The Daddy issue

by Melissa Beck

  Dreaming up feelings for him was crazy. She could be swallowed up by such nonsense and then unceremoniously spit back out, the way she'd been with David the Rat. Like her mother was with her father and the others that followed. No. She hadn't seen anything in that moment. Had to have been a dazzle of sunshine in her eyes, and not something dazzling about Daniel.

  Daniel wandered back inside with Joel and Amy, and found Gretchen pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven. The house smelled like baking, like warm sweets. Gretchen looked warm and sweet, and deliciously cute, yelping and dancing when the heat began radiating through her baking mitt.

  Joel snatched up a potholder and charged over to her. Whipping the hot pan out of her hand, he set it on top of the stove.

  "Thanks,” she said, pulling off the mitt.

  "Burn yourself?” Daniel asked.

  "No. But my attempt to look like a confident cook just went up in flames."

  He snorted good-humoredly.

  Hovering over the brownie pan as if he were a judge in a bake-off, Joel announced, “I should get back to the bakery."

  "Okay.” She nodded toward the back of the house. “Thanks again for fixing the gutter."

  "No problem. See you tomorrow?"

  "Sure."

  Joel held her gaze until she seemed to grow uncomfortable, and glanced away.

  Geez, couldn't the guy take a hint? She'd asked him earlier if he was leaving, and then had allowed him to stall with Amy.

  Taking matters into his own hands, Daniel went to open the door for the baker.

  Joel sent him a pointed look as he turned from Gretchen and headed his way, and after a less pointed, “See ya,” he left.

  Amy flitted to the door. “I'm going to my garden."

  "Okay.” Gretchen pointed at her feet. “Tie your shoe first."

  Daniel moved back to stand awkwardly on the other side of the counter from Gretchen. Now that they were alone, he wasn't sure what to do. The gulf between them stretched pretty wide, it seemed, and he wasn't sure why. She didn't want him here. Couldn't she see he was harmless? She had Amy, and she had parenting knowledge. He had nothing but a little part of his heart to give the girl.

  Gretchen glanced up from sealing the brownie pan with foil. “Better get that T-shirt off. There's dirt on it, too."

  He looked down at his chest, swiped at a scrape of dirt, and then began pulling off his T-shirt.

  Gretchen watched, appreciating the flexing of those muscles, amazed at the contrast of stark white undershirt against tanned skin and sparse black chest hair. Then suddenly he was standing there naked from the waist up and looking so good, her mouth went dry.

  He handed her the shirt and their gazes met and held, before she turned away. “Uh, I'll be right back.” Hoping he hadn't noticed how her hands shook when she took the shirt from him, she hurried to the laundry room. When she'd sprayed the mud with a soil remover, she popped it in with the load of lights still churning. Then she sped off to her bedroom to scrounge around in drawers until she found a T-shirt that might fit him. Returning to the kitchen, she offered it to him.

  "It's pink.” He held it out in one hand, angling a distrustful look in its direction.

  "Is that a blow to your male ego?"

  "No.” He pulled it over his head and tugged it down over his solid-looking chest and taut abs. “I'm not so sure I like what it says, though."

  "The Cincinnati Ballet?"

  He shook his head, and pointed at the large scrolled letters below the company's name. “The Nutcracker."

  She laughed. “I didn't think about that."

  "Sure you didn't."

  They stared teasingly at each other a moment, and she basked in the warmth of his rich brown eyes, remembering how he'd looked with Amy, out there on the swing.

  "I should start dinner,” she murmured, and turned toward the refrigerator.

  She'd thought he'd retreat to the living room while she worked. Instead he stayed at the counter, elbows propped, while she got out the chicken and spices and tied on her apron.

  Daniel couldn't take his eyes off her. She'd looked good earlier in the blue wide-neck top that revealed her delicate collarbone, and black slacks that hugged her slim hips and rounded bottom. But once she popped that granny apron over her head, he knew he was in trouble. Its ruffles clung to the curves of her breasts, accentuating them. If that wasn't bad enough, she'd tied it snuggly at her small waist, which only made her seem that much more feminine and delicate. She didn't need to bother with dinner. She was edible enough herself. His body infused with heat. “What are you making?” he managed, in a gravelly tone.

  "Nothing fancy. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans."

  "Sounds great,” he said, fishing for an invitation. He had to. She'd said earlier that she didn't trust him, and he had to have her trust before she'd let him get any closer to a relationship with Amy. Besides, when was the last time he'd had a home-cooked meal? In the next instant, he told himself to cut the excuses. Right now, he wanted to stay because of Gretchen. Her willfulness intrigued him. Her rare smiles enticed him. Her body reminded him of sex.

  She looked up from the beans she was snapping into a bowl. A curve of chestnut hair loosened and fell forward. She tried to shove it in place with the back of her hand a few times, but it stubbornly refused to stay.

  He leaned across the counter separating them and reached to tuck it behind the curve of her ear. When he did, he felt her skin beneath his fingers, warm and soft in that hidden place between ear and hairline. He should have pulled his hand away. Instead he lingered, rubbing the pads of his fingers lightly, rhythmically, against her skin. He gazed into her eyes to see if she was receptive. “You have nice hair,” he murmured. “Soft. Like your skin."

  She met his gaze. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted.

  Blood pulsed through him. He could kiss her and she wouldn't resist. Then something else flickered in her expression, something that should have doused the fire in him. Fear. She was scared again. What was that all about? He didn't want that. He meant to make things less awkward between them, not worse.

  But he couldn't stop touching her, or drinking her in with his gaze. He wanted to feel her softness, pull her against him and see how she fit. He heard her breathe, lightly, and he swallowed and it seemed loud inside his head. Behind her, the stove's built-in clock ticked and ticked and seemed to signal that this must end. But his blood pumped fast again, its urgency overpowering the clock's warning.

  He dropped his hand away then, but still held her gaze. Quickly, he rounded the edge of the counter, not wanting to make it a big noticeable thing so she wouldn't object. When his hip grazed her apron and he felt her body behind it, solid, he stopped. She'd turned toward him. That was a good sign.

  He reached out, took her elbows in his hands, and started moving her into his arms. She didn't resist. She came to him. She looked a little pale, a little confused, maybe. But she went with the flow. Maybe she felt the same thing, that inevitable heat shooting through him. And if she did, they were about to—

  Bang! went the door.

  They both jumped.

  Daniel turned to see Amy standing there, clutching her stick.

  "Hi,” he managed, in a gravelly voice as he dropped his hands back to his sides. “Finish digging your seeds back up?"

  Gretchen had taken a step away from him the minute he released her. Now she said, “Oh, Amy! Did you really dig them all up?” She crossed her arms in a move that seemed to shut him out again. “You know they can't grow if you don't leave them alone."

  "But I couldn't see if they were growing."

  "Well, you have to give them time.” She looked around, saw the brownie pan and pointed at it. “You wouldn't have brownies if you couldn't wait until they'd cooked and you ate the batter first."

  Amy looked from Daniel to her mother to the pan of brownies. Her eyes shone. “I got ‘em now!” She sprang into the kitchen, headed straight for the pan.


  "Hold on! Let me cut you one.” Gretchen hurried to her side.

  Daniel stood back and watched. They both talked at the same time. They bent their heads close to each other, and Gretchen kissed Amy's muddy cheek. The little girl had pulled some very limp pansy heads out of her pocket, and Gretchen beamed over them and quickly got a bowl out to float them in water.

  Watching them, he felt lucky to be there. He wasn't needed. He'd just somehow managed to worm his way into this little circle that was the two of them, this strange and different, warm and homey circle.

  They all ate a brownie right before dinner. Gretchen had rules, she said, but sometimes she let them break the little ones. Amy had to promise to eat a healthy amount of her dinner, though. Then Gretchen sent her down the hall to wash up. Before she left, Daniel called out, “I'll come back and help you plant more seeds one day, Amy. We'll leave that batch in the ground and see how they grow."

  When she'd gone, Gretchen said, “Please, don't go making promises you can't keep."

  He held up his hands. “I was just making conversation."

  She eyed him.

  "Hey. It's clear you don't trust me,” he said softly as he drew closer, “so why are you really letting me be here?” When he moved, he smelled the distinct odor of her fabric softener melded into the borrowed T-shirt. He liked that little intimacy for some reason, the way he'd liked the broken brownie rule, and the mashed pansies. “Are you sure it's just to see Amy?"

  She didn't answer.

  He wouldn't be scared away. She wasn't glaring at him now, being the Ice Queen that Wally had sworn she'd been to the local guys. “Talk to me."

  "Okay!” Arms folded protectively in front of her again, she looked away. “I'm attracted to you. But I don't want to be. So stay away."

  Like hell. He closed the gap between them. Reaching out, he set his hands on both sides of her waist and pulled her to within a few inches of him.

  She gazed wide-eyed at him now, looking afraid and a little cross.

  He didn't know how to right that, other than to kiss her. To show her he wouldn't hurt her again. Be gentle.

  Her breath brushed his skin, and it made him want to taste her mouth. “There's something about us,” he murmured against her hair.

  "Yes,” she said, after a quick intake of breath. “Something we should stop, now.” She glanced around. “Amy'll be back any second."

  "This'll only take a second. One split-second kiss for old time's sake, and these vibes will be behind us."

  Her increased breathing made his scalp tingle. He could feel her hipbones beneath his fingers as he spread them low on her waist. His lips brushed her temple. “It's been a long time,” he said, with a slow sigh. “I knew you were hot. But I didn't remember that you smelled this good, and felt this good."

  When he drew back, he saw that a little pucker had formed on her forehead. He kissed her there. This time when he pulled back, she'd closed her eyes.

  He brushed his lips over hers. He didn't mean to linger. He meant only a quick sampling. But Gretchen tasted sweet. And she leaned in to him. She seemed vulnerable then, standing barefoot on the old linoleum.

  He pressed his mouth against hers. She returned the pressure, and even made a small noise. Her lips moved as if she was opening to him, and he took the opportunity, plunging his tongue inside her mouth. She moved her hands to his neck, where she kneaded his muscles as her tongue played a rhythm with his.

  Water's being turned off down the hall registered briefly, but then he was kissing Gretchen and she was kissing him and that was all there was in the world.

  Until she broke the kiss and pulled out of his arms.

  She stood there, staring at him, breathing hard.

  He tugged on breaths, too, before reaching out and grabbing her hands. Moving sideways, he pulled her along behind him to the entrance to the hallway, where they could see what the source of her concern was up to. Watching Amy's head bobbing as she crossed the threshold at the other end of the corridor, he said, “She's going into her room."

  Gretchen pulled away from him again. “It's not just that."

  He held her gaze, frowning slightly. “What? What's wrong?"

  "I can't do this. I have Amy to think about and I don't want her best interest clouded by, by this.” She shook her head. “I made a decision to get away from you once, Daniel. I knew in my heart that it was the right choice and I'm not going to screw it up now."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seven

  Crystal swung around on the park bench so fast, she nearly spilled her takeaway cup of steaming cocoa in Gretchen's lap. “Did you say—?"

  "Yes. He's staying at my house."

  Crystal arched her brows. “You two sure have kept that a secret.” Her violet eyes gleamed with speculation. “By the way he looked at you in the café the other day, like you were an ice cream sundae and he wanted dessert, I figured something was going on."

  "Nothing's going on."

  "You leaned toward each other and whispered, too, and then you cut out of there together."

  Gretchen tried to appear calm as she stared off toward Amy and BJ, pulling day-old rolls from their bakery bags at the pond's edge. How could she keep Crystal in the dark? Whenever her best friend suspected anything, she'd pester and pester until she uncovered the truth. Scary thing about that in this case was, it could force Gretchen to face a few facts she'd rather avoid.

  Joel had already quizzed her about Daniel when she'd stopped by the bakery. Darn it, why was everyone so curious about her private life?

  Suddenly she noticed that every duck and goose within a mile radius had flown in for the kids’ giveaway treats.

  A big gray goose descended on Amy, flapping his wings. “HONK!” he squawked.

  "AAAHH!” Amy squealed, eyes wide and frantic.

  Gretchen leapt to her feet at the same instant BJ bellowed “Go!” at the bully goose and tossed a roll that bounced toward the pond.

  The drake and his posse took flight in hot pursuit.

  Glancing guiltily at Crystal, Gretchen sat back down. “Am I a nervous mother, or what?"

  "Well, you don't want her to have waterfowl hang-ups."

  "She's all I've got."

  "Maybe that's about to change, with your new housemate."

  Gretchen groaned inwardly. Here she goes. And she won't let up until you tell her.

  Under Crystal's assessing gaze, she sighed. “Okay. The truth is, Daniel is Amy's father."

  Crystal leaned back, staring. “No way. You would've told me."

  "I haven't told anyone. Why should I?"

  She laughed. “Because you live here and there are no secrets in Marydale."

  "That's why this has to stay a secret, Crystal. Amy doesn't even know."

  "She doesn't?"

  She shook her head, and after admitting she'd given Crystal a sketchy explanation when she'd returned to Marydale, brought her up to date. “I never thought I'd see him again. But he's here now, and he's so good with Amy. Well, he isn't all that sure of himself, but he's trying really hard."

  "Then quit wrinkling your forehead and enjoy!"

  "I can't. I'm so scared he's going to hurt Amy."

  "Why? Has he said anything to make you think he would?"

  "No. And I've warned him there's no way he's taking her.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don't know. It's just a feeling.” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “God, how many times have I wished things hadn't happened so fast with Daniel? What was I thinking?"

  "It's not like you hop into bed with a guy. But with this guy, who wouldn't?"

  "It wasn't just that he was hot. I was in the city alone, and I'd never felt as worthless in my whole life as I did when David stood me up."

  "I thought you were way over him. Dang! I can't believe I've been so blind."

  "It's not about David. It's about how bad I felt after he left. Remember how Mom had come back, and when my wedding fell through,
she left really fast with that bald guy, her fourth husband? I don't know ... I just couldn't deal with stuff on my own then."

  "I was still here. I never go anywhere."

  "But you and Big Bobby were trying to work things out. You had too much on your plate for me to dump more on you."

  "See, that's the thing with you, Gretch. You don't ask for help. I didn't know how bad you felt, or I'd have been over trying to cheer you up."

  "I like to handle things—"

  "Yourself. I know.” She chuckled. “You're stubborn."

  "So I've heard."

  "And if Daniel was able to persuade you to let him move in with you, he must be hardheaded, too. He must really want to hang with Amy, or be around you, or both.” She laughed. “You're perfect for each other."

  Gretchen scowled.

  Crystal stretched her tanned legs out in front of her. “I'll bet Joel isn't happy about this. Did you tell him?"

  "Nope. As far as he knows, we're just acquaintances from Chicago. And I don't care if he isn't happy about it. I keep telling you, Joel and I are just friends."

  Crystal chuckled. “That may be how you see it, but I'm telling you, he really—” She stopped in mid-sentence. “When you say Joel's just a friend, you mean, you guys haven't—?"

  "No, we haven't had sex. It's been five years, since—since Daniel."

  Crystal's mouth hung open. “Man. I just assumed you guys were beyond the middle school stage."

  "Can we just drop this topic?"

  "God, Gretchen! Sometimes you're too private. And here I was pitying me for my divorce and lack of action since then.” She made a whistling noise. “But five years.” She whistled. “That's forever."

  "Yeah. It's five years of not agonizing over someone walking out my door. Five years of not constantly wondering what I did or didn't do that made him want me for a while and then want nothing to do with me ever again."