This is Mike, the photographer.”
“Yes?”
“Just wanted to confirm the candlelight dinner shoot tomorrow night.”
“Here at the lodge?”
“Right. At seven-thirty,” Mike answered. “Will you pass the message along to Ms. Rhodes? Be sure and dress nice. CupidKey wants this to be very romantic.”
“No problem,” Grant replied, picturing Jami in a flowing silk evening gown with gardenias tucked behind her ears and a diamond necklace encircling her slender throat. He grinned to himself. Obviously, she couldn’t have packed an evening gown in those overloaded bags of hers. Could she? It would be fun to see the practical single mother dressed to the nines and without her redheaded monster in tow.
Grant tapped on the bedroom door.
Toby flung it open wide. “What do you want?”
“To talk to your mother.” Grant eyed the boy, wondering when he had turned into the enemy.
Toby pressed his mouth into a straight line and folded his arms across his clean T-shirt. “Why?”
“Grown-up business,” Grant said, glaring down at the hostile child.
“She’s in the shower. Besides, I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”
Now it was Grant’s turn. “Why?”
“You make her mad.”
“Don’t you ever make her mad?”
“Yeah, but I’m her kid and she loves me no matter what.”
Grant felt a ping in his heart at the thought of a woman who loved someone no matter what. “I don’t think your mom is still mad at me. We were going down to the lake, remember?”
A momentary glitter of excitement lit Toby’s brown eyes, but he scowled again. “Me and my mom can go by ourselves.”
“You could,” Grant said, suddenly challenged to persuade the boy to like him again. “But I can show you how to make a boat that actually floats.”
“Really?” Toby’s face lit with excitement.
“I can also show you the best fishing hole in the Rockies.” Grant trained his face into a nonchalant expression. “But if you aren’t interested...”
“I’m interested,” Toby chattered. “Mom will be, too. I’ll tell her when she gets out of the shower.”
“Fine. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”
“All right,” Toby cried, an endearing grin on his freckled face as he high-fived Grant.
“All right,” Grant replied, with a boyish grin of his own.
Grant shut the door that formed the barrier between himself and the Rhodes family. His own reactions puzzled him. A moment ago, he was looking forward to time with Jami, sans her child, and now he found himself looking forward to giving Jami and Toby a tour of the lake. Grant raked a hand through his hair, surprised at himself. It would’ve been easy to get out of the lake tour with both of them miffed at him. Instead, he wanted to take them.
Wrapped in her frayed, but comfortable pink terry cloth robe, Jami stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. Toby sat cross-legged on the bed, blowing iridescent bubbles with his bubble wand.
“Grant came.”
“Oh?” Jami felt her pulse skip. “What did he want?”
“To talk to you. He’s taking us down to the lake when you’re ready.”
“We can go to the lake by ourselves.”
“Mom, Grant wants to show me how to build a boat and where there’s a good place to fish.” Toby’s voice pitched high and pleading. “Please, Mom, don’t spoil it.”
To make No more effective, she had always tried to use the word only when it was necessary, and try as she might, she could not find a solid reason to refuse her son’s request. How could she explain to her child that she preferred not to be in close proximity to Grant because the man sent her emotions into a tailspin? Emotions she believed her cheating husband had killed when their marriage had incinerated. Toby’s trusting, hopeful, expression tumbled her resistance. “Okay, we can go with Grant,” Jami finally agreed. “But you have to be on your best behavior.”
“Sure.” Toby bounced off the bed and began pulling on his socks.
“Promise?” she pressed, suspicious that her son had agreed too quickly and too easily.
“I’ll be good.” Toby hopped on his right foot as he pulled on his other sock. “Have you ever made a boat?”
“Not really.”
“Have ever you gone fishing?” Toby asked, eying his mother critically.
“Once,” Jami answered uncomfortably, aware of undercurrents in this mother-son conversation.
“Only once?” Toby wailed in disgust. “I wanna be a fisherman and fish all the time when I grow up. I bet Grant fishes lots.”
“I scuba dive and watch fish under the water,” Jami reminded her son. “I’ve taken you with me several times, haven’t I?”
Toby pulled a face. “Watching doesn’t count.