Her Son's Hero. Vicki Essex

who cosseted him.

      But Dom was the new guy in town, after all, and it wasn’t in his nature to pick fights with single mothers.

      Even if they were smokin’ hot and looked as if they could go a few rounds with him.

      Damn. He’d come to Salmon River to train for the championship belt. And to avoid distractions. But it appeared he’d just moved in across the street from one.

      CHAPTER TWO

      FIONA WAS IN A SURLY MOOD the next morning as she dropped Sean off at the community center’s Saturday day camp and drove to work.

      Yesterday’s encounter with her new neighbor had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Not just because he’d tried to dictate to her how she should raise Sean, but because her son seemed to agree with him.

      It had started at dinner. Sean had been wolfing down his food with uncharacteristic abandon. To her utter shock, he’d shoveled his much-hated nemesis, broccoli, into his mouth without his usual complaints against vegetables.

      “Broccoli has lots of iron. Iron’s good for building muscles and strength,” he’d said, as if all her past lectures about the importance of greens had fallen on deaf ears.

      “Since when did you become so interested in nutrition?”

      “Dom said it’s important to eat right.” He stuffed another floret into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “He said he eats a lot of broccoli and fish to help keep him strong. Do you think we can eat more fish, Mom?”

      Fiona sat back, floored. Sean hated greens, but he loathed fish. How on earth could he have changed his mind after only just meeting Dominic Payette? How could some musclehead make her son want things she’d been begging him to eat for the past ten years?

      It didn’t end there. When she’d asked Sean to help with the dishes, he’d done his duty. But in a preachy tone that nearly matched hers, Sean said, “It’s good to help others in need, isn’t it, Mom?”

      “Of course it is,” she’d replied, not seeing the trap laid before her.

      “So…you don’t think it was wrong that I tried to help Dom move in,” he concluded. “That I was just trying to be neighborly.”

      Sean really was too smart for his own good some times.

      She’d spent half the night tossing and turning, feeling guilty. The U-Haul truck was still parked on the street this morning. Dominic probably hadn’t finished unloading yet.

      She should have made more of an effort to be welcoming. She and Sean had been newcomers here once, too. They still were after a year and a half. It was nearly impossible for anyone to integrate into the tight-knit community.

      A figure darted out onto the road and Fiona slammed on the brakes. Rubber squealed on asphalt. The car shuddered to a halt as another person dashed after the first.

      And wouldn’t you know, it was Denise Kirkpatrick and her spawn of Satan, Rene. Fiona honked the horn.

      Denise slowly straightened. She said something to her son, and he scooted his pudgy butt up to the sidewalk.

      Fiona rolled down the window as Denise walked to the car.

      “Morning, Fiona.” The brunette’s wide lips curved in a scythe-like crescent as she leaned in. One manicured hand gripped the roof as she casually leaned against the door. “Guess you haven’t had any coffee yet, huh?”

      “Excuse me?” Fiona’s fingers curled around the steering wheel. “Your son just ran out into the middle of the road without looking.”

      “Boys will be boys,” Denise said. “Here in Salmon River, they tend to be a little rambunctious.”

      Fiona ground her teeth. Denise had lived here all her life; her ancestors had practically founded the riverside town. Since Fiona and Sean had arrived, the woman had taken every opportunity to point out just how much they didn’t belong among good, hardworking, decent folk. Denise had been among the most vocal gossipers when news of Mitch’s troubles had made it to town. And while outwardly she pretended to be friendly, there was no mistaking the poison beneath her polite veneer.

      Denise peered around the leather interior of the Toyota Camry. “Good thing you have this fancy car, huh?” She patted the door. “Otherwise Rene might be just a stain on the road now.”

      Considering Denise drove an electric-blue BMW coupe, Fiona didn’t understand what she had against her nine-year-old sedan. She’d once owned a Beemer herself, but she’d traded it in years ago for this more practical vehicle. She’d also wanted to cleanse herself of her old life when she’d moved here.

      “Well, you have yourself a good day, and drive safe,” Denise said after an uncomfortable beat of silence. She slapped the roof of the car a little harder than Fiona thought necessary.

      It was only as the woman was ushering her son away that Fiona realized she’d missed her opportunity to tell the mother about her little bully. She rolled up the windows and let out a string of expletives.

      Minutes later, her mood now pitch-black, she parked her car behind Leeds Reads, the bookstore where she worked. She breathed deeply, submersing the ill feelings she harbored for the Kirkpatricks in the still waters of calm. It was going to be a busy day: this was the first sunny Saturday they’d been blessed with this May, and the weekenders would be flooding the town. It wouldn’t do to scowl at every customer who came in.

      GOLDEN SUNSHINE AND A CLEAN, sweet breeze alternately warmed and cooled Dom as he jogged briskly to Sensei Mako Miwa’s dojo. The run into town was a good warm-up, but more importantly, it helped work off some of his frustration at not being able to finish moving all his stuff in. He was just glad the place came furnished; he’d never have been able to wrestle a sofa by himself. By the time he’d managed to find the box of sheets so he could fix up the bed, he’d been too exhausted to eat. Thank God for energy bars. He’d have to stock up on groceries today, as well.

      Right now, however, he had to see his old karate master and get his training back on track. The most important fight of his life was coming up in September. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. His manager had staunchly reminded him of that this morning when he’d called to check on him.

      “You need to get your mojo back, Dom,” Joel Khalib had said. “I’m having a hell of a time convincing Silverstreak to keep you on.” Silverstreak was the energy drink company with the biggest logo on Dom’s trunks. “I told them you’d be ready for the belt in September. You gotta prove me right on this.”

      “I will.” He didn’t have the luxury of doubt.

      “You sure you don’t want me to send some of the other guys over? I mean, if you have the space, a little work on your jujitsu and wrestling…”

      “This is about more than physical training right now, Joel.” Dom knew his sad performance ever since his fight with Bruno DiMartino had been entirely rooted in his brain.

      He still hadn’t called Katy DiMartino to offer his condolences…or anything else. He asked tentatively, “How’s Bruno doing?”

      “No change.” Joel’s tone was grim. “But don’t you worry about a thing. I sent over a nice bouquet of flowers from you. Made sure Katy has everything she needs. I even got her a rent-a-maid. You know, so someone can help her clean house while she’s at the hospital.”

      Dom had grunted noncommittally. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” Joel said. “You should really be seeing a sports psychologist, man. I have some great references for—”

      “Thanks, but no thanks. Sensei Miwa has always been able to straighten me out. I trust him.”

      He approached downtown Salmon River, jogging over the old stone bridge that spanned the fast-flowing tributary the town was named after. Fishermen were trying their luck from aluminum skiffs and old wooden rowboats, and they silently watched