Free Heartfire by Karen Rose Smith

idea.  He's been talking to you a lot, hasn't he?"
    She gave a little shrug.  "I just try to stop whatever I'm doing and listen to him when he talks."
    Whether Tessa knew it or not, that was the perfect thing to do.  "I knew he looked up to Peyton Manning.  I didn't know he was so knowledgeable about cars."
    "You can't be and know everything, Max.  You're only one person."
    He felt his sigh from deep in his soul.  "I know."  He also knew he shouldn't be standing here appreciating Tessa's curves in a nightshirt.  Nodding toward the bathroom, he said, "I hope the bath helps."
    Her green eyes met his.  "So do I."
    He left her at the top of the steps, realizing he was more awake than ever.  Maybe a shot of scotch would help, but he doubted it.
    ***
    The next evening as Max stood in a corner of the furniture store, he told himself he should have known this wouldn't work.  He and Tessa couldn't agree on the color of grass, let alone a new decor for Ryan's room.
    The salesclerk peered over her horned-rimmed spectacles at Max as he stood in front of his choice for Ryan.  "You think your son would like the bunk beds."
    "But I think he'd love the race-car bed."  Tessa stared enviously at the fire-engine red bed shaped like a sports car.  "Can't you imagine it, Max?  This bed, red and blue racing stripes running around the border of his room...wallpaper with race cars.  We could paint his dresser red or blue..."
    "No!"  It came out too sharply, but once out, he couldn't retract it.
    "No?"
    "It's too...loud."  Baby animals to racing stripes was just too large a leap.
    Seeing a prolonged discussion or worse yet a disagreement in the offing, the sales clerk mumbled something about checking availability and headed for the office.
    Tessa walked over to the race car bed, sat and bounced a few times.  "It's not loud.  It's energetic.  Ryan's energetic.  It would stir his imagination."
    "And keep him awake at night," Max insisted dryly.
    Tessa stopped bouncing and pinned him with a glare.  "Do you know what your problem is?"
    Breaking eye contact, he lifted a wooden lamp on a nearby dresser, examined it and put it back where it had been.  "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
    "New and different irritates you.  They throw you off balance."
    Max rubbed the back of his neck.  There was an element of truth in what she said.  He hadn't changed a thing since Leslie died.  But that didn't mean Tessa was right about the bed or the wallpaper.  "What's wrong with bunk beds and ducks on the wall?"
    "That's what you'd want if you were four," she accused as if he'd just suggested they hold up a bank.  "I'm trying to imagine myself at eight years old.  I was beginning to form my own opinions.  If I could have had my own room...  Well, I know it wouldn't have been ruffles and pink eyelet like some of the other girls wanted."
    Tessa was every inch a woman.  Yet no one would ever associate her with fluff and ruffles.  "You would have picked..."
    "Oh, I don't know, Max.  I just know a child has to feel he has some say in where he chooses to spend time.  He should be comfortable there and feel as if he belongs."
    "You're talking about yourself, Tessa.  Not Ryan.  He crashes at night and couldn't care less about what's on the walls."
    "Typical male attitude," she muttered.
    "Excuse me?"
    "You see it that way."
    "And you don't?"
    "Obviously not."
    Frustrated with her and with the whole idea, Max checked his watch.  "We have to pick up Ryan.  His Cub Scout meeting is about over."
    "Let him decide," she said abruptly, propelling herself from the bed.
    Max watched Tessa move around the bed and straighten the pillow, wondering if he'd ever seen her sit still for more than five minutes, excluding work.  "Do what?"
    "Let's bring him in here and see what he'd pick.  It is his room."
    "And you're prepared to accept his decision if he chooses the bunk beds?"
    She stopped at the headboard.  "Get real, Winthrop.  Who'd pick