had moved up beside her. She was acutely aware of him, even though his plaid-shirt-clad elbow wasn't quite touching hers. He was looking down the ramp, studying the cauldron intently.
"If you let the ball go when the hole is lined up, you'll miss. The bumpers slow it down, so by the time it gets to the bottom, the hole isn't there anymore."
"Like—now?" Paula asked, and started to pull back the club. "Oh ... no." The witch's cauldron moved on, with a tinny cackle, before she could tap the ball. "I see what you're saying, but how do you figure out when to let it go?"
"May I?" he asked, and lightly laid his hand over hers.
"Yes," she breathed.
His hand was incredibly warm. She had never been so conscious of another person's presence. Every light brush of his skin against hers felt freighted with meaning.
"Watch it move for a minute." His head was next to hers, his neck and shoulders bent over to accommodate their height difference. His breath stirred her hair. "You have to get a feel for how fast it's moving."
It was safe to say she was no longer concentrating on the cauldron. He had a scent: soap and aftershave and the heated, slightly spicy smell of his skin. He was barely even touching her—they were in public, surrounded by kids, her kids no less ...
"Now!" he said abruptly, his hand brushing her skin.
Galvanized as if by electricity, her fist jerked on the club. The business end of the club glanced off the ball, which rebounded off a bumper and bounced back and forth down the ramp.
Paula thought it was going to miss. By all rights it should have missed. The cauldron was all the way off to the side when her ball began its trip down the ramp. But the timing was perfect. Just as the ball reached the bottom of the ramp, the cauldron finished its jerky, stop-and-start journey into place. The ball plunked into the cauldron's carpeted interior.
"Ahahahahaaaaaaa!" the recorded witch's voice cackled. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!"
"This is super cheating," Sandy complained.
"Here, kiddo, I'll do ours," Dan offered. He held out a hand for the club, then took the ball.
Lissy gave a loud gasp. Her eyes went round as saucers. "What happened to your hand?"
Lissy hadn't even noticed, Paula thought, surprised. But then, Dan moved the prosthetic so casually that your attention wasn't drawn to his hands unless he specifically did something with them.
"Honey, don't stare," she said quickly.
"It's okay." Dan held up the metal hand with the colored ball clasped between the two clamps. He smiled reassuringly at Lissy. "It's just how my hand is. Want to see it in action?"
Lissy nodded.
"Hold out your hands."
She held them out, cupped together. Dan opened the clamps, and the ball plunked into her palm. Then he nipped it up neatly again, just as if he was picking up something with regular fingers. This time Paula saw that he rolled his shoulders under the shirt, a quick thrusting movement.
"How do you brush your teeth?" Lissy asked.
"Just like you do, except with my other hand."
"How do you tie your shoes?"
"Lissy, honey, please let Dan take his shot," Paula put in. "He can answer your questions after." She gave Dan an apologetic look, but he only shrugged a little and smiled. He lined up the shot one-handed, and sank it perfectly.
The two teams ended up tied, although on several holes, including the final one—a dragon's head that opened and closed its mouth—Dan had taken the swing for both kids. Lissy, who had always been incredibly competitive, wanted to play another round to determine the winner. Sandy, more easygoing, just shrugged and said he didn't mind if she won. He was a sweet kid, Paula thought. Not many boys his age would have been that mellow about losing to a girl.
"Sorry, kids," she said, ruffling Lissy's hair. "Mom's got an early day tomorrow. Let's go use up the rest of our concession tickets, why don't we? You want a hot dog or nachos, Liss?"
This turned out to be the distraction she had hoped for. The kids ran ahead, and she and Dan trailed along behind.
"I'm really sorry about her giving you the third degree," Paula said. "You know, about the arm."
"I don't mind talking about it. Kids are curious." He gave her a sideways glance, inviting and a little shy at the same time. "Are you curious?"
"I guess I am," she said.
He brushed the back of her hand with the clamps, and