That Touch of Pink (6 page)

He glanced at her, then pulled into the parking lot of Kimmie's day care. “Like I said—I'm glad you're not bitter.”

Animosity welled up inside her. “He promised Kimmie he'd be back. I'll never forgive him for breaking his word to her.”

“That stinks.”

She reached for the door handle. “Yeah, it does.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That her father loves her very much, but he has a dream and can't make it come true in Charity City.”

“Does she buy into that?”

“You heard her. She remembers that her dad promised to come back and didn't. I won't bad-mouth him. But I can't give her what he won't. And—to quote
you—it stinks.” She glanced at him. “But Kim and I are fine. We don't need him or anyone else.”

“If you say so.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'm the guy you bought at the auction because you needed a wilderness guide.”

“And look how well that turned out.”

She opened the door and slid out. Unlike relationships, getting out of the car was a lot easier than getting in. Which was why she didn't plan to get sucked into another one—relationship, that is—especially with a man like her ex.

 

Riley pulled up in front of Abby's house and turned off the engine. He glanced to his right as she unfastened her seat belt. “So, Bob put in a new battery and the car's good to go. But it's at the high school. Are you sure I can't run you over there?”

She shook her head. “Your white hat is getting whiter by the second. But you've done more than a good guy's fair share. I'll have no problem getting a ride to school in the morning.” She glanced over her shoulder at the child who'd been pretty quiet since getting in. “C'mon, Kim. I'll call Caitlyn's mom and see if we can hitch a ride to the The Bluebonnets meeting tonight.”

“I don't want to go.”

“Why not?” Abby asked. “You love the meetings.”

“I don't feel good.”

“Is it your tummy?”

“Kind of.”

“You're probably just hungry. I'll make some soup and toasted cheese sandwiches.”

“I don't want to eat.”

“That's not what you said when I picked you up at day care. You told me you were starved.”

“Not any more. Can I stay home tonight?”

“Let's eat and see how you feel.”

“I'm not gonna feel any better. Why can't we just not go?”

Riley couldn't help overhearing the exchange since Kimmie wasn't moving at the speed of light to undo her seat belt. No one could accuse him of having the inside track about kids, but he had a feeling he knew what was bothering her.

“Caitlyn's getting her last badge tonight, isn't she, Kimmie?” he asked.

“Yup,” she mumbled.

Abby's gaze snapped to his. “How did you know that?”

“You mentioned it. That night I stopped by the house.”

The night he'd been sucked in by a little girl who'd seen more than she should of disappointment. Now she was facing more she'd have to live with. And he felt some responsibility. He wouldn't take responsibility for her blisters or for Mother Nature and the stray storm that had freaked the little girl out. But he could have done more to make it easier for her to be successful. This wasn't the time to figure out why he hadn't. He needed to make it right.

Abby opened the rear car door. “Kimmie, I thought you liked The Bluebonnets.”

“I do, but…” She sighed. “It won't be the same if I'm not with Caitlyn.”

“So you're giving up?”

“It's for the best.”

Like mother, like daughter, he thought, wondering how many times the little girl had heard that phrase.

“But, Kimmie,” Abby said, “I know how important this is to you. We can figure something out. Walshes don't give up.”

“Daddy did. If he was here, probably it would be different. But we don't know how to be campers on our own.”

That did it. Riley got out of the SUV and went around to the rear passenger door where Abby was standing. He looked at the little girl, into eyes so like her mother's and filled with the same shadows.

“Here's the deal,” he said. “No one gives up. Not on my watch. You're going to get the badges you need.”

“She is?” Abby looked surprised, with a little skepticism thrown in.

“I am?” Kimmie looked surprised, with a little hope around the edges.

“You are. We're going to hike to the campsite and spend the night outdoors so you can go on to the next level with your friend.”

“But I got scared. We stink at camping,” the little girl reminded him. “We were really bad at it.”

“That's partly my fault,” he admitted.

Because he wanted it over with, he'd thrown them into the deep end of the pool. Never test the depth of the water with both feet. He'd read that somewhere and thought it good advice. But it's exactly what he'd done with these two beginners. If he'd prepared them adequately, Kimmie wouldn't have been so frightened by the storm. Knowledge is power. “This time,” he explained, “we're going to train before we go camping.”

Kimmie's face brightened. “We are?”

“We are?” Abby echoed.

“Yeah. Like athletes do for a big race. Like they do for the Olympics. You can't just go out and win a medal. You need to get your body ready.”

Standing this close to Abby, his was ready. But not for any athletic competition. Although what he was ready for could be defined as athletic. But that was something he would never let her know. He wouldn't let this get personal. This was about a little girl and her dreams. He'd screwed up. He would make it right.

“We're going to go camping. You're going to get your badges. And failure is not an option.”

“Thank you.” Kimmie hopped out of the car and hugged him. “Oh, boy!”

Yeah, oh, boy, he thought. Abby didn't have a monopoly on the hugging thing. And for the second time since meeting her, he hoped he didn't regret the decision he'd made.

A
fter sending Kimmie upstairs to change clothes and wash up for dinner, Abby turned on Riley. “Okay, what's all this about?”

He leaned back against the island in her kitchen and folded his arms over his chest. “Define ‘this.'”

She didn't mean all the masculinity crammed into her kitchen that made concentration a challenge. That was for her to know and him to never find out. “This,” she said, stretching out her arms to indicate the big picture. “Telling Kimmie she's getting her badge. No failure on your watch. What's up with that?”

“It's what I should have done in the first place.”

“Which is?”

“When I donated the weekend to the auction, I figured some guy who liked camping would buy it. I'd sharpen his outdoor skills and give him a few pointers. We both know that's not what happened.”

“Yeah. We both know a woman with absolutely no knowledge of outdoor activities bought the weekend for her equally fresh-air challenged daughter. And I say again, what's your point?”

“You needed the skills before deployment. The two of you are out of shape and that put you at a disadvantage from the get-go. I should have known better.”

There was a lot of that going around, Abby thought. She should have known better than to count on anyone besides herself. Yet here she was listening to him and actually considering giving him another chance. And the child was right; they were bad at camping. If she was going to be successful, they needed Riley Dixon.

Abby hated that she couldn't be everything to her daughter. But because she couldn't, she was listening to this good-looking macho type. It had nothing to do with the fact that he made her heart flutter and her stomach lurch as if she were on the express elevator in a skyscraper. It was because she wanted her daughter to be happy.

But she was skeptical, too. His timing seemed a little suspect. The sad and pathetic details of her life with Fred The Flake had barely left her mouth when he decided failure wasn't an option. He had assumed some responsibility for their first failure, and she knew that was baloney. In order to get her badge, Kimmie only needed to hike three miles. For various reasons, none of which were Riley's fault, she'd been unable to accomplish that. He'd met his obligation, yet was now offering to give them more time than she'd paid for. She had to assume it was simply because he was a nice man. She desperately wanted back the stubborn
slacker-jerk she'd first met. He was no threat to her emotional well-being. This man was a clear and present danger.

She moved around the island, putting as much tile-covered countertop as possible between them. “Okay, I need to know.”

“What?”

“Do you feel sorry for me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Come on. I'd barely finished telling you that my story was pathetic when you arbitrarily came to the conclusion that Kimmie needs to have her camping experience. And be successful,” she added, remembering the outdoor fiasco. “So I need to know if you're doing this out of pity because it—”

He reached across the island and touched a finger to her lips, stopping the flow of words along with her heart. “I don't feel sorry for you,” he said.

When he removed his finger, it took her a moment to catch her breath before going on. “It's okay for me to say my story is pathetic. But it's not okay for you to give us special treatment because of it. I can take care of my daughter by myself. There's more than one way to get from point A to point B. And sometimes it takes Plan B after Plan A doesn't work out.” He stared at her for several moments after she finished. “What?”

“I was just waiting to see if you'd run out of steam.”

She let out a long breath. “I'm done now.”

“Okay.” He leaned his forearms on the island. “This isn't about you. Or me. It's about that little girl. About learning she can do anything she sets her mind to. And about not giving up.”

“I was right. It is pity,” she said, shaking her head.

“It's about what's right. I messed up. I want to rectify the mistake.”

Speaking of mistakes, the potential for a really big one was standing a foot and a half away from her. What he was proposing meant they'd be spending time together. Not thirty minutes ago, she'd told him he reminded her of her ex-husband. She often told her students that mistakes were how you learn, but making the same one twice was just dumb. Yet here she was, seriously considering letting him into her life to get her and Kim ready for a camping weekend. How dumb was that?

There had to be another way. “Riley, it's very noble of you to offer. But—”

“I'm hungry, Mom. When's dinner gonna be ready?” Kimmie climbed up onto a bar stool on the other side of the island next to Riley. This was a completely different child from the one who had had a tummy problem just a while ago.

How could Abby disappoint her when this man was offering to give up far more time than she'd paid for? He'd make her little girl's dream a reality. But would that give Kimmie the message that she needed a man to make all her dreams come true? Or was Abby over-intellectualizing the situation?

“Mommy? Can Riley stay for dinner?” Kimmie turned puppy dog eyes on her.

Abby hated puppy dog eyes. “He might have other plans.”

“Do you?” the little girl asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head. “I'm free for the evening.”

“Mommy makes really good toasted cheese sand
wiches. Sometimes she puts bacon on them. One time she put strings on—”

“Alfalfa sprouts,” Abby clarified.

“Right. 'Falfa spouts,” Kimmie said. “That wasn't so good. But mostly I really like ‘em. Do you like toasted cheese sandwiches?”

“My favorite,” he answered.

If she refused to feed him she'd look like the Wicked Witch of the West. Especially after he'd bailed her out with her car. Abby knew when she was between a rock and a hard place.

She looked at the tall, hunky, ex-military type and tried to put the right amount of welcome into her voice. Too little would sound ungrateful. Too much would tell him how much she hoped he'd say yes. Neither was an option.

“You're welcome to stay,” she said.

“I'd like that a lot.”

“Ya-ay.” Kimmie clapped her hands.

“Then I can give you a ride to the meeting,” he said.

Transportation was the least of her concerns when she had a man like Riley Dixon within spitting distance and staying for a meal. But apparently she'd need to learn to live with those concerns because he was going to be around a lot. There was no way she would turn him away and risk erasing the happy expression from Kimmie's face. No way.

“I'd appreciate that,” she said. “And we can map out a plan of attack for our training.”

“Plans are good,” he agreed.

Yes, she thought. And her plan didn't include letting him too close to her heart. But maybe she was overre
acting. He hadn't shown the slightest interest in her, at least nothing of a personal nature. One could only make a mistake if one had someone like him to make a mistake with.

So she had nothing to worry about.

 

Riley stacked the outdoor gear he'd brought in a corner of Abby's family room. “We'll deal with that later.”

“Can't we play with it now?” Abby asked.

Riley studied her—the sparkling eyes and barely suppressed grin. He knew she was holding it back because her dimples were deeper than usual. She was messing with him. Oddly enough, he didn't mind.

“That's something Kimmie would ask,” he said.

“Busted.”

Her smile broke free and dazzled him, nearly dropping him to his knees. The sooner he got this mission under way, the sooner it would be over and he could draw a deep breath.

“Where's Kim?” he asked.

“Putting on her sneakers.”

“Are they the ones she's going to wear on the campout?” He met her narrow-eyed gaze and added, “So we don't have a repeat blister incident, she needs to break in the same ones she's going to use. New shoes are a bad idea.”

“They're new now, but won't be by the time we go camping.”

“Good. We're going to the park two blocks over. It has a quarter-mile track. This is a step-by-step process and playing with the camping equipment is way down the list. The first priority is getting into shape for the
hike. Today, I'm going to see how much work we have to do.”

“A lot,” she informed him.

You wouldn't know it to look at her. She was slender and curvy in all the right places. Her shape looked perfect to him.

“I'll evaluate your fitness level, and every week we'll escalate the training program accordingly. First we'll see how many times you can make it around the track. Then every day we'll add a little more distance.”

“Every day?”

He nodded. “You have to get your muscles accustomed to the activity, then challenge your body some more.”

“We're not talking about running marathons, are we?” she asked, resting her hands on the hips he'd just admired.

“No.”

“Okay. Kimmie's been walking since she was ten months old and I've been doing it—longer. I think we can handle this on our own. We don't want to tie up too much of your time.”

He folded his arms over his chest as he studied her face and the slight pucker in her forehead that said she was concerned. Did she want to get rid of him? His gut told him that was an affirmative. But he'd bet his Distinguished Service Cross it wasn't because she disliked him. Not the way she was acting a few minutes ago, teasing and smiling. She'd forgotten to be wary and was having fun.

Nope. She liked him, but she didn't like that she liked him. Because he was the good-looking macho type. He still couldn't decide whether or not to be flat
tered and decided not would be best. Ignoring the information would be even better. Forgetting altogether was an uphill battle.

Kimmie's running footsteps were loud on the stairs. “Riley!”

“Hey,” he said, unable to keep from smiling at her bright face.

“I'm ready. This time, I have the right shoes.”

“I see that,” he said, studying her sturdy, white athletic shoes. No pink anywhere.

“I made a command decision about shorts,” Abby said. “It's warm outside. We're willing to take a chance that any rogue bushes, brambles and shrubs won't do much damage to our legs here in civilization.”

“You're mocking me.”

“Just a little,” she said. “It's pretty hard to resist.”

No one would accuse him of being an expert on social behavior, but he was pretty sure you didn't tease someone you disliked. The thought pleased him. “You've passed inspection. Attire approved for the mission,” he said, trying to keep it light.

Not easy when his throat closed and his voice turned gruff. Until Abby mentioned legs, he'd been able to direct his attention away from hers. Now that was all he could think about. She had great legs. The part not covered by material was tanned and shapely. He could just see the spot where her hip started to curve and the glimpse made him ache for more. She was right about it being warm, but in his case the heat was all about looking at her.

“Let's roll,” he finally said.

“Okay. I've got the picnic basket packed as ordered.”
She grabbed it from the island. “And permission to speak freely, sir.”

He barely held back a grin. “And what if I say no?”

“I have to ask anyway.”

“Permission granted.”

“Why was I ordered not only to pack lunch, but to put it in this basket?”

“A good soldier never questions orders.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a finger pressed to her soft lips. It was the second time he'd done that and he liked it even more. Ignoring the shaft of heat that shot through him, he continued, “I know you're not a soldier. But I'm still in the command position. It's not necessary for me to explain orders, but it is necessary for you to follow them. However, in this case I'll make an exception and explain. The basket is a visual aid to demonstrate bulk and why big cereal boxes are incompatible with backpacking and survival necessities.”

“Understood, sir.” She looked at her daughter. “Are you ready to go, kidlet?”

“Ready.” She looked at Riley. “I'll carry the basket. I'll show you I can take my cereal.”

“Your call,” he told her.

They headed down the street with the little girl huffing, puffing and moving the basket from one hand to the other. He wanted to reach out and take it from her but figured that would defeat the purpose of the exercise.

Half a block from the house, Kimmie stopped and the stubborn expression on her face reminded him of her mother. The little girl set the basket down. “I can't carry this any more.”

“I'll get it,” Abby said, grabbing the handle.

Without the bulk, Kimmie hurried ahead. He and Abby followed more slowly, with her hefting the basket's bulk.

“You may or may not believe this, but it goes against the grain to let you lug that.” His palms itched to take it from her. “My dad taught me guys should carry stuff for girls.”

“Then why aren't you?” she said, obviously short of breath from the exertion.

“I'm making an example of you. It's a technique used in military training.”

“Why did you decide to go into the service? Did you not want to go to college?”

“Actually I had a scholarship—athletic and academic—to Texas A&M.”

“Then why didn't you go?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched Kimmie jump onto the park track. “I got in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise.

“I beat up a guy.”

“Why?”

He glanced at her. “I caught him with my sister, trying to push her into something she wasn't ready for. He was eighteen, and she was barely in her teens. He was my friend. I brought him over to the house.”