Sasha’s Dad (10 page)

“What, Dad?” Man, did he ever recognize her expression. Same one Natalie had worn whenever she was annoyed.

“Aunt Ginny called. She can’t make it—her study group has to meet tonight for a big presentation tomorrow.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I know Aunt Ginny’s busy. She can still come for the family party on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. A hot shower would do wonders, but he wouldn’t be his own man until tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty when all these princesses left.

“Where’s the pizza?” Sasha definitely had the female gene for party throwing.

“I’ll go check. It shouldn’t be long now.” He went over to his laptop and clicked on the icon for the pizza delivery place. That was a frequent occurrence in their home these days. Ever since Natalie had gotten too sick to cook and they were all tired of the few basic meals he’d mastered at that point.

“It’s in the box, heading over here.” Dutch turned to give Sasha the news, but she was already absorbed in a preteen conversation while simultaneously shoving cheese puffs into her mouth. Her braces—

No.

This was her twelfth birthday party and he wasn’t going to be a grouch. She was usually pretty responsible about her food choices—she wanted her braces to produce good results, too. And it was her last Friday night of being eleven. Her birthday was Sunday, but they’d picked Friday night for the sleepover so they wouldn’t break up all these families’ weekends. Plus, Dutch knew he’d need the remainder of the weekend to recover.

He’d counted on Ginny’s being here tonight. Not that he couldn’t manage it by himself.

Well, kind of.

The doorbell rang and the girls cheered.

“Pizza delivery boy!”

“Wonder if it’s hot?”

“Wonder if
he’s
hot!”

Dutch grimaced and chose to believe the girls truly didn’t comprehend how adult they sounded. When he’d been in seventh grade all he thought about was baseball and…ah, yes, Claire.

Ever since he’d kissed Claire earlier this week, his mind had been following a very adult tangent. Dutch was grateful that, as precocious as the girls could be, they couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He reached for his wallet as he opened the door. He’d paid for the pizza online, but still liked to tip in person.

But the tall teenage boy with buzz-cut hair and pierced nose had been replaced by a woman in a lemon-yellow cardigan sweater that covered a tight white T-shirt. His eyes went south to the jeans and leather belt slung low on unmistakably female hips.

“Claire.” He was lucky he found her name in the jumble his thoughts had become.

She offered him the quickest of smiles. “Hi. I want to drop this off for Sasha.”

She held up a bright pink bag with sparkling silver balloons emblazoned all over it.

“Claire!” Sasha squealed behind him and Dutch moved aside, opening the door wide. “Come on in.”

“No, no.” Claire raised a hand in protest.

“Yes!” Sasha grabbed Claire’s wrist and tugged. “Come meet my friends, Claire.”

“Oh! Okay, but only for a minute. I have dinner plans.” Her heels clicked on the tile entry as she half jogged past Dutch. He didn’t miss the glimpse of pink-polished toes peeking out from her heeled sandals.

Keep a lid on it, man.

Dutch knew his hormones were like red-hot coals, and seeing Claire in dressier clothes—compared to her farm attire—only stoked them.

Of course, Claire in a feed sack would turn him on.

Dutch wanted to stop her from coming too far into their home, but how could he when Sasha had a death grip on Claire’s arm? Besides, all of Sasha’s friends would think she had a weird dad. Definitely not the impression he wanted to give.

She’d brought Sasha the very thing she’d given Natalie for her twelfth birthday—a cologne set with eau de toilette, talcum powder, bubble bath and lotion. Infused with what was apparently the most popular scent of girls today. Teen Brew wasn’t a scent Claire even pretended to like, but from what she’d learned on the Internet and from the drugstore clerk, Teen Brew promised to be one of Sasha’s favorite gifts.

“Hey, everyone, this is Claire. She was my mom’s best friend when they were our age.”

“Cool.” A smiling girl with curly brown pigtails smiled at Claire.

“Claire, this is Maddie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maddie!” Claire refrained from saying she knew Maddie was Sasha’s best friend. She didn’t want to embarrass Sasha or hurt any of the other girls’ feelings.

“And Naomi.” Sasha moved to a girl dressed entirely in black, her hair short and uneven around her pale face. The girl barely looked at Claire, and when she did, Claire was horrified by the amount of eye makeup she wore. Did she
want
to look like Morticia Addams?

“Huh.”

“Hi, Naomi.” So Dutch had allowed Sasha to invite Naomi, Sasha’s childhood friend. Sasha had mentioned to Claire that she and Naomi were developing different interests, taking different paths.

Sasha introduced the rest of the girls, six in total.

Some of them looked up and smiled; others nodded but kept their eyes glued to the movie they were watching on the computer.

Claire turned to Sasha. “I came by to drop off your gift and to wish you a happy birthday. I’ve got to go—”

“No, wait, Claire, you have to see us do our skit! It’s going to be
hilarious.
” On cue, five of the girls laughed hysterically. Even Naomi managed a half grin.

Claire kept the smile on her face while her discomfort grew. This was
not
how she’d planned to wish Sasha a happy birthday. She’d intended to drop off the gift, then disappear back into the evening.

Claire silently berated herself for not bringing her gift at a different time. But she’d wanted to have the dinner date with her folks in her hip pocket, to prevent this from turning into anything more than a friendly pit stop.

“Claire has other things to do, Sasha.” The vibration of Dutch’s baritone piqued Claire’s awareness of him. She was standing in the middle of his house, for heaven’s sake. Of
course
she was aware of him.

She was aware of Natalie, too. Claire looked around. She believed that even after someone’s death, his or her essence stayed behind. Especially someone as deeply loved as Natalie.

Dutch and Sasha wouldn’t want her memory to fade, and it showed in all the photos of Natalie that hung on the walls and set on tables.

From the outside, the Craftsman bungalow looked much the same as it had when Dutch and Natalie had bought it after college. But inside…it looked more
Architectural Digest
than Claire would have imagined.

Gleaming wood floors, Shaker furniture, a full-size leather sofa and love seat in the family room. A high ceiling revealed a loft over the living area. Claire wondered if it was an office or another bedroom, then caught herself. She had no business wondering anything about Dutch and Natalie’s house.

Dutch and Sasha’s house,
she mentally corrected.

“Didn’t you hear the roar from the street?” Phew! Dad had ignored Claire’s apology and Sasha was glad. Dad’s voice was low, and his comment typical of his jokes, but the tone was the one Sasha was all too familiar with. The “didn’t you see it coming, dummy?” attitude that drove her crazy.

Parents were so obtuse. Dad needed to be nicer to Claire. Why didn’t he tell her he was glad to have her here?

Claire laughed. Sasha really liked Claire’s laugh, and even more, she liked how Dad got that little smile on his face whenever Claire laughed.

“Yes, I heard them from the driveway.” Sasha liked how Claire didn’t seem to let Daddy’s attitude bother her.

Dad looked over and caught Sasha staring at them.

Shoot.
Sasha busied herself emptying another bottle of root beer into a plastic cup. If she acted like she didn’t care what they were talking about, Daddy would chill.

“How much root beer have you had?” Sasha watched her dad’s gaze take in the counter, littered with empty glass bottles. Sasha had insisted on the “good” root beer when they’d gone grocery shopping.

Daddy would’ve bought that icky stuff in the half-liter plastic containers. Sasha knew she’d never convince Dad to let her have Coke for her party—he was anticaffeine for her until she was an adult. But he’d been a pushover for the expensive root beer.

“This is for Maddie.”

“Humph.” Daddy didn’t seem convinced.

She didn’t push her luck. Sasha went back out to the party, leaving Dad and Claire alone. That was the idea, wasn’t it?

“I’m not plotting anything here, Dutch. Relax.” She gave a stilted laugh as she tried to heed her own advice.

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” she went on. “I want to be a support to Sasha. I did know Natalie before you did, and you have to admit I know more about what went on in her twelve-year-old brain than you possibly could.”

She hadn’t meant for that part about trying to seduce him to slip out, but so be it. He really needed to get a grip. Was he that wary of her? No doubt he was used to women finding him attractive—Patsy being a case in point. Since he’d been the one to establish the boundaries of their relationship, she didn’t expect him to be so defensive.

“I don’t recall saying I thought you were trying to seduce me.”

“I didn’t ask you to kiss me yesterday, either, but you did.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m over it. I’m not taking it for anything it wasn’t. Why can’t you just accept that I care about Sasha?”

His eyes glittered. He yanked his eyes away from her and gazed out the sink window. She followed his line of sight and instead of inky darkness found herself confronted by a mirror image of the two of them. The reflection jarred her. Dutch, long and lean, his hips against the counter, was all man. Her profile was completely feminine, her curves highlighted by her tight sweater and low-slung jeans.

But their immediate appearance wasn’t what put the catch in her throat. It was the palpable energy that ricocheted between them. Neither looked very happy, but they looked
alive.
A contrast she shoved aside for the moment.

“Don’t you understand why I’m careful where you’re concerned, Claire? Because I
know
you. I know how you behaved not just after Natalie got sick, but years before that. You’re a leaver, Claire, and Sasha doesn’t need anyone else leaving in her life.”

His weary tone didn’t match the harsh statement.

“Those are pretty judgmental words at this point, aren’t they, Dutch? Does your argument sound as tired to you as it does to me?” She straightened and motioned with her hands.

He stood there, neither moving nor speaking.

“I’ve been back for two years next week. I’m making a go of the farm and opening my shop by the summer. In the current economy, I’d be crazy to do this if I wasn’t sure about it. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you wish I would.”

At his continued silence, she said, “We were
kids,
Dutch. I know I was stupid to let our relationship go, but I won’t apologize for wanting to leave Dovetail and see the world. The fact that we drifted apart and Natalie…” She couldn’t finish. “What’s done is done.”

“Natalie wasn’t an afterthought or a coincidence. That’s not fair. Tom had died that month and we were two distraught kids.”

“I was a kid then, too, Dutch.”

“Not when you came back from university a few years later.”

“I’d had too much to drink. So had you.” But he’d still kept her at arm’s length, or tried to.

The heat rose off her chest and up her face as he stared at her. Claire thought she actually saw a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

Was he finally going to crack?

The ring of the phone broke the tension that sizzled between them.

Dutch reached for the phone and answered, never taking his gaze off Claire. “Dutch Archer.”

Claire met his eyes with all the nerve she had. She saw him listening, but his eyes communicated something deeper that she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

Fortunately the call had his attention as he grabbed for a pen and started writing notes.

“Where exactly along the highway? Is it just one? Hmm, I see. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

He hung up and turned to Claire. “Drunk driver piled his pickup into a herd of dairy cows coming in for the night. One animal is dead and two are badly injured—one pregnant.”

“How awful! You have to go!”

“Yeah, but I can’t leave these girls.” He picked up the phone again. “Ginny couldn’t make it out to help with the party, but I can call my folks or Mrs. Ames.”

“Dutch, stop it.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I’ll stay here with the girls until you get back. It’s not a problem.”

He looked at her hand. Before she could pull it back, Dutch covered her hand with his. “What about your dinner date?” he asked.

Claire lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not a date, Dutch. It’s with my parents. They’ll understand. Besides, they love to go out on their own.”

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes—was it gratitude that she was here and available to help?

“It could be several hours. I don’t know what I’ll find.”

“
Hello,
it’s me. The one whose llamas you saved. Your professional fee can’t come close to making up what I feel I owe you. This is the least I can do.”

“Thanks, Claire. I appreciate it. But you don’t owe me this.”

“Doesn’t matter. I
want
to.”

Dutch nodded, then went into the other room and told Sasha what had happened. “Claire will stay here with you until I get back,” he explained.

Sasha squealed and her girlfriends followed suit. “All right! An all-girls party!”

Dutch barely refrained from shaking his head in bemusement. He looked at her one last time. “I’ll call when I know what’s going on.”

“Don’t worry about it. This will be as much fun for me as the girls.”