There had to be another way. “Riley, it’s very noble of you to offer. But—”
“I’m hungry, Mom. When’s dinner gonna be ready?” Kimmie climbed up onto a bar stool on the other side of the island next to Riley. This was a completely different child from the one who had had a tummy problem just a while ago.
How could Abby disappoint her when this man was offering to give up far more time than she’d paid for? He’d make her little girl’s dream a reality. But would that give Kimmie the message that she needed a man to make all her dreams come true? Or was Abby over-intellectualizing the situation?
“Mommy? Can Riley stay for dinner?” Kimmie turned puppy dog eyes on her.
Abby hated puppy dog eyes. “He might have other plans.”
“Do you?” the little girl asked, looking up at him.
He shook his head. “I’m free for the evening.”
“Mommy makes really good toasted cheese sandwiches. Sometimes she puts bacon on them. One time she put strings on—”
“Alfalfa sprouts,” Abby clarified.
“Right. ’Falfa spouts,” Kimmie said. “That wasn’t so good. But mostly I really like ‘em. Do you like toasted cheese sandwiches?”
“My favorite,” he answered.
If she refused to feed him she’d look like the Wicked Witch of the West. Especially after he’d bailed her out with her car. Abby knew when she was between a rock and a hard place.
She looked at the tall, hunky, ex-military type and tried to put the right amount of welcome into her voice. Too little would sound ungrateful. Too much would tell him how much she hoped he’d say yes. Neither was an option.
“You’re welcome to stay,” she said.
“I’d like that a lot.”
“Ya-ay.” Kimmie clapped her hands.
“Then I can give you a ride to the meeting,” he said.
Transportation was the least of her concerns when she had a man like Riley Dixon within spitting distance and staying for a meal. But apparently she’d need to learn to live with those concerns because he was going to be around a lot. There was no way she would turn him away and risk erasing the happy expression from Kimmie’s face. No way.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “And we can map out a plan of attack for our training.”
“Plans are good,” he agreed.
Yes, she thought. And her plan didn’t include letting him too close to her heart. But maybe she was overreacting. He hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her, at least nothing of a personal nature. One could only make a mistake if one had someone like him to make a mistake with.
So she had nothing to worry about.
Riley stacked the outdoor gear he’d brought in a corner of Abby’s family room. “We’ll deal with that later.”
“Can’t we play with it now?” Abby asked.
Riley studied her—the sparkling eyes and barely suppressed grin. He knew she was holding it back because her dimples were deeper than usual. She was messing with him. Oddly enough, he didn’t mind.
“That’s something Kimmie would ask,” he said.
“Busted.”
Her smile broke free and dazzled him, nearly dropping him to his knees. The sooner he got this mission under way, the sooner it would be over and he could draw a deep breath.
“Where’s Kim?” he asked.
“Putting on her sneakers.”
“Are they the ones she’s going to wear on the campout?” He met her narrow-eyed gaze and added, “So we don’t have a repeat blister incident, she needs to break in the same ones she’s going to use. New shoes are a bad idea.”
“They’re new now, but won’t be by the time we go camping.”
“Good. We’re going to the park two blocks over. It has a quarter-mile track. This is a step-by-step process and playing with the camping equipment is way down the list. The first priority is getting into shape for the hike. Today, I’m going to see how much work we have to do.”
“A lot,” she informed him.
You wouldn’t know it to look at her. She was slender and curvy in all the right places. Her shape looked perfect to him.
“I’ll evaluate your fitness level, and every week we’ll escalate the training program accordingly. First we’ll see how many times you can make it around the track. Then every day we’ll add a little more distance.”
“Every day?”
He nodded. “You have to get your muscles accustomed to the activity, then challenge your body some more.”
“We’re not talking about running marathons, are we?” she asked, resting her hands on the hips he’d just admired.
“No.”
“Okay. Kimmie’s been walking since she was ten months old and I’ve been doing it—longer. I think we can handle this on our own. We don’t want to tie up too much of your time.”
He folded his arms over his chest as he studied her face and the slight pucker in her forehead that said she was concerned. Did she want to get rid of him? His gut told him that was an affirmative. But he’d bet his Distinguished Service Cross it wasn’t because she disliked him. Not the way she was acting a few minutes ago, teasing and smiling. She’d forgotten to be wary and was having fun.
Nope. She liked him, but she didn’t like that she liked him. Because he was the good-looking macho type. He still couldn’t decide whether or not to be flattered and decided not would be best. Ignoring the information would be even better. Forgetting altogether was an uphill battle.
Kimmie’s running footsteps were loud on the stairs. “Riley!”
“Hey,” he said, unable to keep from smiling at her bright face.
“I’m ready. This time, I have the right shoes.”
“I see that,” he said, studying her sturdy, white athletic shoes. No pink anywhere.
“I made a command decision about shorts,” Abby said. “It’s warm outside. We’re willing to take a chance that any rogue bushes, brambles and shrubs won’t do much damage to our legs here in civilization.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Just a little,” she said. “It’s pretty hard to resist.”
No one would accuse him of being an expert on social behavior, but he was pretty sure you didn’t tease someone you disliked. The thought pleased him. “You’ve passed inspection. Attire approved for the mission,” he said, trying to keep it light.
Not easy when his throat closed and his voice turned gruff. Until Abby mentioned legs, he’d been able to direct his attention away from hers. Now that was all he could think about. She had great legs. The part not covered by material was tanned and shapely. He could just see the spot where her hip started to curve and the glimpse made him ache for more. She was right about it being warm, but in his case the heat was all about looking at her.
“Let’s roll,” he finally said.
“Okay. I’ve got the picnic basket packed as ordered.” She grabbed it from the island. “And permission to speak freely, sir.”
He barely held back a grin. “And what if I say no?”
“I have to ask anyway.”
“Permission granted.”
“Why was I ordered not only to pack lunch, but to put it in this basket?”
“A good soldier never questions orders.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a finger pressed to her soft lips. It was the second time he’d done that and he liked it even more. Ignoring the shaft of heat that shot through him, he continued, “I know you’re not a soldier. But I’m still in the command position. It’s not necessary for me to explain orders, but it is necessary for you to follow them. However, in this case I’ll make an exception and explain. The basket is a visual aid to demonstrate bulk and why big cereal boxes are incompatible with backpacking and survival necessities.”
“Understood, sir.” She looked at her daughter. “Are you ready to go, kidlet?”
“Ready.” She looked at Riley. “I’ll carry the basket. I’ll show you I can take my cereal.”
“Yo
ur call,” he told her.
They headed down the street with the little girl huffing, puffing and moving the basket from one hand to the other. He wanted to reach out and take it from her but figured that would defeat the purpose of the exercise.
Half a block from the house, Kimmie stopped and the stubborn expression on her face reminded him of her mother. The little girl set the basket down. “I can’t carry this any more.”
“I’ll get it,” Abby said, grabbing the handle.
Without the bulk, Kimmie hurried ahead. He and Abby followed more slowly, with her hefting the basket’s bulk.
“You may or may not believe this, but it goes against the grain to let you lug that.” His palms itched to take it from her. “My dad taught me guys should carry stuff for girls.”
“Then why aren’t you?” she said, obviously short of breath from the exertion.
“I’m making an example of you. It’s a technique used in military training.”
“Why did you decide to go into the service? Did you not want to go to college?”
“Actually I had a scholarship—athletic and academic—to Texas A&M.”
“Then why didn’t you go?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched Kimmie jump onto the park track. “I got in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise.
“I beat up a guy.”
“Why?”
He glanced at her. “I caught him with my sister, trying to push her into something she wasn’t ready for. He was eighteen, and she was barely in her teens. He was my friend. I brought him over to the house.”
“So you protected Nora?” When he nodded, she said, “Then I don’t understand how that adds up to trouble.”
“His folks were prominent in the community and they threatened legal action. After arbitration and negotiation, it seemed best for me to leave town and join the army.”
“Oh, Riley, that seems so unfair,” she said.
He shrugged. “It worked out for the best. I liked the military.”
“But your education,” she said, her expression showing her distress for him.
No, not him. An educator’s concern for a student’s lost opportunity. “I went to college in the army. There are programs. I got a master’s in business.”
“I’m glad. But it still seems unfair. Essentially, they punished you for doing the right thing.”
It had been his first lesson in how going above and beyond the call of duty could blow up in your face. But once hadn’t been enough. He’d gotten a refresher course with Barb.
They finally reached the park, and he stopped by the picnic benches under the trees. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you life isn’t always fair?”
“Yes.” She set the picnic basket down, then flexed her fingers. “But—”
“We’re going to walk around the track and work on endurance,” he interrupted, not wanting to rehash the past.
“I better intercept Kimmie. If she gets to the swings, you can forget about doing laps.”
After she caught up with her daughter, Riley picked a starting point and set a slow but steady pace. Kimmie made it halfway around the track before her attention wandered and she slowed to pick up rocks, leaves and twigs. On the second lap, she decided to walk backward, do cartwheels and skip.
When they started a third, she said, “I’m tired.”
He decided to explain pacing herself another time. “If you push yourself a little bit farther now,” he said, “next time you won’t get tired as soon.”
“Maybe we should take a rest,” Abby suggested.
“If your survival depended on it, would you take a rest?”
“Under certain circumstances. Isn’t it advantageous to preserve one’s strength?” she asked.
“Sometimes. But here’s the thing. There have been stories on the news lately about accidents in remote areas. Cars going off the road in desolate places. It can happen, and survival depends on skill and knowledge.”
“I’ve heard.” She looked at her daughter, who was dragging herself along as if she were on her last legs. “So you’re saying The Bluebonnets is more than the social lark I thought when she joined?”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. But, yeah. Kimmie might have done it because of her friend. But now that she’s involved, there are practical reasons for learning these skills. Knowledge builds self-confidence.”
“You have enough to build a skyscraper with nothing but toothpicks and chewing gum,” Abby said, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up at him.
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. Out loud. “Very funny.”
Instead of agreeing, she looked startled. “Wow.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you do that before.”
“What?” he asked again.
“Laugh.” She studied him. “There have been a few smiles and a couple of grins, but no laughter. You should do it more often. Looks good on you.”
Was laughter so rare for him? Maybe. Riley wasn’t sure. But he realized that being around Abby made the impulse natural. She was quick-witted, funny and pretty as a picture with her pink cheeks and strands of brown silky hair fluttering around her face. And always those dimples lying in wait to ambush him.
“I’m too tired,” Kimmie said, stopping in front of him.
Riley was grateful for the interruption. That particular train of thought was like walking through a minefield. “We just have a little bit more to go.”
“I can’t walk any more.” The little girl bent at the waist and let her upper body go limp, then swung her arms from side to side.
He looked down at her. “What have we here? Rebellion in the ranks?”
“Sounds more like whining to me,” Abby commented.
He glanced at her, then down at her daughter. “Listen up. There’s no whining in basic training.”
“But—”
He held up a finger, and the child huffed out a breath before turning away. “We’re going to finish a mile.”
She stomped ahead, proving she still had some juice left. When she got close to the starting point that marked a mile around the track, she started to run. One minute she was fine, the next she’d gone down in the dirt.
“Kimmie,” Abby said, running toward the little girl.
Riley kicked it into high gear, too, and with his long stride, he reached the little girl just moments before her mother. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.
She nodded even as she cradled her leg. “Mommy, I hurt myself.”
“Yeah, sweetie, I see that.”
He could see, too. It was a pretty good scrape. Blood started oozing, then mixed with dirt and pebbles. It must sting like a son of a gun. Surprisingly, the child, so dramatic about being tired just moments before, was doing her darnedest not to let go of the tears that were gathered in her eyes.
“I think basic training is over for today,” he said.
“But I didn’t go over the finish line,” she pointed out, sniffling. “And I’m not cryin’.”
Close, he thought. But there were no actual tears, and he knew it hurt.
He was proud of her. “How about we go back to the house and have a lesson in wound care. If The Bluebonnets don’t have a first aid badge, they should. It’s important to know how to properly take care of scrapes so they don’t get infected. Nothing can derail a mission faster than infections.”
“Riley’s right, Kim. Taking care of your injury doesn’t mean you’re a quitter.”
He lifted the child in his arms. “Definitely not.”
One of the reasons he’d decided to complete the mission was because he didn’t want this little girl to embrace her father’s example of giving up and walking away. Watching her stoic effort to hold herself together showed him she was a miniature Abby—gutsy and strong. Like mother, like daughter.
He wasn’t a quitter, but you couldn’t quit what you never started. And th
at was his goal. To not start something he had no intention of finishing with Abby Walsh. He’d committed to this assignment and he would go the distance. But even he had to admit, in all his years as a soldier, he’d never undertaken a mission quite like Operation Backpack Barbie and her single mom.
If he was going to complete this one without an emotional ambush, he needed to focus on the finish line and keep his guard up.
Chapter Five
“Bring her in here,” Abby said, leading the way to the family room. “Just put her on the sofa. I’ll get stuff to clean and disinfect her knee.”
“Can I have a Band-Aid?” Kimmie asked as Riley followed directions and gently set her down.
The words stopped Abby on her way out of the room and she smiled. Kimmie loved Band-Aids and frequently her request was vetoed when she wanted one for a boo-boo invisible to the naked eye. “Of course you can have a Band-Aid.”
Riley met her gaze and, surprisingly, there was a twinkle in his eyes. Imagine that. “In the army,” he said, “it’s regulation to cover a wound to keep out dirt.”
Smiling, Abby went into the downstairs bathroom where she kept the supplies, but she could hear muffled voices from the other room. Apparently his monosyllabic tendencies didn’t extend to children. The man was a complete enigma. First, he categorically had refused to do what he had volunteered to do; then he had done a complete about-face and taken them camping. It wasn’t his fault the trip had been a dismal failure. He was in the clear. But instead of retreating, he had had another change of heart and decided to put in more time than originally donated so Kimmie could earn her badges. Abby just didn’t get him.
She hurried back to the family room. When Riley moved and gave her the space to do the honors, Kimmie pulled her knee back. “I want Riley to fix my boo-boo. I want him to show me how he did it in the army.”
“You don’t have to,” Abby said to him.
“I don’t mind.” He rubbed his neck and met her gaze. “I’m lying. I do mind. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done my share of first aid, but usually the limb in question was a lot bigger and—”
That Touch of Pink Page 6