Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance)

by Bradford, Laura

  Shrugging, she wandered over to a pair of Adirondack chairs nestled beneath a large oak tree and claimed one as her own. “It’s okay. I don’t really mind. I guess I’m just on edge about that particular topic, thanks to Kate.”

  He took the other chair. “She’s a little pushy where your love life is concerned, huh?”

  For a moment, he was afraid he’d offended Emily again, but when she finally answered, her words painted a very different picture. “Kate is one of those people who has a life plan. One that’s actually written out on a piece of paper. All the goals she wants to hit are spelled out right there, in order, with bullets. Last I checked, she was on number six, I think.”

  “Number six?”

  Emily nodded, her gaze fixed on the trunk of the oak tree. “The sixth bullet point. Which, between you and me, means she’s trying to have a baby. It could be a girl or a boy this first time around. But whatever it is will necessitate a specific gender where bullet point number seven is concerned. Because she’s supposed to have one of each, you know, according to her life plan.”

  “A life plan? Really?”

  “Uh-huh. And Kate believes the things on her list are the same ones everyone else is supposed to want. You know…get married, work for a few years, develop a few hobbies, have a child, and so on and so on. It’s why she’s having a little difficulty accepting the fact that my life has taken a very different path. And while sometimes I think she gets it—at least in a grudging way—there are other times where I actually feel as if I’ve disappointed her.”

  “By not getting married?” he asked. “Come on, I can’t believe that’s true. Besides, there’s still plenty of time for you to hit a few bullet points of your own. Lots of women these days wait to get married into their early thirties and beyond. Sally and I just did it a little early. More like Kate and Joe.” He silently cursed the way his tone softened at the mention of his late wife, afraid that Emily would jump on the same apology bandwagon his friends rode and pull him from the place he was at that moment....

  With Emily.

  “I guess that’s it. But as I try to tell her all the time, sometimes plans change. And that doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, right?”

  Silence enveloped them as they slipped into their own thoughts—his about the events he hadn’t anticipated when he’d met and married Sally, and hers about things he could only guess at.

  “Come and get it before it’s gone!” Joe bellowed from the grill. “Got plenty of burgers and hot dogs for everyone. But if you snooze, be prepared to lose, folks.”

  Despite the answering rumble of his stomach, Mark found himself wishing for another moment or two alone with Emily. There was something about her quiet confidence that made him feel alive—a feeling that had been sporadic at best since Sally’s diagnosis, illness and subsequent funeral. Maybe part of it was simply having the chance to talk about something other than his wife’s death and how Seth was coping—subjects few of his friends seemed capable of deviating from these days. More than that, though, was the growing attraction Mark felt for the woman seated by his side. Stealing a glance in her direction, he searched for a way to put a smile back on her face. “Hey, what do you say we grab something to eat and have a rematch? And this time I’ll actually try.”

  Her eyes crackled to life. “Are you implying I only beat you because you weren’t trying?”

  “I’m not implying that, I’m saying that,” he teased.

  “Oh, okay. But just so you know, you might want to go easy on the trash talk, mister. Because if you don’t, you may find yourself eating way more than one of Joe’s famous burgers by the time we’re done.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so,” she quipped.

  Sure enough, two hamburgers, one corn on the cob, a hearty helping of potato salad and three losses later, he collapsed onto the same Adirondack chair he’d sat on earlier. Only this time, instead of stealing glances at Emily and hesitating over which way the conversation should go, he was interacting with her as if they’d known each other for years. She laughed at his corny jokes, teased him about his less-than-stellar horseshoe skills and smiled at him as if she was every bit as aware of the sparks flying between them as he was. And it felt good. Undeniably good.

  All too soon, however, dusk gave way to darkness and Mark found himself reluctantly conceding that it was time to call it a night. His hand found the small of her back as they made their way around the side of the house and headed toward her car. “Emily, I had a really great time tonight. I can’t tell you the last time I did something like this. Except, of course, the other night.”

  Her feet slowed as they approached the Jeep. “You were at a barbecue the other night?”

  “No, I was at Sam’s. With you.” A nearby streetlamp cast an alluring glow across her face, and he swallowed.

  “Then I don’t get it. Did something like what?”

  He looked to the sky, taking in the crystal-clear view of the stars above. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself simply to breathe, without traveling down the familiar road of should-haves and could-haves where the past eighteen months were concerned. When he was ready, he allowed himself to look at her again, noting the way her skirt clung to her ass in a sweet yet flirty kind of way, and how the tops of her breasts peeked out along the upper edge of her halter top.

  “Like have fun. Like laugh. Like…live.”

  Reaching out, he traced the side of her face with his fingertips, drawing her in for a kiss that had his heart accelerating in a way no pickup game of basketball ever could.

  Chapter Seven

  If it weren’t for an approaching car, Emily could have stayed in Mark’s arms all night, tasting his lips, marveling at the sensation of their mingling tongues and feeling the heat of his growing excitement against her body. She disengaged herself far slower than circumstances called for, resulting in some rubbernecking from the teenage occupants inside.

  She stepped back, swiping at her lips in an unexpected burst of shyness that brought a crinkling to the skin around Mark’s eyes. “I—I…wow. I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, once the car had passed.

  “Say you don’t want to call it quits for the night yet. Say we can hang out a little longer. Say I don’t have to stop kissing you for at least another couple of hours.”

  Lifting her wrist into the glow of the streetlamp, she took note of the time, her heart sinking at the late hour. “But it’s already eleven o’clock and—”

  “It’s a Friday, remember?”

  She paused. Mark was right. There was no pressing need to get home, other than to take her medication. And that could wait another couple of hours if necessary. In fact, the notion of not allowing her condition to impact her evening in any way was very appealing.

  “So what do you suggest?” she finally asked, the resulting smile on his face warming her from head to toe.

  “I don’t know. But I’ll think of something.”

  She savored the feel of his hands on her hips as he leaned against the car and pulled her close, the look in his eyes as he stroked her cheek threatening to render her speechless if she didn’t think fast. “What about a little preview of what you missed the other morning?”

  “What I missed?” he asked absentmindedly, as his hand moved to her hair and then her neck.

  “The back entrance to my office opens to a room two stories tall. The climbing walls I have in there aren’t quite the same as scaling t
he side of a mountain, but they’re perfect for someone wanting to learn. If you’re interested, that is.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Sure. It’ll be fun.” She disengaged herself from his arms and pointed her key at the car, the quick chirp-chirp of the locks accompanied by a flash of the headlights. “I’ve got a pair of shorts and a T-shirt I can change into at my office. Then we’re good to go.”

  He stopped en route to the passenger side and made a T with his hands. “Whoa. But I like the outfit you’re wearing now.”

  “I can’t rock climb in a skirt, Mark.”

  “Darn.”

  She laughed. “I can put it back on when we’re done. Though why it’ll matter at midnight or later is beyond me.”

  “Because you look spectacular, that’s why.”

  She slid behind the steering wheel and put the key in the ignition, the purr of the engine, coupled with the intensity in Mark’s eyes, making her more than a little nervous. She’d gone rock climbing hundreds of times. She’d taught men of all shapes and sizes how to do the same on the very wall they’d be scaling in under twenty minutes. Yet in that moment, she would have second-guessed her ability to teach someone their ABC’s, let alone how to climb a two-story wall, with her heart thudding in her chest the way it was.

  And she knew why.

  For as much as she bemoaned Kate’s life plan, Emily wasn’t much different herself. She might not have made an actual bullet-point list designed to take her from college to her death bed, with a nod to every major milestone in between, but she did like to be prepared.

  It was why, she always suspected, she liked the kind of activities she’d built her life around. To kayak, she needed to be prepared—with a paddle and a life jacket. To take a survival trip through the woods, she needed to be prepared—with things like flint and a knife. To rock climb, she needed to be prepared—with rope, a harness and connectors. To scuba dive, she needed to be prepared—with a diving helmet and suit, weights, a regulator and a tank.

  And when the doctor had walked into her hospital room six months earlier and uttered the words multiple sclerosis, she’d begun the mental preparation necessary to abandon all hope for her fifth and final childhood dream—of becoming a wife and mother. She’d prepared herself for living alone. For finding things that would fulfill a life shared by no one.

  But Mark Reynolds, and the way he looked at her as if she was someone special, was throwing a monkey wrench in those plans.

  “You do know that, right?”

  She peered at him across the center console and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mark. I think I may have missed what you just said.”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. But I zoned out there for a minute.” She slid the gearshift to Drive and pulled the car from the curb, the motion a welcome reprieve from the thoughts she was having at that moment. “So what is it I’m supposed to know?”

  “That you look spectacular.”

  And just like that, the thoughts were back. Mark Reynolds hit every single one of the must-haves she’d set for a mate. He was smart, funny, motivated, outdoorsy—all of it. He was, essentially, a no-brainer, as Kate was fond of saying about all sorts of things in life. But the problem wasn’t him. Or even the notion of him. It was Emily.

  Sure, she wanted to believe there was hope that someone would love her despite her condition. But the recurring nightmare she had three or four times a week said otherwise. It didn’t matter how supportive her faceless prince tried to be, because the part that woke her in a cold sweat was having her prince slowly giving up his own wants and needs to be her caretaker.

  “I’m guessing by your silence that you don’t know that. So let me be the one to tell you that you do. And as I always tell Seth, I’m a pretty smart guy when it comes to the easy stuff in life.”

  She had to laugh. “Isn’t everyone smart when it comes to the easy stuff?”

  “You don’t get out much, do you?” Mark quipped. “Then again, who am I to make a statement like that? I never get out.”

  His comment hit her like a slap to the side of the head. Tonight wasn’t about looking inward. It was about having fun.

  Mark needed that.

  And so, too, did she.

  Pulling her office keys from her purse, she climbed out of the Jeep and gestured for Mark to follow. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  When they reached the main door of the barn, she unlocked it and stepped inside, the motion-sensor light she’d mounted in the hallway switching on instantaneously. “Why don’t you head downstairs, and I’ll join you as soon as I get changed.”

  “Don’t take too long, okay?”

  “I won’t.” And she didn’t. Less than five minutes later she was standing with him at the base of the climbing wall, with a harness for each of them. Dropping one to the ground, she helped Mark into his and connected it to his rope. “Take your time. This wall here—” she touched the one directly in front of them “—is the beginner wall. Your hand- and footholds are closer together on it. Once you’ve mastered this section, you can move on to the intermediate wall, where the hand- and footholds are farther apart and the climb is a bit more challenging.”

  “What about that wall?” Mark asked, pointing to the far side of the room.

  “That’s the expert wall. We’ll save that for another day.”

  Mark snorted. “Or maybe another year.”

  She secured herself into her own harness and hooked herself in as Mark’s belay. “No, another day. You’ll get this, if you try. The folks who don’t are the ones who let fear slow them down. Then the doubts take over and knock them the rest of the way out. I see it all the time. But if you think about it, climbing a wall or scaling the side of a mountain is really no different than wanting to write a novel or become a world champion chess player. You just have to check your hang-ups at the door and do what needs to be done to make it happen.

  “As for what you need to do here, keep your body close to the wall. People tend to think their knees should be pointed inward, but if you turn them out a little bit, you’ll be much more successful.”

  When she was done sharing a few more true tips, she motioned toward the wall. “Now it’s time for you to give it a go. I’ll be your belay a few times, then I’ll hook you up to one of the electronic ones.”

  * * *

  HOLD BY HOLD, Mark moved higher, Emily’s advice about turning his knees outward helping immeasurably. His first trip up the wall was about trial and error, his second time solely about improvement. But by the third trip, he’d discovered that the best way to move was to do it in two parts—first his limbs, then his weight. Employing that technique again and again ensured this was his most skillful effort yet.

  He glanced down over his shoulder as he hit the bell at the top of the wall, Emily’s enthusiastic praise bringing an even bigger smile to his face. “Think I’m ready to move on to the next wall?” he called down.

  “Absolutely. But you need to know that the chance of falling increases as the holds decrease in number.” When he reached the bottom, she unhooked him from the rope and led him over to the intermediate wall, where she proceeded to hook him in once again. “Now, if you feel yourself start to slip, you need to push away from the wall right away. If you keep your feet out in front of you as the rope comes tight, you can brace yourself and keep from hitting the wall as you swing inward. Okay?”

  “Feet out, push away…got it.” He moved tow
ard the wall, only to stop as he reached the base. “Is this your favorite?”

  She shook her head and pointed to the wall behind them. “I like the expert wall best.”

  Now that he knew a bit more about the sport, he took a closer look, finding the distance between each hold far more impressive than he’d first realized. “Actually, I was asking more about rock climbing as opposed to the other sports you do. Is it your favorite?”

  Her eyes widened with an excitement he envied, and he found himself hanging on her every word, her enthusiasm for exploration and life in general transforming her already beautiful face into something truly captivating.

  “Wow. That’s a tough one to answer. I like climbing because of the challenge. Being out on a real mountain, it’s almost like a puzzle. You have to figure out the best hold to get you to the next level.” She wandered across the room and took a seat on the bottom step of a narrow riser. “Rafting is exhilarating. One minute everything is calm and peaceful and you’re paddling along a river, and then all hell breaks loose and you’re forced to think and act fast. I love that part.”

  He unhooked his rope and sat down, too. “What about horseback riding?”

  “That’s one of those things I enjoy doing when I need time to think. I guess I find the cadence of the horse like a lullaby of sorts.”

  “What about when you’re jumping over a fallen tree or a rock? Doesn’t that kind of mess with the lullaby?”

  She leaned against the upper step and closed her eyes. “Mess with? No, not really. Alter? Yeah, a little. You know how sometimes an exhausting activity can clear your mind of things that seemed such a big deal before you started? Well, working a horse hard does that for me. And the slow, wandering part gives me a chance to catch my breath and come up with a solution.”