A Texas-Made Family. Roz Fox Denny

minute he crossed the threshold, he spotted her. She didn’t see him, so he helped himself to a table near the door and noted what had attracted him earlier. The fiery hair had all but crackled in the sunlight that streamed in the café window that morning. Now, under the overhead lights, it was more muted, but still shone.

      As she joked with customers two tables away, Grant liked how her eyes stayed bright with interest in what the older couple was saying. Making people feel important was a gift. Grant quickly opened a menu he found on his table to distract himself from an unexpected rush of heat.

      He heard her footsteps approach, then halt as she recognized her next customer.

      “I haven’t come to cause trouble,” he assured her, meeting her startled gaze.

      “Why come at all?” Her low voice hit him hard. “You made your position plain enough earlier.”

      “We need to talk further.”

      “Not here,” she said uneasily. “I’m working, for pity’s sake.”

      “Where then?”

      She tucked her order pad in the pocket of a cowprint apron. “There’s an outdoor coffee shop on the next block.” She jerked her head. “I’m due a fifteenminute break soon, but you go on ahead. I’ll ask another waitress to cover my tables.”

      “Is this your way of getting rid of me?”

      “I wouldn’t do that,” she insisted. “I’ll be along shortly. You can order me an iced coffee.”

      Grant had been looking forward to one of those steaks that made his mouth water. And the talk he’d had in mind would probably take more than fifteen minutes. But he supposed even this much was a start.

      Unfolding from his chair, he ambled out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rebecca pull aside a blond waitress in a matching apron. Ouch, he could almost feel the glare that one sent him with her flinty gray eyes.

      As he shut the door behind him, he remembered Ryan’s remark about the four little boys at the game belonging to someone Rebecca worked with. The boys were blond, too, so it fit. Grant peeked in through the window, wondering how much Rebecca would tell her friend about him. Most of his concern was about how quickly Ryan might hear of this meeting. He’d see this as his dad going behind his back.

      Nothing to be done about that now.

      Grant found the coffee shop easily enough. He bought them each a coffee and claimed a table away from the foot traffic on the River Walk. He’d barely set napkins under the cups when Rebecca slid gracefully into the chair across from him at the small, wrought-iron table. A lantern hanging from the brick building rained golden light down on her, accenting distinctive cheekbones.

      Suddenly a light, flower-scented perfume had him imagining secret meetings in more intimate settings.

      “So, talk already,” she said, peeling the lid off her coffee cup. “I don’t have long. I hope you’re here to say you’ve had second thoughts, and that you were able to convince your son to break up with my daughter.”

      He shook his head, as much to focus his mind as to deny having any success.

      She took a sip of coffee, and frowned. “Then what’s this all about?”

      Grant set his cup down. “Why are you so set on meddling in their lives?” he asked, leaning toward her. “Do you hate all men, or just those interested in your daughter?”

      “How dare you judge me!” Rebecca stiffened noticeably.

      “I asked Ryan if he’d like to invite some of his friends and their parents to our house for a barbecue. I hoped it would open up a dialogue and maybe he’d mention Lisa. Ryan said you weren’t overly friendly.”

      “I was rude.” She blew out a sigh. “I’d just learned that Lisa’s grades were slipping. I believe it’s because she’s smitten with your son. I want so much more for her. For her and my son, Jordan.”

      “And ‘more’ doesn’t include falling in love and getting married?”

      Rebecca’s eyes flashed angrily, and Grant held up a hand. “Whoa! Don’t get me wrong. I have no idea how tight Ryan and Lisa are. We agree on one thing, though. I don’t want my son getting married at his age, either. So far as I know, he’s collegebound, too.”

      “So far as you know? He should’ve applied and been accepted somewhere by now.”

      Grant fought to contain his irritation. “So maybe fathers and sons don’t share confidences like moms and daughters do.”

      She studied him over the rim of her cup. “Lisa and I used to be close. She’s changed. It’s not just the grades and the boyfriend. Recently she lashed out at me, saying her father wouldn’t be as mean as I am. That hurt a lot.”