This Good Man. Janice Kay Johnson
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very speaking eyebrow of his twitched. “Think I’m too old to have a brother that young?”
“Well, um, yes?”
He grimaced. “You’re right. I am. I should have said half brother. Who I didn’t know existed until a few months ago.”
“That sounds like a story.” He wasn’t moving, so she came to a stop.
“It is.” He shook his head. “You probably just want to get home.”
“Actually, now you have me interested,” she admitted. She didn’t know what had happened the last time they had seen each other. She would have sworn he’d been checking out her body, if smoothly. He wouldn’t have suggested coffee if he hadn’t been attracted to her, would he? It was more as if she’d said something wrong. The annoying part was having no idea what that could have been. It might be that he’d happened to be at the library tonight, saw that she was speaking and thought, Aha! There’s someone I can talk to. He did say it was an impulse. But...she didn’t believe that. He hadn’t been carrying any books earlier, and he didn’t have one in his hands now, either. She had a feeling he had come looking for her.
“I suppose you’ve had dinner.” He sounded almost tentative.
“Actually, no. But you don’t need to feed me.”
“I wouldn’t mind having something to eat myself. How about Chandler’s Brewpub?”
“They often have live music,” she pointed out. “Not so great if you want to talk.” She hesitated. “Will you be shocked if I confess I was planning to go to A&W? I really wanted a root-beer float.”
He flashed a grin that made her knees wobble. “A root-beer float and French fries sound damn good to me.” He pushed open the door, letting in a blast of cold air, and waited for her to go through.
She gave an involuntary shiver. “You know where it is?”
“I do.”
“My car’s that way.” She gestured vaguely. “See you there.”
He raised a hand and strode away.
* * *
ANNA INSISTED ON paying for her own meal, a clear message. She carried her tray toward a far booth even though the place was empty but for one other couple, leaving him to place his own order and follow a minute later.
He slid onto the hard plastic bench across from her. “Think we’ll hear our numbers from here?”
“I thought you might not want to be overheard,” she said coolly.
“You’re right.”
He still didn’t know what he was doing here. Not an unusual state for him these days. Confusion seemed to be his new usual. Still—he’d made the decision to stay away from Anna, and yet here he was, three whole days later, having sought her out.
Weirdly, when he had driven away from the shelter this afternoon, he’d immediately thought of her. By serendipity, he’d spotted a notice in the morning paper for her talk at the library, so he guessed that was why she’d been at the back of his mind. He could talk to her about Caleb’s issues, he’d thought, without saying anything about his relationship to the boy. Then what was the first thing out of his mouth? He’s my brother.
“There’s mine,” she said abruptly, sliding out of the booth.
Her number. He’d been so busy brooding, he hadn’t even heard.
She was still up there when his was called, but when he turned, Anna waved him back to his seat. She returned with his food, as well as her own.
“Damn, that smells good,” he said, hungrily reaching for his French fries. “This was a good idea.”
“Yes, it was.” She took a slurp from her root-beer float then unwrapped her cheeseburger.
“How’d your talk go?” he asked between bites, aiming to put off a conversation he still wasn’t sure he wanted to have.
“Hmm? Oh, good. We’re always short of homes, which means I put in a lot of time recruiting new foster parents.”
“Is Angel’s Haven local only?”
“You mean Butte County? Mostly, but we do have some scattered foster homes in Deschutes and Klamath Counties. If someone good prefers to work with us rather than an agency closer to them, we don’t turn them away. The home has to be near enough for us to visit easily, though.”
He nodded. She talked about some of the questions people had asked tonight, and about the fears she thought kept people from being willing to take in children who might—and often did—have problems.
She switched gears when she finished her burger. “Are you going to tell me how you didn’t know you had a brother?”
Reid grunted, no closer to having made a decision about how much to tell her. “I haven’t stayed in touch with my father. Didn’t know he’d remarried. A few months ago, I ran a check on him. Turns out he’s divorced, but they had another kid who stayed with him rather than going with the mother. Caleb. He’s...a mess.”
Anna’s big gray eyes were compassionate. “In what way?”
“Our father was abusive.” He paused, frowning. “Is.”
“I...see.”
Damn it, there she went again. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d said over coffee that scared the shit out of him? The trouble was, she meant it. She saw more than he’d said. And this time he’d set himself up for it.
He reached for a French fry, attempting to look more casual than he felt. “I’m...trying to build a relationship with Caleb. He doesn’t want to trust me.”
“Maybe he can’t.”
“Can’t?” He stared at her, inexplicably angry. “What are you suggesting? That he’s broken and unfixable?”
Like me? The quick thought was unwelcome. If he believed himself to be permanently damaged...maybe Caleb was, too. Maybe he’d found him too late. It was disconcerting to realize how pissed he was at the very idea.
But Anna was frowning repressively at him. “Of course not. I’d never suggest anything of the kind. I’ve seen too many children from horrific homes blossom when they feel safe and loved.”
Damn. She sounded like Paula.
“I hardly know him,” he said. “Love... That’s asking a lot.”
“Can you bring him to live with you?”
“I don’t see that as an option.”
“Why not?” she asked.
He should have known she wouldn’t let it go that easily.
“Aside from the fact I have a job that demands a whole hell of a lot more than forty hours a week?”
“How old is Caleb?”
“Fifteen,” he said reluctantly.
“Unless you live way out of town, he could get himself home from after-school activities, to friends’ houses. He could take on responsibility for putting dinner on the table some nights. He doesn’t need the same time commitment from you that a younger child would.”
His appetite had deserted him. “His father won’t let him go without an ugly court battle.”
“So you’re just going to leave him?” Her spine had straightened and her eyes held the light of battle. Despite the topic and the fact she was judging him, Reid was disconcerted to find his body responding to the fire in her. Apparently, he was turned on by a woman who could take to task not only a crusty desk sergeant, but also a stone-faced police captain.
At least she hadn’t commented on what he’d said—his