A Dad of His Own. Gail Gaymer Martin
She rose and dug out her wallet and cell phone. Road service. Now how long would she have to wait?
Ethan sat behind the steering wheel watching…who? She’d never introduced herself, and he’d never asked. She hadn’t moved from where he left her, and that made him curious. Finally, she headed down the aisle and stopped at a burgundy sedan. His interest in her seemed so unlike him. When she’d indicated she was single, his interest heightened, and he realized he was in trouble. He knew many single women, but meeting this stranger today was different. He’d felt a spark.
She was lovely. He’d been drawn first to her long brown hair with those wispy waves that looked as if she’d been caught in a breeze, but later he’d been struck by her almost straight brows and wide-set eyes, ice blue in color, yet with a warmth that drew him into their depths. But it was even more than that. Something else about her had gotten under his skin.
As he watched, she stood outside her car as if she’d lost her keys, but he’d heard them jingle in her hand as they walked, so it wasn’t that. He eyed her car and shook his head.
His key dangled from the ignition. He reached to turn it but stopped when the woman slapped her car hood and walked forward. He waited until she rose and dug into her handbag. He noticed she’d grasped her cell phone.
He seized his key, then opened the door and strode from the car. “Is something wrong?”
She didn’t respond, and he hurried between the cars toward her. “Can I help you?”
This time, she looked up. Relief filled her face. “I have a flat.”
“Flat?” He slipped past her and crouched. “It’s flat all right.” He rose and grinned. “Now’s a good time to pull out that wrench.”
She eyed her purse and shrugged. “Sorry.” A grin stole to her mouth.
Ethan’s chest tightened. “Better yet, a jack will do.”
Her grin deepened. “I think I actually have one of those.” She motioned toward the trunk. “And thanks for noticing my predicament.” She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with her cell phone. “I realized after you went to your car, I hadn’t introduced myself. I’m Alexandria Carlson, but everyone calls me Lexie.”
He grasped her warm hand, feeling its slender shape, while his gaze swept over her again and tangled in the strands of brown hair with streaks of gold. He apprehended his senses. “Do you have a spare?”
Her smooth brow wrinkled. “One of those spares that’s not a real tire.”
“A donut.” He noticed how the purple color of her sweater made her eyes even more amazing.
“Yes, a donut.” She gave him a quizzical gaze.
Apparently she’d noticed him gaping. “You can’t go far on one of those, anyway. It’s better we just take the tire in for repair.”
“No. You don’t have to do that.” She held up her cell phone. “I’ll call for road service.”
Her expression sent his pulse hopping. “I can’t leave you here without knowing everything’s okay.” One of the idiosyncracies his wife had always teased him about.
Her eyes widened. “You’re a real gentleman.”
“Thanks. I try, and who knows how long road service would take? Anyway remember, I wanted time to talk.” His ulterior motive turned to guilt. “I’ll pull your tire off, and we can have it fixed. There’s a place right up the street.”
“Okay. I’m not silly enough to argue. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He grinned and held out his hand. “I need to get into your trunk for the jack.”
Lexie dropped the keys into his palm and stood back. Ethan rolled up his sleeves and went to work. Grateful that the lug nuts came off without a hacksaw, he pulled the tire from the axle and leaned it against the car. “I’ll pull my car up and throw this in my trunk.” He slid past her, brushing his arm against hers, and felt like a teen again. “Make sure your door is locked.” He strode to his SUV, telling himself to stop whatever crazy thoughts were in his mind and be the gentleman she’d said he was.
When he reached her car, Ethan jumped out and opened the passenger door. She slipped in, her cell phone absent from her hand. Somehow he twisted that fact into the thought that she trusted him. Otherwise she would have had her fingers ready to call 911. He stepped back and rolled his eyes. He’d been attacked by the crazies. After he tossed her tire into his trunk, he settled back inside and shifted into gear.
“I hope I’m not making you late for work.”
He forced his eyes to stay focused on the road. “I kept the morning open for the meeting, so no problem. I’m a contractor for a construction firm and spend much of my day on the road. No one misses me except my clients.” He gave her a smile. “And I don’t have an appointment until this afternoon.”
“Then I can relax, I guess.”
“You sure can.” He pulled into the street. “I think our meeting was meant to be.”
She faced him with a questioning look.
“You’d be waiting for road service.” True, but he meant much more than that.
A grin played on her mouth. “You’re right.” She leaned against the headrest. “How did you get involved in Dreams Come True?”
“Short story. When the foundation was looking for people for the governing board from a variety of businesses in the community, I volunteered.”
“You volunteered.” A quizzical look played on her face. “Any special reason other than you’re thoughtful?”
A knot tightened his throat. Did he really want to get into all of that? He glanced at her and noted her apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
As always, he tensed when he talked about Laine. “It’s fine.” Getting it out in the open. “This is the hard part.”
Lexie touched his arm. “No. Please. You don’t have to tell me. I prefer my privacy, too. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not prying. When my wife died, I realized how lonely life had become.”
Her face washed with sadness. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
He kept going, wanting to tell the story, then move to something less depressing. “We had no children, although we’d wanted them, and when my wife died, I was alone. No longer a family. Nothing. It took a while to find my identity as anything more than a contractor for Pelham Homes.” He slowed at the traffic light and stopped.
Lexie nodded as if she understood.
“When I learned about this organization that did great things for sick kids, I hoped it would be a way to show compassion, and on a personal level, it helped me connect with children. Sometimes I still wish we’d had a child, though I know it would have made my life even more difficult to raise one without her.”
She shifted to face him, her eyes filled with tenderness. “How long has it been since your wife died?”
“Four years. I’ve been functioning for about two.” He managed to smile, not wanting her to think he was still the mess that he had been. Watching the woman he loved suffer and die from ovarian cancer had been a nightmare, but he’d pulled himself together. Only his faith had gotten him through.
“I think it’s admirable, Ethan. You volunteered and turned a negative into a positive. Everyone should do that.”
The light in her eyes told him so much. “You’ve done the same, haven’t you?”
“I try. It’s not easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile is.”
She