But she brutally suppressed those thoughts and repeated, “I know, obviously he’s not my son. This is just a temporary arrangement.”
“Then why is he calling you mama? You’ve made enough calls in these domestic abuse situations to know the deal. You’re not supposed to get too involved here. You pass these kids along to the foster system and that’s supposed to be the end of it.”
“I know that, too.”
“Is it because the shelter’s empty right now? Maybe you’re feeling like you need a project, and that’s why you took the kid into your custody?”
“No,” Sam answered. Though she had to admit she’d been bored lately. The number of domestic abuse cases coming through Ruth’s House had severely dipped after the Super Bowl, but March Madness was right around the corner and the NBA playoffs after that. Sadly, the one thing Sam could guarantee was that the shelter wouldn’t be empty come spring.
“No, that’s not it,” she assured Marco. “I’ve got plenty of paperwork and grant applications to keep me busy.”
“Then why are we having this conversation? Why won’t you let me put this kid in the back of my car and take him over to DCS?”
Sam couldn’t answer that without coming off as even more insane than Marco probably already suspected. She knew it wasn’t wise or healthy to let Pavel call her mama, but she couldn’t shake the feeling he was doing so because she needed to step up and be his mother now. At least until an appropriate one could be found for him.
Sam chewed on her lip. “Okay, fine, I’ll sign off on Pavel leaving my custody as soon as you find a set of suitable parents and give me at least two weeks to thoroughly vet them with supervised visits.” She put a friendly hand to his back and started escorting him to his car, which she could see parked right next to the shelter in one of the intake spaces for Ruth’s House. “You have my word.”
“Fine, I’ll get going. But don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Sam.”
“Of course you know what I’m doing,” Sam answered, coming to a stop beside his car. “I’m doing what’s in Pavel’s best interest.”
Marco folded his arms. “Let me finish, Sam. I know what you’re doing, but I’m not going to force the issue because you’re sort of right.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “The kid’s been through a lot, so I’m going to call in some favors and see if we can’t find some parents who meet your criteria. Until then, I guess this is as good a place as any for him. At least Ruth’s House is secure.” He threw a disparaging look toward the slender windows on either side of her door. “If you don’t count those break-in windows on your cottage. I’ll come by this weekend and maybe see about boarding them up—just until we get a bead on whoever killed the kid’s father.”
Her heart warmed at his words and many of the bad feelings she’d been having about him began to evaporate.
“Thanks, Marco,” she said. “Thanks for your understanding.”
He unfolded his arms and came closer in a move that brought to mind the hockey player who had kissed her two days ago.
“So I’m doing you a solid…” He flashed his dimpled smile. “Maybe you should reward me with a kiss?”
Unease crawled its way up Sam’s back, and she had no idea why. Marco was a good guy. A good, solid guy who didn’t send emissaries with balcony invites, who’d never hit her with a lewd double entendre, or even try to steal a kiss from a woman he’d just met.
Sure, he could stand to be more open-minded about the alternative healing therapies she was using at Ruth’s House, and sure she didn’t love that he was acting like he deserved a gold star for agreeing to let her show a little boy some compassion—
Sam stopped herself with an inner ugh of disgust. Why did she always have to psychoanalyze the guys who showed any interest in her? That was probably why she was still single at the age of thirty-four. Single and childless. Two things she needed to focus on correcting sooner rather than later, if she ever wanted her dreams of finally being a part of a loving family to come true.
She pasted a smile on and said, “One kiss coming right up.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was… nice. Really nice. Just like Marco.
He grinned at her when it was finished, “I’m gonna get started on finding some great parents for Pavel first thing tomorrow morning.”
She grinned back and waved as he got in the car.
Marco was a terrific guy, she thought as she watched him ease around the shelter’s corner and drive away. A really terrific guy.
So why had she been thinking of the Russian hockey player the entire time she’d been kissing him?
7
“Mount, wait, wait! Don’t—”
But it was too late, Brian Atwood’s back hit the plexiglas wall so hard, it rattled the entire structure surrounding the ice at the Polar training facility. Introduction courtesy of Nikolai “Mount Nik” Rustanov.
“What were saying about wanting special treatment?”
Brian panted, trying to catch his breath after that hit. “We went pretty hard at your last game party last night. I was just making a suggestion…”
“You suggest we end practice early so you can sleep away your bad decisions. You think easier to ask permission for naptime now I am owner?”
“C’mon Mount, man, that’s not nearly what I was trying to say,” Brian said, looking both hurt and offended by Nikolai’s assessment of the situation. “I’m just saying—”
Nikolai slammed the blond player into the wall again, wishing that the hockey uniforms weren’t so well padded. But from the grimace on their star left winger’s face, he needn’t have worried. He’d most certainly felt that.
“All right, all right, I get it,” Brian said through the pain. “We’re not leaving early.”
“No, we are not,” Nikolai agreed. “In fact, we will stay extra twenty minutes because you wasted our time with your request.” He all but spat out the last word before letting the entitled hockey player go with one last shove into the plexiglas.
Behind him, Gary Burton, the Indiana Polar’s head coach, blew his whistle. “All right, line em up right over here. Side-to-side drills, starting now!”
Brian edged out from between Nikolai and the plexiglas, but Nikolai’s dark, hooded glare followed him all the way back to the drill line-up. He hadn’t been a fan of the diva hockey player with the long blond hair before he’d bought the team. And he was even less of a fan now.