She noticed for the first time that Edward's jeans were unfastened, making her already vulnerable little boy look even more defenseless. He stood frozen in fear, the rabbit tucked under his arm, as he stared up at the man who towered over him.

The stranger was tall and lean, with straight dark hair and a bitter mouth. His face was long and narrow-handsome, she supposed, but too cruelly formed with its sharp cheekbones and hard planes to appeal to her. She felt a momentary gratitude for his mirrored sunglasses. Something told her she didn't want to look into his eyes.

She grabbed Edward and hugged him to her body. Painful experience had taught her not to let anyone push her around, and she sneered at him. "Are those your personal peeing bushes? Is that the problem? You wanted to use them yourself?"

His lips barely moved. "This is my property. Get off it."

"I'd love to, but my car has other ideas."

The drive-in's owner glanced without interest at the corpse of her Impala. "There's a phone in the ticket booth, and the number for Dealy's Garage. While you're waiting for a tow, stay off my land."

He turned on his heel and walked away. Only when he had disappeared behind the trees that grew around the base of the giant movie screen did she let go of her child.

"It's all right, sweetie. Don't pay any attention to him. You didn't do anything wrong."

Edward's face was pale; his bottom lip trembled. "The m-man scared me."

She combed her fingers through his light-brown hair, smoothed down a cowlick, brushed his bangs off his forehead. "I know he did, but he's just an old butthead, and I was here to protect you."

"You told me not to say butthead."

"These are extenuating circumstances."

"What are tenuating circustands?"

"It means he really is a butthead."

"Oh."

She glanced toward the small wooden ticket booth that held the phone.