A Mom for Matthew

“No. The conversation wasn’t relevant to us. You and me.” He released her arm. “I shouldn’t have said a word about someone I’ve never met. Forget it.”

“Fine.” Grace hugged her purse to her chest. “Where are we going? To a fire? I’m having a hard time keeping up with you.”

“Sorry.” Zeke immediately cut his stride in half. “There’s a bar and grill down the street.”

“We passed several places with lounges.”

Zeke knew the ones she meant. Spots frequented by guys who worked for Kemper. He didn’t like his new assignment and preferred not to take any added flak over it from his men. “Those are touristy,” he lied, although he sounded lame.

“I see. By that do you mean they pad their drink prices? If so, I’ll want to avoid them in the future.”

“No. Jeez! I don’t recall you being this inquisitive the last time we met.”

Grace grinned. “Maybe I’m getting to feel we’ve become friends.”

Zeke couldn’t help laughing then. The weight of this meeting seemed to slide off his shoulders. Ducking his head, he massaged the side of his neck. “Too tense, huh? Guess my manners could use a serious overhaul. The truth is…it’s you, Grace. I almost never go to a bar with a woman. Not almost never. Never,” he finished emphatically, but looked chagrined about discovering he’d been snappish again.

“Really? What’s wrong with the women in Galveston?” Grace exclaimed unexpectedly. “I should think they’d beat a path to your door.” As if realizing how that probably sounded, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I…I—I just mean where I live, and especially where I work, single guys are besieged. In elementary school teaching, women outnumber men five to one.”

“Around oil rigs it’s the exact opposite.”

Grace noticed Zeke rarely gave out any personal information; it was always general, like this. She’d led with the perfect chance to open up about himself. Maybe she hadn’t been direct enough. She didn’t want to be intrigued by Zeke Rossetti, but the man did interest her. She found him popping into her thoughts at odd hours. In her experience, limited though it was, men who looked like Zeke didn’t reach his age without acquiring plenty of history with women. And he had a way about him that made a woman feel…well, like a woman. A slow, sexy drawl. Impeccable manners. Although, Grace mused, as she let him place a warm hand on her waist to guide her into a little hole-in-the-wall bar, her past brush with a lying, cheating, polite married man had left her skeptical of manners.

“I see you brought your sweater again. Shall we nab a table on the patio? It’s a nice night,” he said, gesturing out a window that showed a glimpse of the bay. “I guarantee the patio will be half as smoky as it’ll get in here.”

“The patio, by all means,” she agreed. “Is there a side that’s better for seeing the sun go down? I’ve only been here a week, but I’m addicted to your sunsets. There’s something so fabulous about the red, peach and purple colors layered all the way down to aqua waves that’s…indescribable.”

“Hmm. To me, sundown signals the end of our most productive hours out on the rig. Even with as much wattage as we use to light the platform, there’s much more danger to our workers after dark.”

“Goodness,” Grace exclaimed as she settled into the wrought iron chair Zeke pulled out. “If it’s so dangerous at night, why not shut down like most businesses do?”

Zeke looked indignant, while simultaneously signaling to a waitress moving among the outer tables. “How many ways can you spell money? We’re an oil-dependent society. Until we unearth new pockets of black gold, it’s all outgo and no income for our companies.”

The waitress arrived then to take their orders. Zeke requested a dark ale, and she ordered a popular south-of-the-border light beer with a twist of lime. After the waitress had gone, Grace traced the logo on one of the napkins the woman had set out. “I never stopped to consider everything you had at stake, Zeke. I guess you must view me as worse than a sunset, huh?”

He snorted with laughter. “That’s one way of putting it, Gracie.”

Her head came up fast. “My grandmother’s the only person who ever calls me Gracie.” Hearing it delivered in Zeke’s gravelly voice caused a curl of pleasure to spread through Grace, and for a moment she looked at him differently.

Ignoring her heartfelt comment, he continued speaking. “As I said, we work at night despite an increased risk of injury. But now—thanks to you—we’re not working at all. Not only have I laid off a number of qualified men, many of them with families, but Pace is shelling out big bucks daily in fines because we’re running beyond the start time we promised our subcontractors.”