Protecting Melissa (Holiday Cove 4)

“Mmm. What is that smell?” Melissa said, breathing deeply as we wandered through the tourist town. “I say we follow our noses to whatever the source is!”

I laughed. “Far enough. Come on, buddy. We have to use our detective skills here.”

Jackson cheered and started making exaggerated sniffs like he was a bloodhound. Melissa and I glanced at each other over the top of his head and smirked at one another. “This way!” he declared, taking off around a corner. My heart dropped and I raced to catch up to him, Melissa right on my heels.

Melissa stopped him and bent down to look into his confused face. “Sweetheart, we have to all stay together, okay? I know you’re excited, but it’s very, very important that you stay with Chase and me, okay?”

Jackson looked up at me and I nodded, backing up what his mother had said. “It’ll be more fun together anyways, okay, bud?”

“Okay.” He grabbed Melissa’s hand and then waited, extending one for me to take as well. A lump formed in my throat as I took his small hand in mine and we all three started off down the walkway again.

All together. Just like a family.

Damn, this kid is turning me into mush.

“I think if I eat one more bite, I’ll burst,” Melissa declared, drawing a smile from both Jackson and me.

“That would be messy, Mom!”

I laughed and nodded. “Sounds like you need a walk on the beach.”

Melissa closed her eyes and leaned back against the wooden chair. We were seated on the patio, overlooking the water, with twinkling lights hanging from the pergola above us. The food, the soft music, and the staff had made for one hell of a meal. Being with Melissa and Jackson had made it perfect.

Jackson downed the rest of his bottle of root beer—a treat Melissa had given him after he’d seen a girl across the patio with one. “Let’s go!”

Melissa smiled at her son and then pulled some twenty’s out of her pocket. There was no way I’d let her pay for anything.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked as I eyed her across the table.

She smiled down into her lap as she threw the bills on the table. “Paying for dinner.”

“I don’t think so. My treat.”

Melissa looked up; eyebrow raised. “Don’t make it a thing, okay? I’ll leave a tip.” She picked up the money and laid a twenty back down on the table, stuffing the rest of it back in her pocket.

“I’m not,” I retorted, chuckling. “I’m paying. End of story. No thing but a chicken wing.”

Jackson cracked up and I joined in his easy laughter. “You like that one?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Chicken wing!”

He lost it all over again.

Melissa smiled at me and shook her head in quiet disbelief at the scene before her eyes. After our late night talk the other night, I’d come to understand it was probably harder on her than she’d let on. Whenever we were around Jackson, she was always calm and confident. But after everything she told me, I knew there were deep undercurrents raging at all times under the surface. How she managed to keep it all together and go on smiling for the sake of her son was a mystery to me. I would’ve lost it by now.

“Come on,” I said to her, dropping a meaningful glance at the bill lying on the table. “It’s a tax deduction. You wouldn’t want to take that from me, would you?”

She rolled her eyes and finally conceded. “Fine! You win!”

“I do like winning,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

I broke away and flagged down the waitress and asked for the check. While we waited, Melissa wiped Jackson’s fingers and cleaned his face. The night was balmy, with a light sea breeze providing relief from the warm air. It was a scene from a postcard. The beach, the rush of the ocean, the quiet chatter of the guests at the tables beside ours. I had to fight to stay vigilant and not let myself get lost in the wonder and peace of it all.

I paid the check and we all stood and went toward the small set of stairs off the patio to go down to the beach. Night had fallen while we were eating, but the lights from the beachside restaurants and shops lit the sand and the moonlight bounced off the ocean, giving everything a magical glow.

We walked down the beach a little way in silence before Jackson finally spoke, “Mom, is Dad coming to meet us here?”

I stiffened at the innocent question and shot a sidelong glance at Melissa. To my knowledge, it was the first time he’d asked about his dad, which, Melissa had explained was due to the fact that Henry was gone a lot and that Jackson had gotten used to him being away.