A Daddy for Jacoby(51)

Gina dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. “Gage said all Bobby ever wanted to do was be a race car driver. It must be so hard knowing he might have to give up his dream.”

Justin wouldn’t know about that. He’d given up on his own dreams long ago. Then again, holding this lady in his arms felt about as close to a dream as one could get.

“Is this okay? Dancing out here?” The softness of her hair brushed against his chin and tickled his nose. He pulled in a deep breath and her signature scent wrapped around him as they moved. “We can go back inside if you want.”

“What I want,” Gina whispered, her breath warm against his neck, “is to be right here, like this, with you.”

An emotion he couldn’t describe filled his chest. Pride? Pleasure? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think, just feel and let the rest of the world disappear.

Except for one small thing he wanted to share with her right this very minute. “Guess what? I finally got the DNA test results back. Jacoby is my son.”

Gina’s smile was serene. “Of course he is. Congratulations, anyway.”

“You didn’t have any doubt?”

“Not once.”

Not sure how to reply to her confident tone, he stayed quiet as they moved in a silent embrace as one song ended and another began.

Gina’s fingers gently traveled to the large stone at the center of his bolo tie. “I remember this. You wore it at Racy and Gage’s renewal ceremony.”

“Same suit and boots, too.” His words came out in a rough whisper. He had to pause and clear his throat. “The tie once belonged to my grandfather. Racy found it in an old box years ago, long after my father died and Billy Joe and I— Well…”

Surprised at how much he wanted to share this story with her, he continued, “Racy gave it to me the day she and Gage renewed their vows. I told her she should give it to her husband, but she insisted it stay in the family. Someday, I’ll pass it down to Jacoby, I guess. Maybe he’ll want to wear it to his senior prom.”

Gina’s fingers traced the braided leather cords that hung from the tie to lie against his shirt. Her touch sent a burning sensation through him. He flexed his fingers at her back to keep from crushing her to his chest.

“Well, you look very handsome wearing it.”

He used their linked fingers to lift her chin until he could see her eyes. “I know I haven’t said it, and I’m a fool for waiting so long, but you look beautiful tonight.”

Thanks to the shadows it was hard to see the now-familiar pink blush on her cheeks, but he was sure it was there. “Yes, it’s a pretty dress—”

“It’s not the dress. It’s you, Gina.”

She pulled from his touch and looked away. He untangled their fingers, his hand cupping the nape of her neck. The slightest pressure had her looking at him again.

“It’s your smile, your eyes and this bright pink in your hair you keep trying to hide.” It took only a tug of his index finger to set the curl free and it fell to rest along her neck and the collar of his jacket. “There, much better.”

“Justin…”

His thumb stroked across her lips, stopping her words. He lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “This has got to be the craziest thing I’ve done in a long time, but right now I want to—”

A muffled cry broke the night air. Both Justin and Gina stilled.

“What was that?” she whispered. “An animal?”

“Shh…wait…”

There it was again. Justin recognized the sound this time. He released Gina, pushing past her. “Go back inside. Now.”

“Justin, what is it?”

“Someone’s in trouble.” He started for the far corner of the building, heading deeper into the dark. Gut instincts, honed to a razor’s edge thanks to his time behind bars, kicked in. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. “Just go.”

“And leave you alone? No way.”

Gina caught up with him as they rounded the corner. He wanted to yell at her to listen to him, but the scene in front of them caused Justin to grab her and they froze.

Twenty feet away, two seniors and their dates, obviously from the dance from their tuxedos and gowns, were in a world of trouble with four men, clearly intruders from their scruffy jeans, T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts.

Two of the hoodlums held one boy captive despite his struggles to break free, a bandana jammed into his mouth. A pretty blonde girl was held by a third man, his hand pressed tightly over her mouth. The last goon was squared off with another partygoer, a young kid in a white tuxedo, built like a football player, who stood between his visibly scared date and the shiny glint of a switchblade.