âThank you again for going out of your way for my son,â Elise said. âBut he needs to get to his homework and I need to get back to my job.â
Gray smiled down at the boy. âCanât slack on the homework, mister. Wannabe police officers have to keep up their grades.â
The child groaned, then lifted a hand for a parting high five before trotting back to the house.
The officer turned to her, his probing gaze setting loose a truckload of battering rams in her stomach.
For a moment she thought Coryâs cop was going to say something else. But he merely motioned to her vehicle at the curb. âIâd better let you get on your way.â
She was unwilling to get too chatty with the more-than-attractive man. No, he hadnât crossed the lines of propriety as some had done. Hadnât asked her out. Nevertheless, she kept up her guard.
* * *
GLYNNA KAYE
treasures memories of growing up in small midwestern townsâin Iowa, Missouri, Illinoisâand vacations spent in another rural community with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of story-telling to the many times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share hours of what they called âwindjammersââcandid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood.
Glynna now lives in Arizona, and when she isnât writing sheâs gardening and enjoying photography and the great outdoors.
Chapter One
âMy daddy was a policeman, too. A bad guy killed him.â
Grayson Wallace stared at the boy gazing up at him. The little chin jutted in evident pride, but the dark brown eyes searched his own for understanding. A connection. Acknowledgment. He was only a first-grader, not too much older than the son of Grayâs former girlfriend. Way too young to have lost his daddy, let alone lost him to a bad guy.
Gray massaged the shoulder of his own left arm, which was held close to his body in a sling. Hadnât the division captain said, when asking for a volunteer, that visiting a Fort Worth elementary schoolâs career day was cushy duty? He could still hear the good-natured hoots and catcalls of his fellow officers when heâd raised his hand. Couldnât blame them. He didnât have kids of his own. Spent almost every waking moment trying to keep lowlifes off the streets. He wasnât known for coaching T-ball, catching Disney matinees or reading bedtime stories in his spare time like many of the other guys and gals did.
But then, they werenât aware of how close heâd let himself get to Jennaâs boy.
No, catering to kids might not be his gift, but hanging out with grade-schoolers for a few hours was better than another day sitting around the office shuffling paperwork as heâd done the past several weeks. This was a perfect task for a cop on limited duty, recovering from a shoulder injury sustained during an undercover assignment.
But now, looking into this childâs pain-filled eyes, it sure didnât strike him as cushy.
Grayson crouched in front of the dark-haired boy, aware of other kids crowding close, and uttered the words he instinctively knew the youngster needed to hear. âIt takes a lot of courage to be the son of a law-enforcement officer.â
The boy blinked back tears and nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude that Grayson had taken notice of him.
Poor kid.
âWhatâs your name?â
âCory Lopez, sir.â
Sir. Didnât hear that a lot these days, even in the South. Gray held out his hand and clasped the small one offered. Gave it a man-to-man shake. âGood to meet you, Cory. Like your teacher said earlier, Iâm Officer Grayson Wallace.â
The first-grader took a deep breath. âMy dad is Duke Lopez. Did you know him?â
Coryâs gaze held steady in confident expectation.