The Doctor's Family Reunion. Mindy Obenhaus
one letter she wished she hadn’t written. She never imagined Trent would wait ten years to take her up on her offer.
Slipping the towel back into place, Blakely glimpsed something in the mirror that she thought she’d buried long ago. Yet there it was, hidden behind steely determination and hundreds of freckles.
The sting of Trent’s betrayal.
She took a deep breath and shook off the self-pity, vowing not to allow Trent or Ross to rob her of an enjoyable evening with her son.
In the kitchen, Blakely stared into the freezer, discounting chicken and pork chops before spotting a bag of frozen meatballs. She checked the pantry, giving herself a mental high five when she found both spaghetti sauce and noodles.
“Can’t get much easier than that.” Unless you counted cereal as a meal. And to her knowledge, Austin was the only one in the house who did.
She put a pot of water on to boil, then emptied the meatballs into a nonstick skillet. She nudged them around the pan as they sizzled.
Time had been kind to Trent. He’d always been ruggedly handsome, but now he was downright gorgeous.
Blakely froze, her spatula in midair. She’d lost her mind.
“You’re just tired,” she mumbled, returning her attention to the stove.
Not to mention lonely.
“Grrr.” She transferred the contents of the skillet to a saucepan and dumped in the jar of tomato sauce.
“Maybe you could stay for dinner.” Somewhere outside the window, Austin schemed with one of his friends. Luckily, spaghetti meant plenty to go around, so she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing that disappointed frown of his.
A few moments later the front door flew open.
“Mom?” He rushed into the kitchen. “Can I invite a friend for dinner?”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“Trent.”
Chapter Four
Trent’s apprehension over Austin’s dinner request paled in comparison to the look of horror on Blakely’s face when she emerged from the kitchen. Pausing at the back of the sofa, she dug her fingers into the soft beige fabric until her knuckles were white.
He knew he should feel sorry for her, but sympathy was mitigated by his desire to spend time with his son. A son Blakely never told him about.
Austin seemed oblivious to the tension, though. “Mom, look what Trent taught me.” In one quick movement, he gave his basketball a spin and uprighted it on his index finger, just like Trent had taught him. His brown eyes sparkled as he watched the rotating orb.
“Hey, you mastered it.” A smiling, and seemingly more relaxed, Blakely dashed for a bookshelf. “We need a picture of this.”
“Mom. You don’t have to take a picture of everything.”
Camera in hand, she paused. “Son, you know me better than that. Of course, I do.”
Trent’s gaze traversed the combined living and dining area. Nearly every surface, both vertical and horizontal, was adorned with family photos.
He had two. One of him as an infant with his mom and dad, and one of him and his mom, not long before she died.
He urged Austin forward. “Don’t give your mom such a hard time.”
Blakely held the digital camera in front of her and stared at the screen. “Ready?”
Austin gave the ball another spin and smiled.
After a brilliant flash, she checked the shot. “That’ll make the scrapbook.”
“The kid’s got a persistent streak.” Trent patted Austin on the back. “He worked at it all afternoon until he got it right.”
Blakely’s smile faltered. “You...spent the afternoon together?”
“Uh-huh.” Austin shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you and Trent are friends.” He set the ball beside the front door. “I can’t wait to show Zach.”
Trent and Blakely friends? At this point, that was stretching it. Though he could certainly hope.
“So you and Trent were playing basketball?” She shoved the camera back into its case, her wary gaze darting between father and son.
“At the park. He’s really good.”
“What are you talking about?” Trent poked a thumb in Austin’s direction. “This turkey ran circles around me.”
Ellie Mae sashayed into the room, stopping between Austin and Trent.
“There she is.” He rubbed the dog’s floppy ears. Just a big old bundle of love, that’s what she was. “You’re a good girl. Yes.”
“Why, hello, Trent.” Rose strolled into the room with Jethro tucked under her arm.
The little Yorkie barked once, stopping when Rose stroked his furry chin.
“Good evening, Mrs. D. And you, too, Jethro.”
“This makes twice in one day,” said Rose.
“Twice?” Accusation laced Blakely’s tone. Seemed she’d been left in the dark on lots of things today.
“Yes, dear.” Rose settled into one of two red swivel rockers and crossed her feet. “We ran into each other this morning, and Trent was kind enough to help me with my groceries.”
Blakely regarded him but didn’t say a word. He could only wonder what was going through that pretty head of hers.
“Well now, don’t everybody stand around. Sit down, sit down.” Rose waved a hand through the air, gesturing to the sofa and loveseat.
Trent snagged the loveseat in front of the window. “This place looks great, Mrs. D.” Gone were the white walls and pink and blue furniture. Shades of gold and orange now warmed the space.
This house had been his haven that summer. Where he’d first experienced the true meaning of family. Though it didn’t look anything like he remembered, an enormous amount of love still abounded in these four walls.
“Doesn’t it, though?” Rose rocked gently back and forth. “After Bill died, Blakely said I needed a splash of color. I was a little leery at first, but she did a great job. I just love how cozy everything feels.”
“She always did have an eye for color.” His gaze drifted to the anxious strawberry blonde behind the couch. “But, then, one would expect that from an artist.”
Her cheeks reddened. Just the reaction he was hoping for.
“Mom said Trent could stay for dinner.” Austin flopped onto the sofa.
“Oh!” Blakely jumped and turned for the kitchen. “I almost forgot about dinner.”
Trent excused himself and followed her, eager to find some way to ease the tension between them.
He found her frantically wiping the stove top when he entered. “Anything I can do to help?”
Halting midwipe, she hesitated before finally turning around. “Um...” Eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip. Something he found sweet and...surprisingly irresistible.
He moved closer, intrigued as her gaze roamed his face, stopping at the scar on his forehead. Did she remember how it got there? That instead of holding that branch on their way up to Chief Ouray Mine, she’d let go. And five stitches later, she vowed to make him cookies twice a week until the end of August.
She looked away. “Actually, it’s Austin’s job to set the table.”
Unwilling to let the moment go, he stepped closer, eliminating what little space remained