Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(39)

Jenna scanned the discount store aisle once again, her entire body tense. Even though they’d done nothing to attract attention, she couldn’t stop the edginess that had settled over her. Her muscles ached after Zach’s workout. She wished she had another week with him, but they only had a few hours left together.

The melancholy she’d been fighting since they arrived in Hidden Springs tugged at her. She’d only known him a day, and yet somehow Zach Montgomery had wormed himself into her life. She wouldn’t forget what he’d done.

She’d never forget him.

Zach grabbed a bottle of baby aspirin from a shelf and dumped it into the cart. The mound had exploded into a mountain.

“It’s too much,” she argued.

He turned on her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Haven’t we covered this already?”

“You went overboard,” she muttered, her jaw tightening.

They passed by the toy aisle, and Sam paused, peering at the overflowing selection of sports toys.

“Want something, Sam?” Zach asked.

He knelt in front of her son, and Jenna sighed in appreciation. Zach’s jeans cupped his backside in all the right places. She’d spent two hours this morning touching most every inch of him. Those muscles weren’t airbrushed. Granted he’d thrown her down and choked her, but in the process she’d explored every definition of every muscle. She couldn’t stop staring. He was gorgeous, but she’d met drop-dead handsome men before. Her old neighborhood had been full of them. None of them had tempted her like Zach. He was sigh-worthy, all right. And not just because every woman in America wanted him.

Because he cared. He refused to tell her why he had an escape plan for himself, but she recognized he was sacrificing his arrangements to give her and Sam a shot at a new future.

His soul tempted her much more than the eye candy of great pecs and abs.

Besides, she couldn’t deny the wicked grin and mischievous expression in his eyes didn’t hurt. Neither did the concern with which he looked at her son.

Sam eyed the baseball mitt with a longing that couldn’t be missed.

Zach picked it up. “You want the glove?” he asked.

Sam bowed his head. “My dad plays ball with me. We were going to a game. What’s today, Mommy?”

“Friday, June twenty-ninth.”

“Daddy’s taking me to the baseball game on Saturday. Is that why we’re leaving?”

Zach met her gaze over Sam’s head.

“He may not be able to take you this time,” she lied softly.

“But he promised.” Sam crossed his arms. “Is he still in time-out? He’s been in time-out a really long time already.”

“How about you and I play catch at the cabin when we get back?” Zach tossed the ball from hand to hand.

“I don’t want to.” Sam stuck his lip out and threw down the mitt. “Besides, we’re leaving today. You don’t want me.” He stalked down the aisle.

“Sam,” Jenna called out, her cheeks flushing with as much embarrassment as regret.

Zach picked up the mitt, snagged a ball, and set it in the cart. “Just in case.”

“I’ll be back,” she said, and took off after her son.

Sam plopped down on the vinyl floor and kicked at a large toy car sitting on display, his arms folded.

Jenna walked down the hallway, frustration warring with sympathy. The last two days had been hard, emotionally draining, and Sam didn’t have any idea how their lives would change in the next few hours. Still, that didn’t justify his behavior. “What do you think you’re doing, Samuel Walters?”

“Why did you say Daddy won’t take me to the game? He always takes me after he’s been in time-out.”

“Your dad has to work,” Jenna lied again, biting her lip, hating herself, praying Sam would understand someday.

“Last time, you promised I could go to the game. You lied to me, Mommy.”

Man, her kid knew how to dissect her heart. How could she make him understand? “Grown-ups sometimes make promises they can’t keep,” she whispered, pushing back his hair. “I’m sorry you can’t go to the ballgame, but when you get big, sometimes you have to do things—”

“…you don’t want to do. I don’t like being a big kid,” he said with a pout.

She wrapped her arms around him for a hug. “Me either, Sam.”

Her son sat stiff in her arms. She rose and held out her hand. He glared at her. She didn’t budge, didn’t flinch. She could stare her son down, as long as it took. After a full thirty seconds—longer than she’d expected he’d last—her stubborn boy finally blinked.

“I give.” He rose to his feet.

“And…?”

“I’m sorry,” he bowed his head.

“That’s better. Let’s go find the Dark Avenger.”

A horrified expression twisted Sam’s face. “He’s going to think I’m bad.”

She ruffled his hair. “I think he’ll understand. I bet his dad—”

“The Dark Avenger didn’t have a daddy,” Sam said, knowingly. “It said so in the movie. Do you think he’s lonely?”

“I hope not.”