Page 24 of Stealing Home

“Frank Rizzo,” he said, extending a hand. “Ignore my wife.”

“You’ve been trying that for thirty-two years,” Celeste informed him.

“And it hasn’t worked once.” Frank gave her a fond smile, and Celeste rolled her eyes.

Gavin’s chest tightened. That was supposed to be him one day, smiling in exasperation at Ethan on the porch of a house they’d built together. Gray at the temples and still arguing over paint colors because one of them would want to go bright and vibrant instead of calm and neutral. Maybe they would have had kids. They’d talked about it, about waiting a few years until Gavin had built his company into something solid and they weren’t pouring every spare dollar back into the equipment and payroll. They promised each other there would be time later.

Then “later” disappeared in smoke and flames. The business had burned down with every project that caught fire. Then their house had burned, and they’d moved into a small apartment because that was all they could afford. The marriage lasted another year before quietly collapsing under the weight of everything they no longer knew how to talk about. Funny how quickly forever could become paperwork.

“You coming in?”

Frank’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary,” Frank said, waving his hand. “We’ve all got plenty on our minds.” He stepped aside so Gavin could enter, then followed him in. “I’ll let Dominic know you’re here, but feel free to walk around and get the lay of the land.”

Gavin watched Frank jog up the stairs, noting that a few of the steps squeaked. He scribbled that down on his notepad as he walked past the stairs into the kitchen. The cabinets were solid maple and worth keeping. He stopped at the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the back deck. Some of the boards needed replacing, and he noted that too.

As soon as her husband disappeared up the stairs, Celeste wandered over to where Gavin was measuring the kitchen windows.

“So,” she said conversationally. “Are you married?”

Gavin smiled politely. “Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

To her credit, she sounded sincere. “So am I.”

“It was recent?” she asked, smiling while she waited for him to respond.

He sighed. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, but he also wouldn’t be rude to the mother of a professional baseball player who was paying well and might refer him to his teammates.

“The divorce was finalized right before I moved down here about six months ago.”

She clicked her tongue sympathetically. “What kind of idiot woman divorces a man who looks like you?”

Gavin couldn’t help laughing. “Man.”

She tilted her head. “Man?”

“What kind of idiot man,” Gavin corrected. “My ex-husband.”

For a moment, she simply stared, and Gavin wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t hide who he was, but maybe things were different in New Jersey. He was choosing to ignore the fact that he knew where Dominic Rizzo was from. He blamed it on the article he’d skimmed after accepting the job, strictly for research.

Then her entire face brightened. “Well.”

Before Gavin could decide whether that was a good well or a bad well, footsteps sounded on the stairs and he heard a soft laugh coming toward him, then a voice.

“No, Lucky. That’s Daddy’s thumb.”

The voice was warm, amused, and young. A second later, Dominic Rizzo rounded the corner carrying the smallest baby Gavin had ever seen, and for one ridiculous moment, Gavin forgot how to speak.

Rizzo was taller than he’d expected, maybe an inch or two shorter than Gavin’s six-four, with dark hair that looked like he’d shoved restless fingers through it a dozen times already that morning. His build was athletic without looking like he spent every waking hour in the gym. His jeans rode low on narrow hips and his faded Barracudas T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. He looked exhausted. Deep shadows sat beneath his eyes, but he smiled down at the baby tucked against his chest with such open affection that it transformed his entire face.

Dominic looked up, and their eyes met. Surprise flashed across his face before giving way to an easy grin.

“You must be Gavin.”

His voice was low and rough around the edges. Gavin found himself wondering if that was how Dominic sounded first thing in the morning, and the thought caught him off guard.