Dreaming of Home. Glynna Kaye

turned away and started down the hall to his room. Agitated, Joe remained where he was for several moments before moving to flip off the overhead light. Returning to the window, he stood in the darkened room gazing at Meg’s dimly lit RV.

      Great. Just great.

      But despite his irritation—and yes, he could admit it, fear—the image of her wide, expressive eyes and teasing smile flashed through his mind. It was no wonder that his father insisted everyone loved her. Friendly. Pretty. Bright.

      But what kind of woman lived in a portable house by choice? Weren’t women supposed to be into that setting down roots, white picket fence thing? Kids. Cat. Dog. Camping out in an RV park didn’t smack of a desire to settle down and hold a permanent job. Dad was wrong.

      He rubbed the back of his neck.

      She’d been openly curious about his background tonight. Flat out asked him if teaching was his first love. He’d basked in the attention, eaten it all up, took it as personal interest. But could it be professional?

      He swallowed hard as he stared out at the RV. Could the winsome little woman be camouflaging underhanded motives with a beckoning smile and flattering lips? Didn’t the Good Book warn men of that?

      No, Dad had to be wrong. He had to be because his foolhardy son got caught up in feminine wiles and handed over damaging evidence that even Ben Cameron might not be willing to overlook. He’d sunk his own ship before he’d even hoisted anchor.

      He took a deep breath. This called for a little preemptive chat with Ben, just to be on the safe side. No way was that pretty little thing going to walk away with his job.

      He’s pirating away my dream job and he doesn’t even like teaching? Come on, God, how fair is that? Meg tossed and turned in her cab-over bed long after Joe picked up his sleepy son and the two adults had engaged in a hushed, minimal exchange. It hadn’t escaped her that his previous friendly flirtatiousness morphed into all business on his return visit. But she was too tired to figure that one out and chalked it up to “men!”

      But his absolute confidence in acing the job continued to trouble her.

      During their hour together, she and Davy had fed Skooter, split a peach and read books from the supply she kept on hand for Sunday school lessons.

      They talked about pirates. Puppies.

      And Davy’s dad.

      His dad, who ran fast, loved the Phoenix Suns and hummed when he brushed his teeth.

      Meg punched her pillow and tried to get more comfortable. It was evident Davy’s father had been uneasy about leaving him with her, but she couldn’t blame him. Even though she knew Bill, she and Joe had just met.

      Davy, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the prospect of berthing in on the “pirate ship” of his newfound friend. What was it, though, with the underlying tension she sensed between Joe and his father? The older Diaz seemed to think Davy needed time away from Joe and vice versa, and an overnight outing at her place fit the bill.

      Brushing back her hair, she relived the lightning bolt sensation that hit when Davy voiced his innocent inquiry at the dinner table. Not that she was a stranger to kid sleepovers. As she’d mentioned to Davy’s apprehensive father, she’d been a willing participant in plenty of those with young family members. But no one here needed to know that the condo she’d shared with roommates in Phoenix had also been a frequent stopover for her ex-fiancé’s twin daughters. Two charming auburn-haired girls, Myra and Grace, now not much older than Davy.

      It had been over a year since she’d seen them, except from a distance. Did they even remember her?

      From the moment Todd introduced them, her heart had been won. It overflowed with compassion and love for the two precious siblings whose mother had walked out of their lives—and that of their father—and into the arms of another man.

      Then a year later, Todd walked out on her.

      She squeezed her eyes shut as a familiar pain stabbed her heart. Losing Todd was bad enough, but the girls…. Hadn’t she believed with all her heart that God had brought them into her life to love and watch over? That she’d be their mother forever and always? She hadn’t hesitated, had no second thoughts. She’d swept them into her life—only to have them pried away without warning, leaving a gaping wound in her heart that had yet to heal.

      She stared up at the low ceiling. Davy. What a sweetheart. But being around him awakened too many memories of cuddling and hugs and soft childish kisses. And heartache.

      She liked Joe. She could admit that. Under different circumstances it would be easy to fall into a hopeful, Heavenward, what-about-him petition. But the man showed signs of unresolved issues—the wedding band still on his finger spelled that out plainly enough. Keep your distance. No trespassing. Which was fine with her. No way was she getting involved with another man who had a kid.

      She wouldn’t, couldn’t, risk that kind of loss again.

      Nor would she, as Todd had so bluntly pointed out regarding his daughters, put Davy at risk of losing another mother figure.

      No doubt about it, melanoma stunk.