Page 37 of The Brigadier

I opened the door to the pantry, trying to act thrilled for Damien. “Which cereal this morning?”

She walked closer, laughing. “All full of sugar.”

“Trust me on this. You’ll learn quickly that getting him to eat can be a bear.”

“Trix!” He seemed happier than normal. Usually having guests in the house bothered him more than anything. Somehow, she’d struck a right chord.

“Trix it is.” While I got out the bowl from the cabinet and one of his favorite purple spoons, she got out the milk. Together, we made certain he had exactly what he wanted. “Come on, little man. Let’s get you set up.”

Damien scoffed and it was almost the cutest thing about the morning so far. “I’m a big boy now, Dad.”

“Dad?” she whispered, lifting her head and locking her eyes on me. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern, as if I had a wife hiding somewhere.

“Okay. I’ll take the bowl over,” I told him, waiting until he’d hopped up on the chair all by himself. Great strides had been made today. When I returned to the huge island, she had her arms crossed, staring at me with utter trepidation on her face.

“Tell me quick. Are you married?” She moved to the Keurig machine, grabbing a mug and finding a raspberry chocolate coffee pod. It was interesting to see her choice and that she seemed comfortable in my kitchen already. However, she glared at me as she pulled out the half and half from the refrigerator.

Did she really think I was? Evidently so. “No, I’m not married and never have been. You can imagine how tough it would be for any woman to put up with me.” I was trying to make it light but she just cocked her head, giving me the look that said in no uncertain terms I wasn’t funny. “I’m not married, Chantel. One night in the middle of a storm his mother, a woman I sleptwith maybe twice showed up dropping off Damien with a stuffed animal and a suitcase. There was a letter explaining it was too dangerous for Damien to be around her. Before my men could catch her, she was gone, jumping into the passenger seat of a car. Up until then I hadn’t known he existed. She’d never told me. We hadn’t talked since the last night we’d spent together.”

“She just dropped him off and left.”

“Exactly. With a few clothes and toys and a letter.”

“What a bitch,” she said under her breath to keep Damien from hearing her. But I did. “How the hell could a mother, any mother do that?” The coffee brewed, she pulled the mug and drizzled some half and half inside, turning back to face me.

“Well, the letter indicated she was in danger, which meant Damien was in danger. She was leaving the country and felt it best for the little man to be with me.”

“You said it was dangerous.”

“Yes,” he said between gritted teeth. “But Ginger Lee was always a wild child.”

Chantel could give the harshest looks that allowed you to know exactly what she was thinking. “Ri-ight. Did you try and find her?”

“Are you kidding me?”

She huffed and glanced at Damien. “I don’t know how he’s so well adjusted. But he’s so intelligent and adorable.” She took a sip, holding the hot mug with both hands. Like a kid would do.

“He’s autistic.”

“No, he’s not.” Her insistence was the first time anyone had contradicted both the letter Ginger had written and the examination from a damn doctor.

Not that I trusted doctors.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, crowding her space. It was obvious she’d taken a shower, either the shower gel or the shampoo she’d used giving off the scent of fresh, ripe peaches, one of my favorite fruits in the world. My cock immediately twitched, which wasn’t a good thing. At least not at this point.

“Well, I could easily tell he’s very shy, his social skills lacking. I also believe he’s been through a trauma that is providing him with thoughts he can’t fully process. But autistic? Not a chance. And no, I’m no doctor but you can just tell. He’s craving a normal life and family. Hell, all he could talk about was his art, his books, and the fact he wants a dog.”

“A dog?” I asked. “First time he’s said anything.”

“He has six stuffed dogs upstairs, all with a fluffy resemblance of a black lab. Do you honestly think he doesn’t want the real version?” She took another sip, grinning at him when he glanced in our direction. “Trix good?”

“Yeah!” Damien squealed. “Daddy lets me have sugar.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Maybe an apple later?”

“He won’t eat that,” I said completely under my breath.

His face was scrunched up all over again. “A gween one?”