“Zane...”
He swung his gaze to Alex, warning her mutely not to interfere. This was partly his fault because he’d encouraged the female bonding in the first place. He was glad Eden had a woman she could confide in, but that didn’t mean he’d tolerate having his parental decisions contradicted in front of his only child.
“We should go,” he told Eden gently. She had a right to be upset, and he didn’t expect her to forgive him immediately. He did, however, expect her to respect his authority.
Her bottom lip trembled as she looked to Alex for support.
“Your dad wants what’s best for you,” Alex murmured, dropping her arm over the girl’s shoulder in a sideways hug.
Eden’s only response was a rude noise.
Alex walked them to the door on the pretext of showing them out, but she put her hand on Zane’s arm once they reached the porch. “Can we talk for a second?”
From the hopeful glance Eden cast back, it was clear she hoped her ally would be able to wear him down. He didn’t appreciate the sense that they were ganging up on him. Hadn’t he made his position clear?
“It’s been a long day,” he said gruffly. “I’m exhausted, and I’m lousy company.”
“I’ll keep it brief,” Alex promised.
Already knowing he was going to regret this, he gave her a terse nod. “Eden, go let Dolly out. I’ll be right behind you.” As his daughter crossed into their yard, he tried to dissuade Alex as politely as possible. “You’re a good parent, and I care about you. I hope you know, I value your opinion. But my mind’s made up on this.”
She bit her lip. “What Leo did was obviously wrong, but he’s a kid. Maybe he didn’t set out to lie but just got scared. She’s been talking about him all evening, and I think he could actually be a good influence on her. She’s hoping to ace a math quiz to impress him.”
“I’m sure there are students in that school who are good at math and haven’t lied to the police,” Zane said. “I don’t want to argue with you, Alex. Let it go.” Though his tone was soft, there was no mistaking the steel in his voice. Zane was over six feet tall and carried a Colt .45—he didn’t normally have to ask twice to get someone to back down.
But Alex fumed up at him, her eyes shimmering with anger. “You showed up on my porch not long ago talking about rehabilitation and kids making fresh starts. Has Leo done anything since his one past mistake, or have you indicted him because of a single error in judgment? Do you know anything about his recent conduct, or are you too inflexible to consider he might be a good person?”
Zane blinked. “What are you, his lawyer? Why are you taking this so personally?”
The question seemed to deflate her. “I’m not!”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I just believe every story has two sides.”
“On that, we agree.” He stepped off the porch into the shadows of the yard. “A right side and a wrong one.”
Chapter Eight
Walking through the front doors of the high school always gave Zane the weird sensation of being two people at once—the teenager he’d been when he himself attended class here and the proud, anxious, protective father of a teen he was now. Most of the time, his high school days seemed like a previous lifetime. But being inside the building, walking down the same halls, brought the memories so vividly to life he felt as if he should be getting textbooks out of his locker. At a pivotal time in his life, this building had been his second home.
His daughter, on the other hand, probably viewed it as the foreign land to which she’d been exiled.
Ever since Eden’s mumbled goodbye as he dropped her off this morning, Zane had been battling an irritating grain of guilt that rubbed him raw like a pebble in his shoe. After all, he’d been the one admonishing her to try harder to fit in and make friends and now that she had... Why did it have to be with that Cochran kid?
Pushing aside Eden’s disappointment and the fact that she’d barely acknowledged his existence over breakfast, Zane signed in at the front office visitor log. The vice principal stood behind the counter, waiting for some papers to finish printing. She grinned when she saw him.
“Mr. Winchester, what brings you to see us on a Friday afternoon? Speaking to one of our Texas History classes about the legacy of the Rangers?”
“No, ma’am. Actually I have an appointment with Ms. Peet, the guidance counselor.”
The receptionist glanced up from the folders she was filing. “Ms. Peet had to make an emergency phone call to a parent. Would you mind having a seat and waiting? She’ll buzz me on the intercom when she’s ready.”
“Not a problem.” Except that sitting in one of the office chairs gave him time to replay the comments other officers had made at lunch today. There’d been some debate, but the prevailing opinion was that he’d overreacted last night.
“I get that you’re in a tough spot,” Jason Higgs had empathized. “Eden was running wild in California and you’re trying to lay down the law. If she’d asked to go to a party with the guy, of course you should have said no! But a chaperoned dance? Where you’re one of the chaperones?”
“It wasn’t the ‘where’ I had a problem with, it was the ‘who.’ Can you tell me,” he’d challenged Jason, “that you would let your daughter date someone with Leo’s background? Someone with ties to a criminal, someone willing to lie to law enforcement?”
Jason had squirmed in his chair. It was easier to be the voice of reason when you were talking about someone else’s child.
But Gina Sandusky had interjected, “She won’t always know the guy’s background. You know my sister’s going to college soon. Don’t you hope Eden will go one day, too? Before she’s out there on her own, unprotected, you have to give her a chance to hone her own instincts about which guys she can trust and which are creeps.”
Zane hadn’t thought of it that way.
“Mr. Winchester,” the receptionist called out, “the counselor is ready now. You know where her office is?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ever since Eden had moved here, Zane and the counselor had become regular buddies.
Today’s meeting went more pleasantly than most of their previous ones. Ms. Peet reported that Eden’s quiz scores had improved dramatically—indicating that she was paying better attention in class and actually doing her reading at home—and she had caught up on her assignments. She’d stopped shy of accepting two teachers’ offers of extra credit projects, but she was certainly meeting the mandatory requirements.
“I know this transition hasn’t been easy for you, either,” Ms. Peet told him, “and I don’t want to force you into the role of bad guy, always nagging her. But if you can get her to consider some of this optional extra work, she may be able to counteract her previous transcripts, make herself more attractive to potential colleges. She still has a couple of years to prove herself. If she puts forth a concerted effort...”
He suddenly recalled Alex’s words, that Eden wanted to excel in math to impress Leo. Ask yourself this, Winchester. When you were fifteen, which would have provided more significant motivation—a parent badgering you or the chance to show off for a crush?
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Peet.” He stood. “Can I ask you one last question?”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Do you know Leo Cochran?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I do. But I don’t usually discuss specific students with anyone other than their own guardians.”
“Right. I get that. I’m not asking for confidential information. I just...” He rocked back on his heels, at a loss.
Ms. Peet pursed her lips. “It’s no secret that the head of the math department wants to recruit Leo to represent the school in academic competition next year. And he stays after school sometimes to volunteer as a peer tutor. He’s a good kid.”
The key word there probably wasn’t good so much as kid. For years, Zane had dealt with thugs and kidnappers and drug-runners. Leo Cochran was a teena
ger—sure, one who had erred in judgment and would probably do so again. But he was a potential mathlete, for pity’s sake, not a drug lord. Zane would rather Eden learn about relationships here, under his watch, than by following Valerie’s example of manic serial-dating.
Zane made it back to the front office just as the final bell rang, releasing students for the weekend. He’d told Eden to meet him there after his appointment. Judging from her slumped posture and inaudible greeting, she wasn’t excited to see him.
“I could have taken the bus,” she said. “I’m sure you have criminals to track down.”
“True. But I hardly got to see you yesterday. I thought we could grab a couple of milk shakes.”
She heaved a sigh and he could almost see the cartoon thought bubble over her head—that she wasn’t a little girl anymore—but there was no sarcasm in her tone when she agreed, “Sure.”
“Or it doesn’t have to be shakes. We could, I don’t know, go for sushi,” he improvised wildly. Was there even a place that served it nearby? To him, sushi had always sounded more like bait he’d hook on the end of a fishing pole than something he’d voluntarily eat. “I just think it would be a good idea to order something and sit at a table where we can discuss rules for the dance tonight.”
“You’re saying I can go as long as I stay away from Leo.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Honestly, I’d rather just stay home.”
He smoothed a hand over her hair. “No, sweetheart, I’m saying you can go and this Leo kid better be worth your high opinion of him.”
“What? You changed your mind? You?” She hurtled toward him—presumably for a hug but with enough energy to execute an NFL-worthy tackle. At the last second, she drew up short and glanced around, obviously recalling their surroundings.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “You can hug me later.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” The smile she gave him was so bright it momentarily blinded him. “I won’t let you down.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but, even if you let me down from time to time, I still love you. No matter what.”
Although her smile hadn’t faltered, her gaze had turned watery. Zane was surprised to discover his own eyes stung.
“I think I’ll take that milk shake now,” she said.
“No sushi?” he teased.
Eden chuckled. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“That’s my girl.”
* * *
TESS RAISED HER VOICE to be heard above the loud country music. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you decided to meet me here?”
“Repeatedly,” Alex said, “but it’s nice to feel appreciated.”
“I wish you could’ve met Lorelei, but she’s off on a trail ride this weekend with her hot cowboy.”
Probably a good thing—Alex wasn’t sure how two more people would have fit into this pavilion. Eden’s estimate that “half the town turns out for the closing festivities” had been a conservative understatement. Citizens and tourists of all ages were present, from four-year-old Belle—who had once again donned the rubber duck boots since she didn’t actually own cowgirl boots—to a couple in their eighties dressed in coordinated red-and-white square dancing outfits. On the crowded dance floor, a father had his elementary-school-aged daughter balanced on his feet to show her the steps.
Meanwhile back in our neighborhood, a different father and daughter are probably holed up in their house not speaking to each other.
Alex gave herself a mental shake. She was determined not to think about the Winchesters. Her argument with Zane last night had left her troubled. He’d been so unyielding, so unwilling to forgive that boy’s deception. The more she dwelled on it, the more upset she got. When Tess had called this morning to see if Alex and Belle planned to attend the community dance, Alex had leaped at the invitation. She needed to get out of the house.
Technically, she needed to get out of her own head for a while, but since that wasn’t an option, anesthetizing herself with raucous live music and occasionally swirling around the floor with Belle in her arms was a good substitute. Belle was thrilled to be here. She’d already pointed out several little girls she’d met in yesterday’s dance class.
“Mommy, can we dance some more?”
“Actually, they’re about to stop the music,” Tess said. “They’ll announce festival princess results between sets. Although I don’t know why they bother with junior princess. That’s gone to a Biggins girl since way back when I was in kindergarten with Babs Biggins. Do me a favor, Alex. If you and Belle are around this time next year, could you please enter her? Someone should give the Biggins family a run for their money!”
A few minutes later, the Master of Ceremonies confirmed that this year’s junior princess was Julianna Biggins, prompting Tess to roll her eyes. Then they gave the festival princess crown to a young woman named Beckie Sandusky.
“She’s lucky,” Tess said. “There wasn’t a Biggins in the right age range this year to run against her. Oh, there’s Farrah Winstead. I should say hi. Want to come meet her?”
“Actually, I think Belle and I are going to hit the concessions table. Thanks, anyway.” In the hour that they’d been here, Alex had decided Tess hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she knew everyone in town. Alex had already been introduced to so many people that her brain was spinning with names. It would be a miracle if she ever managed to attach them to the right faces.
Holding her daughter’s hand, Alex led her away from the dance floor and stage, to the comparative peace of the open air. Vendors had started to break down the booths that had dotted the landscape all week, but there were still several groups selling food. She ordered a grilled corn cob even though she suspected she and Belle would end up with butter and paprika all over themselves and a lemon-lime soda for them to share. As she paid for the beverage, she couldn’t help recalling Zane’s jokes the other night, his offer to open the carbonated beverage and let it breathe.
Get a grip. She was an adult, not a moony teenager. Was she really going to associate Zane with everything now—sodas, coffee...pickup trucks, just because he drove one? Maybe jeans, because he looked so good in them?
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Belle was peering up at her with concern. “You look sad.”
“No, punkin. I’m just mad at myself.”
“Did you do something bad?” Belle sounded fascinated by this possibility. “Maybe you need to be in time-out.”
Too bad Alex couldn’t share her daughter’s simplistic view of how the world worked. “You about done with that corn? They’ve started playing music again if you’d like to dance.”
The girl bobbed her head in agreement. “Miss Tess says I am ‘a natural talent.’”
As they neared the pavilion, Alex scooped her daughter into her arms so she wouldn’t lose her in the throng. They jostled their way toward the dance floor, staying on the perimeter rather than wading into the crowd. Alex knew her arms would get too tired to hold Belle for many songs in a row, so she poured all her energy into spinning Belle around as much as possible for this one lively number. The band was winding down for a ballad when Belle’s eyes suddenly rounded in surprise.
“Mommy! It—”
A hand tapped Alex’s shoulder. “Ladies. May I cut in?” Zane asked. He was clean-shaven and looked great in a pair of black jeans and a deep green button-down shirt. “I was hoping Miss Belle would do me the honor of a dance.”
Alex tried to recover from her shock at seeing him here. “Where’s your daughter?”
His lips compressed into a thin line. “Dancing with Leo Cochran, I imagine. After a lot of careful consideration, I decided maybe he isn’t public enemy number one. And if they’re going to be friends, I’d just as soon they get to know each other somewhere I can keep an eye on them.”
“Makes sense.”
He held her gaze. “I do believe in fresh starts, you know. And it seemed hypocritical to want one for my daughter, then act as if no one else
deserves them. What do you say, can Belle and I have that dance?”
“Absolutely.” Alex walked to the sidelines, watching her daughter enjoy Zane’s attention. Should she take hope in the fact that he was willing to give Leo a second chance? If he ever learned the truth about Alex, would he give her a chance to explain? Granted, she was a grown woman, not an intimidated teenager, but there had been extenuating circumstances.
“If I’d known Zane was going to show up looking for dance partners,” Tess announced as she sidled up to Alex, “I would have stayed close to you guys. Your daughter is really aptly named—Belle of the ball, indeed. Some kids turn out to be such a perfect match for what they’re called. Do you think the names they’re given help shape their personalities, or do you think those personalities were evident from the get-go, shaping parents’ choices?”
“I, uh, never gave it much thought. My husband and I used a family name.” Specifically, his aunt Josephine’s.
“Want to know my shameful secret? My name is actually Contessa. Contessa Gretchen Fitzpatrick.” She made a face. “What a horrible thing to do to a defenseless baby. My older sister is Regina, which means ‘queen.’ Our mother wanted royalty. Instead, she got me.”
“Trust me, as shameful secrets go, that one’s not so bad. Contessa’s...unique.”
“Oooh. Don’t look now.” Tess’s voice became hushed, almost reverent. “But I think it’s your turn.”
Alex followed her friend’s gaze and saw Zane headed toward them, carrying Belle piggyback style.
“If he asks you to dance,” Tess coached, “your answer is yes. I’ll watch Belle. I promise not to take my eyes off of her.” She’d heard about the girl’s nerve-racking disappearance at the festival. “And I’ll hold your purse, but you have to extend me the same courtesy if a guy who looks like that ever wants to cut a rug with me.”
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