Colton Christmas Protector (The Coltons of Texas #12)(61)

“Buhd?” Nicholas scanned the shoreline, clutching at her jacket sleeve, and his face brightened when he spotted the water fowl. “Big buhd!”

She stayed in a crouch beside him, trying to see the lake setting from his perspective. A world of new sights, sounds, scents and discoveries. She allowed her thoughts to drift to Andrew, and all the firsts he’d never see with their son. A heaviness settled in her, and determined not to go down that track, not to get waylaid in regret, she shook her head and resolutely pulled her thoughts back to the here and now. Enjoying that moment with her son for the gift it was.

“H’llo? Mommy, h’llo?”

Called from her perusal of the lightly rippling water, she glanced at Nicholas. “Hmm?”

He’d managed to slide the emergency cell phone from her pocket without her noticing. He held the phone to his ear with a look of deep concentration. He babbled a few words, then fell silent before saying, “H’llo? H’llo?”

She chuckled. “Little mimic monkey.” She held out her hand to him. “But that’s not a toy. Give it to Mommy, please.”

When he didn’t obey, she repeated her request more firmly.

He turned from her and trotted a few steps away, moving close to the edge of the dock.

“Nicholas, be careful!” Pushing to her feet she moved quickly toward him to catch the back of his coat.

“No!” In a fit of two-year-old temper, Nicholas threw the secure cell into the lake.

Penelope gasped. “Nicholas! No! Bad behavior!”

Her toddler dropped on his behind and loosed a wail. “No, Mommy! Bad, Mommy!”

She growled under her breath. So much for savoring precious moments with her son. “Derailed by a terrible-twos tantrum.”

Pen hurried to the edge of the wood planks and lay on her stomach to reach into the cold water. She fished out the phone and tried to turn it on. The screen flashed on for a moment before flickering off.

“Oh, Nicholas!” She sighed as she scooped her unhappy boy into her arms and headed back to the house, praying Reid kept an ample supply of rice in his cabinet for a cell phone salvage effort.

The kitten greeted them with tiny mews as they came in the porch door and with a squeal of delight, Nicholas stopped to pat Lucky.

“Be gentle!” she warned and headed into the kitchen to explore Reid’s cabinets.

She knew Reid’s solution to the waterlogged phone would be to buy another one. But she wanted to prove to him that replacing things wasn’t always the answer. With time and a little care, the phone could be resurrected. She hoped. Saving a phone didn’t matter to her nearly as much as the principle she wanted to demonstrate. Some things were worth saving, even if it took a special effort. Phones, kittens...and relationships.

*

Approximately seventy-five minutes later, Reid yanked himself from deliberations on his relationship with Pen—even if we settle the questions surrounding her father, Eldridge, and Andrew’s death, am I ready to settle down? Be a father to Nicholas?—when Aaron’s dark blue Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of the apartment building. The back door of the sedan opened and a man wearing a trench coat, fedora, an obviously fake mustache and dark glasses—Reid snorted at the trite, useless disguise—eased carefully out to the sidewalk. He used a cane to hobble slowly toward the building’s door.

Reid was out of his car and jogging across the street in a matter of seconds. “Hey!” he called, then louder, “Eldridge?”

The stooped, trench coat–clad figure froze, then turned slowly toward Reid. When he spied his son, Eldridge’s expression appeared startled at first, then surprisingly relieved. His fake mustache looked all the more cheesy up close. “So...you found me.”

“A trench coat and fake mustache? Could you possibly be more cliché?” Reid shook his head at his father, who lifted his chin haughtily.

“It worked for Bogart. That’s good enough for me.”

Reid poked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Really? When did it work for Bogart? Which movie?”

Eldridge glared at him. “I don’t remember which one, I just... What do you want, Reid?”

Reid’s chest felt light with relief while at the same time his gut twisted with anger. “Answers. What are you up to? Why did you disappear on us without a word? We thought you were dead!”

“Sir?” Aaron called through a lowered window of the Mercedes. “Should I—”

Eldridge waved off his butler. “It’s all right. Go on home. I’ll talk to him.”

Aaron didn’t look convinced, but neither did the butler argue. Giving Reid one last concerned glance, he pulled away from the curb.

Eldridge ripped off the limp mustache and rubbed his upper lip. “There’s a greasy spoon on the next block. Buy me lunch and I’ll explain everything.”

Reid glanced down the street to the crooked sign that read Ken’s Eats and frowned.

“I know,” his father said before he could comment. “Horrendous ambiance, but the food is good and the waitress likes me.”

Cocking his head, he gave his father a skeptical look. “Define like.”

“I tip her well. Money can be very influential. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“I prefer to win over women the old-fashioned way—with my charm and good looks.”