big deal for the kids.”
“Cuz everyone who goes gets a trophy.” Cooper’s little arms stretched as wide as they could, the block of wood dangling from his fingers. “A big one.”
“Garrett did it when we were kids,” Heather said, coming to the door. “I used to watch him and my dad slave for weeks over it. We’re talking top-of-the-line pine-car engineering and aerodynamics. A real testosterone, mine-is-bigger-than-yours competition.”
“It’s a wood car with detailed instructions. How hard can it be?”
Heather snorted. “Although it was made really clear at pickup today that this is supposed to be a ‘parental supervision project ’ ” —she made exaggerated air quotes and shot Roman a pointed look—“the dads were already grunting their engineering superiority.”
“Great,” Sara said, watching the excitement in her son’s eyes as he raced his hunk of wood across the carpet.
“We got to pick out our own wood and I picked this one cuz it has a dark line right here. Built-in racing stripe, see.” Cooper held it up and, sure enough, it had a dark grain cutting right through the middle. Getting that stripe to go up the middle of a car was a whole other problem. “Like Daddy’s car.”
Heather shot Sara a sympathetic look and, just like that, she felt her heart drop right to her toes. She saw how excited her son was, knew how important getting the car perfect was going to be, and yet she couldn’t even park a car correctly, let alone whittle one.
“And we got our own piece of sandpaper. But I’m not allowed to use a saw unless an adult supervises, right, Commander Roman?”
“Right, kiddo,” Roman said, but she could hear the apology in his voice.
Did they even own a saw? And wasn’t five too young to race wood cars chiseled from semiautomatic tools?
Born the only child to a single mother who ran a ballet company, Sara’s experience with men was limited. Which was why she’d fallen so hard and fast for Garrett. Her husband had been smart, funny, and 100 percent military-grown male. Everything that her world as a dancer was not.
When Garrett was alive, Sara never had to worry about Cooper getting in his “guy-time.” Now that her son had turned five and was better at identifying sickled feet during a pirouette than a good football pass, she was getting worried. Which was one of the reasons she’d put him in the Mighty Mites to begin with. The other was that Garrett had been a Mighty Mite.
“It’s a nice piece of wood,” Heather said, tapping the bill of Cooper’s cap. “Now, say thank-you to Roman and then you and I will go brush your teeth and pick out a bedtime story.”
Cooper’s face fell. Fun over. With a mumbled thank-you, he picked up his block of wood and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Apparently bedtime was for babies too.
When the sound of water hitting the sink sounded, Roman tucked a piece of hair behind Sara’s ear. “I didn’t mean to make tonight hard on you.”
“No, it’s not that,” she admitted, taking a sudden interest in her shoes when Roman’s gaze strayed to her lips. “Just sometimes being a single mom sucks.”
“Yeah,” he smiled down at her, which made Sara smile because he got it. His ex-wife might have Matt tonight, but Roman had primary custody and was the main parental influence in his son’s life. He was in this all alone—just like Sara. “If you need help with the car or the saw or whatever…” Roman’s eyes darted to her lips and hung there, letting her know that whatever was still on the table, she only had to give him the go-ahead.
Sometimes Roman popped in for one of her ballroom dancing classes at the studio. And sometimes they’d talk afterward, about their kids, school, parenthood, the Mighty Mites. They’d flirted once or twice, but whenever he’d pressed for more Sara had backed away.
She hadn’t been ready.
Understanding as ever, Roman had shrugged and said maybe another time. Apparently another
“Cuz everyone who goes gets a trophy.” Cooper’s little arms stretched as wide as they could, the block of wood dangling from his fingers. “A big one.”
“Garrett did it when we were kids,” Heather said, coming to the door. “I used to watch him and my dad slave for weeks over it. We’re talking top-of-the-line pine-car engineering and aerodynamics. A real testosterone, mine-is-bigger-than-yours competition.”
“It’s a wood car with detailed instructions. How hard can it be?”
Heather snorted. “Although it was made really clear at pickup today that this is supposed to be a ‘parental supervision project ’ ” —she made exaggerated air quotes and shot Roman a pointed look—“the dads were already grunting their engineering superiority.”
“Great,” Sara said, watching the excitement in her son’s eyes as he raced his hunk of wood across the carpet.
“We got to pick out our own wood and I picked this one cuz it has a dark line right here. Built-in racing stripe, see.” Cooper held it up and, sure enough, it had a dark grain cutting right through the middle. Getting that stripe to go up the middle of a car was a whole other problem. “Like Daddy’s car.”
Heather shot Sara a sympathetic look and, just like that, she felt her heart drop right to her toes. She saw how excited her son was, knew how important getting the car perfect was going to be, and yet she couldn’t even park a car correctly, let alone whittle one.
“And we got our own piece of sandpaper. But I’m not allowed to use a saw unless an adult supervises, right, Commander Roman?”
“Right, kiddo,” Roman said, but she could hear the apology in his voice.
Did they even own a saw? And wasn’t five too young to race wood cars chiseled from semiautomatic tools?
Born the only child to a single mother who ran a ballet company, Sara’s experience with men was limited. Which was why she’d fallen so hard and fast for Garrett. Her husband had been smart, funny, and 100 percent military-grown male. Everything that her world as a dancer was not.
When Garrett was alive, Sara never had to worry about Cooper getting in his “guy-time.” Now that her son had turned five and was better at identifying sickled feet during a pirouette than a good football pass, she was getting worried. Which was one of the reasons she’d put him in the Mighty Mites to begin with. The other was that Garrett had been a Mighty Mite.
“It’s a nice piece of wood,” Heather said, tapping the bill of Cooper’s cap. “Now, say thank-you to Roman and then you and I will go brush your teeth and pick out a bedtime story.”
Cooper’s face fell. Fun over. With a mumbled thank-you, he picked up his block of wood and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Apparently bedtime was for babies too.
When the sound of water hitting the sink sounded, Roman tucked a piece of hair behind Sara’s ear. “I didn’t mean to make tonight hard on you.”
“No, it’s not that,” she admitted, taking a sudden interest in her shoes when Roman’s gaze strayed to her lips. “Just sometimes being a single mom sucks.”
“Yeah,” he smiled down at her, which made Sara smile because he got it. His ex-wife might have Matt tonight, but Roman had primary custody and was the main parental influence in his son’s life. He was in this all alone—just like Sara. “If you need help with the car or the saw or whatever…” Roman’s eyes darted to her lips and hung there, letting her know that whatever was still on the table, she only had to give him the go-ahead.
Sometimes Roman popped in for one of her ballroom dancing classes at the studio. And sometimes they’d talk afterward, about their kids, school, parenthood, the Mighty Mites. They’d flirted once or twice, but whenever he’d pressed for more Sara had backed away.
She hadn’t been ready.
Understanding as ever, Roman had shrugged and said maybe another time. Apparently another
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