All Night Long (Man of the Month 9)

"Gary?"

"My foster father. He and Jessie are gonna try to adopt me." His smile was wide, but a little sad. "They want me. My dad didn't. And my mom?" He shrugged. "I don't think she really did, either. But at least she never hit me."

Dear God. What the hell could he say to this kid?

"Alfonse, everybody has a path. Some start out pretty crooked. But it sounds like yours is straightening out. Here," he added, then fished out his wallet and handed the kid his business card. "You keep in touch. I mean it."

The boy's face lit up, and he tucked the card in his back pocket before rushing to the riverbank to join a group of kids who were calling his name.

Easton went to the check-in desk and downed three glasses of water, his mind spinning.

He spent the next two hours on auto-pilot, but when they were back in the car, he'd processed enough to turn to Selma when they reached a red light. "Those kids--they have it pretty rough."

"Yup."

"Was that you?" he asked gently.

She didn't answer, and the light turned green. He continued on in silence, angry with himself for getting personal. Obviously, that wasn't where she wanted to go with him.

He pulled into his garage, then killed the engine. "Do you want to come in? Or are you heading home? You're still coming to the benefit tonight, right?"

She turned to look at him, her brow furrowed. Then she pulled off the plain white t-shirt she wore. There was nothing sexual about the act, and he wasn't surprised when she pointed to the small tattoo beneath her left breast, near her heart. The single word, please.

"You asked me about it, remember?"

He nodded.

"It was my first tattoo. I was twelve. Matthew and I had been in foster care for a while, and then we learned that the Herringtons wanted to adopt us. I snuck out of the house that very first night and managed to get to a tattoo parlor. I looked older than my age, and they didn't ask for ID--it's probably a miracle I didn't get hepatitis from the needle, the place was skanky. Anyway, that's what I got. That word over my heart. Please. Please let them be the ones. Please let it last."

Let it last. The words echoed like a clue in his mind.

"Did they ever find out you snuck out?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. My second day in their house and I got grounded. I figured that was the end. But then things moved on. I was so sure the end was coming--it always did--and then we were in front of a judge and they were officially my parents. My head totally spun."

"And now?"

Her laugh was harsh. "Now I know that I have a good thing--but I still expect it to come crashing down. I'm a glass half empty girl. Matthew is convinced we paid our dues and found Shangri-La. He's a glass half full guy."

He exhaled, lost under the weight of her story and Alfonse's dark, hopeful eyes. "I'm sorry you're still not sure." He took her hand. "Maybe one day you'll stop believing that the ground is going to fall out from under you."

"Maybe," she agreed. "But I'm not holding my breath."

Chapter Eleven

Selma hadn't expected the landfill to be as cool as it was. Somehow, her head hadn't managed to put together exotic animals and trash. But once she was there, she was mesmerized by the zebras, rhinoceroses, tigers, and other wildlife that she saw on the brief guided tour that the benefit guests were offered.

Since she wasn't technically there with Easton, she'd been in a different tour group, and now she was back in the pavilion, wandering the various tables--some offering information about literacy, some displaying the items donated for the silent auction--and sipping her glass of Chardonnay.

Honestly, while she thought literacy was a great cause, after her time with the animals, she was bored. A state of affairs she was certain would be remedied if Easton were beside her.

He, however, was nowhere to be found. Or at least, she corrected, he hadn't been. Now, she caught a glimpse of his dark hair and broad shoulders through the window, and she forced herself to walk toward the main door instead of skipping like an eager puppy.

She stopped short, however, when he stepped inside. Marianne was on his arm, her face lit up with pleasure.

Angry green monsters started to claw at Selma's insides, and she told herself sternly that she was being stupid. She had no right to be jealous. They were coworkers. She'd known they were coming to this together. He was running for judge. Of course he needed someone like Marianne beside him. After all, who could possibly

see her as a judge's wife?