Plus, he wanted to touch base with Jeff. Living alone didn’t suit the other man as well as it did Brett.

The car parked. He walked toward it, intending to get the first awkward moment over with in the parking lot, rather than in front of curious restaurant staff and patrons.

The passenger door opened, and a woman got out. Dark-haired. Slender and long legged. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on.

Brett’s arms went around her. He thought to disentangle himself. Felt her lips brush his neck, and then she stood back, tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s good to see you again, Brett. Thank you for doing this.”

Her words made him uncomfortable. Clearly, Ella had spoken to her. She probably thought he was helping Jeff come to terms with his perceived issues.

Problem was, Brett wasn’t yet convinced that Chloe wasn’t the one with issues. Even more so after her effusive display of affection.

Four years ago a hug and kiss greeting would have been somewhat normal, but...

His thoughts were cut short as he heard Ella say, “Cody, this is your uncle Brett...”

Turning, he saw his ex-wife standing there with a sandy-haired toddler, dressed in blue pants and a white shirt just like his mama, on her hip.

“Unca?” Cody, with both hands at his chest, turned to stare up at Ella.

“Uncle Brett,” she said.

He wasn’t. Not anymore. Technically, never had been, since the divorce happened before Cody was even conceived.

But he wasn’t going to split hairs.

“Hey, young man,” he said. He touched the boy’s cheek. Ran his hand over the toddler’s head. With those freckles, that hair, he looked like Jeff.

“Uh-uh. I boy.” Cody shook his head. But he was gazing at Brett now with open curiosity.

“Uncle Brett knows Daddy,” Chloe said. “They were friends in school.”

Another curious stare and then Cody glanced between Ella and his mother. “Eat?”

And that was that.

Awkward moment over.

Brett had survived.

* * *

ELLA ENDED UP sitting next to Brett. She’d planned it differently. But Chloe chose the chair across from him, which made sense. And she suggested to the hostess that Cody’s high chair be placed next to her—across from Ella—which also made sense since she’d want to tend to her son.

And Ella could still entertain him while the other two were talking.

Which put her next to Brett. Close enough that she had to inhale that delicious aftershave with every breath she took. So close she could feel the heat of his leg, the brush of his arm...

Too close to not react to him. Physically. And when that happened her mind got confused.

She heard Chloe order for them. A shared salad. She asked for iced tea. She put her napkin in her lap.

And tried to focus on her nephew.

The man at her side might have taken permanent residence in her heart, but she did not want him in her life.

Not anymore.

He couldn’t give her what she needed. Didn’t want the kind of relationship she wanted.

He’d hurt her too badly, and she’d never trust him not to do so again.

* * *

SUCCESS IN LIFE was all about the plan. Whatever the goal, it started with the plan.

Brett ordered a burger, his standard order as a kid, and tried not to stare at the little guy across the table—imagining Jeff with him, the gentleness with which his friend would explain exactly why he couldn’t get down out of his high chair. And why he couldn’t drink all of his milk before his dinner.

Chloe did a fine job in Jeff’s absence.

But Cody’s dad was missing out on key time in his son’s life. Which gave Brett a sense of urgency he hadn’t had that morning.

And he’d already been damned motivated.

“So...how’s Jeff?” Chloe asked as soon as their food was delivered, and she had Cody settled with his chicken fingers, fries and ketchup.

“Good.” The burger tasted just as good as he’d remembered. He hadn’t expected it to.

“Of course, it’s hard to tell over the phone,” she said, fork in hand, though she had yet to take her first bite.

“I spent last night with him.”

“Here?” Used to reading people, Brett was a bit disconcerted by the mixture of fear and delight in Chloe’s expression. “Jeff’s in town?”

“No. Ella told me that he doesn’t know where you are. I wouldn’t bring him here and risk the possibility of him seeing you.”

Santa Raquel wasn’t that small, but fate had a way of playing its own hand in spite of the cards you thought you held.

“You spent the night at our house?” Another mixture of emotions that complicated things. Or added weight to Jeff’s assumption that his wife was suffering from some latent hormonal imbalance.

He was going to have to approach that possibility. As soon as he figured out how to do so without alienating either of the women.

“I did,” he said, taking another bite of burger and chasing it with a fry. It wasn’t peanut butter and bacon, but it was as good. “He took me for a hundred bucks at the pool table, we had a couple beers and we talked.”

“What did he say about me?”

“That he misses you.”

“That’s all? Nothing else? Where did he say I was?” Without breaking her gaze from Brett, she reached over to scoot a chicken finger away from the edge of the table where Cody had left it.

“He told me the truth. That he doesn’t know. And that he’s respecting your wishes not to look for you, or alert anyone that you’ve left him.”

“I haven’t!”

A look passed between Chloe and Ella, and then Chloe said, “I’m not leaving Jeff for good. I love him. I just have to stay away until he can admit that he has a problem and gets some help. It’s the only way I can help him. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve accepted his apologies and tried to make his home exactly as he needs it to be, but it’s not enough, Brett. As I’m sure you understand.”

Because he’d grown up in an abusive environment, she meant. Or maybe she was referring to the fact that he’d founded a shelter for victims of domestic violence.

Which reminded him. “I heard that you’re going to be helping them out at the Stand,” he said. A great idea as far as he was concerned. Chloe had not only majored in home economics in college, but she was a culinary-arts-school graduate, as well.

Besides, Brett had tasted her cooking.

“Yeah.” She took her first bite of salad. “I met Lila yesterday. She’s a great find, Brett. You chose well.”

The compliment rolled past him. He wasn’t the one who’d conducted interviews. He’d just read reports. His one condition on founding the shelter, his one completely selfish mandate, was that he remain anonymous. He did not feel fit to be a spokesperson for the cause. Or in any way trained to help victims.

He didn’t want their gratitude.

Because he didn’t feel worthy of it.

He had his strengths. The things he was good at. And those were the things to which he dedicated his life.

“I’m just glad that you’re willing to help out while you’re here,” he said. “They’re very lucky to have you.” And Chloe knew, as did Ella, that no one at the Stand knew that Brett was their benefactor.

He’d had a text that morning, informing him of the personnel addition. His mother kept herself fully abreast of every aspect of her responsibilities where he was concerned. And kept him well informed.

He couldn’t fault her for that.

Or for much else, either, truth be told. Through years of nursing her terminally ill daughter, while also bearing her husband’s mood swings, the drinking, the lost income and then the beatings, the woman had endured far more than any human being should ever have to.

If he got frustrated with her silence, that was on him.

Cody started talking about the sandbox again, and Ella, who’d only eaten a quarter of her meal, offered to take him outside to play for a few minutes.

The air felt chilled as she left his side, but Brett was glad for her to go. He’d been so busy trying to keep himself immune to her that her presence was interfering with his ability to form a plan.