As she bustled around the kitchen, he pulled out one of the two empty chairs. Brett sat across from the twins, which meant Nash would be across from her. It was only a snack, she told herself. She could handle it. At least she hoped she could.

As she worked, she tried not to notice the silence. Her normally ten-thousand-words-a-minute kids were all staring at Nash. But before she could think of something to ease the escalating tension, Nash broke the ice himself.