Their Secret Son. Judy Duarte

      That gave Joe some time to bond with his son, time to get to know him. Time to introduce him to the people who’d become his family. “The Logans are having a barbecue on Saturday. And I’m not working. Would it be all right if I took Bobby?”

      “Of course,” she said. “The Logans are nice people. And I know how much they mean to you.”

      “Great. I’ll pick him up about noon, if that’s all right.”

      She cleared her throat. “I’ll bring him to your house, if you don’t mind.”

      Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in the red vinyl seat. So that’s where she was coming from. Obviously, she still didn’t want Joe at her house, still didn’t want to chance him running into her dad.

      Had time with his son not been at stake, Joe would have told her just what he thought of that damn suggestion to meet him. As it was, he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and wrote the directions to his condominium complex on a napkin.

      Her keeping things a secret wasn’t going to last for long. Joe wouldn’t let it. One of these days he’d force the issue and insist they tell their son the truth. Tell Bobby that Joe was his father. And that, from now on, his dad was going to be a big part of his life.

      Then they’d tell Thomas Reynolds.

      The blustery old goat might get red in the face and cuss a blue streak, but he didn’t scare Joe. Not anymore.

      Joe didn’t want to see Thomas Reynolds suffer a heart attack but, quite frankly, the man should have learned to control his temper and his blood pressure years ago.

      Bobby was a Davenport.

      And as far as Joe was concerned, Kristin’s father could put that in his fancy pipe and smoke it.