Cue the violins, Gabe thought, but he understood Andrew’s dilemma. Gabe might never have known his father or been rejected outright, but he remembered how it had felt when other kids had dads and he didn’t. At school functions or summer baseball games or generally hanging out.

As a kid, Gabe had sometimes daydreamed about his dad showing up out of the blue on one of his birthdays with two broken-in baseball mitts. He’d hand one to Gabe and invite him to a neighborhood park to toss ball.

Other kids talked about trips to Disney World and the Grand Canyon. Gabe had just wanted to toss ball.

“Do you have a baseball mitt?” he asked Andrew.

The boy blinked and then frowned, clearly trying to figure out the abrupt change of subject. “No,” he said after a moment. “I play soccer, but I’m kind of bad at that, too.”

The door to the shop opened with a jingle from the bells overhead. Angi entered, her face a mix of frustration and acceptance. “I thought I’d find you here,” she said to her son, flicking an exasperated glance at Gabe. “We talked about leaving the restaurant without telling me.”

“Drew and I were just discussing the scout holiday hike or whatever they call it,” Gabe said, willing her to understand the implications for her son.

“It’s this weekend,” she said with a nod. “There’s an event at the inn, but I told Emma I can’t be there because I’ll be collecting pine cones.”

“We don’t collect pine cones.” Andrew looked understandably horrified. “And you can’t come with me, Mom. It’s a father-and-son thing.”

She scoffed, redoing the low ponytail that held back her dark hair. Gabe was momentarily distracted by her beauty. She wore the usual restaurant uniform of a white blouse and fitted black skirt, which to his mind was sexier than frilly lingerie. As she tipped up her chin to run her fingers through her hair, his gaze caught on the tiny beauty mark on the side of her throat. She had a smattering of similar spots across her body, and he’d spent a satisfying hour the other night cataloging as many as he could find.

If Angi truly belonged to him, he’d go to her now and brush his lips across her neck. A quick kiss, but one that would remind them both of things to come.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said now as she lowered her arms again. The beauty mark disappeared under the collar of her shirt. “I can tromp through the woods as well as any man. If those troop leaders want to discriminate on the basis of sex, I’ll just have to channel my inner Ruth Bader Ginsberg and—”

“No, Mom.” Andrew hopped off the chair with fisted hands. “No. I don’t even know who your Ruth friend is, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t go. And I can’t go. Because I don’t have—”

“I could take you,” Gabe said before the boy could finish his rant. Angi was sensitive to her status as a single mom, and a glance at her suddenly pale face suggested she realized now why this mattered so much to her son.