Can't Stand the Heat? Read Online Free Page A

I’ve been saving up for it.”
    “Okay,” Jen sighed. “But it has to be quick.”
    “It will be,” he said happily. He turned in his seat to face his brother. “Too bad they don’t have computer-game cards.”
    Without looking up, Nick said, “Dork.”
    Jen pulled to the curb in front of the sports memorabilia shop. “Let’s go, Tommy.”
    As he ran into the store, she noticed a going-out-of-business sign in the window. Her interest piqued, she stepped back and looked the place over. This would be a perfect spot for a restaurant. On the main street, right in the middle of downtown.
    The bell over the door chimed as she walked in. Tommy was deep in discussion with Frank Jones, and she looked around the shop. The high ceiling was covered with pressed tin, and the walls had a painted wooden wainscoting. The hardwood floor was scratched, but the wood was beautiful.
    Too bad Frank couldn’t wait another few months to close. This space was exactly what she wanted.
    A blast of cool air rushed in as the door chimed behind her. “Give me a break,” she said as she turned, “he’s almost…”
    It wasn’t Nick. “Walker. What are you doing here?”
    “I was walking by and saw you. Thought I’d say hello.” He smiled, but it didn’t extend to his eyes.
    Walker Barnes was the last thing she needed tonight. “Let’s go, Tommy.”
    She maneuvered past Walker and held open the door for her son. She got in the car, waited for Tommy to fasten his seat belt and drove away.

    S HE COULDN’T RUN OUT the door at her own home.
    Walker’s Porsche rolled to a stop in front of a small, tidy house on a quiet street. Quinn had told him Jen was living with her parents. The white two-story with black shutters and an enclosed front porch looked as if it hadn’t changed at all.
    Back in high school, he’d driven past her house too many times to count, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He’d been a stupid kid with a crush on the popular, gorgeous Jen.
    What an idiot he’d been.
    After high school, he’d thought all Jen Summers had stolen was his ticket out of Otter Tail. After seeing her kid at the wedding, he wondered if she’d stolen something far more precious.
    His son.
    The slam of his car door echoed in his ears as he climbed the steps to the glassed-in porch and opened the storm door. The macramé plant holder hanging above a wicker love seat held a blue pot with a few dead stems sticking straight up. The floral cushion on the loveseat was faded from the sun, and someone had put a piece of duct tape over a tear in the fabric. A child’s bike lay propped against the wall on the opposite side of the porch, behind two wicker chairs. They looked newer, but a thin film of dust covered all the furniture.
    She neglected her parents’ house. So did her parents… How well did they take care of her kids?
    He punched the doorbell and waited. A small beater of a car, an ugly brown thing mottled with rust spots, sat in the driveway. The same one she’d driven away from the church in on Saturday. She must be home. He hit the doorbell again.
    Finally he heard the sound of footsteps. Moments later, the door opened. Jen’s older son stood there.
    His son?
    Walker searched the boy’s face, looking for a clue. Was his nose that shape? Were his cheekbones that high, that sharp? How did you look at another person and see yourself in his face? If this was his child, shouldn’t he be feeling something? A sense of connection? Of attachment?
    All he felt was unnerved. Angry.
    Behind thick glasses, the kid’s eyes were green, but not the same green as Walker’s. They narrowed. Did this boy see it, too? The resemblance?
    “Yeah?” he asked.
    “Is Jen here?”
    The kid frowned. “I saw you at the wedding. You had the cool shoes.”
    “I’m Walker Barnes. Is she home?”
    The kid stared at him. “Walker Barnes? No way.” He took a step closer. “Are you shitting me?”
    “Why would I do that?” Walker asked cautiously.
    “I