When A Hero Comes Along

“Come on. Let’s go see your mom.”

Joe lifted the boy into his arms and walked back to the living room where Kate was folding clothes.

“Hi, big boy,” she said smiling.

“I’m going to assume you mean J.T.,” he teased.

“What was your first clue?”

“The tone.” Not once in the time they’d spent together had she called him big boy and if she had, there would have been a sultry, sexy sound wrapped around the syllables.

The pink in her cheeks told him her thoughts were following a similar track. “He looks happy now,” she said, changing the subject.

That was okay with him. It was stupid to think about the past, let alone bring it up. Neither of them wanted to go there. But every time he saw her, there was no stopping the visions of tangled legs and twisted sheets. His brain circuits overheated and the comments he kept in a mental holding pattern flew out of his mouth.

Joe set the baby on the blanket in the middle of the floor and handed him a rattle, which he grabbed and stuck in his mouth. Talking about their son was safe territory. He sat down beside him, at Kate’s feet. She reached into the laundry basket and pulled out a small garment.

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