by Abby Gaines
“That won’t work, Daisy,” Kyle said. “Jane needs...somewhere else.”
“Daisy’s right,” Gabe countered. “It makes sense for Jane to stay with you guys.”
Daisy beamed at him. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since Kyle’s brother turned righteous. Females of all ages and stages still adored him, only now he kept his responses G-rated. Kyle wondered if his brother missed that casual, sensual connection. Missed sex. Kyle sure as hell did.
Jane clasped her hands behind her head and flexed her shoulders, as if they were stiff from the long drive. The movement lifted her breasts in that clinging sweater.
“—any more than I do, but I guess it’s logical,” she finished.
Oops, she’d been saying something. And now everyone was looking expectantly at Kyle.
“Excuse me?” He shook his head. “My mind was on, uh, tonight’s council meeting.”
Gabe’s smirk suggested he’d noticed the direction of Kyle’s gaze. “We were saying it makes sense for Jane to stay with you and Daisy for a couple of weeks, since the whole reason she’s here is to make sure you two are set up okay.”
Kyle could think of several reasons why it made no sense at all. She undermined my marriage. Whatever she and Lissa got up to that week in Denver, things were never the same again. When Lissa had started shutting him out, while she was pregnant with Daisy, he’d phoned Jane—which he’d hated doing—to ask if there was anything he should know.
He’d promised he wouldn’t tell Lissa about their conversation, he just needed to understand if anything had happened, and what he could do to fix his marriage. Hell, he’d practically begged. Jane had paused just long enough for him to conclude his suspicions were well-founded, then she’d told him he had nothing to worry about. Her voice had risen a shade higher. His dad always said that was a good clue a suspect was lying.
“More coffee, Charles?” Micki appeared alongside their table, coffeepot in hand. His father was the only one having a simple filter coffee, but Micki’s warm smile encompassed all of them. Kyle could sense his dad giving him a significant look—ask her on a date—and his head started to pound.
He needed to get out of here, get some work done on the new house, then prepare for tonight’s council meeting. Most of all, he needed not to be worrying about how he might be messing up where Daisy was concerned.
Micki focused in on Jane. “Hi, have we met?”
“Jane Slater. I grew up here.” She imparted the information as if it were a challenge.
“Welcome back, Jane. I think I knew your brother—Darren?”
Jane nodded, her expression wary. Kyle remembered Darren as a total lowlife, and it seemed Micki suddenly came to the same recollection. She cleared her throat as she held up the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Jane said.
Kyle pulled his keys from his pocket and twisted the house key off the ring. “Jane, this is for you.”
She looked at the key as if she’d never seen one before.
“Gabe’s right, you might as well stay with us.” He shoved out of the booth. “I have some work to do, so how about you and Daisy spend the afternoon getting to know each other.”
Jane eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not sure I’m ready....”
She stopped. Maybe she’d seen, as Kyle had, the flash of hurt across Daisy’s face.
“Sure,” she said, “that’ll be nice.” Stilted, but not a bad effort.
Kyle thawed infinitesimally toward her.
“Are you okay to hang out with Jane?” he asked Daisy.
She nodded.
“Dad, can you lend Jane the booster seat you have in your truck?” He didn’t wait for a reply before he turned to Jane. “I’ll be at the new house, then at a council meeting. Call my cell if you need anything—the number’s on the wall next to the phone at Lissa’s place.”
“But—” Her tawny eyes, more expressive than he remembered, held an appeal for...what, mercy?
He squelched the impulse to let her off the hook. She was the one who’d come back when she wasn’t wanted, and spending time with Daisy was what her visit was all about. He couldn’t imagine why she would suddenly develop cold feet, but he didn’t care. He felt guilty enough already about his marriage, his daughter...Jane Slater didn’t get to add to that.
“See you tonight,” he said, and left.
CHAPTER THREE
WHO KNEW A well-behaved five-year-old could be so exhausting?
After Kyle had dumped her in the deep end, Jane had taken Daisy back to Lissa’s Victorian house—Kyle and Lissa’s Victorian house—with the eggshell-blue siding and white shutters. The effect was pretty and welcoming. Much more welcoming than the host, who would clearly be delighted never to see her again.
Jane had settled into the guest room and unpacked her wheelie bag, hanging sundresses, skirts and blouses in the closet, folding shorts and T-shirts into drawers. She’d changed out of the clothes she’d driven in, having overheated in the effort to keep her cool in that encounter with the ex-police chief. Now, she wore a cream-colored T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she eyeballed the meager contents of the fridge and waited for an answer to her question: What would you like for dinner?
“Anything’s okay. I don’t mind,” Daisy said.
Daisy’s compliance was what made her so tiring. She refused to voice an opinion on anything, leaving Jane, who knew less than nothing about five-year-olds, to second-guess her. And herself.
Okay, maybe there was more to Jane’s sense of exhaustion. Maybe the baggage she’d carried for the past six years had become too heavy, as she was finally face-to-face with Lissa’s daughter.
“There’s not much food here.” Jane tried to keep her mind in the here and now as she inspected the shelves of the refrigerator. “Do you know what your Dad had planned?”
“He planned for Grandpa to give me dinner.”
Jane turned at the longer-than-usual response. “Does Grandpa cook nice food?”
A shrug indicated the standard fell somewhere short of “nice.” “He says my table manners need work.”
Jane pffed. That sounded like Charles. “He always used to tell me to behave better, too,” she said. “I ignored him.”
The little girl’s eyes widened at such reckless disregard for authority.
“I mean, I’m sure he’s trying to help,” Jane said belatedly. It wasn’t her place to interfere in Daisy’s relationship with her grandfather, she reminded herself. Even if Charles’s disapproval gave them something in common.
She pulled a pack of pepperoni from the refrigerator—the meat was two weeks past its expiration date. Did that matter? Not to Jane, but what if Daisy got food poisoning? She shoved the pepperoni back in the fridge. Damn Kyle, leaving them alone this long.
He probably hoped she’d be so out of her depth, she’d turn tail and run back to Denver, another Slater letting everyone down.
Not going to happen.
Jane might be a reluctant returner to Pinyon Ridge, but now she was here, she would do her best for Lissa.
“We’ll have toasted cheese sandwiches,” Jane announced.
Before leaving Denver, she’d questioned a counselor, a woman who worked with some of Jane’s clients, about how to handle a five-year-old. The woman had supplied five rules that she assured Jane would stand her in good stead.
1. Be decisive—kids like to know who’s
in charge.
2. Be predictable—consistency and routine make kids feel secure.
3. Get down to the kid’s level without condescending.
4. Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, or you’ll break trust.
5. Don’t get too attached.
It seemed the perfect protocol, not just for working with Daisy, but for Jane’s entire stay in Pinyon Ridge. If she could stick with the protocol, maybe she could accomplish what she’d come here to do and get out again unscathed.
Her culinary decisiveness elicited no response.
She prepared the food, and they ate at the pine table in silence. What would Lissa make of this scene? Would she be anxious, possessive? Or would she realize Jane had no intention of, and no interest in, muscling in on Lissa’s family?
I wish I knew what you were thinking when you made that will.
After they ate, Jane put on a SpongeBob SquarePants DVD for Daisy and retreated to the kitchen. Cleanup from their meal didn’t take long. Then she plugged in her laptop and started work on some notes about next week’s clients for Amy, her associate. She couldn’t send them without knowing Lissa’s Wi-Fi password—she’d need to ask Kyle. She set her laptop to hibernate and glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock already.
Jane hurried to the living room and found Daisy had turned off the TV and was reading a picture book.
“Sorry,” Jane said. “I got caught up.”
Daisy turned a page.
“What time do you usually go to bed?” She couldn’t enforce a routine, as per protocol number two, without knowing what it was.
“Um, now, I think.” Daisy closed her book and slipped off the couch.
Jane waited a few minutes before following her upstairs. When she reached Daisy’s room, the little girl was already in her pj’s and under the covers. She looked tiny, taking up hardly any space in the bed. A smudge of toothpaste marked the corner of her mouth. Jane had the unexpected urge to wipe it away with her finger.
“All set?” she asked instead.
Daisy nodded.
Jane felt as if there was something else she should be doing, but she had no idea what. She hesitated, the switch of the Little Mermaid bedside lamp gripped between her thumb and forefinger, aware of Daisy’s expectant gaze. Feeling the weight of Lissa’s anxiety.
At a sound from the doorway, she turned.
“Hi,” Kyle said. He advanced into the room. “What’s going on? Daisy, you should be asleep.”
His tone was accusing—of Jane.
“I didn’t know her bedtime,” Jane said. You didn’t tell me. She stepped back so he could take the prime position at Daisy’s bedside.
“Lights out now.” He bent to kiss his daughter’s forehead. As he straightened, Daisy’s eyes met Jane’s. Was it her imagination, or was there a question in them?
At a loss, Jane waggled her fingers. “Good night, Daisy.”
“Can you tell me a story?” Daisy asked.
Jane froze midwave. Kyle seemed similarly arrested. As if, like Jane, he’d never heard Daisy actually ask for anything before.
“It’s late,” Kyle reminded his daughter with a dismissive glance at Jane.
A glance that said, “This is my territory, keep out.”
This whole damn town was Kyle’s territory.
The you’re-not-welcome message was one she’d heard, in varying degrees of subtlety, all through her youth. It had driven her out of town, and that had been a positive step. But these days, she wasn’t a Slater kid trapped in a dysfunctional family. She no longer chose to respond to that rejection. At least, not in the way people like Kyle wanted.
“What kind of story?” she asked Daisy.
Kyle opened his mouth to object.
“One about Mommy,” Daisy said.
Kyle closed his mouth with a snap.
“A funny one,” Daisy added. She looked amazed at her own temerity. Why was she so reluctant to say what she wanted, whether it be her choice of dinner or a request for a story? Lissa had been devoted to her, and while Kyle might be a bit rigid, Jane doubted he was mean.
“Uh...” Jane racked her brain. Funny wasn’t the first thing to come to mind. Then she hit on something. “I’ll tell you about a time your Mommy came to stay with me in Denver.”
“Did I come, too?” Daisy asked.
It was the nearest they’d come to a conversation all day.
“This was before you were born.” Was it Jane’s imagination, or did Kyle tense? “Your mom wanted to go dancing, so we got dressed in our best clothes—”
“Were they sparkly?” Daisy sounded wistful.
“I’m afraid not,” Jane confessed. “But your mom wore a bright pink dress.”
Daisy nodded, her lips pressed together in a slight upward curve.
Jane felt absurdly pleased she’d been able to give that satisfaction. “We went to a, uh, dancing place,” she continued. It didn’t feel right talking about a nightclub to a five-year-old.
“Like a ball?” Daisy asked. “Like in Cinderella?”
“Kind of. But with no princes.” No fairy tales here, folks.
Daisy’s disappointment was evident. Jane turned to exchange a rueful smile with Kyle...and found him scowling, his eyebrows drawn together in a dark slash.
“This is a funny story,” she reminded him.
His scowl deepened.
Kyle Everson would find a way to disapprove if she helped an old lady across the street. Jane turned back to Daisy. “The, uh, dancing place was so full, they wouldn’t let us in.”
“Oh, no,” Daisy whispered.
“Your mom was very upset, almost crying,” Jane said, not just for dramatic effect. Lissa had always had a strong objection to not getting her way. “She really loved to dance.”
Daisy nodded. “What did you do?”
“We went around the back and found an open window. Your mom figured it was the window of the lady’s bathroom. We decided to climb in.” Jane smiled at the memory—her friendship with Lissa had never been dull. “I lifted your mom up so she could reach the window.” Lissa had been only five foot two as opposed to Jane’s five-five. “She scrambled inside, quick as a flash.”
Daisy’s eyes were bright. “Then what?”
“She was supposed to lean back out the window so I could jump up and grab her hands, and she could pull me high enough to grab hold of the window,” Jane said. She’d realized back then that part of the plan was flawed—it was hard to pull someone up—but Lissa had been confident. “But instead...your mommy disappeared,” she said with a theatrical flourish.
Daisy gasped. “Was it magic?”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Kyle snapped.
His daughter’s face dimmed.
What was his problem? He was glaring at Jane, his stance rigid, arms folded across his chest.
Jane allowed herself a second’s glare back at him before she addressed Daisy. “I thought it must be magic, too. And maybe it was, because next minute, your mom appeared right behind me.”
Daisy’s little mouth hung open. “How come?”
“Turned out that open window was for the men’s bathroom,” Jane admitted. “When your mom climbed in, she landed right on top of the man who wouldn’t let us in the front door. He’d gone on a potty break.”
Daisy giggled. Actually giggled. It was the sweetest sound, like a wind chime in the hint of a summer breeze.
Jane sensed rather than saw Kyle’s amazement. She
smoothed the covers over Daisy’s knees, then pulled her hand away. “He got a fright when your mom popped through that window—he was really mad.” She chuckled, remembering the bouncer’s bluster, made worse by his embarrassment at being caught with his pants down. “He dragged her back outside and yelled at both of us. Luckily, some nice guys—people—heard, and came to rescue us. And we all went out for ice cream—”
“That’s it.” Kyle’s harsh interjection startled her. “Daisy, story’s over. This light’s going out now.”
In the second before he snapped off the lamp, Jane glimpsed Daisy’s hurt expression. “Kyle, there’s no need to—”
“Downstairs,” he ordered.
She should have refused. But his anger was palpable and she’d grown up with a father prone to anger. For Daisy’s sake, she walked stiffly out of the room.
* * *
JANE WAITED FOR KYLE in the kitchen, her fist pressed to her chest to still her agitation. Don’t get involved, it can only lead to trouble.
She’d known from Barb that Kyle and Daisy didn’t get along, but she’d assumed that was just lack of familiarity. A matter of time.
In which case, it had made sense that she might serve as a buffer, a smoother of the waters, for a couple of weeks while they figured out a routine that involved some give-and-take.
But his reaction now had been totally unreasonable.
She let out a long, slow breath and scanned the room, focusing on the details. When Kyle and Lissa had bought the house, this room had looked and felt like what it was, a space tacked on to the back of the original cottage. They’d renovated, and widened the opening to the dining area, letting in more light. The kitchen sported rustic-style white cabinets with pine accents.
Jane ran herself a glass of water at the double sink and gulped it down.
“You have some nerve.” Kyle spoke behind her, startling her.
Jane choked. She dumped the rest of the glass into the sink and turned to face him, still spluttering.