decisions.”
Tyler stared at her blankly.
Liz shook her head. “Let me try it another way. When Melissa and Abby move to San Francisco with us, Abby will be in your school, right?”
He nodded.
“She’s from a small town. Let’s say a few students and teachers think that people from small towns are stupid. So they find out about Abby transferring and they tell everyone at the school that Abby is stupid. Is that right or fair?”
Tyler’s eyes widened. “Abby’s not stupid. She’s really smart and nice and fun. She’s my friend.”
“I understand that, but so what? You said it didn’t matter if you said something about someone that wasn’t true.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “They’ll hurt Abby’s feelings and I’ll get mad. And if I act out because I’m mad, I could get into trouble. And all my friends will help me and they’ll get in trouble.”
“That’s a big mess,” Liz said as she used a fork to pop the waffle onto a plate. “All because someone believed something that wasn’t true.”
“I guess it does matter what we say, huh?”
“Yeah. And a little word can have a big impact. The difference between
“Okay. So when I said girls don’t have goals, I was wrong. Some boys don’t have goals.”
“Exactly.” She passed him the waffle.
He grinned at her. “You’re really smart.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re probably the smartest mom in the whole world.”
She laughed. “That’s very possibly true.”
LIZ HAD LIVED THROUGH CABINETS being torn out, carpet being ripped up, drywall installation and insistent banging of hardwood floors being laid. But the noise that finally drove her out of the house was the high-pitched scream of a tile saw.
She took her laptop and a blanket to the far end of the yard and stretched out in the shade of a tree. The sound was still intense, but not so distracting.
She glanced up at the house. Even from here, she could see the changes. What had once been poured foundation and a few attempts at framing had become a real room attached to the house. The master suite was nearly complete. When it was, she might think about moving off the sofa.
Inside, the kitchen gleamed, the fresh paint added a brightness and the carpet was plush. The house had come a long way since she’d first arrived in town. It was practically new.
But no matter how many changes occurred, she couldn’t seem to shake the sense of doom and defeat when she walked inside. Maybe the memories were just too strong. Whatever the cause, this house would never be her home. Staying or leaving, she would move out as soon as possible.
She returned her attention to her computer. After loading her word processing program, she started to read the pages she’d finished the previous day.
It only took a few minutes to get back into the story. She glanced at her plotting notes, then began to type. The serial killer in this book targeted teenaged boys. The scene took place at a high school basketball game and she closed her eyes to imagine what it would sound like and feel like to be in that gym during an important game.
Two hours later, she leaned against the tree. The scene was nearly finished, her back ached from the uncomfortable position and the tile saw had grown mercifully silent. All in all, a pretty decent morning’s work.
The back door of her house opened and Ethan stepped onto the patio. He had a bottle of water in each hand.
God, he looked good, she thought as she took in the faded jeans, the long legs and narrow hips. He moved with an easy masculine grace-a man comfortable in his own skin.
“Couldn’t stand the noise?” he guessed.
“They defeated me with the tile saw.”
“And here I thought you were indestructible.” He offered her a bottle, then settled across from her on the blanket.
“Not all the time.” She glanced at the house. “They’re doing great work. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome. I have a good team.” He pointed at her computer. “How’s the book going?”
“Good. I’m finally into it enough to make the writing easier. The beginning is always a nightmare. Figuring out who everyone is, why they’re doing what they do. That sort of thing.”
“You make it sound like work,” he teased.
She mock glared at him. “Don’t make me hurt you. We both know I could.”
“I’m trembling in fear.”
They smiled at each other and she felt a quiver low in her belly.
“Are you going to keep killing me?” he asked.
“I wasn’t, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“What did I do?” he inquired, looking all innocent.
“What didn’t you do? You’re raising my son to be sexist and judgmental when it comes to women.”
Ethan stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Girls don’t have goals? Since when? I know he got that from you.”
Ethan groaned. “I didn’t mean it like that. We were talking about how important it is to set goals. To figure out what you want and just go for it.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “I might have said something about girls not being interested in anything but fashion and talking on the phone.”
“If I didn’t need my laptop, I’d throw it at you.”
“I’m sorry. It was just one of those things guys say to each other.”
“Tyler isn’t a guy. He’s a kid and he adores you. As far as he’s concerned, everything you said to him is ultimate truth.”
Ethan looked both pleased and chagrined. “Okay. You’re right. I need to think before I speak.”
She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it. “Excuse me?”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. In fact there’s a lot of things I regret. Like the injunction. I should have talked to you first. I was upset. That’s not the best time to make an important decision.”
“Well, damn. If you’re going to take responsibility and express regret, how can I keep yelling at you?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “You’ll find a reason. Then you can kill me off in your book again.”
She smirked, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe I already did.”
He laughed, then took a drink of water. “You’re good, you know. Those books. They’re extraordinary.”
His compliment warmed her. “Thank you.”
“You have a detective you talk to?”
She nodded. “I met her at Tyler’s preschool. She was picking up her daughter and we started talking. She reads my manuscripts and tells me where I get it wrong.”
“She’s a mother?”
Liz put aside her laptop, stretched out her arm and slapped him on the shoulder. “What is it with you? Nevada is female and she’s an engineer. Why is that okay but you’re a pig about other women?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the blanket next to him, then rolled her onto her back.
“I don’t have a problem with women,” he said leaning over her. “I said mother not woman. I never thought of a detective as having a family.”
“You wouldn’t. They usually don’t show the home life on TV.”
“Are you saying I’m shallow?” he asked with a grin. “You’re awfully arrogant for someone completely in my power.”
“You only think I’m in your power.”
