Clearly it was as she’d said; the kids at the Stand were used to officer visits—or at least, familiar enough with them that his presence wasn’t fazing them.
Only one of them got up. A little blonde girl in light green shorts, a white-and-green matching T-shirt with butterflies on it and tiny white sandals, who’d been sitting at a small plastic table with a piece of paper in front of her and a crayon in her hand. She set the crayon down and was heading toward them.
“He’s here to speak with one of our residents and checking out the classrooms,” Harper was saying.
The teacher—Miss Maisy, her tag read—nodded and, as a boy came up to her, tugging at her shorts and said he had to “go,” led him away.
“Hi, Mommy.”
Mason was hardly breathing. The girl, a little sprite, had reached them, her face serious, her nose scrunched up as she looked at him. And then back at her mother. It was almost as though she knew and he had a crazy thought that kids could recognize their parents, even if they’d never met them before. And then she said, “How come he isn’t wearing a uniform?” Such a small voice for such a big question.
No way she was his kid. She was just too…perfect.
He knelt beside her. “I know all the officers here wear their uniforms all the time, but I’m not employed by this place, so I left mine at home,” he told her.
“Are you on a special job?” Her voice hooked him, her gaze hooked him, and he knew she wasn’t ever going to let him go.
No matter what the paternity test revealed.
* * *
HARPER HAD TO pretend she didn’t know them. It was the only way for her to get through those seconds as she watched her precious little girl so adeptly handling a situation her mother couldn’t seem to manage. If she opened her mouth, she was going to cry. So she took a mental step back, like she did when faced with a horrendous act in her job. She put barriers around her emotions and reminded herself that she was working.
“I am on a very special job.” Mason’s tone wasn’t condescending, yet it held…a note that was different, unlike any she’d ever heard from him as he answered Brie’s question.
“My daddy has special police jobs, too, where he sometimes wears jeans to work,” she said and then held out her hand to him. “It was nice to meet you, Officer.”
Mason’s hand engulfed that little palm, but he shook it softly and said, “It’s been so nice to meet you, too.”
“My name’s Brianna,” she informed him in a serious voice, nodding once, just as Mason had done earlier in Harper’s office, although she figured only she would pick up on something like that.
“That’s a very pretty name,” Mason said, his expression equally solemn.
“I’m going to finish my picture now,” she said. “We have to finish before it’s music time.”
“Then you’d better get back to it.” Mason stood, his gaze never leaving the little girl.
“Bye, Mommy, I love you.” Brianna gave her a hug around the knees before heading back to her chair. Harper wanted to hold on to her and never let go.
* * *
MASON HAD FELT his phone vibrate a text when he was talking to Brianna. He pulled the phone out of his pocket the second the littlest Thomas turned her back, needing to focus on work if he was going to get out the door and back to the life waiting for him.
He didn’t kid himself. Whatever results came from the DNA lab, whenever they came, his life would go on unchanged, as far as anyone would ever see. He and Harper had agreed. No matter what the test showed, he wasn’t going to play a key role in Brianna’s life.
He wasn’t going to do that to his brother.
Or to the little girl who adored her daddy.
All these years he’d been waiting for Bruce to grow up, to become the man he’d always known he could be, and his younger brother had finally gone and done it. In some ways… By all accounts he was a great father. Brianna had shown confidence, pride and security when she’d mentioned him. Her tone. The look on her face.
He’d thought, when he insisted on the paternity test, that he’d need to protect the child from Bruce, from his manipulative behavior.