by Linda Warren
They talked for a solid week about where they were going to live. Abby’s apartment was too small, and Ethan refused to uproot Kelsey, as Sheryl had done so many times. So Ethan talked to his dad, and Abby and Chloe moved in. There was one problem, though. Where was Chloe going to sleep? He’d promised Kelsey she wouldn’t have to give up her room, so that was out.
In the end, they put a small bed in their room for Chloe with stuffed animals and toys. Abby found a colorful partition at a thrift store and Chloe had her own space, close to her mother. Sometimes at night Chloe would wake up and crawl into their bed. It was a terrible arrangement. He met with a contractor, Abby picked out house plans and construction started on their own home next door to Walt.
One morning they awoke to Chloe crying. Abby was out of bed in an instant, but Chloe wasn’t in her bed. The crying was coming from Kelsey’s room. Before Abby could charge in, Ethan grabbed her.
“Let’s listen first.”
“Ethan, I can’t stand it when Kelsey makes Chloe cry. I can’t.”
“Shh.” He held her tight, hoping the girls could work out whatever was wrong without the adults interfering.
“What did you get in my bed for?” Kelsey asked.
“I wanted Mommy.” Chloe hiccupped.
“She’s not in here.”
Chloe started crying again. “You’re mean.”
“Stop crying, twerp. You gonna wake up our parents.”
“My...my daddy did something bad.”
Total silence followed, and he had to physically restrain Abby from bursting into the room.
“I heard.” He’d told Kelsey everything that had happened. “Sometimes adults do stupid things.”
“They do?” Chloe hiccupped again.
“Yeah. My mom did something stupid, too. I don’t see her anymore.”
“I don’t want to see my daddy.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh.”
“If you have any questions, just ask me. I know lots of stuff.”
“You do?”
“Yep. I got your back, twerp. You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you.”
“You will?”
“Yeah, and you can sleep in my room now.”
“Oh, boy. I’ll get Baby.”
Chloe darted out and Abby caught her. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I was with Kelsey.” She wiggled down. “Gotta go.”
Kelsey came out of her room. “Dad, I’ve made a decision.”
“About what?”
“Chloe can sleep with me, but when I have friends over she has to sleep with you.”
“Deal.” He hugged her until his arms hurt. His kid had come through.
Abby hugged her, too. “Thank you, Kelsey.”
After that, the tension lessened, and Kelsey and Chloe bonded in a way they hadn’t expected, but they still had tiffs. He supposed that was typical of all sisters.
Abby felt she needed to talk to Chloe about her father. She told Chloe that Doug had to go away and he wasn’t coming back. That was all Chloe needed to hear—that her father wasn’t coming back to get her. They’d never realized how much she feared that.
Doug had sent a letter through Lissa that he wanted them to give Chloe when she was older. It was very simple. He admitted to everything he’d done, said how sorry he was and that he wasn’t cut out to be a father. He added that when he got out of prison, he was leaving the United States and starting a new life. He wished her happiness. Abby put it in a safety-deposit box for Chloe when she turned twenty-one.
Ethan adopted Chloe and Lissa drew up papers to make Abby Kelsey’s legal guardian if anything happened to him. They were a real family.
The past year had been so busy with him back at work, Abby in school to finish her degree to teach, and keeping up with the girls. They were glad to see each other at the end of the day. In the fall, Abby would teach kindergarten in Willow Creek. Against the odds, they had made it work.
“Wake up, beautiful lady.” He slid his hand beneath the sheet to caress Wynken and Blynken.
Abby caught his hand. “Don’t even think about Nod, mister.” She turned and stared at him with sleepy blue eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”
He laughed. “That’s a no-brainer.” His hand moved lower.
“The girls will be up at any minute.”
He kissed her slowly, loving the way she moaned as he deepened the kiss.
“Come back here, twerp. I’m gonna kill you.”
Ethan groaned, pulling his lips away. “The alarm just went off.”
The door burst opened and Chloe jumped onto the bed in nothing but her Barbie panties, holding one of Kelsey’s bras. Kelsey quickly appeared with murder in her eye.
Ethan and Abby sat up. Abby nodded at him, which meant she’d take this one.
“Give me that.” Kelsey made a dive for the bra.
Chloe jumped away. “No. I want to wear it.”
“You don’t have any breasts,” Kelsey pointed out.
“I got breasts.” Chloe pushed out her chest.
“Give me that.”
Chloe danced away but her mother caught her, taking the bra from her. “What are you doing in Kelsey’s room? You have a room of your own, now.”
“Uh...” Chloe had a hard time lying or she hadn’t learned the skill yet. “Uh...we listened to Kelsey’s iPod and danced.”
“When you were supposed to be asleep?”
“But, Mom, it wasn’t a school night,” Kelsey hastened to explain.
Ethan loved it when she slipped and called Abby “Mom.” She was doing that more and more.
“We were listening to Justin Bieber,” Chloe added. “Kelsey has a crush on him.”
“You’re such a twerp.” Kelsey grabbed her and started tickling her. Giggling fits ensued. They rolled from the bed to the floor.
“Daddy, help,” Chloe cried.
“What’s going on in here?” Walt stood in the doorway.
Kelsey jumped up and hugged him. “Good morning, Grandpa.” Chloe latched on around his knees.
“C’mon. I’ll fix you girls breakfast.” He looked at Chloe. “Where’s your clothes, little bit?”
“I not little bit. I’m a big bit.”
“You’re not even two bits.”
“I can count, Grandpa. Wanna hear?”
“Okay, but let’s find your clothes first.”
Ethan and Abby rolled out of bed and slipped into shorts and T-shirts. “I think Walt misses us. He’s over here three or four times a day.”
“It’ll wear off.” He slipped into a pair of Crocs.
“Ethan.”
“Hmm?” He looked up to see a dreamy expression on her face and he knew he was fixing to get knocked six ways to Sunday.
“We have an extra bedroom now and I was thinking it would be nice to have another child.”
Yep. That knocked him sideways. “You want to bring a baby into the mix?”
“Yes. I’d like to have another child—your child. Not right now, but maybe in a year or so.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her. “Whatever you want, lady. I just want you to be happy for the rest of your life.” Cupping her face, he kissed her until there was no doubt about his feelings for her. He rested his forehead against hers. “You have brought so much life to my ho-hum existence.”
“Probably more than you bargained for.”
“The robbery? Yeah. The wildfire? Yeah. But it brought me you so I’m not complaining.”
She stroked his hair. “I love you, Ethan.”
“Good, ’cause we’re in debt up to our eyeballs, but I have a feeling our lives are going to be filled with a lot of love,
excitement and craziness.” He took her hand and they walked to the kitchen. They suddenly stopped short.
Walt stood in the middle of the kitchen staring down at a gallon of milk he’d obviously dropped because milk was splattered all over their barely used tiled floor.
Kelsey stood at the sink, her mouth opened as she gaped at the milk on her feet.
“Shazam,” Walt said.
Chloe stood on one of the new bar stools at the island, milk dripping from her chin, looking at the mess. “Shih Tzu, Grandpa!” she shouted.
Yep. Craziness.
* * * * *
Watch for the next book in Linda Warren’s Willow Creek, Texas, miniseries, A Texas Family, coming October 2013 only from Harlequin Superromance!
Keep reading for an excerpt from His Uptown Girl by Liz Talley!
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CHAPTER ONE
New Orleans, 2013
“HOT GUY AT TWO O’CLOCK,” Pansy McAdams said, craning her head around the form mannequin and peering out the window.
Eleanor Theriot rolled her eyes and swiped her dust cloth over the spindles of the rocker she knelt beside. “You think half of New Orleans is hot.”
“No, I’m just optimistic.”
“Or need a good optometrist.”
Pansy didn’t turn her head from whoever had drawn her attention. “I have perfect vision, thank you very much, and this one is worth the drool I’ll have to wipe off the glass.”
Eleanor pushed past Pansy, who’d plastered her nose to the window of the Queen’s Box. Eleanor could only imagine the picture her friend and employee presented to passersby. Pig nose.
But no actual drool.
“Let me be the judge,” Eleanor said, playing along. Pansy had spent the past month reminding Eleanor of her resolution to get back into the dating game. When Eleanor had examined her life, as everyone is wont to do on New Year’s Day, she’d discovered her home felt empty, and most of her lingerie had been purchased from a wholesale club. Time to start dating again, to start claiming a new life for herself outside widowhood and motherhood. Up until now, Eleanor had been good at ignoring the male sex—hot or otherwise—but today, Eleanor felt game. Maybe it was the phone call earlier from her mom, who had cut out an article about healthy living for the premenopausal woman.
Not that Eleanor was going through menopause.
Yet.
So an innocent ogle sounded...harmless.
Across the street, in front of the place where tradesmen had been streaming in and out like worker bees, was a pickup truck. Leaning against the side of that truck was someone who made her swallow. Hard.
Pansy soooo didn’t need glasses.
The man resembled an Aztec prince. Like his honeyed skin should be twined in gold and turquoise, bedecked in a feathered headdress. And a loincloth. He’d be breathtaking in a loincloth.
“Told ya,” Pansy said, shouldering Eleanor out of the way. “He could eat crackers, chips and freakin’ beignets in my bed any day of the week.”
“Not sure your husband would appreciate an extra bedmate.”
“Eddie lets the dog sleep with us. What’s one more hairy beast?” Pansy straightened the ceremonial Mayan mask that sat next to the silver candelabra in the window display before sliding off the edge of the window stage, her long body loose and loping. Pansy was over six feet tall, flat-footed and thin to the point of painful, but she had a sharp sense of humor and a heart that was big, fat and full of good cheer. Like Santa Claus in Olive Oyl’s body.
Eleanor glanced again at the man standing beside the pickup, peering at his phone. He wore well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. His face had a sort of sexy Brad Pitt thing going on with sensuous lips, but his jaw was hard, nose straight, brows dark and drawn to a V as he tapped on the phone. His skin was a creamy café au lait and his hair jet-black, clipped close to his head. Broad shoulders and narrow hips finished off the visual treat. A damn chocolate cupcake from Butterfield’s Bakery wasn’t as tempting as this man. “Hey,” Pansy whispered over Eleanor’s shoulder, making her jump. “You should go get him and see how you like sleeping on cracker crumbs.”
“I already know I don’t like sleeping on cracker crumbs.”
“With the right guy, you’ll never feel ’em. Trust me.”
Running a hand over a well-crafted Federal chest of drawers, Eleanor turned to Pansy and wiggled her fingers. “Dust.”
“Chicken.”
Eleanor wasn’t going outside to talk to a guy leaning against a work truck. She wasn’t that kind of girl. Never had been...even if she was determined to get out there...wherever “there” was. “No way.”
“Candy ass.”
“Calling me names won’t work. Get the lemon oil and let’s make sure our pieces up front look pretty. Tourists will be pouring in with Mardi Gras weekend coming up. I could use some sales.”
Pansy propped her fists on angular hips and narrowed her piercing blue eyes. “Come on, El. What will it hurt to do a little flirting? You’ll probably never see him again and you need to get your feet wet. Beyond time, sugar.”
Yeah, it was way beyond time. That’s what her daughter, Blakely, had yelled at her over a month ago—to get her own life. But Eleanor wasn’t going outside and getting her feet wet with some random house painter. Even if she’d never see him again. Even if it was harmless, silly and somewhat daring. “I’m moving on, Pansy. I am. I even checked out that eHarmony site last night, but I’m not the kind of girl who goes up to a random guy and says, uh, I wouldn’t even know what to say.”
“Pretend you’re locked out and need a screwdriver or something to jimmy the lock. I’ll hide in the back.”
“Jimmy the lock? Who are you? Nancy Drew?”
Pansy faked an elaborate laugh. “You’re so funny. Share it with the sex god across the street. Unless you’re...chicken?”
Eleanor looked around the antiques store that had been her salvation, first after the hurricane and then after the sex scandal, and felt the security she always did when she really thought about who she was. Did she want to be another relic of the past like the beautiful pieces in her store? Hmm. Pansy was right. Blakely was right. She needed to step out and get a life. “Okay. Fine.”
Pansy froze. “Really?”
“Yeah, what’ll it hurt? Not like I’ll see him again.”
Pansy pulled Eleanor to her, snatching the ponytail holder from Eleanor’s hair. “Ow!”
“Hold still,” Pansy said, tugging strands of Eleanor’s hair around her face and studying it critically.
Eleanor batted her hands away. “Jeez, Pans.”
“Let me grab the coral-rose lip gloss I bought at Sephora. It will look nice with those new red highlights you just put in.”
“I’m—”
“Shh,” Pansy said, pressing a finger ag
ainst Eleanor’s lips. “He’s a little out of your league so we need to prepare you for—”
“Please.” Eleanor pushed past her friend and tucked her shirt into her new gold Lilly Pulitzer belt. “He’ll be gone before you could perform all that magic. Besides, he’s not out of my league. Forget the lip gloss.”
“Whoa, that’s my sassy girl,” Pansy called, scurrying to the back of the store, thin arms and knobby knees moving so fast she resembled a clumsy puppy. She sank behind the counter, leaving only her eyes visible. “I’ll hide back here so he buys the story.”
“This is nuts,” Eleanor proclaimed.
Pansy’s hand emerged over the register, shooing her toward the door. “Just go.”
Taking a deep breath, Eleanor pushed the glass door, ignoring the dinging of the sleigh bells affixed to the knob, and stepped onto Magazine Street, which had started waking up for the day. She shut the door behind her, slapped a hand to her forehead and patted her pockets.
Damn, she was a good actress.
She started toward hunky painter dude, looking both ways before crossing the street ’cause she’d learned that rule when she was seven years old. The closer she got, the hotter—and younger—the guy looked.
God, this was stupid. Pansy was right. The man was out of her league.
Too hot for her.
Too young for her.
She needed to go back to her store and abandon the whole ruse, but as she began to turn, he lifted his head and caught her gaze.
Oh, dear Lord. Eyes the color of smoke swept over her and something shivery flew right up her spine. It wasn’t casual or dismissive. Oddly enough, the gaze felt...profound.
Or maybe she needed to drink less coffee. She must be imagining the connection between them. It had been almost twenty years since she’d tried to pick up a man, so she was out of practice. That was it. She imagined his interest.