Husband for a Weekend

by Gina Wilkins

  “Yeah, okay. Um, take your time, I can handle this.”

  He didn’t miss that Kim rolled her eyes a little when she gathered her clothes and moved toward the door. So maybe he hadn’t sounded as confident as he’d hoped. Maybe she thought of him as a coward when it came to one harmless, sleeping tot. It wasn’t as if he was an old hand at this, like she was.

  Maybe it was piqued pride that made him say, “Kim?”

  She paused at the door. “Yes?”

  “If we ever end up in a bed together again? It won’t be quite so platonic. Just thought you should know.”

  She blinked a few times, then whirled and let herself quietly out of the room, closing the door almost silently behind her. So why did he have the feeling she would rather have slammed it?

  Frowning in bemusement at his own odd behavior, he sat up against the headboard, giving up any possibility of sleep as he vigilantly guarded his temporary charge.

  * * *

  Towel-drying her hair into damp waves, Kim tiptoed across the hall to the bedroom after showering and dressing. Another hot afternoon lay ahead, so she wore a red cotton top with fluttery sleeves and colorful embroidery around the scooped neck and slim, cropped pants. Casual, but one of her favorite summer weekend outfits; she assumed it was suitable for a gathering at her grandmother’s house.

  She hadn’t dawdled, but she’d been gone closer to fifteen minutes than the ten she’d promised. She had needed the extra few moments to compose herself after that unsettling interlude with Tate.

  He’d been teasing. Of course he had, she had decided while standing beneath a deliberately chilly shower. Tate had a quirky sense of humor. He was probably getting back at her for everything he’d been put through with her family last night. He’d probably been amused that she’d been so flustered, and he would likely tease her about it later, maybe even in front of their friends.

  As for that comment about the next time they were in a bed together—well, that had to have been part of the joke. Right?

  At least, that was the way she was going to have to regard it if she was going to make it through the rest of this day with him. Once she was back in Little Rock, back in the privacy of her own home, she could acknowledge if only to herself that kissing Tate in that bed had almost turned her world upside down.

  Tate sat on the edge of the bed when she slipped into the room, a pile of folded clothing beside him as he waited for his own chance at the shower. A quick glance assured her that Daryn hadn’t stirred. That must have been a relief to Tate. He’d looked alarmed at the very prospect of having to actually interact with the baby, she reminded herself.

  “Shower’s free,” she told him as she entered the room, her expression carefully bland.

  “Thanks.”

  Though he didn’t exactly bolt from the room, he wasted no time making his escape. Rubbing the towel over her hair one more time, Kim thought that Tate’s careful lack of interaction with Daryn made it very clear he wasn’t interested in taking on a ready-made family. Which was hardly relevant to her, of course, but it could be disappointing for any single mom who was naive enough to fall for his teasing flirtation.

  She scowled and tossed the towel aside, wondering why she had allowed her thoughts to drift along those lines. She would not let one kiss scramble her carefully cultivated common sense, darn it. Okay, two kisses—she hadn’t forgotten the unexpected effects of that first time. But still, kissing Tate was a mistake, and she wasn’t going to forget that again.

  Daryn was just starting to stir when Tate returned. Like Kim, he’d left his hair damp, finger-combed away from his freshly shaven face. Having been assured by her that the reunion was a very casual affair, he wore dark jeans with one of the short-sleeved polo shirts that seemed to make up most of his casual wardrobe, this one in a leaf-green that nicely complemented his tan.

  He looked great, of course—but then, he always did. She suspected her cousins would flirt like crazy with him that afternoon, as they did any attractive man who came within their reach, single or otherwise. Maybe she should warn him about Patty and Cara Lynn—or maybe he would just have to meet her extended family to believe what she would tell him about them.

  “Just got a whiff of coffee brewing downstairs,” he announced, stuffing his sleepwear into a bag. “Guess we’re not the only early risers. Or maybe we woke someone with our stirring around.”

  Daryn opened her eyes with a couple of sleepy blinks, then grinned, babbled and kicked her feet when she saw Kim looking down at her.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Smiling back at the child, Kim reached for the diaper bag.

  Tate took a couple of steps closer to the crib, eyeing the baby curiously. “Does she always wake up so happy?”

  Kim tickled Daryn’s tummy to elicit a trill of giggles. “Almost always. She’s really a very good baby.”

  “I’ve hardly heard her fuss since we left yesterday. My very limited experience with babies and toddlers on airplanes and in the supermarket made me think they’re usually screaming about something.”

  “Babies cry to communicate. They’re hungry or wet or frightened or overwhelmed or in pain. Some are naturally fussier than others, just as a result of personality differences. Parents learn from experience to interpret those cries, for the most part. As for toddlers—well, then you start getting into behavior that requires firmer guidelines. Those kids throwing themselves into the floor of the store and screaming because they’ve been told no? That’s on the parents more than the kids.”

  “So you’re saying little Daryn here isn’t going to throw any of those I-want-it-I-want-it tantrums?”

  “I’m sure she’ll try a few times. I don’t expect her to be a model child. But I figure my job as a mother is to teach her how to behave in polite society, and if I fail in that, then I’ve let her down.”

  Realizing she’d unwittingly climbed onto one of her favorite soapboxes while changing Daryn, she flushed a little as she picked up the baby. “I didn’t mean to sound like the perfect parent. I’m sure most parents are doing the best they can.”

  “Mmm.” Tate expressed quite a bit of skepticism with that brief murmur, but he let the subject drop. He seemed to become aware that Daryn was studying him intently. “Um, good morning, Daryn.”

  Bouncing in Kim’s arms, Daryn babbled a happy, if unintelligible, response.

  Tate chuckled. “Either she said ‘Good morning to you, too,’ or ‘What the heck are you doing in my mom’s bedroom before dawn?’”

  “I think she said she’s ready for her breakfast.” Avoiding Tate’s eyes, Kim carried Daryn past him toward the door. “Shall we go down and see who’s brewing that coffee?”

  * * *

  Bob looked up from a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper with a smile when Kim carried Daryn into the room, followed by Tate. “Good morning. Help yourself to coffee, I just made it. Or I can brew tea for you, if you’d prefer.”

  “Coffee’s good for me.” Tate moved immediately toward the big pot already surrounded by cups waiting to be filled.

  Bob set his paper aside and pushed away from the table. “There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I thought I’d make waffles for breakfast. The batter’s already prepared, so all I have to do is pour it onto the waffle maker. We have sliced strawberries, maple syrup or honey for toppings. Or we have eggs and bacon, if anyone would prefer that. We won’t wait for the others. Who knows when Stuart will be down. He’s not much of a breakfast eater.”

  “Waffles sound delicious.” Balancing Daryn on her left hip, Kim opened the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’ll be down soon. I told her to take her time getting ready this morning, that I’d handle breakfast.”

  Her mother was definitely being spoiled by this one
, Kim mused, reaching for the jar of baby cereal she’d left on the counter last night. Maybe this marriage would actually last? She still wouldn’t have been willing to bet real money on it, but after three years, the union was still looking surprisingly stable—mostly because Bob seemed to have the tolerance of a saint.

  “Here, let me hold the baby for you while you prepare her breakfast,” saintly Bob volunteered, reaching out to them. “I’m sure you’re used to having only one hand free, but perhaps I can make it a bit easier for you.”

  Daryn dove happily into Bob’s arms, patting his face and babbling when he grinned at her.

  “Aren’t you a little angel?” he crooned, clearly besotted. “Kim, do you mind if she calls me Grandpa? I’d be proud to claim her as a grandchild.”

  “Well, she isn’t calling anyone anything yet,” she replied lightly, rather touched by his request. Though she doubted that Daryn would be around Bob all that much in the future, even if the marriage to her mother should last, it was still kind of him to treat them like family. “But I have no objection to her getting to know you as her Grandpa.”

  She had regretted that Daryn would have little extended family in her life, considering the estrangement between Kim and her mother and brothers, and the fact that Daryn’s biological father and his family weren’t interested in getting to know her. Their loss, she always reminded herself. If Bob wanted to help fill some of that vacancy, she should be pleased, even though she couldn’t help worrying that Daryn—and maybe she—would only be disappointed by him eventually.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee, Kim?” Tate asked, looking at her with the carafe in hand. What might have been a slight grimace of apology twisted his mouth; maybe he’d become aware that he should have been the one offering to help with Daryn.

  She smiled lightly at him to assure him she didn’t mind. “Yes, please.”

  Carrying Daryn’s breakfast to the table, she sat and reached for her daughter. “Thank you, Bob.”

  Bob brushed a light kiss across Daryn’s thin, tousled brown hair before depositing her in Kim’s lap. “My pleasure. I’ve always looked forward to being a grandpa, though my own kids are still a few years away from providing any grandchildren for me.”

  Kim had briefly met Bob’s daughter and son three years earlier, at the reception to celebrate Bob and Betsy’s nuptials. She remembered them vaguely as two polite but reserved teenagers, both only high-school-age then. From what little she’d heard of them since through her mother, she had the impression that Bob traveled to Texas fairly often to see them, though her mother didn’t usually accompany him.

  Just what, exactly, did Bob get from this marriage? And how much longer would it be until he grew tired of being the one apparently doing all the giving?

  Spooning baby cereal into Daryn’s eagerly opened mouth, she watched surreptitiously while Bob and Tate worked congenially together to prepare waffles and bacon for the family. They seemed to get along well, despite the nearly two-decade age difference. Watching her stepfather-for-now and husband-for-the-weekend chuckling together gave her an oddly wistful feeling—one she ruthlessly suppressed as she focused on feeding her daughter.

  Impeccably dressed, coiffed and made-up, her mother waltzed into the kitchen a short time later. Kim, Tate and Bob were chatting and eating their strawberry-topped waffles while Daryn, still sitting in Kim’s lap, pounded happily on the table top with a wooden spoon Bob had given her to play with.

  “Good morning, my darlings,” Betsy trilled, blowing kisses to all of them.

  Even as she shook her head in response to her mother’s theatrics, Kim noted that Bob’s blue eyes lit up with the beaming smile he directed toward his wife. Whatever Kim might see as lacking in the relationship, it was hard to deny that Bob seemed genuinely in love with her mother, and outwardly, at least, content.

  “Good morning, dear,” he said, leaping to his feet. “Have a seat, I’ll get you some coffee and waffles.”

  “Thank you, sweetie, but I’ll just have coffee this morning,” she answered him affectionately. “Have to watch the calories with that big family luncheon ahead, you know. How were your waffles, Kim?”

  Glancing down at her almost-empty plate, Kim made an effort not to react defensively. “They were delicious.”

  “Do you mind if I hold little Daryn for a bit? You can have some more breakfast, if you like—though don’t forget there will be lots of food at Grandma Dyess’s house later today.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Her smile bright, Betsy held out her hands to the baby. “Come to Grammie, sweetie.”

  Kim was almost as relieved as her mother probably was that Daryn made the transfer agreeable enough. She wasn’t particularly surprised; Daryn enjoyed attention and wasn’t usually shy in accepting it.

  Daryn made a quick grab for her grandmother’s red-framed glasses, but Betsy was able to catch the little hand and plant a cooing kiss on it. Though cynically aware that part of this touching encounter was a performance for Bob and Tate’s benefit, Kim wanted to believe she saw a measure of real affection in her mom’s smile. She warned herself not to let past slights make her too jaded when it came to her mother, but sometimes that wasn’t easy.

  While her mother played with the baby, Kim helped Bob clear away the breakfast dishes. They wrapped up a plate of leftover waffles in case Stuart wanted them later, though Bob repeated that Stuart rarely ate breakfast, despite his mother’s disapproval.

  “I’d better go give Daryn her bath and get her ready for the reunion,” Kim said when the kitchen was spotless again.

  “Be sure to dress her in something especially adorable, since she’ll be meeting her great-grandmother for the first time,” Betsy advised, leaving a bright smear of lipstick on the baby’s soft cheek before handing her over. “And there’s plenty of time for you to get dressed, too, Kim, so don’t feel you have to rush.”

  Kim lifted an eyebrow. “I’m dressed, Mom. This is what I’m wearing today.”

  “Oh. Really? I thought maybe a skirt?”

  “No. This is what I brought to wear.”

  Her mother gave a mournful little sigh. “Well, I’m sure it’s fine, then. Everyone understands a busy young mother has little time for primping.”

  Daryn bounced in Kim’s arms, still waving the wooden spoon and coming very close to bopping Kim in the head with it. “Mamamama,” she trilled.

  “She said Mama!” Her criticisms apparently forgotten, Betsy clapped her hands. “That’s the first time I’ve heard her speak. Has she said it before?”

  Smiling at the child, Kim swiped at the lipstick smear with one fingertip as she answered, “A few times, though I’m never quite sure if she’s saying my name or just babbling.”

  “Sounded like Mama to me,” Bob assured her. “You can tell she’s a smart one. Say Grandpa, Daryn.”

  Daryn responded with an unintelligible string of syllables that ended with what sounded very much like a raspberry, making all the adults laugh.

  “Okay, so much for that,” Bob said good-naturedly.

  Betsy reached out to pat Daryn’s back, motioning toward Tate with her other hand. “Say DaDa, Daryn. It would be lovely if you’d say that today at the reunion. DaDa?”

  The pleasant moment was ruined. Kim turned sharply, drawing Daryn out of her mother’s reach. “Honestly, Mom,” she snapped.

  Betsy blinked in oblivious innocence. “What?”

  “Just stop, okay? If you want Tate and me to go to this thing today, you’ll have to back off.”

  Looking aggrieved, Betsy began, “But I was only—”

  “I’ll go get her dressed. Bob, while I’m gone, maybe you can explain to my mother that she’s skating on very thin ice this weekend, and she needs to watch her step for the rest of the day.”

/>   Without giving anyone a chance to reply, she carried Daryn out of the kitchen. She sensed Tate hesitate a moment, as if unsure what to do, then he followed her out.

  Chapter Five

  “I must have completely lost my mind to agree to this nutty plan in the first place. What was I thinking, letting a silly bet and a few dares convince me to bring my child into this insanity?”

  Fifteen minutes after storming out of the kitchen, Kim was still muttering beneath her breath, even as she efficiently dressed her freshly bathed daughter in a frilly lavender romper.

  Looking up from the chair where he’d been checking and answering email on his phone while Kim took care of the baby, Tate said cautiously, “Maybe you’ll have such a nice visit with your grandmother that it will all be worth it.”

  “I’m not sure any visit could be that nice,” she grumbled. She closed her eyes momentarily and exhaled gustily. “I’m sorry, Tate. I don’t mean to take out my frustration with my mother on you again.”

  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, a rueful smile reflected in her eyes. “Not exactly, but thanks, anyway.”

  She reached for the lavender hair bow that matched Daryn’s romper. The bow was attached to a soft, stretchy band that circled the baby’s head. Tate figured Daryn’s wispy brown hair was still too fine and thin for a barrette-style bow, but she didn’t seem to mind wearing the headbands. She did look cute as all get-out in them, he had to admit, even though he didn’t usually notice such details with babies.

  Looking away from the kid, he studied Kim’s face, noting her frown was relaxing as she arranged her daughter’s hair into soft curls. “I have to admit I’m curious to meet the rest of the family now.”

  Kim blinked at Tate in surprise. “Seriously? Why?”

  “Just wondering if they’re more like you or your mother. Because, frankly, you and your mom couldn’t be much more different.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”