talkative that morning, his early energy hardly compared to the enthusiastic, ongoing monologue he delivered on the way home. Craig, Scott, and Torrie were the names his son repeated most often. They had welcomed him into their exalted circle and taught him any number of new and exciting "games," not all of which pleased Logan.
Shane was especially proud of the fact that they had gotten away with playing while they were supposed to be napping.
At a red light, Logan looked into the rearview mirror and made eye contact with his loquacious son, the sight of him, happy and easy going, still new enough to be a source of pride and not a little gratitude. "Guess you had a good time today, sport."
Shane beamed. "It was bitchin ', Dad."
----
Chapter Six
THE word bitchin
'
echoed in the silence, and Logan slid his gaze toward Melody without turning his head, as if such a word from the mouth of a four-year-old did not make him want to jump the seat, shut down the car, and stunt Shane's formative years. Damn it, he didn't know the first thing about being a father.
Melody turned to look out her window, but not before Logan caught her grin. "You're a big help," he muttered.
Her only response was a muffled squeak.
"This is serious," he said.
"Everything with you is."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, lighten up." Melody nodded toward the backseat, and Logan checked his rearview mirror only to find his son playing a palm-sized video game, as if he had not just dented his father's confidence.
Melody leaned close, distracting Logan with her fresh vanilla scent. "All kids do it," she said, bringing him back.
"Yeah," he said, ceding the point, remembering how he'd passed Cussing 101 with honors… except that Shane was not supposed to be like him. Logan scowled.
"Tell me you're not gonna punish him or something." Melody kept her voice low, her expression mirroring his. "Way to make the word important, Dad."
Damn it, he wasn't any better at this parenting business than Shane's mother. Good God, what if he was as bad as his own father?
"Glory, Logan, lighten up," Melody said again, watching him.
Logan raised a brow. "Glory?"
"Hey, you'd rather 1 say something like—"
"Never mind. I've resorted to
freaking
, myself, since you know who moved in."
Melody smiled. "Seriously, ease up on him, will you. It's not like he robbed a liquor store or something."
Logan did a double take, nearly missed the turn, and laid rubber as he chose a hard right over a wrought iron fence. Damn! "Sorry about that," he said, three fast heartbeats later, as he glanced in the rearview mirror to catch Shane's grin. "You okay, buddy?"
"Do it again."
"Great," Logan said.
Melody regarded him assessingly . "What was
that
about?"
Logan shrugged. "You okay?"
Melody rolled her eyes. "Sure, roller coasters are my favorite, especially at rush hour."
Logan smiled despite himself. She wasn't a sea squall in their lives; she was a roller coaster, his honest-to-God favorite ride. Hell, no wonder he liked her; spending time with her made him feel as if he was at an amusement park. Figured, what he liked best about her drove him the craziest… fine for a punk juvie with no responsibility, not so fine for a conscientious father.
Logan sighed. "It's the whole discipline thing," he admitted. "Being on the giving end as opposed to the receiving end took me by surprise. Guess I wasn't ready. Sometimes this parenting business worries me."
"Being
with
him, raising him, listening to him… your daily presence… that's what counts, Logan, take it from me. He can depend on you for anything, and he knows it."
"But he's never needed discipline before."
Melody leaned close. "That's nothing to write home about."
"What?"
"He's been too good," she whispered. "Normal is better."
"Now I've heard it all."
Melody frowned. "You got a problem with normal, Kil-garven ?"
"No, but I have a problem with the Melody Seabright version. Hell-o-o—" Logan lowered his
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