His Secret Child

“I want us to be friends and. . . well, after I leave town, I’ll keep in touch. But. . .I, er. . .”

Danny narrowed his eyes, his stare questioning Caleb. “Me and Caleb Bishop friends. Hey, I like the sound of that.”

Caleb gripped Danny’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that, too.”

He thought their little talk had gone well, that he’d set the record straight and eased Sheila’s mind. Danny was a bright kid. He understood that Caleb wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in his life. Maybe now, Sheila would stop worrying.

He could be Danny’s friend without giving the boy any false hopes about him becoming his substitute father, couldn’t he? And he and Sheila could renew their old friendship and temporarily ease each other’s loneliness, without any permanent ties.

Caleb waited on the front porch while Sheila checked to make sure Danny was asleep. She had put her son to bed three times since his two young buddies had left, and each time he’d thought of just one more thing to tell Caleb.

“This is the last thing, I promise, Mom,” the boy had said ten minutes ago. “Caleb, would you come and watch us practice tomorrow? We’ll be over behind the grammar school, in Old Man Pickens’s field. That’s where the Bulldogs always practice.”

“Danny!” Sheila had scolded.

“I might drop by for a few minutes,” Caleb had replied. “But don’t mention it to any of the other guys just in case I don’t make it.”

Sheila swung open the front door and joined Caleb on the porch.

“He’s down for the count,” she said. “He’s asleep and this time he isn’t faking it.”

Caleb sat in the porch swing. He knew he should get in his car and drive home instead of lingering, trying to prolong the evening. He dreaded going back to the old homestead alone. He was a man accustomed to company, to being around teammates and fans and—until this past year when he’d been recuperating from the accident—he’d seldom been without a female companion.

“I hope you don’t mind that I told Danny I might stop by his practice tomorrow.”

She hesitated a couple of seconds before she replied, “No, I don’t mind. He would have been terribly disappointed if you’d said no. I think he’d already told Devin and Tanner that he was going to ask you to come by.”

“I promise to play it cool with him,” Caleb said. “He’s a pretty smart boy. He understands that my stay in Crooked Oak is only temporary.”

Feeling a sudden chill at his words, Sheila rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It’s cool, isn’t it, for springtime?”

“Come sit by me and I’ll warm you up,” he said, his tone teasing.

He’d like to warm her up, melt that frosty exterior and see just how hot Sheila could get He remembered a passionate young girl who had come alive in his arms. Was that fire and passion still alive in her, just waiting to be unleashed? She had told him there was no one special in her life, so that had to mean she was celibate because unless Sheila had changed a great deal, she’d never indulge in casual sex.

“Aren’t you leaving?” she asked. “It’s ten-thirty. Past my bedtime. We’re early risers around here.”

He patted the wood slat bottom of the swing. “Come sit with me before I go home. It’s a beautiful spring night. Stars and moon and fresh country air.”

“You don’t want to go home, do you?”

“What?”

“I said, you don’t want to go home. You don’t want to be alone.”

“Smart lady.”

“Why didn’t you go to Nashville and stay with Tallie and Peyton instead of coming back to Crooked Oak if you hate being alone?”

“I thought I wanted a quiet, isolated place to hide away,” he admitted. “But I’ve discovered that I’m not a loner. I like contact with other people far too much. Especially certain old friends.”

Sheila laughed. Dear Lord, he was such a flirt. Such a charmer. Those things about Caleb hadn’t changed. “Oh, all right, I’ll sit in the swing with you for fifteen minutes and then you’ll go home and I’ll go in to bed.”

“Mmm.” He grinned mischievously. “We could skip the fifteen minutes in the swing and forget about my going home and just head straight to your bed.”

She knew he was joking, or at least halfway joking, and wondered how long it had been since he’d laughed and kidded around since the accident.

She sat with him, their side-by-side bodies filling the narrow swing. He slid his arm around her shoulders. She allowed him to touch her, to bring her body close to his, and for a moment she closed her eyes and pretended that there was more than loneliness prompting his actions.

“How long’s it been?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“How long’s what been?” she replied.

“Since you got some.”

Sheila giggled. “What a question to ask me. You’re certainly not a romantic are you, Caleb?”

“Nope. So?”

“‘So’ what?”

“So, how long has it been since you got some?”

“For your information, I don’t get some,” she said. “I have sex. I make love.”

“Okay. How long’s it been since you had sex or made love?”

“Do you think that’s any of your business?”

“Maybe not.” He slid his left hand beneath her hair and caressed the nape of her neck. She shuddered. “What if I tell you how long it’s been for me? Then will you tell me?”

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” she said.

“Sure you do.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. She shuddered again. “I haven’t had sex in a year. Not since before the accident.”

His tongue circled her ear. Her mouth formed a surprised oval as she silently gasped. “I—I find that hard to believe. I’m sure there have been dozens of women who—” He kissed her ear at the same moment he speared his fingers into her hair and grasped her head. “Caleb, don’t do this to me.”

“I could have gotten it on with some of my nurses and even with a willing fan or two who sneaked into my hospital room, but I was in no shape to fool around. And when I recovered enough to go home to my apartment, I went through several months of deep depression.”

“I’m sorry. Tallie told me how worried she’s been about you.”

“Fess up, honey,” he said. “I told you, so now it’s your turn to tell me. How long’s it been?”

“Five years,” she said softly.

“Five years!” He grabbed her chin and turned her to face him. “Are you saying you haven’t had sex with anyone since your husband died?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”