“The train. Is that yours, Noah?” he asked.
Noah stopped crying but rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Train,” the boy said.
“My guess is, you’re used to freedom during mealtime? Isn’t that right, kid? That chair feels like a prison, but Thomas over there is your Harley. Right?”
Noah said, “Train.”
Maverick turned back to Delilah. “He scoots around the kitchen on that little thing and comes over and eats from your plate. If he’s tired, he eats from your lap. But not this highchair. Am I close?”
Delilah glanced at the scooter and then back to Maverick. She looked more than stunned that he saw through her act. And, of course, she suppressed her anger with a fake smile. After all, her game was to present herself as the perfect mother. Didn’t she know letting her son be free without constraint is closer to perfection?
“He eats on the scooter sometimes,” she mumbled. “But we dine at the table. And I feed him in his chair. He’s just cranky because you are here.”
Maverick got up from his seat to lift the tray to the highchair and pick Noah up. The kid froze like his mother. Maverick understood the toddlers' reaction. He doubted many strangers entered his life, let alone held him. He was an amiable kid and extremely curious, but there were limits. Maverick smiled to reassure him, and it seem to work. Noah touched the stubble on Maverick’s jaw. They had an understanding. Maverick walked Noah over to the scooter and sat him on it, and then stepped back as if Noah would magically become happy over the permission.
“Show me what you got, buddy?”
Noah got off the train and stood next to it. The toddler stared up at Maverick and then pointed at him.
“Oh? You want me to ride it?” Maverick asked.
Noah blinked his round eyes in response. The kid was smart. Why should Noah perform like a trained monkey for the visitor when it was clearly his house. Maverick sat on the scooter, and that was pretty difficult. He feared he’d crush it under his weight, but the plastic seat held him. Noah laughed and went behind Maverick to give him a push. Delilah’s laughter could be heard over her sons. Maverick glanced over to see her smiling. The ice had thawed over the two, and he seized the moment. Maverick scooted around a bit. Noah came hit at him, then pushed him to get him off. He got up, and Noah scooted away. He then stopped to look back to see if Maverick was watching him.
“Choo-Choo!” Maverick said.
“Choo-Choo!” Noah replied. He was on the move again.
“I thought you didn’t have any experience with kids?” Delilah asked with a hint of sarcasm. Maverick returned to his seat. Why was she so mean—they had a light moment? Maverick found her too beautiful to be so hostile.
“I thought you were going to give me a fair chance,” he replied.
“Me? What have I done.”
“Nothing, directly.”
“Indirectly? Are you calling me passive-aggressive?” She rolled her eyes.
“From the moment I arrived, you’ve been in charge—the perfect hostess. Where I stepped, what I saw in your house, how I met our son. All went as you directed. I couldn’t figure it out at first. That awkward, tense way you were so accommodating. You hate me, right? Think I’m a bad cop. Right?”
“Look—”
“I’m not done,” he shut her down. “You made it hard for me to take a minute to meet Noah my way.” He pointed at Noah and the train. The boy was grinning and happy. “That way.”
She stared at Noah, and he believed his reasons reached her. Still, he pushed harder. “I see why, now. It’s a deal you were forced to make. Today is just a performance to rush me through and out the door until the next performance. All directed and produced by you.”
“You said you wanted to meet Noah. I made sure that was the first thing that happened. Now I’m the bad guy,” she snipped.
“Bad girl,” he said with a sly smile.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No one would ever call you the bad guy. Bad girl,” he smiled.
She didn’t.
“Okay. Let’s put it on the table,” he sighed. “You didn’t have to make sure we met right away. Inviting me here was a big enough gesture. And I appreciate it,” Maverick stared into her eyes to ensure she saw his sincerity. Delilah’s nose wrinkled when she was mad. It made her face pinch and lips thin. It was cute. Maverick feared she’d fall out of the chair and start kicking her feet and swinging her fists in a greater tantrum than Noah.
“If you have control complete control, I’ll never really get a chance to know Noah on my own. Will I?” Maverick asked.
“Don’t flatter yourself. None of this is about you. Not even the invite. I have control because I’m the custodial parent until a judge says otherwise. He’s my son, and I will always know what’s best for him,” she said and crossed her arms. “Meeting his father in a controlled environment is what is best. That’s the deal you signed up for.”
Maverick scratched his brow. He was losing ground fast, and he needed to win some if their agreement was going to hold. He’d seen the security she had around the place. She could end their arrangement, and then it was back to New York and court. Noah laughed. He looked up at Delilah, who was staring at her son with love. Part of him softened to ease his approach.
“You know, since I met you, I’ve never seen you smile. Except for when you look at Noah,” Maverick remarked.
Delia’s long-lashed gaze returned to him.
“I never knew you had dimples until you were laughing when I was on that scooter,” Maverick smiled.
“Are you flirting with me?” she asked with a hint of disgust.
Maverick sighed. “No,” he sat back with a drag of his hands over the surface of the table. “I’m trying to be nice. You should practice it sometime.”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she was quick to add.
“Let’s not fight,” he agreed.
“Then maybe you should tell me what you do want? Is there something wrong with the food?” She pointed at his plate. She served him a salad drizzled with tasteless oil and vinegar, accompanied by cold rice with dates and veggies. And rolls were added. They were the only thing with flavor if he smeared enough butter.
“I ate on the plane,” he lied.
“Well, I cooked all of this for you. So that was me being nice.” Maverick glanced up at her. Again it struck him how pretty she was in contrast to her stony defenses and biting tone. He could imagine her dead husband had to bring a torch to bed just to thaw the ice off her and get closer to her.
“Can I feed him?” He switched the topic.
“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “You can try, but he doesn’t like—”
“Without you in the room,” he cut her off. Maverick paused for her to digest his request. “You can spy on us? I’m sure there are camera’s around here. Right? Or you can stay close.”
“I—I—I—,” Delilah stammered.
“I’d like a chance to start over with my son, without this hostility between us. He’s a kid. All kids love their mama’s the most. I just want to be his friend,” Maverick smiled. “He won’t be too fond of me if you aren’t. Will he?” When she didn’t respond, he tried again with niceness. “If that’s okay?”