Free Born To Die by Lisa Jackson Page A

Ranger. From what I understand, those guys are pretty tough.”
    â€œThey are!” Eli declared, and Trace looked as if he wanted to fall through the floor.
    â€œI think that’s enough,” he said, reaching for his son’s jacket when the boy blurted, “You look like Miss Wallis.”
    Kacey glanced up at the father, who visibly winced. “Is that a good thing?”
    â€œYeah. I guess.” Trace nodded without a lot of conviction.
    â€œGreat.” First Shelly Bonaventure, now the unknown Miss Wallis. It seemed to be her week for resembling someone else.
    Eli announced, “She’s my dad’s girlfriend.”
    Every muscle in Trace’s body appeared to stiffen. “Eli, I told you that Miss Wallis and I—we’re not dating. She’s not my girlfriend.” Totally abashed, he said, “Sorry. Miss Wallis was Eli’s teacher last year, when he was in first grade.”
    â€œAnd you went out on dates!” Eli glared up at his father.
    He gazed apologetically at Kacey. “She and I did go out a couple of times, and yes, you do look a little like her.”
    â€œI must have a face that looks familiar.”
    He closed his eyes for half a second and shook his head, the overhead light catching in the blonder strands of his hair. “So, now that I’m completely embarrassed, can you tell me how to slow an active seven-year-old down?”
    â€œIt’s probably impossible, but you, Eli, remember to take it easy. No roughhousing. Got that?” She leaned down to meet the boy’s gaze, eye-to-eye once more.
    He nodded solemnly.
    â€œPromise? Scout’s honor?”
    â€œI’m not a Cub Scout.”
    â€œOkay, I’ll believe you,” she said, raising her eyebrows as if she really didn’t trust him, not quite.
    â€œI will!” Eli was completely earnest.
    â€œGood. ’Cuz your dad’ll be reporting to me.” She smiled at Trace, who started to smile back, then thought better of it when she told him that if the pain in his son’s arm was so great that over-the-counter pain medication didn’t help, he should call her. He nodded grimly.
    As she wrote out the prescription, she added, “I’ll call about the throat culture. I’ll want to see you again”—she pointed her pen at Eli—“in about ten days. Can you do that?” The boy was nodding vigorously. “Good.” She ripped off the prescription and handed it to his father. “He’s going to be okay, though I think he should stay home from school for a couple of days.”
    â€œYessss!” Eli said and pumped his good arm, which suggested to Kacey that he was feeling better.
    â€œAnyway,” she said to Trace, “call me if he’s in a lot of pain or something looks wrong to you. You’ll know. My service can reach me twenty-four-seven, and either Dr. Cortez or I will call you back ASAP.”
    Trace tucked the prescription into his pocket and seemed a little less uptight than when she’d first examined his son a couple of hours earlier. He dropped Eli’s jacket over the boy’s shoulders.
    â€œNow, Eli, you be good, okay? Do as your father says, and don’t give him any trouble. And, oh, stay away from bullies,” Kacey advised.
    â€œThanks.” Trace’s intense blue eyes were sincere, and when he shook her hand again, she thought the clasp lasted a bit longer than normal. Then again, maybe she was imagining things.
    She exited the room as Randy made notes on the computer and followed her into exam room two. Attempting to push all thoughts of the rangy cowboy from her mind, she turned her attention to Delores Sweeney, a mother of four who was always battling a cold, the flu, or a yeast infection . . . or something....

CHAPTER 5
    â€œ T he drawing for Secret Santas was this morning!”
    Joelle scolded as Pescoli walked into the lunchroom to fill her coffee cup in the