2
“Come here, Janna,” Sara said, controlling the impulse to jump between them.
Her daughter sighed and let go of his hand. She walked reluctantly to her mother, which irritated Sara. Since when had she become the bad guy? The hand she put on her daughter’s head shook a little. After more than a year of instilling barriers in her children, how could Janna have abandoned them so quickly?
Sara felt conflicted and wondered what it was about this Ezreal Wallach that had caused her to say he could help with the class. Yes, Francie Diederik raved about what a great guy he was, how good he was with children, that he was trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, blah, blah. It made him sound like a Boy Scout. Sara knew from sad experience not to trust men who wore those virtues for public display.
But, she’d give it a try and see if Francie was right. She’d certainly found a wonderful man in her husband.
“What kind of cookie is it?” Sara asked, sitting down.
“Oatmeal and raisin, and it’s healthy. Right, Mrs. Diederik?” Janna asked.
“They reallyare. They’re my breakfast cookies.”
Francie had risen, the corners of her eyes pinched with worry. The woman was a peacemaker and always tried to fix things between people. Well, this was one time— Sara’s thought broke off. Francie was watching the man with concern, like she was protective ofhim. Why?
Sara thought back to their short interchange on the porch. Mr. Wallachhadavoided looking at her, but now that she thought of it, the one time he’d met her gaze his expression had seemed vulnerable. Aman, vulnerable? She almost wanted to laugh but, once again, she considered that look on his face. She wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible, but it’d been there. She felt a twinge of guilt. Her joking had hurt him in some way.
In her experience, men weren’t tenderhearted. They got off on knocking women and children around. If she was going to protect her kids, she couldn’t allow herself another lapse of judgment.
She glanced at the musician and caught him watching her. As soon as Sara met his gaze, he dropped it. She’d seen him do that before when she’d first noticed him around town last year. He’d been making his way down the street and looked like he was talking to himself. Her first impression had been that he was one of those homeless, mentally-ill people. Then she’d recognized the label on his clean slacks and the sharp crease. With his neatly cropped blond hair and clean-shaven face, there was no way he was homeless.
“He’s our eccentric billionaire,” a shop clerk had said when she noticed Sara staring at him.
“Billionaire?”
“Law, yes. He might look as lost as last year's Easter egg, but he’s one of the owners of REKD Gaming.”
“Wrecked?” Sara had seen the new building and wondered at the strange name. “Is that really how you pronounce it?”
“It’s the initials of the four founders—Rafe, Ezreal, Kayn, and Darius. Rafe’s from Boone. Grew up here and went to school with my daughter. Ezreal, there, is over the game’s music department.”
The clerk had gone back inside the store, and Sara had continued to the post office. After that, she’d started noticing connections to REKD everywhere she turned. The first had been when she’d asked her second-grade class where their parents worked. A good third of them were with REKD. Then Lessa had come to the house to play with Janna and announced that her big brother was the “R” in REKD Gaming.
Ezreal, the “eccentric billionaire,” slipped to the floor where Francie’s son and Sara’s were playing with blocks. She found herself intrigued, her mind flashing back to the last time she’d seen him at the grocery store. He’d met her gaze, his expression turning to one of sheer terror. It’d reminded her of an abused animal. Her instinct had been to reach out and tell him it would be okay.
She’d crushed down the thought. Those feelings were for children, not attractive soft-spoken rich guys who had everything they could possibly want. But that encounter had also been the last time she’d seen him at that store. And she’d looked for him.
Hadshedriven him away? Was it possible that he was as wary of her as she was of him?
Brand shifted closer to Ezreal who’d picked up some of the geometric blocks. What was it with her kids and this man? It was like he was a magnet, and they were drawn to him. Sara was about to say something, when Francie lifted a hand and mouthedwait.
The man was moving the pieces around like he couldn’t figure out how to put them together. Brand’s mild case of dyspraxia had impacted his fine motor skills. He was receiving physical therapy to help teach his body to better process the messages from his brain, but he still lagged behind other children his age. Sara sucked in her cheeks. This Ezreal had better not do anything to embarrass her son.
The man shifted the block one way and then another. Francie’s son Nik was a year older and, from the way he was wiggling, he knew how the pieces should be put on the pattern on the board. Ezreal raised a finger, and Nik went quiet.
Sara hated to admit it, but it impressed her. The man hadn’t even said a word, and the little boy had obeyed. Maybe itwouldwork out for the man to help with the group lessons.
Ezreal shifted the block again, and this time Brand reached over and touched the colored section on the board that matched the block. The man pretended to put it in but it didn’t quite match. Nik stretched to straighten it, but Ezreal lifted his elbow enough to block the motion and grunted softly. Francie’s son dropped his hand again.
Brand shifted the block but the clumsy motion pushed it off the colored shape completely. Nik made a sympathetic noise which warmed Sara’s heart. She hoped that by the time Brand started school, the therapist would have helped her son find ways around some of the things he struggled with, but she knew her little boy would always be different. Having a playmate who didn’t make fun of him gave her hope. Ezreal signaled that Brand should try again, and this time he was able to move the block into place. The man then ruffled her son’s hair in approval and picked up another piece.
Sara leaned back in her chair, relaxing for the first time. The entire thing had been done without using any words. She glanced at Francie who smiled back and nodded. It was as close to anI told you soas the gracious woman was likely to give.
Ezreal had an intuitive way of working with the children. Sara wished several teachers at her school could learn from him. Including herself, if she were to be honest. He was really good. The thought that her group music lessons might actually happen made her heart swell.
At the sound of the front door opening, everyone turned around. A pretty young Asian woman entered and paused when she saw them.
