him.
Who am I fooling? he thought. The boy’s mother distracts me, too.
He pushed away his thoughts. “So, tell me what’s up with you and the family?”
Blair turned the conversation to his wife and three children. They talked about curriculum, co-workers, and even Dooley. Finally, Blair looked at his wristwatch and rose. Jordan followed him to the door with another promise to give the proposition some thought.
“You have a telephone?” Blair asked.
Jordan laughed. “That and running water, electricity—all those modern conveniences.”
“How about giving me your number? I’d like to keep in touch.”
Jordan jotted the number on a scratch pad and slipped it into Blair’s hand.
As they moved to the door, a car pulled in next to Blair’s. Jordan’s stomach tightened as he sighted the familiar freckled face crowned by flaming red hair exiting the car. Her hair hung wild and full around her shoulders.
Blair looked at him with narrowed eyes, then peered out the door again. “Whew! I saw that beauty at the kite shop. I assume you know her?”
“I sure do. She’s renting my apartment.”
“Your apartment? Wish I had an apartment.” He chuckled and pushed the screen door open, stepping outside.
Jordan followed him and buzzed in his ear, “You have a wife, my friend. That’s all you need.”
Blair gave him a wink. “But I can dream, can’t I?”
“No” resounded in Jordan’s mind, but he only grinned.
Meara hesitated by her car, and Mac slid into the driver’s seat and out the same door, clinging to his mother’s dress. Jordan had never seen her in a dress. She looked lovely. Enhancing her emerald eyes, the soft green fabric fell in gentle folds around her trim hips and stopped below the knees of her long slender legs. A brush of color tinged her fine cheekbones and a soft coral highlight brightened her natural pink lips. Gold earrings glinted through the wisps of her untamed hair.
“I didn’t mean to intrude. I hadn’t expected you to have company,” Meara said, still clinging to the open car door, her gaze darting from Jordan to Blair.
“No problem,” Jordan said, stepping forward. “Meara Hayden, this is Blair Dunham. We were co-workers a few years ago.”
Blair extended his hand. “I believe we almost met earlier today. At the kite shop.”
“Ah, yes. I thought you looked familiar.”
“And who’s this young man?” Blair asked, eyeing Mac.
Jordan moved forward and wrapped a protective arm around the boy’s shoulders. “This young man is Mac. He has quite a handle for a lad.”
Mac gave him an inquisitive look.
Blair extended his hand. “And what’s the rest of that name, son? Mac what?”
Mac took his hand. “Dunstan MacAuley Hayden,” he said, giving three firm pumps of his hand with each part of his name. He turned and squinted into Jordan’s eyes. “Where’s my handle?”
Unexpectedly, a warm, full laugh exited his throat. “‘Handle’ means your long, distinguished name. My handle is Jordan Evan Baird.”
“Does Mama have a handle?”
But Blair didn’t wait for the answer. He grasped Jordan’s arm in a firm shake. “Listen, man, I have to get going. And you obviously have some business to take care of here.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. He pivoted toward Meara. “Nice to meet you.”
“My pleasure,” Meara said.
“Nice to meet you,” Mac parroted.
Blair tousled Mac’s hair and leaned into Jordan’s frame. “Good to see you, man. Give the offer thought.” He eyed him slyly. “And I’ll take you at your word.”
Jordan’s brow furrowed. “My word?”
Blair glanced over his shoulder at the new arrivals. “I think you are okay.”
Jordan caught his drift and shook his head. Blair never had viewed women as Jordan did.
With a wink, Blair got into his car, waved and backed down the driveway.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Meara said again. “Funny. I did see him in the kite shop. He stood out in his
Who am I fooling? he thought. The boy’s mother distracts me, too.
He pushed away his thoughts. “So, tell me what’s up with you and the family?”
Blair turned the conversation to his wife and three children. They talked about curriculum, co-workers, and even Dooley. Finally, Blair looked at his wristwatch and rose. Jordan followed him to the door with another promise to give the proposition some thought.
“You have a telephone?” Blair asked.
Jordan laughed. “That and running water, electricity—all those modern conveniences.”
“How about giving me your number? I’d like to keep in touch.”
Jordan jotted the number on a scratch pad and slipped it into Blair’s hand.
As they moved to the door, a car pulled in next to Blair’s. Jordan’s stomach tightened as he sighted the familiar freckled face crowned by flaming red hair exiting the car. Her hair hung wild and full around her shoulders.
Blair looked at him with narrowed eyes, then peered out the door again. “Whew! I saw that beauty at the kite shop. I assume you know her?”
“I sure do. She’s renting my apartment.”
“Your apartment? Wish I had an apartment.” He chuckled and pushed the screen door open, stepping outside.
Jordan followed him and buzzed in his ear, “You have a wife, my friend. That’s all you need.”
Blair gave him a wink. “But I can dream, can’t I?”
“No” resounded in Jordan’s mind, but he only grinned.
Meara hesitated by her car, and Mac slid into the driver’s seat and out the same door, clinging to his mother’s dress. Jordan had never seen her in a dress. She looked lovely. Enhancing her emerald eyes, the soft green fabric fell in gentle folds around her trim hips and stopped below the knees of her long slender legs. A brush of color tinged her fine cheekbones and a soft coral highlight brightened her natural pink lips. Gold earrings glinted through the wisps of her untamed hair.
“I didn’t mean to intrude. I hadn’t expected you to have company,” Meara said, still clinging to the open car door, her gaze darting from Jordan to Blair.
“No problem,” Jordan said, stepping forward. “Meara Hayden, this is Blair Dunham. We were co-workers a few years ago.”
Blair extended his hand. “I believe we almost met earlier today. At the kite shop.”
“Ah, yes. I thought you looked familiar.”
“And who’s this young man?” Blair asked, eyeing Mac.
Jordan moved forward and wrapped a protective arm around the boy’s shoulders. “This young man is Mac. He has quite a handle for a lad.”
Mac gave him an inquisitive look.
Blair extended his hand. “And what’s the rest of that name, son? Mac what?”
Mac took his hand. “Dunstan MacAuley Hayden,” he said, giving three firm pumps of his hand with each part of his name. He turned and squinted into Jordan’s eyes. “Where’s my handle?”
Unexpectedly, a warm, full laugh exited his throat. “‘Handle’ means your long, distinguished name. My handle is Jordan Evan Baird.”
“Does Mama have a handle?”
But Blair didn’t wait for the answer. He grasped Jordan’s arm in a firm shake. “Listen, man, I have to get going. And you obviously have some business to take care of here.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. He pivoted toward Meara. “Nice to meet you.”
“My pleasure,” Meara said.
“Nice to meet you,” Mac parroted.
Blair tousled Mac’s hair and leaned into Jordan’s frame. “Good to see you, man. Give the offer thought.” He eyed him slyly. “And I’ll take you at your word.”
Jordan’s brow furrowed. “My word?”
Blair glanced over his shoulder at the new arrivals. “I think you are okay.”
Jordan caught his drift and shook his head. Blair never had viewed women as Jordan did.
With a wink, Blair got into his car, waved and backed down the driveway.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Meara said again. “Funny. I did see him in the kite shop. He stood out in his
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