His First Choice. Tara Quinn Taylor

up at him. And swore to himself, then and there, that he’d take the boy and run if need be, to protect him. He knew he wasn’t hurting Levi. And he’d be damned if some stranger thought she could come into his life and proclaim that he was...

      “Getting ready to put the veggies on the grill,” he said, picking up the foiled bundle that had been sitting on the counter for far longer than he’d originally intended.

      He’d been waiting for Tressa to call him back. He’d wanted to deal with whatever drama was coming his way before he started cooking dinner, because once the food was cooked, he intended to sit outside with his son and enjoy the meal. Sans drama.

      “That was before Whyatt.” Levi’s stare was no less piercing for his youth. When he’d headed to the kitchen to start dinner, Jem had told Levi that he could watch one episode of Super Why! Which meant he’d been in the kitchen a full twenty-five minutes. It took ten, at the most, to prepare veggies for the grill.

      “Well, sometimes these things take a little longer,” Jem said, off his mark for having to be less than straight up with the boy.

      “You was just standing here looking...”

      “Were,” he corrected, and with veggies in one hand, he scooped Levi up with the other. “What do you say we go look over the boat while dinner’s cooking?” He swung Levi high and then landed him on his hip.

      Parenting books said to distract as a form of behavior management.

      “Can I help?” Levi was fascinated with the old schooner that took up most of their garage. Jem couldn’t wait until the day his son would be old enough to really participate.

      And hoped that by then he’d still want to.

      “I painted this weekend while you were at your mom’s. You can help me sand.” No tools. Nothing dangerous. Just in case they had a surprise visitor. Not because he didn’t trust himself to take perfectly good care of his son.

      Purposely leaving his cell phone on the kitchen counter, Jem headed outdoors.

      * * *

      “I’M HERE TO ask you some questions about your son.” Lacey hated this part of her job, where she tried to instill confidence so she could determine whether or not she had to become the person’s worst nightmare.

      In order to help. Always in order to help. Unfortunately, most parents in need of help didn’t see her as someone to turn to.

      That night, for whatever reason, she wished she could just be having a glass of wine with the woman across from her, finding out what besides decorating styles, blond hair and a penchant for iced tea they had in common.

      “You want to know about Levi? Social services wants to know?” Tressa sat up straight, mouth open and brow furrowed. “Something’s happened to him? That can’t be. I was just talking to Jem. He’d have told me if anything was wrong. As infuriating as that man can be, he’s great with Levi. That’s the only reason I can bear to be without my baby. Because I know that Jem’s such a great dad.”

      “And you don’t think you’re a great mom?”

      “Of course I do,” Tressa said. And then added, “Well, mostly. I’m not as goofy with Levi as Jem is. I don’t make him laugh as much. Those two, from the very beginning, they had this rapport. Everyone noticed it. I had a baby and it was like I became a third wheel. But I’m a good mom. I’ve been reading to Levi since he was born and I taught him to read. He’s only four, you know.”

      Tressa took a sip of tea, as though confident that everything was going to be just fine.

      Jeremiah’s energy had been more like that of a caged lion.

      “My office received a report that someone’s been abusing him.”

      Those big blue eyes opened wide in shock, and alarm. Lacey read no subterfuge there. Noticed no dropped glance or prevarication. Tressa was staring her straight in the eye.

      “That’s a lie,” the woman said. “I just had him this weekend and he was perfectly fine. He’s always fine. Every single time I see him. He may not live with me full-time, but I’m his mother. He’s my only child. I’d have noticed if he wasn’t okay.”

      Not an atypical response. Either way—if she was an abuser or if she wasn’t.

      “So you don’t think your husband could be hurting him?”

      “Jem? Are you nuts? He’s the most gentle man I know. Except maybe when people screw up at work, and only then because construction is a dangerous business and people could get hurt. He’s really protective of his crews. It’s not like anyone would think they could walk all over him or anything. But he’d never hurt Levi. Not ever.”

      Curious, that an ex-wife defended the man so much.

      “And what about you? Has there ever been a time when, not meaning to, you grabbed him too tightly?” Unless Mara Noble had lied, someone had left finger-shaped bruises on that little boy’s body. And someone besides a day care worker would have to have seen them.

      “Of course I haven’t.” There was no indignation in Tressa’s voice. Because the woman found the idea so far-fetched it wasn’t even an issue? That was how it seemed to Lacey. But she’d been lied to by the best, and she knew better than to take the interview at face value.

      Losing some of her conversational passiveness, she leaned forward. “How did Levi break his arm?”

      Tressa’s lips pushed out as she held them together. Her chin dimpled. She blinked away a sudden flood of tears. “Is that what this is about?” she asked. “Did he tell you I hurt him?”

      “No. He won’t tell anyone anything.”

      Tressa’s expression didn’t clear—no sign of relief at finding out that she had not been accused of wrongdoing.

      “He was climbing on the bookcase,” she said. “He’d asked if he could watch Whyatt, and I said yes, and then the phone rang. It was Amelia, and I was talking to her, and so he decided to help himself to his video. He knows he isn’t allowed to climb on that bookcase. He could...” She stopped. “Well, we all know what could happen, because it did.”

      “You’re saying he fell?”

      She shook her head. “He probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t panicked. I rushed over to save him from disaster, but I didn’t have a secure enough grasp on him...” Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “It’s just like Jem used to say, I overreact.”

      “He blamed you, then?”

      Tressa blinked. “What? Jem? For Levi’s arm? No.” She shook her head softly. “He said it was an accident. It was an accident. But I still feel horrible about it.”

      Lacey believed her. About all of it. The story was the same, with minute differences, like the fact that she’d given her son permission to watch his video and then taken a phone call...

      It didn’t sound rehearsed, and it explained Levi’s shame.

      She didn’t like that Jem always told Tressa she overreacted. Though if it was true, if Tressa had out-of-control emotions, that could be a concern.

      And if it wasn’t true, it pointed to an unhealthy behavior by the ex-husband—demeaning and belittling the mother of his child.

      “Have you ever noticed bruising on Levi?” She was back to the bruises Mara had reported on Levi’s torso.

      “No. But all little boys get bruises now and then. It’s not like I would have found it unusual or of particular concern. I might not have committed one to memory. Also, Jem has him most of the time. I just have him on weekends. And only every other one.”

      “Why is that?”

      Tressa shrugged. “I have a tendency to make issues where there are none. My whole family was that way. And probably why my brother