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“Sure. Can we get a donut?” Jace asked.
“I guess. It’s five am somewhere, right?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind, just a dad joke.” Clark held the door open and let Jace pass through first. The display case was decorated with snowflake glass clings and on the counter next to the register sat a stuffed snowman eating a donut.
His son jumped in line behind a woman in a green beanie and sweatshirt, holding her child on her hip.
“Can I get two?” Jace wheedled.
“That would be a no. We’re having cocoa later with Merry.”
“Okay. What about a chocolate bar with sprinkles?”
“You can get whatever single donut you want.”
The woman in front of him turned and he found himself staring into Patrice’s startled blue eyes. The breath whooshed out between his lips and he shot a panicked look from her to Jace, who was craning his neck to see the donuts better.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.” His gaze drifted to her daughter, who sucked on a pink binky furiously. A fuchsia winter hat with cat ears covered her blond hair and she watched Clark warily with her mother’s blue eyes.
“I…” Patrice swallowed, staring down at Jace, her expression unreadable.
“This is my son, Jace.” There was no other option but to play it through and his mind raced for an explanation for their acquaintance. “Jace, this is Miss Neilson. I helped tow her car out of a ditch last night.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jace said, holding his hand out without questioning Clark’s introduction. When Patrice stared at him blankly, Clark cleared his throat, and Patrice seemed to come out of her trance with a jolt, taking Jace’s hand in hers.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. This is my daughter, Jillian.”
The little girl ducked her face against her mother’s shoulder.
Jace smiled at Jillian. “Hello. I used to be shy when I was little, too.”
“Were you?” Patrice’s voice sounded strained, like she was fighting with her emotions. The cashier called out for whoever was next, and she stepped forward.
“Hi, can we get a pink snowflake sprinkle donut, a chocolate custard, a small coffee, a milk, and whatever the gentleman behind me and his son would like.”
Clark stiffened, his eyebrow arched.
Patrice held Clark’s gaze, playing along. “It’s the least I could do after you helped me out of that ditch.”
“Right. Well, thank you.” He almost laughed out loud that she was using his money to pay for their donuts, but he refrained. Clark gave the cashier their order and they stepped to the side.
“Thank you for the donut,” Jace said.
“You’re welcome. You take care of your dad.”
“I do.”
The man behind the donut display held out two pastry bags and a drink carrier. “Here you are.”
“Thanks.” Clark grabbed the drinks and the bags, setting them on an empty table. “Here are your drinks and your donuts. And these are ours.”
“All right. Well, it was nice to meet you.”
“Do you want to just sit together?” Jace piped in. “No reason to dirty two tables, right, Dad?”
