“Billy...” Grace eyed him curiously. “Is it weird because I’m here? I mean, I could just leave the books, and you and Poppy could—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Let’s start.”
The little girl wriggled around a little bit and flipped open the cover. It was a picture book—not a very high reading level, but the story had some depth to it, and Grace was hoping to introduce Poppy to the idea of deeper reading.
“So, Poppy, let’s start on the first page, and your dad is going to put his finger under each word as you read it. That means you have to read as slowly as he moves. Okay? That’s going to be hard for you, I think.”
“I have to go slow?” Poppy grimaced.
“Just for a page or two,” Grace said. “Then you can read as fast as you want.”
“The Princess Who Hated Pickles,” Poppy read as Billy moved his finger under the title. “By Francine Wells. Illustrated by...”
“We could probably just move to the first page,” Grace said with a chuckle.
Billy’s face colored and he flipped the page. His finger moved under the words, but he didn’t slow or pause in the intuitive places, so Poppy read on as he moved his finger beneath the lines. He seemed to be pointing to the words almost blindly. What was happening here? Was he that uncomfortable? Or was there a bigger problem?
After a couple of pages of the same behavior, Grace put her hand on top of Billy’s. He froze.
“Okay, Poppy,” Grace said. “Now I want you to move your finger under the words for your dad to read, okay? But you need to move along slowly enough so that when he reads, it sounds normal, okay? Can you do that?”
Billy pulled his hand back from under her touch.
“Maybe you guys can carry on here—” he started.
“Daddy!” Poppy pleaded. “Come on. You have to do it, too!”
Poppy put her finger under the first word on the page. Billy looked stricken—horrified, almost—as her finger moved along the sentence.
“Daddy, come on!” Poppy pleaded.
“The...um...princess decided she didn’t want to marry a prince after all. She liked mechanics better,” he said.
“Daddy, that isn’t right at all,” Poppy declared. “You’ve got to do it right. Tell him, Miss Beverly! Tell him he has to do it right!”
Billy’s gaze flickered up toward Grace hesitantly. He hadn’t been teasing. She could tell. He looked nervous, uncertain, even.
“Hey, I think a princess and a mechanic make a pretty good match,” Billy said with an exaggerated smile and shrug. But the joke came a few beats too late.
“Miss Beverly!” Poppy said, tears coming to her eyes. “He’s teasing again...”
But Grace had recognized something she’d never noticed before in all their years of friendship.
“Billy, what do you see when you look at that page?” Grace asked softly.
“It’s just a silly little story. I make it more fun,” Billy said, but his smile faltered. “I’m just playing around. Sorry, Poppy. You guys go on. I’m not much into princesses, I guess.”
Poppy stared at her father with big, tear-filled eyes, and Grace saw Billy wince as he looked at his daughter’s disappointed little face. He didn’t mean to pester her and tease. He didn’t want to. And she suddenly knew why.
“Poppy, why don’t you read ahead and see how it ends,” Grace said. “Maybe your dad could show me where the milk is in the fridge.”
Grace stood up, grabbed her mug of tea and headed toward the tiny kitchen. When she got to the fridge, Billy came up behind her. He stood close enough that she could feel his presence, and when she turned, she had to tip her chin up to look him in the face. He shot her a guilty look.
“Billy, what do you see on that page?” she asked quietly.
“I...um...” Billy swallowed, and he met her gaze for a moment.
“Just tell me,” she whispered.
“It kind of swims around. Maybe I need glasses.”
“No, glasses would be if the words were blurry,” she countered. “But you say the words swim. Do the letters seem to get jumbled up on the page?”
He was silent.
“You understand the basics of reading, right? But something happens to the letters on the page—” She was reaching here, and she knew it. But she’d studied this—and dyslexia was incredibly common.
Billy shot her a tortured look that clamped around her heart. He shrugged. “Yeah, it kind of gets all mixed up there, and it takes too long to make sense of it, and...”
His voice trailed off, and crimson colored his cheeks. He dropped his gaze and rubbed a hand over the rough stubble on his chin.
“You have trouble reading,” she concluded quietly. “I never realized... I feel like I should have...”
And suddenly all sorts of details came flooding back to her—details that now made perfect sense, like how he never looked at a menu or tried a new restaurant. He never texted. He claimed to need glasses, but never got them. He preferred movies, and whenever he needed to look something up online, he’d pass Grace his phone and ask her to do it for him. There was always a reason—he was driving, he couldn’t see the small lettering... He’d gotten adept at avoiding reading, and somehow Grace had missed it. She had been his best friend and had been taking college courses online to become a teacher, and she’d never noticed!
“Dads are supposed to read stories,” he said, his voice low. “It’s what they do.”
“One of many things that dads do,” Grace countered.
“Yeah, that, and make the money to give their children a good life...” His voice tightened, and he swallowed hard. “But the main one—bedtime stories—I’m no good at it. And my own kid thinks I’m an idiot.”
CHAPTER SIX
GRACE LOOKED OVER to where Poppy sat on the couch, the book open on her lap. She could see Billy in that little girl’s form. She had the same pensive look that Billy got when he was frustrated—the drilling gaze, that way of chewing the inside of her cheek.
Poppy slapped the picture book shut and heaved a loud sigh. She looked over at the bag of books on the floor, where Grace had been sitting. Grace could feel the girl’s curiosity emanating from across the room, but Poppy didn’t move toward the bag. She sat motionless, staring at the bag, chewing the side of her cheek.
“You can see what other books I brought,” Grace said, raising her voice so Poppy could hear her. “Go ahead!”
Poppy looked back at Grace solemnly. “But maybe I should save them, so I don’t run out.”
“Sweetie, there’s a whole library filled with books. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Yeah?” Poppy brightened. “Okay!”
Poppy squirmed off the couch and landed on the ground, next to the book bag. Along with the picture books, Grace had brought a children’s classic, The Secret Garden. She wasn’t sure if Poppy would have the attention span for such a long book, but she’d figured Billy could read it to her... Billy pulled a hand through his tousled hair. “Let’s not talk about this. I never meant for you to know. I’ll figure something out.”
He was pulling away from her.
“She doesn’t think you’re an idiot,” Grace interrupted.
“No, she thinks I’m a jerk who keeps teasing her,” he retorted. “And I hate that, too. Because teasing her is the only way I can distract her from the fact that her dad can’t even read those little picture books she whips through in a minute flat.”
“Dyslexia isn’t about intelligence,” she countered.
“Tell that to a four-year-old,” he muttered.
“I think you should!” she said. How long did he think he could hide this from a curious little girl? Kids picked up on way more than adults ever realized.
“Gracie, you always mean well,” Billy said, those dark eyes fixing on her. “But n
o.”
“Would you rather drive her crazy with teasing?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped. “But I know for sure, I don’t want to tell my kid that I can’t read!”
Grace blinked, then pressed her lips together. His kid. Yes, that was what this came down to. Grace didn’t have any say in this. She’d never been a part of the romantic side of his life, and when a child emerged, she wasn’t a part of making these decisions, either.
“Fine—the parenting is your call,” she said after a beat of silence. “But how did I not know this?”
“I didn’t want you to.” His voice was low and gruff.
“You couldn’t trust me?” she asked quietly. “I was... You and I...” How to even encapsulate their relationship in a few words? They’d been everything to each other—at least he’d been to her. She’d have helped him.
“Look, a guy doesn’t tend to advertise something like that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not a moron. I work with my hands. I don’t need books out there, in the saddle. I use my instincts! I’m a good cowboy.”
“I know.” Grace eyed him uncertainly.
“For the record.”
“I’m not sure I want to know this, but—” she swallowed “—did Tracy know?”
“Yeah.”
Grace tried to hide the sting of his answer, and she dropped her gaze, trying to tamp down the hurt so he wouldn’t see it. He’d told Tracy...not her. Tracy was the one who was selfish and coy, who hadn’t been willing to stand by him if it meant being a stepmom, and he had opened up to her?
“And you wouldn’t tell me?” Grace couldn’t help the bitterness that oozed out of her tone.
“She only found out once we were in Denver,” he replied. “She kept pestering me about why I did things the way I did, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, I was supposed to tell her anyway, wasn’t I? We were living together! That’s what couples do—they share their stuff.”
“I guess it isn’t my business...”
Tracy had a part of Billy that Grace had never had access to—his romantic side. She got to share a life with him, a home, a bathroom, even! What Grace wouldn’t have given for a chance at sharing some simple couple routines with him—a favorite cereal, or doing the dishes together. But he’d looked right past her and he’d given those things to Tracy, so why not his deepest secrets, too?
“When I told her, she was mad because I couldn’t go for the better-paying jobs, and rent was expensive, and she was stressed out—”
“It isn’t your fault, though,” Grace interrupted.
Billy bit the side of his cheek, his gaze turning inward for a beat or two. Grace watched him, wondering why he’d been so blind to Tracy’s true character. Were long, slim legs and that tiny waist of hers really worth it?
“I should have told her sooner, she said.” Billy shrugged. “I guess, if she’d had all the information, maybe she could have thought better of moving in with me.”
“That’s what she said?” Grace asked.
“Of course not...” He sighed. “Look, I tried calling you then, because I wanted...” He stopped, licked his lips.
“Wanted what?” she breathed.
He didn’t answer right away, but he smiled weakly. “Moral support, I guess. You didn’t pick up. Or call me back.”
“I know...” Still, he’d told Tracy first. “She didn’t deserve your secrets, you know. You could have told me, Billy...”
“Why?” he said with a shake of his head.
“I could have helped!” she shot back. “I’m a teacher, for crying out loud!”
“Teachers tried,” he replied.
“You could have told me so that I’d have at least understood,” she pressed. “Of all people, I really cared!”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be one of your students,” he shot back.
Grace stared at him, then shook her head. “What misery that would have been,” she said, irony dripping from her tone. “I’m a good teacher, you know.”
“I’m not a kid, Gracie.” And he looked at her with agony shining in his eyes. “I liked things the way they were between us—friends, equals. We were special, you and me. I didn’t want to become the project you were trying to fix.”
“Students aren’t projects,” she argued. “You never would have been that to me.”
“Yeah? Well, they aren’t buddies, either. There’s this...distance...between a teacher and a student. It’s all professional—big smiles, hearty encouragement. I wasn’t going there with you.”
She saw hot defiance in his dark eyes. He hadn’t wanted that distance between them...but he also hadn’t wanted to close that gap, either. He saved that for other women.
“At least I cared!” she whispered hoarsely.
Billy’s gaze softened, and he reached out and moved a tendril of hair away from her face so tenderly that her heart skipped a beat. His rough fingers brushed against her temple.
“I should have told you,” he murmured. “Thing is, I might not be educated, or smart, but I’m definitely a man. I just wanted to keep feeling like one.” His voice was so low and deep, she almost didn’t hear it. His fingers still brushed against her cheek...
Three years ago, she would have moved right into the moment and seen if that tenderness might turn into a kiss, but not anymore. Grace dropped her gaze and stepped back, her face cold where his hand had been.
He dropped his hand to his side and heaved a sigh.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?” she asked, forcing lightness to her tone.
Across the room, Poppy had found the copy of The Secret Garden and was hunched over it.
If Grace had been the one who cared about him all along, then why hadn’t he ever looked deeper? That was the problem—it always had been. He wanted her support, her friendship, to be her priority... He just didn’t want to tell her too much.
Was that what friendship was to him? Because in her heart, she’d sailed right past friendship. What she’d offered him—that hadn’t been simply being his buddy, and she had no one to blame for that but herself.
Now he needed her. Now he had no one else to distract him. But give him another leggy blonde, and he’d be gone again. She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t about to let him feel all male and testosterone-driven with her.
“Gracie...”
She looked back over at Billy to find him watching her with a tentative look on his face.
“I can teach you to read,” she said quietly. That was something she could offer for the sake of their friendship. “I could do it at the same time I’m teaching Poppy. I can get you started at least.”
“I don’t want to be your student,” he countered.
“It isn’t the same,” she said. “This would be...a friend lending a hand. Nothing more. I’m not going to be here more than two weeks. It’s like you teaching me to ride a horse.”
“Excepting reading isn’t a hobby,” he said.
“To a lot of people it is. I can teach you. If you want.”
“Yeah?” He frowned slightly, looking toward his daughter once more. “You think I could learn?”
“I’m positive.”
Billy’s eyes were trained on his daughter as a myriad of emotions battled across his face. He didn’t feel for her the way he’d felt for Tracy, or even Carol-Ann. But he needed her right now, and she didn’t require payment in the form of some temporary romance. It wasn’t her job to make him feel like a man, but she could teach him how to read.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll do it for Poppy. I’ll give it a try.”
For Poppy. It was a good reason. He’d kept his secrets all those years, and in fairness, she’d kept hers. She’d been in love with her best friend, and since when was that ever a good idea?
* * *
THAT EVENING AFTER Grace left, Billy sat on the couch, waiting while his daughter changed into her pajamas. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What had he done tonight? Images of Grace were still seared into his mind, but this wasn’t the Grace from years of friendship.
Not that it should even matter right now. What did he have to offer a woman like Grace? He’d outed his illiteracy. That was the first dumb thing he’d managed. And secondly he’d looked down into Grace’s eyes, and he’d seen something he hadn’t seen before—
“Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
Grace had never been the girlfriend type. She’d been his buddy, but she was dressing differently now, and there was a different air of competence about her that he couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t the same old Gracie. She’d always been soft, and suddenly those soft curves were drawing his eye in a way that had never been part of their friendship in the past. He’d always thought she was pretty and figured the guy she landed would be a lucky devil, but he’d never considered her for himself. But when he looked down at her there in the kitchen, he’d been imagining kissing her—stupid as that might have been. He was a brand-new dad, and already messing things up with his daughter because he wanted to spend time with Gracie—this was not when he should be messing around with romance. His mother had proven just how disastrous that could be for a kid. It sounded like Carol-Ann hadn’t been much better.
But three years had changed Grace from a buddy into a woman. How had that happened?
Grace had left a few minutes ago, after reading a chapter of The Secret Garden aloud to Poppy. His little girl had settled right down and leaned against Grace’s shoulder in such quiet happiness. This kid loved being read to.
And now Billy was left with the memory of Grace rattling around in his head. And not just the comfort of her friendship. Tracy had always been jealous of Grace, and he’d never really understood why... But now he thought he could see it.
Poppy came out of her bedroom clad in her new unicorn pajamas. She had a book under one arm and the blanket from her bed clutched in the other hand.
Falling for the Cowboy Dad Page 8