Babysitter Bear Read online

  She smiled, remembering the loud clash of balls and pins, the deafening chatter of teens trash-talking each other; this place had always had the absolute worst acoustics, and generally smelled of mold.

  "Then, let's see, after the bowling alley closed, they did the 4H livestock auctions here while they were renovating the fairgrounds. And I think there was a paintball place for a while, but I never went there. I had moved away by then."

  "You moved?" Dan asked, surprised. "I thought you had lived here your whole life. I mean, from what you said about helping your parents run the diner."

  "No, I went away to school." And met Terry. And got married. That was definitely a can of worms she did not plan to open on a first not-a-date. "What about you?" she asked hastily. "City boy all your life?"

  "Pretty much," Dan said with another of those self-effacing, effortlessly charming smiles. "Grew up all over—Atlanta, Chicago, a few other places."

  "Oh, military brat?" she asked.

  "Foster kid."

  Shit. "Sorry."

  "It was a long time ago." His smile was a little sad. "But, yeah, after that, I went into the Army."

  "Do you mind if I ask how you, um ..." She couldn't think how to ask what she really wanted to know in a way that wouldn't be potentially offensive. How did a guy like you end up working as a male nanny? No, no, no. She tried to rephrase it. "Have you been doing this for long?"

  "Miniature golf?" he asked, looking blank.

  "No, I mean the—watching the kids thing."

  "Oh," he said, surprised. "It's kind of a—complicated situation."

  "Yeah, I don't know anything about those sorts of situations," Paula said. She glanced around in search of Austin, but there was no sign of him. So much for "stay in sight."

  She shot him off a brief text: Where R U?

  Mom!!!! Im in the bathroom!!!!!!

  Sorry!! she typed back, and sent a blushing-face emoji.

  why are you like this, Austin sent back.

  "Everything okay?" Dan asked as she put the phone away.

  "Yeah, it's fine. Just being a mom."

  The course had been generally sloping upward for the last couple of holes, a plywood ramp covered in scratchy, lurid green Astroturf. Now they were on an overpass looping across the floor-level section of a different, blue-flagged course.

  "Well, this seems safe," Dan remarked, looking down through the scratched Plexiglass barriers at other families playing through the course beneath them.

  "Oh yeah, totally," Paula said. "One of these days it's going to collapse beneath the weight of a sixth-grade class and they'll be sued out of existence. In fact, that's sort of what happened to the paintball place, from what I heard."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah, someone got a concussion and they were slapped with a bunch of lawsuits."

  "That doesn't really seem like the business's fault."

  "It is when part of an obstacle course falls on someone's head."

  "Oh," Dan said. "It's not the same owners, though, is it?"

  "I don't think so. But you never know."

  "Mom!" Lissy said. She held out the putter. "Do this one for me. It's hard. I always lose my ball."

  "It's not that hard," Sandy said, waiting his turn with his club resting on his shoulder.

  They were facing a ramp leading down. There was a series of small zigzag obstructions and, at the bottom, a witch's cauldron tipped over on its side, on a jerky conveyer belt that slid slowly back and forth. The objective was to get the ball into the cauldron. A recorded witch's cackle played at intervals.

  "Lissy's right, this one is terrible," Paula said, but she gamely placed the ball at the top of the ramp. "You have to walk all the way down the ramp and get your ball if you miss, and it's really hard to get it in. Whoever designed this hole is evil."

  "I can give it a shot if you want," Dan said.

  "No!" the kids chorused at once. "You're on the other team," Lissy added in a horrified voice.

  Dan smiled and raised a hand good-naturedly. He took a step back.

  "Don't yell at me if we have to go down there and collect your ball a dozen times," Paula said.

  She carefully tried to line up her shot. Embarrassingly, considering how many times she'd brought the kids here, she was not good at mini golf. Usually these evening games were an opportunity to stroll behind the kids and talk with other parents, or go hang out at the concession stand and enjoy half a cheap beer out of a plastic cup, while one of the other parents took one for the team and watched the kids.

  This ball was so going off the ramp.

  "It's all about timing," Dan said quietly.

  He had moved up beside her. She was acutely aware of him, even though his plaid-shirt-clad elbow wasn't quite touching hers. He was looking down the ramp, studying the cauldron intently.

  "If you let the ball go when the hole is lined up, you'll miss. The bumpers slow it down, so by the time it gets to the bottom, the hole isn't there anymore."

  "Like—now?" Paula asked, and started to pull back the club. "Oh ... no." The witch's cauldron moved on, with a tinny cackle, before she could tap the ball. "I see what you're saying, but how do you figure out when to let it go?"

  "May I?" he asked, and lightly laid his hand over hers.

  "Yes," she breathed.

  His hand was incredibly warm. She had never been so conscious of another person's presence. Every light brush of his skin against hers felt freighted with meaning.

  "Watch it move for a minute." His head was next to hers, his neck and shoulders bent over to accommodate their height difference. His breath stirred her hair. "You have to get a feel for how fast it's moving."

  It was safe to say she was no longer concentrating on the cauldron. He had a scent: soap and aftershave and the heated, slightly spicy smell of his skin. He was barely even touching her—they were in public, surrounded by kids, her kids no less ...

  "Now!" he said abruptly, his hand brushing her skin.

  Galvanized as if by electricity, her fist jerked on the club. The business end of the club glanced off the ball, which rebounded off a bumper and bounced back and forth down the ramp.

  Paula thought it was going to miss. By all rights it should have missed. The cauldron was all the way off to the side when her ball began its trip down the ramp. But the timing was perfect. Just as the ball reached the bottom of the ramp, the cauldron finished its jerky, stop-and-start journey into place. The ball plunked into the cauldron's carpeted interior.

  "Ahahahahaaaaaaa!" the recorded witch's voice cackled. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!"

  "This is super cheating," Sandy complained.

  "Here, kiddo, I'll do ours," Dan offered. He held out a hand for the club, then took the ball.

  Lissy gave a loud gasp. Her eyes went round as saucers. "What happened to your hand?"

  Lissy hadn't even noticed, Paula thought, surprised. But then, Dan moved the prosthetic so casually that your attention wasn't drawn to his hands unless he specifically did something with them.

  "Honey, don't stare," she said quickly.

  "It's okay." Dan held up the metal hand with the colored ball clasped between the two clamps. He smiled reassuringly at Lissy. "It's just how my hand is. Want to see it in action?"

  Lissy nodded.

  "Hold out your hands."

  She held them out, cupped together. Dan opened the clamps, and the ball plunked into her palm. Then he nipped it up neatly again, just as if he was picking up something with regular fingers. This time Paula saw that he rolled his shoulders under the shirt, a quick thrusting movement.

  "How do you brush your teeth?" Lissy asked.

  "Just like you do, except with my other hand."

  "How do you tie your shoes?"

  "Lissy, honey, please let Dan take his shot," Paula put in. "He can answer your questions after." She gave Dan an apologetic look, but he only shrugged a little and smiled. He lined up the shot one-handed, and sank it perfectly.

  T
he two teams ended up tied, although on several holes, including the final one—a dragon's head that opened and closed its mouth—Dan had taken the swing for both kids. Lissy, who had always been incredibly competitive, wanted to play another round to determine the winner. Sandy, more easygoing, just shrugged and said he didn't mind if she won. He was a sweet kid, Paula thought. Not many boys his age would have been that mellow about losing to a girl.

  "Sorry, kids," she said, ruffling Lissy's hair. "Mom's got an early day tomorrow. Let's go use up the rest of our concession tickets, why don't we? You want a hot dog or nachos, Liss?"

  This turned out to be the distraction she had hoped for. The kids ran ahead, and she and Dan trailed along behind.

  "I'm really sorry about her giving you the third degree," Paula said. "You know, about the arm."

  "I don't mind talking about it. Kids are curious." He gave her a sideways glance, inviting and a little shy at the same time. "Are you curious?"

  "I guess I am," she said.

  He brushed the back of her hand with the clamps, and when she turned her hand over, he laid the clamp-hand in her palm. Paula stopped walking, entranced by how the curved metal pieces fit together, easily able to clasp objects between them.

  She curled her fingers carefully around the metal, as if she was holding his hand. Dan made a small sound, a slight inhale, and she felt him tense a little.

  "Sorry!" she said, relaxing her grip. "Did that hurt?"

  "No ... no." His voice was soft. Glancing up, she saw him looking down at her hand—their hands—with a strange intensity in his soft brown eyes. "It can't hurt. There's nothing to hurt. It's just that people don't normally ..."

  "Touch it?" she asked gently.

  He smiled. "People can be weird about it. Kids are actually better than adults, usually. They go ahead and ask the questions that adults don't want to ask."

  "Like?" she asked.

  "Like how it works." He rolled his shoulder, and she jerked a little in surprise as the clamps opened and closed. "My shoulder muscles operate a pulley system."

  Paula couldn't help grinning in delight. "That's so cool," she said. She curled her hand around the clamps again. They were slightly warm now from her skin. "Ingenious, actually. But don't they have better ones now? Like, electronic ones that look like real hands."

  "They do," Dan agreed. "I got to try out a bunch of different kinds at the VA hospital. And honestly, some of the modern ones are really amazing. But when it comes right down to it, I don't think I want a hundred thousand dollar piece of hardware attached to my shoulder. They need batteries and break a lot. This kind is cheap, relatively speaking, and almost indestructible. I can get it wet or dirty, and just wipe it down and it's good to go. If something does break on it, I can fix it myself, or pretty easily find somewhere that can repair it."

  "Mom!" Lissy bellowed from the concession stand. "Whaddya want on your hot dog?"

  "Don't yell!" Paula yelled back, and then rolled her eyes at herself, and grinned at Dan. "What do you want, nachos or hot dogs?"

  "You're the expert. Which would you recommend?"

  "They're both pretty awful, to tell the truth. I usually try to steer the kids toward the hot dogs. By concession standards, they're almost healthy, especially if you count ketchup as a member of the vegetable food group."

  They rendezvoused with the kids at the concession stand. At some point Austin had rejoined the others. He had a tint to his cheeks and snowflakes in his hair, suggesting he'd recently been outside. However, she didn't see any sign of reddened eyes or anything else that might make her think he had been smoking or drinking with older teens. She decided not to nag about breaking the "stay in sight" rule. He was here now, so she wasn't going to get fussy if he wanted to go out for a little fresh air.

  Hot dogs, nachos and Cokes were passed around, and they went and found an open space at the long picnic-style tables against the wall.

  "Thanks for dinner," Dan told her. "Next time I pick up the tab."

  "The important thing is that it's a dinner I don't have to cook," Paula said between bites of her hot dog.

  "Do you come here often?" Dan asked. Paula cracked up and so did he, while the younger kids shared eye-rolling looks of exasperation and Austin looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "You know what I mean."

  "Yeah, I do. I'd say we come down here a couple times a month in the winter. It's a good way to get out of the house and let the kids have fun while the grown-ups talk."

  "For certain values of fun," Austin muttered, and stuffed half a hot dog into his mouth.

  "So what do you like in school, Austin?" Dan asked.

  Austin only grunted.

  "He's really good at math and science," Paula said. She ruffled Austin's hair before he could escape. "I bet he's going to be a famous scientist and make important discoveries."

  "I like animals!" Lissy announced, wiping at a dollop of ketchup on her nose.

  "That's not a school subject, dummy," Austin said.

  "Austin," Paula sighed. "Please don't call your sister names."

  "What are you going to be when you grow up?" Dan asked Lissy.

  "A zookeeper," Lissy said promptly. "Or a farmer. Or the person that names the colors of paints. Or a falcon tamer—"

  "You're forgetting the most important one," Paula said, suppressing a smile.

  Lissy bounced in her seat. "Oh, oh, oh! I'm going to train dogs for blind people!"

  "Someone came into her school last month and gave a talk about training service dogs," Paula explained. "They had some young dogs in training for the kids to pet."

  "Puppies," Lissy said rapturously. "Mom, can we get—"

  "No," Paula said. "For the nine hundredth time, we can't get a dog. Finish your hot dog."

  "I don't want to eat a dog!" Lissy said, with a bright look in her eyes.

  "More for the rest of us, then," Dan said, and, grinning, he leaned over the table and pretended to take the last remaining bite. Lissy squealed and stuffed it into her mouth.

  "Don't eat mine!" Sandy protested, and swallowed so much hot dog at once that he almost choked. Dan patted him on the back.

  He really was good with kids, Paula thought. Austin didn't seem to be warming up to him, but, well ... it was the age more than anything.

  And she really, really liked him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun at mini golf.

  Or the last time she'd met someone she liked this much.

  The mood was relaxed and pleasant as they got the kids back into their coats and walked out to the parking lot. Paula gave Austin the car keys so the kids could run on ahead to unlock the car and get in out of the cold. Sandy hung back inside, talking to some of his classmates.

  She and Dan were, for the moment, alone just outside the door.

  "So, I don't know if most people's idea of a good time would be mini golfing with a bunch of kids," Paula said. "But you were great."

  She was embarrassed immediately. You were great. It sounded like something you'd say to a kid after their soccer team lost.

  But Dan only smiled. "You were too."

  They standing very close together. Red and blue light from the neon marquee sign on the front of Sir Putts-A-Lot's warehouse-like facade flickered on his hair.

  "I," she said, and then completely forget what she was going to say.

  There was a light dusting of stubble on his chin, framing that incredible bone structure. It looked like Dan was one of those guys whose beard got completely out of control if he didn't shave twice a day.

  He had a full mouth, wide and sensual. Just from looking at it, she could sense how the warm heat of those lips might feel on hers.

  "I," she began again, faintly.

  Dan leaned in. His lips brushed hers, hardly even enough to be called a kiss—but it was electric; it lit her up from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

  The door banged as Sandy came racing out.

  Dan jerked back a little; Pa
ula did too. She felt as if she was recovering her footing after nearly slipping off a ledge—a wonderful, wonderful ledge.

  "I have to go," she said, breathless.

  "Yeah. Me too." But Dan kept his hand on her arm, strong and warm even through her coat and his glove. "Do you think I—do you think we could—what are you doing tomorrow?"

  Her heart raced. Not stepping back from the ledge after all. It was right there under her feet. Her toes were curled over the edge.

  "I can call you?" she asked. It came out more questioning than she meant it, but he pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and handed it to her. It took her a moment to realize what he wanted; then she entered her number.

  It's really been way too long since I was on the dating scene.

  She held out her phone and he entered his number for her.

  Now that she no longer had to deal with the warmth of his hand on her arm, the heat in his eyes, she felt a little more in control of herself. The ground was stable and secure again. But the ledge was still there.

  "It's hard to make definite plans," she said. "There's work and Lissy's after-school activities, and just a lot." A thought occurred to her. "Oh, hey, the winter carnival is next weekend. If we don't see each other before then—"

  "That sounds great," he said, and smiled in a way that heated her all the way through. "I've never been to a small-town winter carnival."

  "Don't get your hopes up. It's just a bonfire and a skate pond. And the whole town's going to be there."

  "Better yet. I can get to know some more people. I'm pretty isolated out at the Rugers' ranch."

  "I'd love to introduce you around," she said. Her cheeks were hot. That ledge was very close. There was a part of her that desperately wished he'd just take the decision away from her, take her in his arms, pull her close and—

  "Mom!!" from the car.

  Dan smiled, and Paula laughed ruefully. "This weekend," she said, and was caught off guard when he reached out, trailing his gloved fingers through hers.

  Reluctantly, they parted. She went to her car; he went to his. Paula kept looking back and so did he. Finally she had to force herself to get into the car. Austin had started the engine before sliding over to the passenger seat, but the ancient heater was spitting out ice-cold air as it slowly warmed up.