The Soldier's Secret Child. Lee Tobin McClain

a couple?”

      “It’s anybody’s guess. They both say they’re just friends, but tongues are wagging. It is Rescue River.”

      “Gossip central,” he agreed, sipping coffee.

      “And speaking of wagging tongues,” she said, “imagine what people will assume about us if you come and live in the guesthouse. Just like Mr. Love assumed when he saw us together here. They’ll think we’re a couple. And I’m not comfortable with that.”

      “I understand.” He looked down at his hands, traced a scar that peeked out from his shirt cuff. “I’m not exactly a blue-ribbon bronco.”

      “Vito!” She sounded exasperated. “You haven’t changed a bit since you had to try on six different shirts for the homecoming dance.”

      The memory made him chuckle. He’d gotten her to sit on the porch and judge while he tried on shirt after shirt, running back to his room to change each time she’d nixed his selection.

      Little did she know that Buck had begged him to keep her busy while he tried to steal a few kisses from cheerleader Tiffany Townsend, ostensibly at their house for help with homework.

      “That was a long time ago,” he said now. “And the truth is, I have changed.”

      She rolled her eyes. “You’re still good-looking, okay? Women don’t mind scars.” Then she pressed her lips together as her cheeks grew pink.

      His heart rate accelerated, just a little. Why was she blushing? Did she think he was good-looking?

      But of course, she hadn’t seen the worst of his scars.

      And even if there was a little spark between them, it couldn’t go anywhere. Because he was living with a secret he couldn’t let her discover.

      “Look,” she said, and then took a big gulp of soda. “Getting back to the idea of you and Charlie staying at the guesthouse. I’d be willing to consider it, for Nonna’s sake, but...I’m trying to build a rich, full life as a single person, see, and I don’t want everyone asking me questions or trying to match us up. I’m just getting over being Lacey, the pitiful widow. And now, if I have this good-looking man living in my guesthouse...” A flush crept up her cheeks again and she dropped her head, propping her forehead on her hand. “I’m just digging myself in deeper here, huh?”

      She did think he was good-looking. All of a sudden, other people’s curious stares didn’t bother him half as much.

      “Can I get you anything else?” The perky waitress was back, looking at Lacey with curiosity. “You okay, Lacey?”

      “I need something chocolate,” she said, looking up at the waitress but avoiding Vito’s eyes.

      “Right away! I totally understand!”

      Vito didn’t get women’s obsession with chocolate, but he respected it. He waited until the server had brought Lacey a big slice of chocolate cream pie before blundering forward with their meeting’s purpose. “I have an appointment tonight to talk to a woman who might want to rent me a couple of rooms in her farmhouse, out past the dog rescue. And there’s the top floor of a house available over in Eastley.”

      “That’s good, I guess.” She toyed with the whipped cream on her pie. “But Nonna won’t like having you so far away. And Charlie could make more friends in town, right?”

      “He really took a shine to the place and to you, it’s true.”

      “And Nonna wants you to live there. She pulled out all the stops at breakfast, trying to talk me into it again.”

      “She phoned me, too.”

      Lacey was absently fingering the chain around her neck, and when he looked more closely, he saw what hung on it.

      A man’s wedding ring. Undoubtedly Gerry’s.

      He wasn’t worth it, Lace.

      A shapely blonde in a tight-fitting dress approached their table. Tiffany Townsend. “Well, Vito D’Angelo. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

      He snorted. “No.” And then he thought about what Lacey had said: Women don’t mind scars. And nobody, even a less-than-favorite classmate like Tiffany, deserved a rude response. He pasted on a smile. “Hey, Tiffany. It’s been a long time.”

      “Where are you hiding yourself these days?” She bent over the table, and Vito leaned back in the booth, trying to look anywhere but down her low-cut dress. “We should get together sometime!” she gushed, putting a hand on his arm.

      This was where a suave man would smile and flirt and make a date. But Vito had never been suave. He’d always been the one to console the girls whose boyfriends got caught on Tiffany’s well-baited line. Always the friend, happy to take them out for coffee or a milk shake and to listen to them.

      Unfortunately for his love life, it hadn’t usually gone further than that.

      Tiffany was looking at him expectantly. “Where did you say you’re staying?”

      “I’m not really...” He broke off. Did he really want to get into his personal business with Tiffany?

      Lacey cleared her throat, grasped Vito’s scarred hand and smiled up at Tiffany. “He’s staying at my guesthouse,” she said sweetly. “With me.”

      “Oh.” There was a world of meaning in that word, backed up by Tiffany’s raised eyebrows. “Well, then. It was good to see you.” She spun on her high heels and walked over to the counter, where she leaned toward Nora Jean and started talking fast and hard.

      Vito turned his hand over, palm to palm with Lacey. “Thanks,” he said, “but you didn’t have to do that.”

      “Tiffany hasn’t changed a bit since high school,” Lacey said. “She’d break your heart.”

      “It’s not in the market.”

      “Mine, either.”

      They looked at each other and some electrical-like current materialized between them, running from their locked eyes to their intertwined hands.

      No, Vito’s heart wasn’t in the market. He had enough to do to rebuild a life and raise a boy and keep a secret.

      But if it had been in the market, it would run more toward someone like Lacey than toward someone like Tiffany.

      Lacey glanced toward the counter. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but Tiffany and Nora Jean are staring at us.”

      “This is how rumors get started.” He squeezed her hand a little, then could have kicked himself. Was he flirting? With the one woman he could never, ever get involved with?

      “That’s true,” Lacey said briskly, looking away. “And we’ve obviously done a good job of starting a rumor today. So...”

      “So what?” He squeezed her hand again, let go and thought of living at the guesthouse with Nonna and Charlie.

      Charlie could walk to the park, or better yet, ride a bike. Vito was pretty sure there was one in Nonna’s garage that he could fix up.

      Vito could see Nonna every day. Do something good for the woman who’d done so much for him.

      And he could get back on his feet, start his online classes. Maybe Nonna, as she got better, would watch Charlie for him some, giving him a chance to go out and find a decent job.

      Soon enough, Nonna would be well and Charlie would be settled in school and Vito would have some money to spare. At which point he could find them another place to live.

      He’d only have to keep his secret for the summer. After that, he and Charlie would live elsewhere and would drift naturally out of Lacey’s circle of friends. At that point, it was doubtful that she’d learn about Charlie’s parentage; there’d be no reason for it to come up.

      How