Temporary Nanny. Carrie Weaver
bad. The other way’s a lot more fun.” Flirtations had always been a handy distraction in the past.
But Katy didn’t seem to think so, he could tell. Her posture was wary.
“Sorry, I was out of line.” Royce hurried to reassure her. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like outside the ex-pat world.”
Her stance relaxed. “I can always use another friend. Romance is out of the question.”
Royce opened his mouth to ask her why, then shut it. It was none of his business. And it was time he faced his problems instead of trying to lose himself in the closest woman who smelled nice.
“Dinner’s ready. Would you mind getting the salad out of the fridge, Royce?”
“Sure.” He liked that she treated him like anyone else. It made it easier to pretend he was like anyone else. Removing a green salad from the refrigerator, he placed it on the table next to the pan of enchiladas. There were already steaming bowls of Mexican- style rice and refried beans out.
“Jake, dinner’s ready,” she called. Turning to Royce, she said, “We’re pretty informal. Serve yourself and have a seat.”
Jake walked into the kitchen, then stood, waiting patiently. Either Mexican food wasn’t the kid’s favorite or Katy had done a good job teaching him manners.
Royce’s stomach growled as he loaded his plate. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this. There isn’t much good Mexican food in Russia.”
“You’ve been to Russia? What’s it like? Is it freezing all the time? Are there really babushkas?” Jake paused to take a breath.
Katy frowned as they sat at the homey table. “Whoa, Jake, give the man a chance to sit down. One question at a time.”
Royce’s brain ached from the effort of crafting answers that would satisfy the boy. “Yes, I lived in Russia for several years. It’s pretty darn cold all over, but particularly in Siberia. And there are babushkas. In the larger cities, the less fortunate ones beg.”
“Beg for what?”
“Money, food, whatever they can get.”
“Wow.” Jake’s eyes were wide as he processed the information. “I want to go there someday.”
“The people are warm and practical. They’ve lived through some rough times, but they keep plugging along.”
“I’d miss my mom if I went that far away. Did you miss your mom?”
Royce cleared his throat. “No, my mom died when I was about your age.”
“I’m sorry,” Katy murmured.
“Who raised you?” Jake asked.
“Jake—”
“It’s okay,” Royce said. “My dad raised me and my younger sister. I missed my mom a lot at first, but after a while I got used to it.”
“I bet your dad played catch with you. Do you like sports?” Jake asked.
“Sure. Basketball, soccer, hockey…”
“Baseball?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“It’s fun. But I get picked last for the teams at school.”
“That sucks.” Royce was trying hard to relate. Most things had come easily to him as a kid, baseball being no different.
“Yeah, it does suck. I’m picked last because I throw like a girl and don’t know how to bat.”
Katy patted his hand. “I’ll play catch with you tomorrow. We can work on that throwing.”
Jake wrinkled his nose. “You throw like a girl, too.” He turned to Royce. “Will you teach me?”
“Sorry, kid, I don’t play catch these days.” He raised his left arm. “Kind of hard one-handed.”
“It only takes one hand.”
“I’m sorry.” Royce shifted in his chair. A few Rice Krispies Treats were one thing, regular outings another. There was no way he wanted the kid depending on him like that. “I’m just not the guy for the job.”
Never had been, never would be.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROYCE RESOLUTELY IGNORED the tapping on his ceiling. It had been over a week since he’d had dinner with Katy and Jake; he had no intention of becoming Jake’s substitute daddy.
Not that Katy had given any indication she would endorse such a plan. On the contrary, he’d gotten the impression she’d been nearly as uncomfortable as he. And whenever they met up in the elevator, conversation had been polite, nothing more.
More tapping.
R-O-Y-C-E.
Not gonna bite. The kid was wasting his time.
R-O-Y-C-E.
Surely Katy wasn’t encouraging Jake? Maybe she didn’t know. How could she not know? Unless she wasn’t home. What in the heck was the kid doing home at two o’clock on a school day?
There was a thud from upstairs.
Royce stood, grabbing the broom from beside the couch. He refused to think about why he still had it handy.
He tapped out a quick message.
U O-K?
Nothing. No footsteps, no thumps or bumps. And certainly no responding code.
He waited a few moments and tried again. When he didn’t get a response, he dropped the broom and headed out the door.
Jake opened the door to apartment 472 almost before Royce was done knocking. His smile was wide. “Took you long enough.”
“What the hell?”
Jake shrugged. “You wouldn’t answer and I’m not supposed to leave the apartment alone.”
That’s when Royce noticed the baseball glove and ball. “Uh-uh. No way, Jake. I already told you. Besides, aren’t you grounded?”
The boy stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, using a key dangling from a lanyard to lock it. “Not anymore. Come on, let’s go.”
“You’re not listening. I’m not your baseball buddy. Now that I know you’re safe, I’m heading home.”
Jake stopped and eyed him. “I guess I’ll go by myself then. That’ll make my mom mad and I’ll probably get grounded again.” He sighed heavily. “But a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
Royce could remember many activities he’d missed because his dad was at work. “Look, I was a kid once, too. I can understand you wanting to get out and play while the weather’s great. But—”
“I bet you got to play baseball when you were a kid. And didn’t have to stay in the stinking apartment every day.”
“Most of the time, as long as I behaved myself. It’s different these days.”
“No stranger’s gonna steal me. I’ll kick him hard in the privates if he even tries. You don’t have to worry about me. See ya later.”
Oh, great, now he’d have the specter of Jake being kidnapped by a pedophile hanging over his head.
“Why don’t you wait till your mom gets home? She’ll be here soon, won’t she?”
Jake shrugged. “Yeah. Pretty soon. You know, she won’t mind if I’m with you, ’cause you got all that government spy clearance and stuff.”
“Not spy clearance. Just a background check.”
“See