Jamie flashed him a gummy grin broken only by a few baby teeth and the remnants of graham cracker. Damn he was cute with all that dark hair and those saucer-wide dark eyes, in fact resembled the baby pictures of Nikki packing the house.
"You're good with children." Rena interrupted his thoughts.
Uh-oh. He knew that matchmaking tone well. He folded faster. "Uncle on-the-job training."
"You'll be a good father someday once you find that right woman."
He needed to put a stop to this line of conversation as quickly and politely as possible. He cranked a smile. "Why do all women assume a man's only single because he hasn't met the right woman?"
Her face pinked in sync with her embarrassed grimace.
"I'm sorry. That was presumptuous of me. Blame it on the inquisitive counselor not getting to log in those hours at work—" The phone chirped from the wall, interrupting whatever else she'd been planning to say.
Passing the kid the folded paper airplane to keep him quiet while Rena talked, Carson used the moment to gather his thoughts before the woman managed to wrench God-only-knew what else out of him. He definitely had too many secrets to let down his guard around her. He'd all but forgotten she was a shrink, she'd put him so at ease. Probably why she was reputed to be such a good one.
After the shoot-down and rescue in the Middle East, he'd been evaluated at a base in Germany. He'd managed to sidestep the head examiners over there, a skill honed in his childhood.
Hindsight showed him his mistake. His alcoholism had flared after his return until he'd hooked up with A.A.
However sharing details in a therapeutic setting was totally different than spilling his guts to Rena Price. He was coming to terms with his childhood, but that didn't mean he wanted to take out a billboard about all his neglectful parents had forgotten to do for him and all the things their coked-up friends had tried to do to him. He couldn't understand how his sister managed to trust her genes enough to marry, much less procreate.
Procreate?
He could almost hear Nikki teasing him for his stuffy word choice. She was every bit as full of humor and life as this house.
Rena tucked the cordless phone under her chin and reached for Jamie, clutching him close with an urgency that spoke of maternal fear. "I'll track down your brother to pick you up, sweetie."
Pick Nikki up? "What's wrong?"
She fished the paper airplane out of Jamie's mouth, hugging him tight again. "Nikki's stranded at the high school, car trouble."
Relief slammed through him. A simple spark plug or flooded car. Except wait, J. T. Price, a proficient mechanic, had taught his kids well. Premonition pricked a second before Rena continued.
"Someone slashed Nikki's tires."
* * *
Nikki kept her eyes on the access road leading into the high school parking lot, a preferable sight to her pitiful little truck with its deflated tires, currently being loaded on a flatbed tow truck.
Billy Wade shuffled from foot to foot, his baggy clothes defying gravity by staying on his body in spite of the weight of the mint of silver chains hanging off them. "Too bad we don't have four cans of that flat-fix-it stuff."
"It's okay, really. My ride's on the way. And honestly, I think my tires are beyond any can of foam repair."
"This really blows." Dyed black hair, long on one side, hung over his face in a greasy curtain. "When I find out who did this to you, he won't be bothering you no more."
"Anymore. And thank you. That's sweet of you to worry, but once the school checks surveillance video footage, they'll probably be able to nail the person responsible."
He went stock-still. Too still. "They have cameras out here?"
"Yes, Billy Wade, they do." God, she hated suspecting him of doing anything illegal, but Reis's suspicions still rolled through her mind.
"I could, uh, just give you a ride, you know. My dad's track might not look like much, but it runs real good and has four full tires."
"Your dad's truck looks a lot like my father's Ford."
"Really?" The teen's mask of bored insolence slid away for a rare second. "Your old man drives a beater, too? I wouldn'ta guessed we had anything in common."
He stepped closer. Too close. Into her personal space.