The Single Daddy Club Boxed Set

by Donna Fasano

  His whole demeanor seemed to alter, Anna noticed, with this sudden change of topic. Where his expression before was filled with exasperation and anxiety, his features were now fixed with a somberness that had her leaning forward a fraction.

  She had to admit, his statement surprised her. She had the distinct urge to flip open Timmy Richmond's file and reread its contents. But she could tell from the tone of voice used by the man sitting in front of her, from the set of his body, that he had a story to tell. A story that was filled with sadness, her gut instinct told her, one that would tell her much more about Timmy than any file folder would.

  Resting her elbows on her desktop, she said, "He isn't?"

  Mr. Richmond shook his head slowly from side to side, and she couldn't help but notice how the honed angles of his face, matched with the strength of his jaw, made for a very pleasing combination. Mr. Richmond was an extremely handsome man.

  "No. You see, Timmy's father, James, was my cousin." He stopped a moment to clear his throat. "James and I were both military men."

  Anna noticed how he'd used the past tense verb to describe both himself and his cousin. That small fact alone was enough to tell her that, whatever had happened to Timmy's father, the incident had changed many lives.

  "James was killed ten months ago in a routine training drill—a stupid mistake that caused the death of three men."

  The tightness in his voice, the sudden tenseness in his face, made her heart constrict with sympathy.

  "I was Timmy's godfather," he went on. "I was also named as his guardian."

  "Where's Timmy's mother?" The question was spoken before Anna could stop herself.

  "She died when Timmy was just a baby."

  His gaze slid away from hers, and Anna had the feeling that he was reluctant, maybe even embarrassed to explain the circumstances surrounding the woman's death.

  "She was drinking and driving, you see," he said. "The only good thing about the situation—if there can be a good thing—is that she had the accident before picking Timmy up at the sitter's house."

  A shiver coursed across Anna's skin. "She was on her way to pick up Timmy?"

  He nodded, his intense eyes directly on hers now.

  "And she'd been drinking?"

  Again he nodded silently. Then he said, "Being a Navy wife can be lonely. Tina took solace in alcohol. It was but for the grace of God that she didn't take Timmy with her."

  How could any woman do such a thing? Anna wondered. If she had been given the miraculous gift of a baby, she would never, ever...

  She let the thought trail. She would never, ever find herself in anything remotely resembling those circumstances. A dark cloud of sadness hovered, threatening to descend—

  Anna shoved the painful idea from her and focused on the man who sat in front of her.

  "Timmy's had it pretty rough." She said the words gently, hoping to convey the message that she understood Timmy a little more from what he was telling her.

  "You could say that." He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. "You see, James's job had him traveling quite a bit. He was stationed on ships for weeks at a time. Of course, he couldn't take his son, so Timmy would stay with one family or another. Whoever was willing to take him in. Timmy stayed with me for a couple of months once when James and I happened to be stationed at the same base and he pulled a stint out at sea."

  That poor child, Anna thought. Shuffled from house to house, family to family, with no chance to grow roots or form any sort of firm foundation. No wonder he was behaving badly. The child was screaming for attention.

  "I tried to tell James that he needed to leave the service," he continued. "I tried to tell him that this was no sort of life for Timmy. But he wouldn't listen. And he loved being an officer too much to give it up."

  The bracelets around her wrist jangled as she raised her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to agree," she told him. "It sounds like he was in a bad situation. Timmy, I mean. That poor little boy."

  "Don't get me wrong," he said. "James loved his son. He just... loved the Navy more."

  Anna felt her insides quake. She couldn't help feeling resentful and angry at people like Timmy's parents. They had been given a precious child, a life that needed love and nurturing, and they hadn't appreciated him.

  "It's so sad." Sorrow tightened her throat, forcing the words to come out in a whisper.

  "But I'm trying to change all that," he said. Again he ran his fingers through his short, blond hair. "I've resigned my active commission. I've bought a house here in Bayview, and I'm starting my own accounting firm. I was talked into keeping a reserve status with the military, but if that presents any kind of problem with Tim—any kind of problem—then I'll give that up, too."

  She looked at him for a moment. "You're changing your whole life... for Timmy."

  His chin rose just a fraction, and Anna could tell that he'd defended his decision before. Probably to his superiors in the Navy when he'd retired—no, she silently corrected, he'd resigned his full-time status and joined the Naval Reserves.

  "Timmy deserves a settled childhood," he told her. "Hell, he certainly hasn't had one up until now." He immediately touched his fingers to his lips, murmuring, "Sorry. I should watch my language."

  She shook her head, waving off his concern.

  Hearing all that this man was giving up made Anna's heart soften toward him. He was changing his life for Timmy—making great sacrifices for his godson.

  There was a moment of easy silence during which Anna remembered the reason they were both here—Timmy's behavior problem. And as much as she hated to do it, she felt it necessary to get them back on track.

  "With all that Timmy's been through in his life," she began, "don't you think he could use a little special attention? Some focused one-on-one time with someone specially trained to help?"

  His dark eyes narrowed. "We're back to the Special Ed. thing again." He heaved a sigh. "I realize teachers don't like to deal with problem students," he stated. "If you've decided you don't like Timmy, then I can have him placed in another kindergarten class."

  Anna's mouth actually dropped open. Never, in all her years as a primary school teacher, had she ever been accused of not liking one of her students. And she couldn't believe how his accusation hurt her feelings. She fought to control the emotions churning inside her chest. It was hard to breathe, and she dragged oxygen around the huge lump that had formed in her throat.

  "I love Timmy," she said weakly. "I love all my students."

  But she knew he hadn't heard her when he barreled forward.

  "I'll never agree to placing Timmy in a special class," he said, his voice rising. "I won't let you label him. I won't let you blacken his record and ruin the rest of his school years." He leaned toward her. "He's just starting out, Miss Maxwell. If you place him in any kind of special class, he'll never get out. If you call him different, you'll be setting a precedent. In his mind, and in the minds of every teacher he'll ever have."

  Suddenly she understood what he was thinking and she took a deep breath. Weaving her fingers together, she placed her hands on top of Timmy's folder.

  "I'm not certain you understand how our School Instructional Team works," she gently told him.

  "I understand perfectly," he stated quietly. "You and your little group get together and decide which students might cause a problem or two, and you end up taking Timmy out of a normal class, with normal kids, and he starts believing he's not normal."

  "That's silly," she said. "Being classified with special needs isn't what it was twenty or twenty-five years ago when you were in school."

  "And that's exactly what I'd expect to hear from a teacher representing this school system."

  Patience, she told herself.

  "You really don't understand, Mr. Richmond..."

  "And I don't care to understand, Miss Maxwell. Because I'm not going to agree to the idea."

  She watched him straighten suddenly.
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  "Sending Timmy to another class will accomplish one thing," he said. "And that's taking the problem off your hands."

  She cocked her head to one side. "Are you actually implying that I'm attempting to take the easy road here?"

  "I'm simply making an observation."

  "Mr. Richmond—"

  "If you send Timmy somewhere else, he'll still have a problem." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you won't."

  Anna couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Of course, I will," she said. "I'll still have a problem, because Timmy will still be my student. I care about him. And it upsets me terribly that you think I want to foist him and his problems off on someone else, because—"

  "Then don't."

  Swift and all-consuming irritation crowded out all logical thought. She'd only meant to suggest that Timmy spend two half-hour sessions a week with the school counselor—sessions that could be set up by the School Instructional Team. But this infuriating man refused to let her explain that. He had it in his head that she was going to send him off to fend for himself in the frozen tundra or something. She pressed her lips together and felt her blood start to simmer.

  Anna was silent for a moment as she dealt with this unnatural emotion. She never got angry. Well, only on very rare occasions. But she was hopping mad right now.

  "Mr. Richmond—" her calm, quiet tone belied the magnitude of insult she was feeling, but before she could speak her mind, he once again stopped her, this time with a rude, upraised palm.

  "Look," he said, "all I'm asking is that you give the boy some time. You've barely had him in your class a month. How can you get to know a child in that short a time?"

  She clamped her lips shut, thinking it best to get her anger under control and hear him out before she surrendered to the urge to tell him off soundly.

  He cupped his kneecap with his palm. "I know I can do this," he said. "I know I'm capable of giving Timmy the stable, happy home he deserves."

  There was something in his tone that told Anna he really wasn't quite certain he was telling the truth. But the determined set of his jaw revealed to her that he'd never in a million years admit it out loud.

  "I just need some time," he went on. "And a little help."

  She stared at him long and hard.

  "So," she said finally, "you insult me in one breath and ask for my help in another."

  He balked, blinking several times as her honest appraisal of what he'd said sunk in. Then he sat up straighter. The look on his handsome face was one she would never forget—a subtle mixture of charming, boyish grin and good-hearted apology. Surprisingly, the expression melted away every nuance of anger she'd been feeling. In fact, she had to work at not smiling along with him in response.

  "Okay, Mr. Richmond." She knew the warmhearted surrender she was feeling was showing in her eyes, even though she fought to keep her lips from quirking upward. "What did you have in mind?"

  He raised one hand. "I don't know, really. I mean, I know I can do this—"

  Again she heard the tiniest quiver of doubt in his voice.

  "But..." He let the rest of his thought trail.

  Anna sat quietly, allowing the silence to linger between them. She wanted to be certain he had no suggestions for solutions before she began handing out advice.

  When it was evident to her that he was waiting for her to speak, she said, "I think Timmy needs rules." She brushed a long, curling lock of her hair back over her shoulder. "He refuses to follow the most fundamental rules of courtesy. He snatches toys, books, puzzles—whatever it is he wants—from the other children. It's as though 'thank you' and 'please' aren't part of his vocabulary."

  She stopped when she saw him frown.

  "But that doesn't sound like Timmy," he said. "Of course, he seems to stay in his room quite a bit, but when we're together, he's terribly quiet, terribly polite."

  Bewilderment knit her brow as a realization struck her. "You know," she said, "Timmy's very polite to me too." She lightly tapped her chin with the knuckle of her index finger. "Do you suppose...?" Then she focused again on Timmy's godfather. "How much exposure has he had to other children?"

  He shrugged. "I know he'd been bounced around from one couple to another when he was living on base and his father was away. Most of them were elderly couples, one or two might have had children in high school... I really don't know. For the most part, though, I think it's been just Timmy and James."

  Anna nodded slowly. "It could be that the poor child doesn't know how to act with other children." She gazed off, deep in thought. Ideas were forming in her head, fast and furious.

  "Okay," she said finally, "I'm going to impose some rules of discipline on the entire class. That way Timmy won't feel singled out. I can discuss with the children the need to be responsible for your own actions." She nodded her head, liking the thought more and more as it developed. "The whole class can benefit from this."

  Mr. Richmond's golden brown eyes locked onto hers, and she knew he had something he wanted to say.

  "That's great," he told her. "I think some strict rules will be great for Timmy." He swallowed. Licked his lips. Reached up and tugged on his earlobe.

  Suddenly she chuckled. "Why is it I hear a big but in there somewhere?"

  One corner of his wide mouth tilted up in a soft grin.

  "All of that sounds great for Timmy—" his grin widened "—but I have to admit... I was looking for some help... for me."

  Her hand lowered to the desktop almost of its own volition. "For you?"

  His handsome face flushed, and Anna found it an extremely appealing sight. It was odd that she found his difficult predicament so... enchanting.

  But then, maybe it wasn't his predicament that she found enchanting... maybe it was the fact that he—this attractive, capable man—was asking for her help in the situation.

  "Yeah, well," he began.

  He glanced off for a moment, and when he looked at her again, the intensity in his dark gaze held her mesmerized.

  "You see, Miss Maxwell," he said, "I'm thirty-four years old. I've spent my life developing my military career. I've focused on nothing else." A little sigh escaped him. "But now all that's over. I'm starting a new career. Building a new business. In a new town. I'm starting a whole new life. With Timmy."

  She wasn't certain where he was going with this. Didn't know quite where her help fit in.

  "You see," he said again, "I'm single. I've spent a tiny fraction of time around children. None really, except the months Timmy stayed with me." He paused a moment. "And even then he spent a lot of his time at the base day care center. What do I say to him? What do I do? How do I act? How do I react? What if...?"

  Anna knew he was asking questions, could see his lips moving, but his words sounded kind of hazy. She'd stopped focusing on his conversation when he'd said the word single. Oh, her intuition had told her that he wasn't married. Timmy's file had done so also. But, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she felt so elated when he'd professed his marital status.

  The fact that she'd responded so strongly to his pronouncement should have triggered warning bells inside her head. But it hadn't.

  He was looking at her expectantly, and she felt acutely embarrassed that she'd let her attention wander to such a degree.

  "Look, you can help me," he said, his tone a little more potent now, even tinged with desperation. "You talk to kids all day long. You work with them, week in and week out." He slid to the edge of his seat. "How about giving me some parenting lessons?"

  She inhaled so quickly that she nearly choked. "B-but Mr. Richmond, I'm not a parent." As she said the words, her heart fluttered in her chest painfully. This man would never know how it hurt her to reveal that fact. "I don't see how I can help you—"

  "Of course, you can," he interrupted. "All I'm asking is that you spend a little time with Timmy and me. Give me some pointers on how... on how to be with a kid. Let me watch you with him. And you watch me. You can
help me, Miss Maxwell. You can."

  There was something about him—something about knowing all that he'd given up for this child, something about the commitment he felt for Timmy, something about the urgency in his voice—that made her want to do whatever she could to boost his confidence, help him make a success of this new life he'd embarked on for Timmy.

  So it was without thinking about how the school principal would view her actions, it was without thinking about how the school counselor would feel about her toes being stepped on, and it was without thinking about how unprofessional her conduct might look to her fellow teachers, that she gave the man across from her a small smile and a nod.

  "Okay," she said softly. "I'd be happy to spend some time with you and Timmy, Mr. Richmond."

  The smile that lit his face nearly took her breath away. It seemed as though a load of worry had been lifted from the man's shoulders, and it thrilled Anna to know she was the one who had lifted it.

  "Derrick," he said, standing and offering her his hand. "Call me Derrick."

  "And I'm Anna."

  She slipped her hand into his. The warmth of his touch, the smoothness of his palm sliding across hers, the pressure of his fingers on the fleshy part of her hand sent myriad sensations tingling across her skin. His grasp was firm and secure, and it should have activated that well-used, self-protecting alarm deep within her subconscious. But it simply hadn't.

  Then again, maybe it had, and she had chosen to ignore it.

  Chapter 2

  "So, how'd things go with Timmy's teacher?"

  Derrick sat in the dimly lit lounge of the Bowl-o-rama and looked across the table at his friend, Jason Devlin. "Okay," he said, nodding.

  Jason was a police officer for the town of Bayview, and Derrick had gone to college with the man. He appreciated his friendship and felt the urge to go into greater detail than he normally would, but the sound of a heavy bowling ball smashing into wooden pins interrupted all conversation in the small room as a patron opened the glass door and exited the lounge.

  "In fact," Derrick said, once the door had swung shut and the noise of the bowling alley was muted enough for him to be heard, "the meeting went better than okay. It went very well."