The Player Next Door

Melissa Rhodes’s lips press together, forming a thin line, as she regards me. “I thought I was done with Reed women worming their way into my family’s lives.”

I bite my tongue, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the restaurant. Meanwhile, I’m clenching my fists beneath the table.

But Melissa doesn’t seem to be able to guard her temper as well. “I realize you may not know that what you’re doing is wrong, given your role model, but let me make it clear: Just because there isn’t a formal rule stopping you, it is wrong. You are putting my grandson in a position of embarrassment and ridicule.”

“I think you’re the one doing that at the moment.” I give a meaningful look around us as my cheeks heat, at nearby tables enraptured by the growing scene. Melissa’s voice has risen above the regular hum of conversation. From across the space, I sense Jenny Byrd and her parents watching, and my face grows hotter. Even if Melissa Rhodes paints herself a lunatic, I won’t walk out of here unscathed.

Melissa’s eyes dart around us, noting the attention she’s drawn. She clears her throat and drops her voice a touch. “You should not be engaged in a relationship with Cody’s father while you’re teaching his son. It’s despicable for an educator to behave in this manner and, if we have our way, you won’t be teaching at all. Come, Cody. Come with me.” She beckons him as if he were a dog.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbles, shaking his bowed head.

But she ignores him, reaching across the table to collect his food.

Short of yanking the plate from her grasp and being accused of causing a physical altercation—with witnesses—that will surely cost me my job, there’s nothing I can do to stop her.

I offer Cody a soothing smile. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’re going to leave as soon as your dad’s back.”

“He won’t be going anywhere with you,” Melissa declares haughtily.

Cody explodes. “Just stop!” With tears streaming down his cheeks, he scurries out of the booth and takes off running out the door, his grandmother hollering his name after him.

“I hope you’re happy now,” she snipes, smoothing her wrinkled hand over her blouse, stealing furtive glances at the surrounding families. At least she has the decency to look ashamed.

Shaking my head, I slide out. Now that Cody’s gone, I have no reason to guard my tongue. “Why don’t you go back to your table and keep an eye on your faithful husband before he ends up in a janitor’s closet again,” I hiss, quiet enough that no one else can hear, and then I march out into the chilly night after Cody.

I find the three of them standing in the shadows on the sidewalk. Penelope is huddled in her jacket, her back to me. Cody’s face is buried in his father’s chest.

The wind is biting and Shane is in nothing but a T-shirt. He must be cold, though nothing of his posture as he cradles his son’s head in comfort suggests that. “We’re going home now, buddy, I promise.”

“We’re not finished with this conversation, Shane,” Penelope warns.

He sighs. “Yeah, we are. At least I am.” He sees me standing there and gives me a “thank God you’re here to rescue me” look.

“I’ll go pay the bill and grab our jackets,” I say.

Penelope turns to shoot a glare my way that matches Melissa Rhodes’s so perfectly, I’d think mother and daughter have practiced in a mirror together.

It doesn’t faze me. I’m so tired of dealing with the Rhodes women tonight. But then I note how Cody peels away from Shane’s body in time to catch his mother’s face. How long before he begins to despise her? Or, worse, what if her toxicity infects him as Melissa’s venom bled into Penelope?

Something deep inside compels me to try to make peace, for his sake if nothing else. “If it makes you feel any better, my mom showing up was a total fluke and I doubt it’ll happen again.” Dottie is where she is most comfortable—at the bar, flirting with men. Currently, that man is Travis, and I have no interest in being here when Penelope discovers that.

“You know what would make me feel better? You staying the hell away from my son!” Penelope yells.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Shane counters.

“I’ll talk to her however I want to. She is not a part of this family.”

“Not yet,” Shane says evenly.

Under different circumstances, his words might excite me. Now, though, they’re as dangerous as pouring gasoline onto an open flame.

Penelope’s mouth gapes. “Why are you doing this to me? After everything her mother put my parents through.”

“I’m not doing anything to you.” Shane releases his grip of his son to throw his hands in the air. “I’m just trying to be happy. Scarlet makes me happy!”