Free Forbidden (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill

going to get away because he isn’t even real.  And there was a funny mirror that made Mommy look real short and fat and she said that she didn’t like it.”
    “He t alks a lot when he gets excited.” Tate’s tone was rueful as they pulled into the grassy parking lot.  So far her son hadn’t managed to divulge any more than two or three of her more embarrassing secrets, but given the time he had at his disposal today, she figured he’d completely humiliate her before they made it back home. 
    She grimaced at Clay while the chatter from the back seat continued unabated.
    “So I noticed.” Clay’s smile was easy as he turned the SUV into an empty spot.  They’d just finished their greasy hamburger and French fry lunch and her son hadn’t stopped babbling once during the entire ride. 
    Clay turned off the engine, came around to open Tate’s door, taking her hand as he helped her alight. Then he opened the rear passenger door to unhook Max from his car seat.  He studied the contraption in confusion, to which the chattering Max was oblivious, but finally managed to free her excited child from his restraint.
    Tate’s throat constricted as she watched him lift Max from the car. 
    She wasn’t unused to a man with manners – southern men were famous for their chivalry, after all – but the unstudied ease of the action piqued her curiosity.  “Do you have children, Clay?”
    Clay startled at the question.  “ What? No. Why do you ask?”
    She gestured toward the car seat and the small child standing in his shadow.  “You don’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.”
    “Ah.  A by-product of training and experience.” Tate took Max’s hand and they started to move off in the direction of the action.  “I studied under a renowned child psychologist, and my best friend – Justin’s brother, actually – is the father of a three-year-old girl.  Last time they visited, she refused to let anyone but ‘Uncle Clay’ do anything for her.  I learned a lot in an awfully short period of time.”
    “I can relate,” Tate said with amusement.  She knew he ’d never been married, as they’d discussed as much at lunch, but the possibility that he might have a child out there hadn’t even been considered.  “Being handed a helpless newborn is the ultimate on-the-job training.  You learn fast out of sheer necessity.” 
    “Watch your step,” she advised Max as they crossed a small ditch to access the dirt path leading to the carnival grounds.  The surrounding vegetation hung limp and lifeless, covered with a fine layer of dust.  At almost two o’clock, the sun’s rays were at their strongest, mercilessly beating recipients of their heat into submission.  No larks or robins dared sing, and even the omnipresent mosquitoes – big enough to warrant the title of South Carolina’s unofficial state bird – hung back in whatever shadows they could find while waiting for nightfall to begin their feeding. Sweat began to form at the nape of Tate’s neck, making her glad she’d scraped the heavy mass of her hair back into a ponytail.  She glanced over at Clay’s short, spiky locks with envy, thinking that men had all of the advantages when it came to dealing with the heat.  No one thought twice if they walked around shirtless, and they somehow managed to look both masculine and sexy while dripping wet. 
    In fact, she could see that Clay’s white T-shirt was already beginning to cling, and she decided he was either crazy or a saint for volunteering to put himself through this when he could be relaxing on a raft in the ocean or taking a stroll through Waterfront Park.
    CLAY was beginning to wonder if he’d taken leave of his senses. 
    He’d just consumed two cheeseburgers, it was an easy ninety degrees, and a rickety looking Ferris wheel loomed large in his immediate future.  That off-hand comment he’d made to Max this morning didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility.  In fact, if he had