His Surprise Son. Wendy Warren

      “Nothing!” Twisting a ring on her right hand, Willa shook her head. “It was all just a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again.”

      “What won’t happen again?” Derek squared off, ready for a showdown, which made Izzy realize instantly she should have kept her big mouth shut. Derek’s history was dotted with confrontation, and he tended to be even more mulish than she.

      “The lady said it was a misunderstanding.” Nate stepped in. Unintimidated by Derek’s badge, his stature or his expression, Nate spoke in a tone at once mildly appeasing and strongly cautionary. “Let’s take her word for it. Jack, apologize to Willa.”

      Jack spoke up from safely behind his friend. “Why should I apologize?”

      “To save your life.” Nate tossed the wry reply over his shoulder while maintaining eye contact with Derek, who now directed his glower toward Nate.

      “Who are you again?” Derek demanded, his hands on his hips. “And how do you know Izzy?”

      Izzy’s heart began to pound. She and Nate had kept their personal business private. Because of her home life, Izzy had not socialized much, and because she and Nate had both had jobs, they’d reserved their limited time together strictly for each other. With the exception of Henry and Sam, who owned the deli and knew almost everything about her, most people had assumed she and Nate were just a fleeting high school crush. Here today, gone tomorrow. Which was exactly what she wanted them to assume.

      I should use Gorilla Glue instead of lip gloss. If she’d kept her mouth shut, Nate and his friend might be out of here by now.

      His gaze fell on her as he answered Derek. “Izzy and I are...old friends.”

      Was it her imagination, or had Nate hesitated a hair too long before he said “old friends”? In addition to Derek, half her crew had rushed over to help when she fell. She did not want to court their curiosity.

      Addressing herself to Jack, she said, “Never mind. You know what? Check is in the mail.”

      “No, it’s not.” Nate turned toward her, his expression uncompromising. “He owes Willa—and you—an apology.” The steadiness of his gaze made her skin prickle inside the hot costume.

      “Whose side are you on?” Jack complained. “She got water on you, too, man.”

      Nate didn’t glance his friend’s way. His attention and low, intense words were all for Izzy. “Stand your ground, Isabelle. Don’t let some jackass push you around.”

      “Hey!” Jack protested behind them.

      Locked in a battle of gazes with Nate, anger blazed through Izzy like a brush fire.

      Fifteen years ago, she would have given almost anything to have Nate Thayer on her side. To hear him stand up for her, stand up for them. But his supportive words were a decade and a half too late.

      “You’re giving me advice, Nate? No, thank you. What I want is for you to take your friend and go.” She wasn’t a weak, starry-eyed girl any longer. “I want you to go right now.” The last words were so choked, so intense, Nate may have been the only one to hear them.

      The surprise on Nate’s face offered a modicum of satisfaction. He seemed to be on the brink of saying something more before his expression shuttered, concealing his thoughts.

      Slowly, he turned to his loudmouthed friend. “Apologize, and let’s go.”

      “Apologize? For being friendly?”

      “Do it,” Nate said. “I’m sure the sheriff would like to kick your ass, Jack, and if he doesn’t, I might. Stop arguing and start apologizing.”

      “Fine. Who do I have to apologize to? The cucumber or the waitress?”

      Hands resting just above his gun belt, Derek got in Jack’s face. “She’s a pickle.”

      Nate shook his head. “Apologize to both of them,” he ordered.

      Face reddening, Jack turned first to Willa. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He raised his hand to show off the gold band. “I’m married.” A resounding “ugh” circled through the small group of onlookers. Redder still, he looked at Izzy. “I apologize for making a big deal about the Wallabees. But they are new, and—”

      Nate’s hand clamped down firmly on Jake’s shoulder. “I think you can stop there.” His gaze returned boldly to Izzy. He nodded. “Good to see you, Isabelle.”

      With her heart pounding against the foam costume, she gave a jerky nod.

      He seemed to hesitate a moment longer, which made her nerves flare, then apparently deciding there was nothing else to say, he turned and walked toward the deli’s glass door.

      “Time to get back to work,” she muttered, feeling slightly out of breath.

      Her busboy Leon, and Oliver, the cook, returned to their jobs. Willa hurried after them.

      Derek watched the petite redhead for several seconds, then looked at Izzy. His eyes narrowed. “Explanation, please. Who was that guy? ’Cause your face is as green as that ridiculous costume.”

       Chapter Two

      “Shh.” Izzy waved her hand, indicating that Derek should lower his booming voice. “I’ll tell you later, I promise, but—” She stopped, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

      As Nate and his friend reached the deli’s entrance, a teenage boy pulled open the door.

      Izzy’s heart took off like a startled colt. For perhaps the second time in her life, she understood the term “blind panic.” A cold sweat covered her body.

      She wanted to run to the door, but her bones felt weak and rubbery, and she wouldn’t know what to do once she got there. She watched helplessly as the boy held the door. Nate must have thanked him, because the teen smiled and nodded.

      As Nate walked down the street, he glanced back through the broad window fronting the deli. Could he see far enough into the restaurant to note that she was still watching him? It seemed that he looked right at her before his friend drew his attention and they disappeared down the block.

      “You look like you’re going to be sick.” Derek’s voice boomed beside her. “What the hell is going on here today?”

      “Not now.” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely speak. “I’ll tell you later, but—”

      “Mom!”

      Eli, her beautiful son, nearly as tall as she was now, with the same fair skin and straight brown hair as hers, loped toward them. The sight of his gangly body and broad smile never failed to make her feel as if she’d taken a hit of pure oxygen. Today the sight of him filled her with anxiety, too.

      “Hey, Uncle Derek.” Eli’s speech was somewhat marred by the hearing impairment he had suffered as a baby.

      “Hey, buddy.”

      “I’m staying,” Eli announced, then used his expressive hands to sign the question What’s for dessert today?

      Instead of asking him whether he’d eaten lunch, Izzy both spoke and signed back, “There’s strawberry cheesecake in the walk-in fridge. Help yourself.”

      Eli’s eyes, hazel-green, like his mother’s, widened in surprise. “Cool.” She never offered him dessert before a healthful meal or, at the very least, a snack. Eli taught swim classes at the local parks and rec. She was always harping on him about healthful refueling. Now he trotted toward the kitchen, stopped and looked at her. I had a sub sandwich with lettuce, tomato, spinach and pickles, he signed. In case you were wondering. With a grin, Eli said hello to a waitress, dodged around her, then rounded the counter and disappeared into the kitchen calling, “Yo, O!” to Oliver, the lead cook, who had once bought