Page 21 of Scorched

Paul had his work cut out for him. The boy didn’t trust him. It was his job to figure out why and turn him around. The child’s life could depend on it.

“Mom, I had to tell George about the puppy.” Luke struggled against his mother’s hold.

Elise loosened her arms enough to look into his face without letting go. “I told you, you couldn’t go out in the yard without me anymore.”

“But George is my friend,” Luke wailed.

“I don’t even know George.” Her eyes narrowed and her forehead creased into fine lines Paul wanted to smooth away. “Until I meet him and talk to his mother, you aren’t to talk to him again. Do you understand?”

Luke’s face pinched into a frown. He pushed away from his mother’s arms. “Mom! George is my friend!”

Paul stood on the back steps, feeling the boy’s pain but understanding the danger involved. “Your mother is right. We need to meet George and his parents before you play with him.” How could he keep the little guy from playing in his own yard without telling him that a really nasty bad guy might steal him away? The boy would have night terrors for the rest of his life.

As if just remembering who Paul was, Luke glanced up at him, his frown turning upside down into a face-splitting grin. “Are you really going to build a fence for our puppy?” His hand slipped into Paul’s, and he pulled him through the door into the kitchen.

Broadsided by Luke’s question, Paul allowed himself to be led to the kitchen table.

Brandon backed away, not having uttered a single word thus far.

“What’s this about a fence?” Paul asked.

Elise’s mouth twisted. “Sorry, I’ll explain in a minute.” She leaned down to her son. “Go wash the dirt off your feet and get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But—”

“No buts. Go.” She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her face set in stern lines. The entire effect was muted by her soft pink robe and makeup-free face. If Paul wasn’t mistaken, her lips twitched at the corners.

Luke’s body drooped so much even the faces of the cartoon cars on his pajamas appeared dejected. “I want our puppy now.”

“We can’t get one until we get the fence up and that isn’t going to be tonight. Go on.” Elise swatted at the little boy’s bottom, urging him toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

Brandon stood at a distance, his body stiff and unmoving.

“You, too, Brandon. You have school tomorrow and need to get some sleep.”

Brandon shook his head. “I’mthe man of the house. I shouldn’t have a bedtime.” He glared at Paul as if daring him to disagree.

So that was it. Brandon was feeling threatened by a new man in the house. That explained the immediate animosity toward him. How to fix it? Paul hadn’t a clue, not having dealt with children before.

“Part of being the man of the house is knowing when to do as you’re told.” Elise didn’t talk down to him asthough he was a baby. She spoke to him like any other adult, presenting the facts without discouraging the boy. “Paul—Agent Fletcher and I need to talk about...the fence.”

When Brandon still didn’t move, Elise tipped her head slightly. “I’ll be just fine and I’m not going anywhere. Now go to bed, please.”

Brandon sighed and turned toward his bedroom. As he passed through his door, his glance shot toward Paul, his eyes narrowing. Then he disappeared.

“And close the door,” Elise called out.

The door closed with a soft snick.

Elise sighed and pulled the towel off her head. Long strands of damp hair dropped to her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I meant to be more prepared for when you got here.” She buried her fingers in the lengths and shook them, the scent of strawberries filling the air around him. “When I couldn’t find Luke, I swear I almost had a heart attack.”

With Elise standing so close in little more than a silk, calf-length robe, the teasing scent of her shampoo wrapping around his senses, Paul fought to concentrate on her words. “You don’t have to ‘be prepared’ for me. I’m here to make sure you and the boys are all right.”

“I know, but still...” Her hand waved vaguely, and she stared around at the clutter of toys littering the otherwise neat living room. Tears filled her eyes, and she sniffed, a pathetic whimper like a dog who’d been abused.

The hint of tears glazing her cornflower-blue eyes was his undoing. “A little mess never hurt anyone.” Paul gave up the fight and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms.

She stood stiff at first, then her fingers clutched at his shirt, and she leaned into him. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.”

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