Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3) (11 page)

Zach's face turned a little mutinous, and he froze before entering the kitchen. Graham paused, looked at Kara, who was watching them both carefully without being obvious, and waved her off. She nodded very slightly and turned her back to them, presumably to look for something to put the flowers in. That she trusted him to handle the situation with her son fully hit him like a blow. There was probably no greater compliment a single mother could hand a man.

With that thought ringing through his mind, he said easily, “Let's head to your room while your mom finishes up dinner.”

“But I—”

Graham was already steering him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Ten minutes,” Kara called behind them. Graham gave her a thumbs-up as he followed Zach into the room.

“You're lucky your mom let you pick your own bedspread,” he began, waiting for Zach to join him in his room. “My mom picked mine for me, and it was just a boring navy blue color. I wanted Star Wars, at least until I was about fourteen.”

The young boy flopped down on the sloppily made bed, ruffling the Avengers bed covering. His butt covered Tony Stark's face. “Yeah. Well, she lets me pick that, and not dinner.”

Graham indicated the spot next to him on the mattress, and Zach lifted one shoulder. Graham sat on the hammer of Thor, considered for a moment, then tried again. “Your mom loves you. It's sort of awesome to watch.”

“You want to date her.”

That had his head tilting. “Yes, I do.”

Zach's eyes blinked in surprise.

“Did you expect me to lie to you about it?”

The young boy extended both feet, let them drop so they banged against the side of the bed with a loud thunk. “No. Maybe. You're supposed to be nice to me.”

“I thought I was nice to you. We've hung out before, just us and with Brad and Greg. Maybe I got it wrong, but I thought we had fun.”

“We did. I thought you were my friend.”

Ah. And welcome to the wonderful world of parenting. “Zach . . . are you upset because I started dating your mom? Or because you think by dating your mom, that means we can't hang out anymore?”

“Maybe some of both,” he answered, voice so soft Graham had to strain to hear it. His chin drooped to his chest, and he wouldn't make eye contact. “Now that you're with my mom, you're on her side.”

Man up, Sweeney.
“Probably.” When Zach looked at him again, shock all over his face, he shrugged. “Your mom's a better kisser.”

The boy laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Gross,” he muttered from behind the hand. “I don't believe you.”

Give it a few years, kid, and you'll understand.
“Aside from that, I'm on your mom's side because she's on
your
side. If she's serving something, it's because she thinks it's what is best for you. That means I'm gonna side with her. Sorry, bud. I happen to like you, so I'm on her side. It sounds opposite, but that's how it works.”

He mulled that over for a while, then asked quietly, “You weren't being my friend just so you could kiss her, were you?”

Oh, man. “Let's just say, if your mom and I don't work out, I'm still going to check in for video game dates. I've
got to have someone who can keep me on my toes, and none of the guys I play with are worth a damn.”

His mouth quirked at the last word, and Graham considered the curse he'd let slip worth the price.

“So, we good?”

“You like my mom,” Zach said on a sigh. “It's kinda weird.”

“I'm kinda weird, so it works out. I like your mom,” he agreed. “I like you. We'll see what happens from there. Deal?”

Holding out a hand, he waited for Zach to put his smaller, thinner hand in his, and
shook.

11

K
ara stood beside the door, listening without shame as Graham walked through the process with her son. Trusting Graham not to hurt her boy's feelings didn't mean she wasn't curious how he'd work through it. A little awkwardly at first, but they'd gotten around to a place of understanding.

Most of all, she was grateful he hadn't made any promises that couldn't be kept. No mention of forever, or the future. He'd managed to explain the situation on terms her son could understand, without taking a parental role he hadn't yet assumed, but still managing to keep her son in line as an adult who should be respected. It was . . . almost masterful.

When she heard Graham ask if they had a deal, she hustled back to the kitchen, reaching the stove just as they opened Zach's door and came strolling out again. Zach walked up to her, slipped one slim arm around her waist and squeezed.

Her heart in her throat, she simply hugged him back, not
making him say a word. The hug, at his age, was more than enough.

“Go set the table for me,” she said when she thought her throat would let her. “Remember the placement I showed you?”

“Fork, plate, knife, spoon.” He grinned up at her, and her heart once more caught in her throat. “Got it.”

As he gathered the dishes in his hands to take them to the small four-seater kitchen table, Graham walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. The touch was intimate, though not sexual. And when he rested his chin on top of her head, she leaned back into the embrace, just a little. Then gasped and twisted in his hold to see Zach's reaction.

He stood, watching, one plate still in his hand, head cocked to the side as if still taking it all in.

“We talked,” Graham said solemnly. “Right Zach? He's good with it if we kiss and date and stuff.”

That forced Kara to muffle a laugh, for her baby's sake. “Oh, did you now?” Her voice was light, but she watched diligently for any sign of problems with her son. “Always good to know the menfolk can come to a decision about such matters and then let the women know.”

Graham's quiet laughter was unmistakable, as she was plastered against his chest. But Zach simply shrugged, as if to say
I don't get why you'd wanna kiss, but oh well.
Then he went back to setting the table. The unofficial seal of approval from a ten-year-old.

Kara brought the food to the table, glad she'd splurged for the nice serving bowls for the steamed vegetables and potatoes. The chicken, sadly, sat on a plain plate, ready to be forked up. Couldn't be helped, she had to cut off the spending somewhere.

For all his whining for wings, Zach inhaled his dinner as usual. He took seconds, as did Graham, and cleared his plate without being reminded once. The talk with Graham seemed to have set him in a mood to behave, because he
didn't immediately run off to his room. He settled back down when Kara made herself and Graham coffee.

“What, no coffee for you?” Graham asked him when Zach accepted the cup of hot cocoa, made from her own mix. Zach grinned and shook his head.

“The kid and I have a date with destiny for a while,” Graham informed her. “Shouldn't take too long, since I plan to whup on him.”

“Whatever,” Zach said with a worldly snort. “You couldn't whup me if you had an entire platoon holding me down first.”

“Good one,” Graham murmured, smiling in appreciation at the comeback. “Save that one, it's a keeper.”

“I know.” He grinned, and her little boy was back again. “Mom, can we be excused?”

She was about to say yes, when Graham said, “We need to help your mother with the dishes first.” Zach opened his mouth, but Graham added, “She cooked. We can show some gratitude by cleaning up.”

“Okay.” Easy with the idea, Zach stood and carried his plate to the sink, returning for hers. “You done, Mom?”

She just stared at Graham in shock. “I'm sorry, do you have wizard powers?”

“Nah. He's got something important to look forward to. And he knows I'm going to make his video game life miserable, so he's just delaying the punishment.” Standing, he carried his own plate to the sink, kissing the top of her head as he passed.

Zach made a gagging noise by the sink before turning it on.

“Go sit. Watch TV. Read a book. Something that doesn't involve hovering.” With a nudge, Graham pulled her chair out and sent her ambling toward the master bedroom. “We've got it.”

Feeling like an intruder for a bit, she watched as Graham and Zach worked in tandem to clean not only the plates, but
dump the leftovers into a plastic container—located by Zach—and washed the serving bowls and pots as well.

Okay, then. She'd just go . . . read a book. Or something.

*   *   *

TWO
hours later, Graham stretched his neck. Somehow, he was more sore after sitting down and using nothing but his thumbs ninety minutes than he had been after two three-hour-long practices. He was officially getting old when sitting took a toll on his body.

He wandered out into the living room and found Kara, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, typing away at the laptop in her lap. When she looked up at him, he smiled to see dark-rimmed glasses sitting on her face, framing her gorgeous eyes.

“Sexy,” he commented, settling beside her as she moved the pillow to make room for him. “How have I not seen those before?”

“Only for reading and computer work. I don't often read in front of other people, so you wouldn't have.” She continued typing, so he let her continue. But he did lean back against the cushion and tilt his head so he could watch. Some women might have been annoyed with that. Kara simply kept going. Her fingers—slender, graceful, unadorned by any rings or polish—flew over the keyboard.

“You're fast.”

“Gotta be, when you don't have a lot of time to write and your second job depends on it.” She clicked on the mouse, sighed, then smiled. “Done.”

“What's this all about?”

“An article someone else wrote. I had to write the intro for it, and then do some work to hyperlink it. I'm actually not great at the whole technical blog aspect. It's not my favorite part.”

He'd seen the blog, read it, considered it a lifesaver for
when he had Zach over and needed to know if something was okay with his allergies or using her ever-updated list of foods on the OK list so parents didn't have to spend as much time hunting up suggestions for brands to try. And it looked pretty solid to him. “So who runs the blog, then?”

“I do. I just had to teach myself basically everything from scratch. It ate up a lot of time to start with. Eats up more time, now that it's growing—very slowly—and starting to get advertisers. I've had to contract out a few bits and pieces of web design, plus hire a lawyer for the advertising contracts. I'm hoping that breaks even soon, then makes money.”

“I could have helped with that. Next time, bring it to me.” When she looked at him, from behind slightly smudged lenses, his heart simply stopped for a moment. “What?”

She started to speak, then closed her mouth. Then opened it, and closed it again. She was doing a fantastic job of playing Charades . . . as long as the answer was “fish.”

“Kara. What?” He leaned closer and wrapped an arm around her. “What's up?”

“I . . . where's Zach?” She glanced at her watch, confirmed with the time on the laptop screen, then gasped. “Oh my God, it's way past bedtime. He'll be a nightmare tomorrow morning. How long have I been . . . never mind.” She closed the laptop and stood so fast he reached out in case the whole thing plummeted to the floor. But she caught it and set it on the coffee table.

“Hey, relax. He's asleep.”

“He's . . . what?” That had her frozen halfway to Zach's bedroom door. “No, there's no way. He was so hyped you were coming over. That's impossible.”

“That's totally the truth. Check.” Smugly, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited while Kara peeked in. She popped back out, mouth hanging open.

“He's asleep.” Disbelief laced her words. “He's still fully dressed.”

“So? Kids fall asleep in their clothes. Leave him.”

She debated for a moment. “He hasn't brushed his teeth. You know what? Never mind. One night won't kill him.”

Graham was pleased she could loosen up on the small things a little. Some moms were militant, like his had been. His mother would have marched in there, demanded he brush his teeth, floss, rinse, and comb his hair before putting on pajamas. At the end of it, he wouldn't have even been tired any longer. Kara's natural ability to see the forest for the trees was impressive.

She walked back to the couch and flopped. The natural cushion placement meant she rolled a bit toward him. He gave the couch some help by scooting over enough that she was tucked in against his side, knees bent and nudging against his thigh, head resting on his shoulder. In a word: perfect.

“We have to talk.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. “When you mentioned asking you for help . . .” She trailed off, but he knew she wasn't falling asleep. He gave her time, letting his fingers run up and down her arm. If it took all night, he'd let her make the next move. “When you mentioned asking you for help with the contracts, it made me wonder if I could ask you for help with something else. Not that you'd be doing work, exactly. Just, maybe, advising?”

He was used to people asking for free advice. Friends, family, even people from high school he barely remembered but found him on Facebook. Everyone wanted to know what a lawyer thought, nobody wanted to pay for the privilege. With Kara, it felt different. He sensed asking was hard, and not her first choice. It only made him more determined to assist. “Hit me.”

“It's about my ex, Henry. Zach's father.” His fingers tightened a little on her arm, and he quickly forced himself to relax it again. But she'd noticed, and she rubbed the heel of her hand over his chest, soothing. “He's not in our lives,
either of us. Which is exactly how we like it, honestly. But sometimes, when he's feeling the pinch of child support, he likes to threaten that he'll takes us back to court or mediation to lower the amount. Usually giving some bullshit reasoning, having to do with taking him for more visitation to justify the amount he pays in support. It's a threat, really, and not a new one. He's been using it for years.”

“Does he see Zach often?”

“He hasn't seen Zach in years. He took Zach for what was supposed to be a full day visit, and brought him back at lunchtime claiming there was nothing he could feed him and I'd set him up to fail. I'd given him a list of foods Zach could eat because we were still going through the allergy testing phase and he also was going through a picky phase.”

“As any kid tends to do,” Graham murmured.

“Exactly. He survived on bread, butter and a few other staples for about eighteen months back then because we were so limited on what we could add into his diet, and again by what he would actually eat. Henry accused me of making up a lot of his allergies—but thank God he didn't try to test that theory out. And that was the end of him giving enough of a shit to come see his son.”

“Bastard,” was Graham's quick and unequivocal judgment. “The guy is scum.”

“I'm not arguing. But he's pulling it again, this whole ‘if I'm paying for being the kid's dad, I should see him' junk. Henry doesn't want to see him. He just knows that I don't want him to take Zach alone. He's old enough to know what he should and shouldn't eat—Zach, obviously, not Henry—but that doesn't mean I want to trust him with an adult who has shown zero respect for his medical issues in the past, and uses his son's feelings as a weapon.”

“Of course not.” She was so calm about it, so collected. No hysterics, no sobs, and no real anger either. The anger,
she'd have earned. But she kept it down, and he sensed it was only because it was more efficient to be able to talk without using curse words that she did so. “How can I help?”

“The lawyers think it's going to come to a head. He can't keep coming back and demanding we lower support on paper, because even the state has its own standards that he can't go below. But he might be more tempted to lower the payments made directly to me, and for me to keep my mouth shut about it, if I knew it meant he would abide by this unspoken agreement he leaves us alone and doesn't push his right for visitation.”

“I'm not really up on family law,” Graham began, and he could feel her slump against him. “But the law is the law. I can give you suggestions, I just can't represent you.”

“I have a lawyer,” she said quickly. “I pay for her, it's not like, court appointed or anything. She's just expensive.”

“The good ones usually are.”

“No kidding,” Kara said with a puff of air that stirred her bangs. “I had a court-appointed lawyer back in the day, when I was still a teenager. I remember sitting in court before our time to go in front of the judge, and Tasha was representing the mom ahead of me. She ripped into the deadbeat father like a shark on a bucket of frozen chum. It was . . . a little terrifying to watch, actually. She's scary in the court room. I knew then and there, if I ever had enough money to hire a lawyer, I'd do whatever I could to make her mine.”

Graham smiled, but said nothing.

“I'd rather not waste my hourly rate asking simple questions that could be answered if I just knew where to look.”

“Research, basically. Someone to bounce ideas off of.”

“Exactly. I'm sure you get asked this sort of thing all the time.” Sadness tinged her voice now, and she rolled and shifted until she perched on her knees, facing him. One hand came up and cupped his cheek. “I hate to be another person to ask.”

“You're not ‘another person,' Kara.” He held her hand in place, then eased forward to kiss her long, deep and slow. When her other hand came up to play in his hair, then slide down and pull him against her more, he called it a win. He broke the kiss. “You're not ‘another person.' You mean a lot to me. You and Zach both. It's for both of you. I'll do whatever I can, however I can.”