Читать книгу Playing For Keeps - Karen Templeton - Страница 13

“This means a lot to the kids, you coming to their party like this,” Roger Swann, Joanna’s father, said to him a minute or so later. Dale had duly reintegrated himself into the group, slipping easily into the good-old-boy charm he always used to mask a background that not even years of making obscene amounts of money could disguise.

So over the screams and laughter of more than a dozen little boys racing back and forth in the yard, he smiled at Roger, who looked laid-back enough in a long-sleeved denim shirt and blue jeans probably a size or two bigger around the waist than the man had worn ten years ago. That is, until you took a real good look at the silver-and-turquoise concha on the man’s bolo tie, as well as the no-doubt, custom-made cowboy boots peeking out from underneath the jeans’ hems.

“Thanks. It’s my pleasure.” Dale took another sip of his soda, then said, “You know, it’s just bugging the life out of me, but you look familiar. We haven’t met before or something, have we?”

Roger grinned. “You must’ve seen my last set of commercials.” At Dale’s frown, he said, “Mesa Lincoln-Mercury? Reassures folks, seeing the man behind the dealership. Or so I’m told.” He laughed. “Besides, I’m just a big old ham at heart. Even if it does embarrass the life out of Joanna’s mother.”

Whatever Dale was about to say vaporized when Joanna came back outside, that blond friend of hers in tow, the two of them toting plates and utensils and things.

“That Karleen’s sure a looker, isn’t she?” Roger said.

“What? Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

One bushy gray eyebrow arched speculatively before Roger dropped heavily into a nearby molded plastic chair, waving Dulcy over.

“Hey, baby…come on over here and sit beside your old granddaddy.” After a cautious glance at Dale, she did, whiskey-colored eyes huge behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, her dark brown hair as wild and curly as her mama’s. She was pretty, Dale supposed, in the way of girl children straddling adolescence, her top front teeth still a little too big for a mouth still the natural pink of a child’s. Her smile in answer to Dale’s flickered shyly, but her gaze was wide and clear and questioning.

“So what made you decide to go into retailing after your retirement?”

“A whim,” Dale said mildly, settling into another chair. “Just something I always thought I’d like to try someday.”

“You happy with it?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Heard you had all sorts of offers to coach.”

“I did.”

“But…?”

“Just wasn’t something I could wrap my head around, is all.”

Roger’s intense scrutiny didn’t make Dale near as uncomfortable as the unexpected sympathy he saw there. Just when he thought for sure his skull would pop from the tension, Roger waved his empty glass toward Dale’s soda can. “You ready for another one of those?”

“No, no. I’m good.”

Roger handed his glass to Dulcy. “Would you mind seeing if there’s any more Sprite, honey?”

With a nod, the girl got up and started for the drinks table, only to have her grandfather call her back before she’d gotten very far. Glancing around before slipping a billfold from his back pocket, he removed a bill, quickly folding it up in his hand before slipping it into his granddaughter’s. “Now don’t you dare tell your mother I gave you that or she’ll have my hide.”

“I won’t, Gramps.” Grinning, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.” Then she scurried away, her curls bouncing.

“I take it her mother would disapprove?” Dale said with a grin of his own.

“To put it mildly. Joanna’s got a real bug up her butt about Glynnie and me spoilin’ them. But what’s the point of havin’ grandkids otherwise?” He squinted at Dale, then said, “You’re not from here originally, are you?”

“No, sir. Texas.”

“So’s half of Albuquerque,” Joanna’s father said on a chuckle. “What made you decide to settle here?”

Dale leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I spent a couple of years traveling after I retired. Landed here a few months back, decided to stay. Great weather, nice people, lots of sky…just hadn’t found any place I liked better.”

“No family left back in Texas, then, I take it?”

“No,” Dale said, willing his mind to stay blank on the subject. “Not for a long time.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Joanna’s calling everyone to eat. As he and Roger got up and headed toward the food, Dale watched Joanna gently fussing over the kids, making sure they all took at least more than one thing, telling them she didn’t care if this was a birthday party, there’d be no cake and ice cream if they didn’t eat either some of the salad or some veggies from the dip tray. And no, she told Matt, a single carrot stick did not cut it. The kids all groaned, but they dutifully piled raw vegetables on their plates. Of course, no telling where those vegetables would end up, since Dale sincerely doubted whether many of them would actually find their way into little stomachs. But Joanna looked so damned tickled with herself, Dale could hardly stand it.

And he sure liked seeing her pretty face relieved of some of that worry, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Again he reminded himself that, up until now, nothing cut his libido off at the knees faster than discovering a woman’s other name was Mom. So what the hell was going wrong this time?

He’d known she was a mother before he’d delivered the swing set…and he’d still flirted with her. He’d known she was a mother before her ex-husband and the kids had begged him to come to the party…and he’d still come. And now, even after seeing she was the kind of woman who’d put her kids ahead of everything, and everyone, else, he still couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Or his thoughts from wandering down paths clearly marked Dead End.

“So, Dale…” Roger said, blowing Dale’s thoughts to smithereens as they reached the table. “That your old Maxima out in the drive?”

The kids all tended to, Joanna apparently figured it was safe to leave the adults to their own devices, scooting back inside for whatever reason. Tamping down a quiver of disappointment, Dale forced himself back to the topic at hand, loading up his hamburger bun with three patties, a slice of cheese and plenty of lettuce and tomato. He passed on the onions, though. “It is.”

“Plannin’ on trading her in anytime soon? You know, for something a little flashier, maybe?”

“Hadn’t thought about it, to tell you the truth. Figured as long as she gets me where I need to go, no sense giving up on her just yet.”

“Huh,” Roger said, about to pile a second hamburger on his bun until he caught his wife glaring at him from the other side of the table. With a sigh, he put it back. “Well, you ever decide you’re in the market for a new vehicle, you just let me know. I’ll fix you up with a good deal, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Speaking of the market…are you in it?”

“The stock market, you mean?” He moved on to the potato salad, wondering how he’d managed to get left alone with Joanna’s parents. Where the hell was everybody else? “Some.”

“I don’t know about you,” Roger said, “but our portfolio’s taken quite a few hits this past little while.”

“Yeah,” Dale said. “It’s been rocky, all right.”

Then Glynnie picked up the thread of the conversation. “But with that salary you must’ve been getting, I’m sure you’re sitting pretty, aren’t you? And I hear pro players get very nice pensions.”

What the Sam Hill was all this about? Still, wasn’t like his earnings weren’t a matter of public record. What he did with his money, however, was not.

“That’s true, ma’am. But like your husband said, times’ve been rough this past little while.”

Salad tongs poised over her plate, Joanna’s mother said, “You mean to tell me there’s nothing left?”

A deaf man could’ve heard the shock in her voice. Not to mention the disappointment. And suddenly Dale understood.

Warning, warning—gold digger dead ahead.

“Ma’am?” he said quietly, and with a smile—putting folks in their places generally went down easier, he found, when you were pleasant about it. “I’m not one for discussing my finances with people I know, let alone perfect strangers. So pardon me if I find your questions a bit personal for my taste—”