Читать книгу Second Chance Dad - Pamela Stone - Страница 11

Hanna wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand and grabbed a handful of mystery novels from the cardboard box. Smiling, she arranged them on the shelf she’d just polished. Bluebonnet Books was just what she needed to take her mind off the fiasco her life had become. Books had always been her escape. When Hanna was young, her mother had installed floor-to-ceiling bookcases in Hanna’s bedroom beside the padded window seat where she’d read to her. Books about faraway places and people with exciting lives. The stories had given Hanna a yearning for life outside of small-town Texas.

“I thought you were going to put those in the front display window to draw in folks strolling down the sidewalk. That author’s on the New York Times bestseller list.”

Taking a deep breath, Hanna straightened the books on the shelf, whether they needed straightening or not. “I plan to put some up front, too, Mom. Doesn’t hurt to have a few copies in both places so they’re easy to find.”

“I’m sure you know what’s best,” Mom said. “We also need a display of the latest romances on an end cap. Mrs. Haythorn reads a romance a day. Oh, and Mr. Miller always used to lend those adventure books to Daddy after he’d read them, so make sure they’re at eye level. His knees are bad.”

Toting the box to the front of Bluebonnet Books, Hanna dropped it on the wood floor, which was scarred and aged from years of various businesses that had opened their doors there. Hopefully the bookstore wouldn’t suffer a fate similar to the other shops. She glanced through the large plate-glass window as Darryl and Mary Wortham strolled by arm in arm, as much in love as they had been when Hanna went off to college. How could she have been gone fifteen years and returned to find everything the same? She took a breath and considered the wisdom of going into business with her mother. True, the combined funds helped. She’d never have pulled it off without her mother overseeing the renovation and being in the store to receive shipments while Hanna was still in Dallas battling Richard in divorce court. And it would be good to have two of them to switch off managing the store until they could afford to hire additional help. Plus Norma Creed needed something to keep her busy and out of everyone else’s business.

But after only one week officially back in town, Hanna already doubted the wisdom of spending twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week with her passive-aggressive mother. Not that she didn’t love her mom, but living under her roof again after fifteen years away put Mom smack in the middle of every aspect of Hanna’s life. That wasn’t good in the best of situations, and right now Hanna was still trying to recover from Richard’s heart-breaking betrayal and the bitter divorce.

In a few months, she hoped the store would start turning enough of a profit that she and Ashton could find their own place.

Scooping up a couple of books, she turned as a small red motorized bicycle putted up to the curb—with her son riding behind that girl.

“Ashton!” Her heart leaped into her throat as she dropped the books and raced out of the shop. “What are you doing on that thing?”

He slid off from behind Mackenzie and removed the red helmet, grinning as if he’d just descended from an amusement-park roller coaster. “You don’t have to pick me up anymore, Mom. I got a ride.”

No way! “You are not ever to get on that thing again. You could be killed.”

Mackenzie threw her leg over and stood beside Ashton, removing her own helmet. What was left of her ponytail hung in tangles. “We had on helmets.”

“He did not have permission to get on a motorized bicycle. That thing is small and hard to see and dangerous.”

“I know how to ride it and watch for cars and stop at lights and stuff,” Mackenzie said. “I’m a good driver. I took a class and got all the questions right.”

“Why are you two even out of school?” Hanna checked her watch. Oh my God. She’d been so busy stocking the shelves for next week’s opening she’d forgotten to pick up her son. “Both of you hear this very clearly. I won’t have Ashton riding on that thing. End of subject.”

Ashton stood on the sidewalk shuffling his new white sneakers. “But, Mom.”

“No but Moms. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hanna stepped aside so Dave Barkley, carrying two plastic bags, could pass on the narrow sidewalk. Mrs. Barkley had probably given him a list of groceries to bring home from their corner grocery store. All the men in town gathered each afternoon in the old wooden chairs out front of Dave’s store to shoot the breeze. Hanna returned his nod and waited until he climbed into his truck. “Mackenzie, I don’t know how things work at your house, but we have rules in this family. The first rule is to ask permission before doing new things. The next time you would like Ashton to do something, he has to check with me first or he won’t be allowed to run around with you. If your parents let you risk your life, that’s their business, but Ashton’s safety is my responsibility. Do I need to spell this out?”

The girl set her jaw, took the extra helmet from Ashton and strapped it on the bike’s back bar. “Why don’t you just lock him in his room until he’s, like, eighteen? It’d be about as much fun as you let him have. At least nobody’d pick on him, huh?” She jammed her helmet on her head, straddled the motorized monstrosity and sped away from the curb.

Ashton squared his shoulders and glared. “Now you’ve chased off the only friend I have. You treat me like a baby. You dress me like a wuss. You don’t want me to have any fun, ever! And now tomorrow, when Bully Baer picks on me, Kenzie probably won’t even be on my side. Why do you hate me?” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stomped past his grandmother and into the store.

“Ashton, come back here!”

Norma Creed stood in the doorway of the shop worrying the lace collar on her prim pink blouse and staring after Mackenzie. “You’re wise to restrict Ashton’s association with that wild child. You have to keep him safe.”

“Mom, I fully realize that.” She followed her mother back into the shop. “Where did Ashton go?”

Norma looked around the vacant bookstore. “You don’t think he took off out the back after her, do you?”

Wonderful! Hanna walked through the narrow store, looking each way until she reached the back door into the alley where Ashton was kicking up a cloud of dirt and gravel. “What are you doing?”

“I hate stupid glowing white shoes.” He jabbed his new sneakers in the dirt. “Why couldn’t you buy me blue or gray? I hate it here. I don’t have any friends and it’s all your fault. It’s worse than Dallas,” he accused, spinning around and stirring up dust like a Texas dirt devil.

His unhappiness jabbed through her heart like a rusty knife. “Honey, I want you to have friends, but I have to make sure you don’t get hurt and that bike is dangerous.”

“I don’t care. It’d be better to get hurt than to get made fun of,” he said, looking away.

“Slow down before you start wheezing.” She reached out and touched his shoulder, but he spun farther away. Sandy stains ran down his cheeks where the dust had turned his tears to mud. “Ashton, I love you. I just…”

He turned and raced down the alley. “I’m going home.”

Norma stood silently in the door, wearing her motherly wisdom like a halo, and once again, Hanna felt like the child who had performed below expectations. “Mom, can you lock up?”

Her mother touched Hanna’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lock up and let me go after him? He’ll calm down walking the few blocks. Take time to calm yourself before confronting him again.”

Hanna resented her mother stepping in and playing the good cop when Ashton was angry at Hanna, but it probably wasn’t a bad idea. “Okay, but I won’t be long.”

Collecting her purse from the office, Norma marched across the street to her blue Chevy, which was nestled against the curb between two tall pickups. The only time there was any real traffic was on spring weekends, when tourists descended on Hill Country to see the wildflowers.

Turning out lights and locking the back door, Hanna stopped short at the sight of Vince Keegan standing inside the shop. “Do you need something?”

For once, he didn’t smile. “It’s time you and I had a little chat.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’m not up for any more confrontations today.”

“Lady, when someone upsets my kid enough that she calls me crying, I want to know why. And when you start telling people, especially my daughter, that I’m a bad parent, then Mackenzie’s the least of your problems.”

“Your daughter is out of control.” The more congenial approach would have been to offer him a cup of coffee and calmly explain that his darling daughter was a bad influence on her son, but Hanna’s temper won out over her manners.

His legs were slightly spread and his eyes narrowed. “Out of control? She’s the most in-control kid in town.”

“From what I can see, Mr. Keegan, she does whatever she wants and has no respect for authority.”

“Really?” He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.

“Need I remind you that your little hellion got Ashton into a fistfight and placed in ISS? She inserted herself in the middle of buying him clothes, completely overriding my wishes. And now she brings him home on the back of some kind of dangerous motorbike without even asking permission. This is only day two! I’m biting my nails in anticipation of what she’ll do the rest of the week.”

“My little hellion kept your little prep from getting his ass kicked on the playground yesterday. And best I can figure, that was her goal again with the clothes advice.” Vince leaned forward and maintained eye contact, grinding his teeth. “Today she gave him a lift home because he was afraid Billy would show up before you got there to pick him up. What exactly do you take issue with?”

“Why would any sane parent buy a sixth-grader a motorcycle?”

“It’s an electric bicycle, and I bought it for her twelfth birthday so she could get where she needed to be while I was working. Unlike you, I realize I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Just please ask Mackenzie to stay away from Ashton. I can’t do anything about your poor judgment, but I won’t put my son at risk.”

His jaw ticked. “She and I took a class before she was allowed to ride it, and she only rides the side streets where any regular bicycle would go.” He glanced around the store and let out a long sigh. “Why in hell am I defending myself? Since you don’t seem to mind condemning my parenting style, how about we discuss yours?”

“Excuse me?” She stared at his wide shoulders. Why was it that good-looking and cocky were directly proportionate in men?

“Maybe you should reexamine your theory that keeping Ashton under your wing is the best way to protect him.” His voice remained soft and mellow, but his words bit. “Maybe consider what’s going to happen when something goes wrong and you aren’t Johnny-on-the-spot to stand between him and danger. Might consider teaching him to take care of himself and make his own decisions.”

Not hard to see where Mackenzie inherited her disrespect for authority. “So I should let him wear ratty clothes and race around town like a delinquent in training, fighting with other children?”

Vince’s denim-colored eyes narrowed, but he still didn’t raise his voice. “The most important thing to teach kids is judgment and how to make intelligent decisions. If you lock them in a protective bubble, when they do escape they have no idea how to function or protect themselves in the real world.”

“Do not insult my son’s ability to think for himself.”

“He’s giving it his best shot, but you’re dictating how you want him to dress and act. Kids should fit in with their peers, feel like they belong. You’re making Ashton a laughingstock trying to dress him like a miniature yuppie instead of a regular kid.”

Blood pumped through her veins and she took a step toward him. What did this irresponsible father know about how to dress? He was wearing old jeans and a navy T-shirt, blue plaid flannel flapping in the breeze and a Keegan’s Docks cap topping off his faded outfit. Clothes that fitted his self-assurance and tight body like a glove. “You justify letting Mackenzie run wild as teaching her to make wise decisions? Might I ask what her mother thinks of this approach?”

His features stiffened. “Mackenzie doesn’t have a mother.”

Crap. Leave it to Hanna to put her foot in her mouth. Had Mackenzie’s mother deserted them? Died? “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her apology. “I can’t be with Kenzie every minute, so I teach her how to handle herself.” He came closer, bringing them nose to nose and continued to speak in a deep, controlled tone. “Kid gets invited to a party. All the other kids are swimming, but one kid’s parents didn’t teach him to swim because they were afraid he might drown. He wants to be part of the fun. Guess which kid is most at risk?”

“If the child didn’t know how to swim, a responsible parent wouldn’t let him go to a swimming party to begin with.”

“Yeah, that’s the way to raise a well-adjusted kid. That really helps him grow up and fit in, make friends.” His jaw set. “You have any further issue with Mackenzie, you take it up with me.” He sauntered out of Bluebonnet Books and onto the sidewalk, the bell on the door clanging in his wake.

She vibrated with anger as she locked the front door and made her way home.

HANNA FOUND ASHTON sitting cross-legged on the living-room sofa, his nose buried in his homework while her mom rattled around in the kitchen.

Giving Ashton’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, Hanna put her purse on the credenza and left him to finish his work. “Need any help, Mom?

Norma turned from the fridge. “You can wash your hands and peel the carrots.”

Hanna bit her tongue. Like she was six and needed to be told to wash her hands? “Thanks for stepping in and calming Ashton down.” Hanna dug the carrot peeler out of the drawer. “What do you know about Vince and Mackenzie Keegan?”

Norma ripped apart a head of lettuce. “Mackenzie is Belinda Maguire’s girl. Since Belinda was killed, her father just lets her run wild. Spoils her rotten. Even in church, which is the only time I’ve ever seen her in a dress, she still manages to look like a tomboy.”

“Belinda Maguire? I remember her from school.”

“They were living in Austin. Huge pileup on I-35. Both Belinda and their older child were killed, but if I remember right, Mackenzie wasn’t in the car. She was a toddler.”

Putting her hand over her mouth, Hanna tried to imagine what Vince had gone through. Such a tragic loss. And then to be faced with the awesome responsibility of raising a small daughter alone. She’d think after losing a wife and child Vince would be even more protective than Hanna.

After getting the carrots on to cook, she took a break and joined Ashton in the living room. “I’m sorry if I overreacted this afternoon, but you frightened me.”

He stuck the paper between the pages of the book and closed it. “You embarrassed me in front of my friend. It’s bad enough that all the other kids think I’m a sissy, but now Kenzie knows I am.”

“I’m afraid Mackenzie is going to get you hurt.” The loneliness in his eyes made her weep inside. “Ashton, I’ll try to do better if you’ll exercise more caution.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

HANNA HESITATED IN FRONT of the Keegans’ porch and looked down the street of manicured lawns and homey little houses that could have come straight out of an episode of The Andy Griffith Show. She allowed the fading pink-and-purple brushstrokes of the Marble Falls sunset to calm her nerves. Hanna the mother wanted to turn around and leave. What if this girl pulled another dangerous stunt and Ashton got caught in the crossfire? But whether she approved of Mackenzie Keegan or not, she was the only ally Ashton had in his new environment, and that was worth something. Hanna the still-insecure child knew firsthand what it felt like not to have a friend.

She clapped the brass knocker and waited. On the second rap, the porch light flashed on and the door swung open. But instead of a twelve-year-old girl, she faced a navy blue T-shirt stretched to the max attempting to cover a muscled six-pack. No denim jacket or loose flannel shirt for camouflage tonight.

Vince cocked his head. “Ms. Rosser.”

“Please call me Hanna.” She focused on his face. “I come in peace.”

“Then you might want to come in off the porch.” Standing back, Vince motioned for her to enter.

She stepped inside the room and whirled around as a massive reddish dog came up from behind and nuzzled her hand. She jerked her hand away and jumped sideways into a solid chest.

Vince’s arm encircled her waist and he grabbed the dog’s collar with the other hand. She fought to breathe as Vince leaned around and captured her gaze. “He’s harmless.”

The dog, maybe. Heart pounding, she stared into Vince’s intense blue eyes and something inside her flipped. Hormones surging into high gear, she eased away from him. She wasn’t sure whether to be more fearful of man or beast.

Vince retained his grasp on the dog’s collar. “Come on, Boo. Let the lady settle in before you slobber all over her.”

“I…uh.” Eyeing the dog, she stood in the center of the living room and prayed for her voice to return. She didn’t even trust dogs behind fences, and this one was too close and too big. “I came to apologize to Mackenzie for jumping on her today.”

Vince turned the dog loose. “Lie down, Boo.”

Obediently, the dog walked a couple of feet away and stretched out in front of the rustic stone fireplace. But his ears remained perked, and his black eyes focused on Hanna as if waiting for Vince to leave the room so he could pounce.

“Kenzie is at my in-laws’ house for dinner.”

“Oh.” She was alone with Vince Keegan. On his turf! This had been a bad idea to begin with. “I’m sorry for not calling first. I just thought…” Trying not to look at the dog in case he might interpret that as an invitation to come closer, and avoiding Vince’s gaze because, well, just because, Hanna scanned her surroundings. Framed family photos on the mantel, including a family shot of Vince with one hand resting on the shoulder of a small brown-haired boy as they posed beside a woman holding a lacy pink bundle of frills and blond curls.

Quickly looking away, Hanna focused on a soft beige leather sectional sofa. A large wooden coffee table with drawers and shelves under it, scattered with books, magazines and a crystal vase of silk daisies. A white king lay on its side in the center of a chessboard along with various other pieces and the rest off to the side. “You play chess?”

Vince narrowed his eyes. “Surprised?”

She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and clasped her hands together, not sure what to do with them. “Oh, no. I mean, my father played chess.”

“Would you like to sit down? We could discuss the kids and figure out how not to be at each other’s throats.”

Sit? Okay. Sitting was good. She eased down on the end cushion of the sofa and placed her purse on the wood floor.

“Coffee is made or I have iced tea.”

Boo stood and she held her breath. Vince could not leave her alone in this room with that animal. “No, nothing for me. I can’t stay but a minute. I left Ashton doing his homework and my mom cleaning the kitchen. I have to get back soon and make sure Ashton brushes his teeth and gets his bath. His bedtime is nine o’clock.” She clamped her mouth shut in an attempt to stop babbling.

Vince shoved the chessboard and vase of daisies aside and sat on the edge of the coffee table, only a foot from her face, his knee bumping hers. Breathe, Hanna, breathe. Deep dimples bracketed his full lips. “So my daughter isn’t the only one in the family who makes you jumpy?”

The room closed in on her. The man was hogging all the oxygen. “I don’t like dogs.”

His dimples deepened as he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer. “I wasn’t talking about Boo.”

Instinctively she started to lean back from his nearness, but caught herself and held her ground. She gulped at his muscled forearms and large hands. “Look, Mr. Keegan…”

“Vince.”

“I…we need to come to an understanding about Mackenzie and Ashton. I am glad he has a friend, but I insist on maintaining more control over what he does. I can’t risk him getting hurt.”

“He’s going into middle school next year. If your goal is to keep him safe and out of fistfights, I’m not sure overprotecting him is going to work in your favor.”

“I can see the wisdom in that. But I do not condone fighting.”

“Me neither, unless the other kid throws the first punch. In which case, Kenzie will defend herself.”

Hanna twisted her hands in her lap. “She should tell a teacher.”

“And then the kid would pick on her the next day and the next because he’ll take her as weak, looking for someone else to fight her battles.” Vince’s eyes narrowed. “Give Ashton a chance to fit in. To be like the other kids. He might come out with a black eye or busted lip, but that’ll heal and his self-esteem will be stronger for having not backed down.”

The intense raw masculine aura that surrounded Vince Keegan consumed her. She pictured Ashton earlier, sitting in the living room, so alone and desperate for a friend. He could benefit from some of this man’s confidence. But too much physical activity caused his asthma to flare up. Richard might lack the down-to-earth, take-care-of-himself attitude Vince had, but he made up for it in polished courtroom expertise. If he learned about yesterday’s fight, he’d have one more reason to yank Ashton out of school and re-enroll him in the private school in Dallas.

Hoping to keep Vince from noticing her shaking hands, Hanna stuck them beneath her thighs, sandwiching them between the cushions. “How about this? I’ll loosen up on Ashton if you’ll meet me halfway and make Mackenzie understand that Ashton has to ask permission before trying new things.”

“Okay, and about the bike.” Vince took a deep breath. “I realize you don’t want me or anyone telling you how to raise your son. But Kenzie said Billy Baer and his group of misfits always wait for Ashton after school and torment him. Riding home with Kenzie saves him from getting into a fight.”

Hanna closed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he tell me something like that?”

“Because he’s trying his damnedest not to be a sissy! Not to run to his mommy to solve all his problems.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Mom to pick him up on days I can’t.”

“Oh yeah, his nana picking him up in a blue Chevy sedan every day is going to make him not look like a sissy. There’s just a couple of blocks between Bluebonnet Books and the school. Give him some space to handle this himself.”

“I want him to fit in, have friends. I guess as long as they’re only on neighborhood streets and come straight home. I certainly don’t want Billy Baer tormenting him.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned. “Now that we’ve resolved that, do you want to talk about what it is about me that makes you so skittish?”