Ingenious.
But then he’d seen dozens of ways Natalie multitasked as a mother while managing her B and B and wedding-dress-design business. That humbled him more than a little as he considered he had only himself and his company to think about. Hell, some days he barely had time left over to eat away from the computer.
He glanced at Colby again, the boy so silent, such a mystery to Max still. The child pretty much only let Miss Molly near him for any extended length of time. The golden retriever’s tail thumped on the floor as she leaned against Colby’s legs.
Maybe there was a way to accomplish a few goals at once. Give Natalie a break. Show her he knew how to let the kids have fun without them growing too attached. And yes, give Colby a nice outing, one of the child’s choosing. “Do you want to go fishing?”
Colby chewed thoughtfully, then set aside his peanut butter–covered pretzel stick. “Gotta ask my mom.”
“Of course.” He should have thought to reassure the boy of that right away, but he hadn’t spent much time with kids since leaving foster care. “But if you don’t want to go, then there’s no need to even ask her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want to know that it’s something you would enjoy.”
Colby nodded. “Fishing is quiet. I like quiet.”
“Good. I like quiet, too.” There weren’t many silent moments in crowded group homes and overcrowded foster families. But Max had had one foster father who’d always woken up earlier than the others to cook breakfast and he’d let Max join him. They hadn’t spoken much, but Max had learned more, gained more confidence, in those near-silent exchanges than during any other time growing up.
“I don’t like taking it off the hook. It feels weird.”
“I can handle that part. Are you okay with eating the fish?”
Colby grinned and held up his cup of crackers, rattling them. “I like all kinds of fish. But I mostly like the real kind grilled. And corn on the cob, too.”
And right there, the boy had said the most words at once in Max’s presence.
The sense of victory rivaled winning a multimillion-dollar contract. The feeling gave him a moment’s pause. This simple outing was supposed to be about Colby...not about Max. He was supposed to be careful the kid didn’t grow too attached to him.
Max hadn’t considered he might actually become attached to the child.
Clearing his throat and shaking off the unsettling feeling, Max stood, careful not to move in too close to the boy and encroach on his personal space. “Let’s talk to your mom.”
They made their way to the sewing room. Glancing around, he realized how busy she was with the client. An explosion of lace and patterns seemed to occupy every spare surface. Chaos contained, but only barely.
Somehow amid all this chaos, Lexie managed to find sleep. She was curled up on the nap mat and did not stir.
He waited for a break in her conversation with the customer, then asked softly, “Natalie, do you mind if Colby goes fishing with me?”
She glanced at him, then at the customer and over at napping Lexie. He could see her independence at war with her need for help. “Max, are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
Colby stepped inside the room, shuffling his feet, eyes darting. “Please, Mom.”
Her face melted into a smile. “Of course, son. But you have to promise me you’ll listen to Mr. Max and don’t wander off. Okay? Promise?”
Colby nodded solemnly. “Promise.”
Her smile growing, she gazed at Max. “Thank you so much for the generous offer. There’s fishing gear in the shed out back. And please be sure to use the extra car seat in the mudroom.”
Max nodded, already planning a quick trip to the store because he wasn’t using her dead husband’s gear. “We’ll do our best to bring home food for all.”
He drove them to the local fishing store for an array of supplies. Colby picked out two poles and Max chose one. They loaded up his SUV with tackle and bait. Colby seemed excited by the lures, and his smile grew as they approached a nearby river.
An hour had passed by in a whir of activity. They’d managed to catch three sizable fish. Colby clapped after he brought the first fish to shore, excitement wriggling through his little body. Three fish were chilling in the icebox they’d brought, certainly enough for dinner.
The silence of the last twenty minutes felt soothing. Max felt himself decompress as they sat side by side, listening to the softer sounds of the river as it whirred by. He’d purposely chosen a spot away from some local picnickers, and enjoyed the view of the houses on the other side of the water and the big live oaks shading a bend in the river. Every now and then, a fish jumped, the splash making a wet plunk. Other than that, the day was quiet. The silence had attracted him to computer work. He liked the self-reliance that silence forced.