Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

Breaking the silence around the table, Mason said with a full mouth, “Jordan is going to the zoo tomorrow.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Clara rebuked, and then her voice softened as she added, “Did he tell you that at school?”

Mason chewed fast and nodded quickly. After swallowing, he continued, “Can we go? Please, please, please.”

“Yes,” Sullivan said. Then his brain caught up. All eyes came to him, and the silence was heavy, daunting. He cleared his throat, grabbed his napkin, and wiped his mouth. To Clara, he gently added, “Of course, only if that’s all right with you. Sounds like a fun day.”

Clara held his gaze for a moment, her eyes searching his. Hesitation was written into every hard line on her face. “Okay,” she eventually said to him. Then she turned to Mason and added, “Would it be okay if Sullivan came with us too?”

“Yes!” Mason bounced in his seat. “I want to see the snakes and tarantulas…”

He went on and on, and everyone seemingly exhaled a long breath and returned to their dinners. Clara’s gaze met Sullivan’s, and her small smile told him he got this right. After all the fuck ups he’d done lately, this felt a whole lot better. Familiar. Like he was finding his old self.

Ending his speech, Mason said, “Today at school, Nathan said ‘poop’ in front of the whole class, and Danny farted.” Mason giggled.

Maisie burst out laughing.

Clara set her fork down and her firm stare on Mason. “We don’t talk about poo or farts around the dinner table.” To Maisie, she added, “And it’s not funny. It’s rude.”

Maisie leaned forward and winked at Mason. “It’s a little funny.”

Hayes leaned over to Sullivan and said, “Welcome to the regular show at the Carter family dinner.”

Sullivan laughed, but became absorbed in Clara reprimanding her son, Maisie still laughing, and Amelia smiling at it all.

Yeah, he liked this.

Long after Mason had gone to bed for the night, Clara sat on the chair next to Sullivan and stared in the crackling fire burning brightly in the firepit surrounded by the Adirondack chairs. Amelia and Luka had left long ago to her bedroom. He’d never been one to sit around the fire. Maisie and Hayes were inside, getting more drinks and some snacks. But knowing Maisie, she was probably giving Clara some time alone with Sullivan to talk. And the more Clara thought about it, the more she knew she and Sullivan needed to break that barrier and heal things between them, and if anything, find a way back to friendship for Mason’s sake. “I think today went well,” she said to him, breaking through the silence.

Sullivan glanced sidelong and nodded in agreement. “He’s a cute kid. Reminds me a lot of you.”

“Sometimes too much,” she said with a laugh. The fire crackled, sending embers dancing up to the dark sky full of stars.

A long pause followed. Then, “Did I…was it—”

“You did great,” she said, finding his tormented gaze on hers. “Mason likes you. Can’t ask for more than that right now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, glancing back at the fire.

She still couldn’t shake the images of them playing baseball together from her mind. The sweetness of it. Hell, the wish that maybe all this could work out and Mason would finally have a father figure in his life. One step at a time, she reminded herself, not letting herself get too carried away with whimsical thoughts that may never be. But even so, it was easy to remember the Sullivan she’d loved. This guy tonight seemed so much like him. His legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles, relaxed, and enjoying the quiet night. “How long has it been since you’ve done something like this?” she asked.

“Seven years.”

“Seriously? Seven years?”

The light from the fire was impressively bright, revealing the chiseled lines of his cheekbones. “Life is different in Boston,” he explained, gaze on the sky. “Not so quiet. And when we travel for games, we always play in big cities. I don’t get the chance to get out to places where the city lights don’t hide the stars.”

She looked to the sky herself, spotting the milky way. Over the years, many of her old high school friends had moved away with big city dreams. She’d never had those dreams herself, loving small-town life. The old Sullivan she knew would have hated the big city too. She figured she better get to know this Sullivan. “Do you like the big city?” she asked.

“Parts of it,” he said. “Some parts, I don’t.”

She smiled, dropping her head to the side to watch his expression. “Like the bars?”

The side of his mouth curved before he glanced her way, lifting an eyebrow. “You saw the tabloid article, then?”

She nodded. Everyone saw all the articles about him. Every week, on a new issue in the grocery store line. “What’s going on with all of that? The bar fights and stuff?” And, of course, by “stuff,” she totally meant women.

Obviously picking up on that, Sullivan’s mouth quirked up at the corner again. “Does the stuff wear dr