Baby in His Arms. Linda Goodnight

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      Chapter Three

      The next evening, after the dinner dishes were put away and homework completed, Haley found herself watching the clock. Would Creed really show up? If he didn’t, would Thomas be disappointed?

      At ten minutes until six, Thomas laid his kite and string on the table. The cheap kite had turned out well thanks to Creed Carter. A bright blue-and-red dragon with a tail made from scraps of cloth she’d cut from an old shirt, to Thomas the toy was the next best thing to an airplane.

      “Creed will be here any minute,” he said with that absolute certainty only a ten-year-old could have. “He said six o’clock and Creed’s a man of his word. He told me so.”

      A better question would have been, how disappointed will he be when the flyboy doesn’t show up?

      She glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes and the man was toast.

      She’d not particularly wanted Creed to come over tonight, but now she’d be furious if he didn’t. Thomas had enough disappointments in his life.

      She’d thought about the flyboy too much today. About the way he looked so military-neat and masculine-handsome. About the way he’d fretted over Rose Petal. But especially about that tingly moment when they’d been feeding the baby. Haley knew all about tingly moments with a guy, enough that she’d long ago decided attraction was grossly overrated. Especially after Creed had insulted her yesterday and made it clear he thought she was unfit to foster Rose Petal.

      But he’d better show up tonight or else be prepared to receive a very irate phone call tomorrow.

      She poked a finger in the potted seedlings growing by the kitchen window, finding the dirt still moist. In another week or two, she’d transplant the gourds outside and hope this year’s crop did better than last year’s. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. More important than the seedlings were the unfinished pieces in her work room. An artist couldn’t sell what wasn’t finished.

      “He’s here!” The shout from Thomas jolted her from her worry.

      Following the sound of male voices, she entered the living room to find Creed Carter standing inside the front door. She needed to have a talk with Thomas about letting men into her house!

      “You came,” she said.

      Creed, wearing a black Carter’s Charters T-shirt, gave her a long, piercing look. “I said I would.”

      She tilted her chin. “So you did.”

      If Thomas caught the sizzle of antagonism between the adults, he was too excited to be bothered.

      “I put the string and tail on like you told me to. See?”

      “She looks like a worthy vessel,” Creed said. “Ready to fly her?”

      “Yes!” Thomas didn’t need any other invitation. Kite in hand, he led the way through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. The adults followed.

      “He’s been bouncy all day,” Haley said. “Very excited.”

      “Flying a kite is no big deal.”

      Haley fought an eye roll. He’d probably come from the perfect family where disappointments were rare. But her foster son hadn’t. Creed didn’t understand. Flying the kite wasn’t the issue. Having a man care enough to show up was. “It’s important to him.”

      And to her. For Thomas’s sake. She eased around the troubling pilot, careful not to let her arm brush his in the narrow hallway. She didn’t want a repeat of last night’s touchy-feely episode.

      As they passed through the kitchen, Creed glanced toward the table. “Where’s the baby? Rose Petal.”

      “I moved the bassinet into my bedroom.” As Haley had expected, Rose Petal had cried off and on all night.

      “How’s she doing?”

      “Fine.” Her answers were short and to the point, maybe even abrupt, but the flyboy was too close in the small kitchen. And he smelled good. And looked all spit and polished. For crying out loud, had he gone home after work and showered?

      She’d been in the garden most of the morning and in the work room all afternoon when she hadn’t been caring for Rose Petal. She probably smelled like a combo of Miracle-Gro and acrylic paint. Or baby formula.

      Once outside, Creed’s focus, thankfully, was on Thomas, not her. Haley let out a tight sigh.

      “Have you ever flown a kite before?” Creed asked, one hand on Thomas’s shoulder as he surveyed the spacious backyard.

      Thomas shook his head. The pale blond cowlick quivered.

      “Okay, then, here’s how it works. Check out the space above you first. A pilot never flies unless he has smooth sailing. Safety first. See any electric wires or trees?”

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