Читать книгу His Valentine Surprise - Tanya Michaels, Tanya Michaels - Страница 11

“Oh, it’s you.” Since the store was currently deserted, Mark’s words carried.

From just beneath the bell that jangled to announce patrons, six-foot-five Cade Montgomery raised his eyebrows. “Dude, stop falling all over yourself with elation whenever you see me. People will talk.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sound unhappy that you’re here,” Mark said. “I was just hoping…”

“That I was a paying customer?” Cade commiserated. In years past, the dark-haired bear of a man had earned a full-time living with guided rafting excursions, but in the current economy, he had to supplement that income with carpentry odd jobs.

“Yeah.”

“It’s the middle of a weekday,” Cade pointed out. “People are either at work or at lunch. You’ll get more business tomorrow.”

“I know.” But would it be enough business? Since Mark had reached the store after this morning’s meeting at Woodside, he’d been consulting vendor catalogs, trying to decide if he could cut costs by dropping certain brands that weren’t selling well or switching distributors.

“Speaking of lunch. I was in the area delivering some shelves to a client and swung by to see if you wanted to grab a burger with me.”

“But that would mean closing the store for an hour.”

Cade glanced meaningfully at the reversible Open sign hanging in the window; the back featured an adjustable clock face. “Gee, if only you had one of those signs that said something like ‘Will Return In….’”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Smart-ass. I was planning to work through lunch because I missed some time this morning. I got called into an unexpected meeting with the new principal at Woodside.”

“About that Fitness Fair?”

“No, about Vicki.” The tiniest matchmaker. Mark had seen movies where children of single parents schemed to get their folks together. But those were always specific matches—one man, one woman. His overachieving daughter had tried to hook him up with the entire damn PTA!

“Vicki? Is she winning an award or something?” Cade asked, unmistakable affection in his voice.

“Not unless the school gives out awards for most inappropriate use of email.”

Cade’s brows shot up. “Don’t follow.”

Mark sighed. “Come on. Let’s get lunch, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

RECAPPING THE MORNING’S ego-bruising events for his friend’s entertainment did not improve Mark’s mood. Even though it had been Cade’s idea to go eat, the man had mostly ignored his bacon burger in favor of laughing at Mark.

“I had no idea your daughter was so proficient with the internet,” Cade said, still chortling. “If I’d known, I would have friended her on Facebook. Hey, think she could talk me through a problem I’ve been having with Outlook?”

“Glad you find this so hilarious,” Mark groused.

“And you don’t? You have to admit, what she did was really cute.”

“Says the man who wasn’t getting lectured by Principal Morgan first thing this morning.”

“That’s right, I remember hearing a new principal moved here from the opposite end of the school district. What’s she like, the female version of Ridenour?” Even though Cade didn’t have any young relatives at the elementary school, it was a small town and everyone had at least a passing acquaintance with Jonathan Ridenour, one of Braeden’s most involved citizens until his heart attack.

At the idea of comparing Shay to Ridenour, Mark finally cracked a grin. Cade was a good guy, but a bit of a hound dog. He’d dated at least half of the attractive single women in the tricounty area yet had no idea that a beautiful blonde had recently taken up residence nearby. “No, she’s not much like Ridenour. Younger, for one thing.”

“Makes sense. Why replace him with someone who would just retire in another year or two?”

Mark frowned, remembering his encounter with Shay. “And I think Jonathan would have been slower to assume it was my fault. He’s got kids, grandkids. He understands that sometimes they just… Do you think I’m a bad father?”

“Hell, no. You adore that little girl. But you know enough to tell her when it’s time to go to bed and not give her whatever she wants just because she throws a fit. Not that I’ve ever seen her throw one,” Cade qualified. “Of course, that’s probably just because you’re such a good dad you’ve taught her better manners than that. Look, don’t ask me about parenting. What do I know? Talk to your sister-in-law if you’re really worried.”

That made Mark feel better. After all, no one questioned that Dee was a great parent, even though her son had been Vicki’s accomplice. Somewhat mollified, he admitted, “It’s not that I think Principal Morgan is wrong, per se, about my getting involved. I just don’t think she can fully appreciate the pressure I’m under as a single dad. She’s never been in the parenting trenches herself.”

Cade swiped a fry through some ketchup. “You think maybe she’s bitter? Got into teaching because she loves kids but never had any of her own? Maybe she’s jealous of people with families.”

Mark opened his mouth to correct his friend’s misconception that Shay was a woman well past her prime, but the waitress came back to refill their drinks and Cade spent the next few minutes flirting with her. Once she was gone, conversation turned to Mark’s store and his idea about contacting nearby lodges and resorts like Hawk Summit.

“You know, there’s actually been some buzz about trying to reopen the campsite on the edge of Braeden,” Cade said. “If that happened, it could indirectly benefit you. Stop by the town meeting next week, make a case for why it would be good for all of us.”

“Maybe.” Mark suspected he could get Dee to babysit, but if he was going to publicly address his fellow towns-people, he needed to come up with something convincing. I don’t want my poor kid to have to move probably wasn’t the most effective argument. Then again, thanks to her email, the general public was already aware that she was unhappy. Surely they wouldn’t want to further traumatize the motherless, dogless child.

“And you could always check out some of those SBA classes offered through the county seat,” Cade added. “Registration fees are minimal and even though you aren’t technically a small business owner, they might have some economical marketing tips you can implement. The more professionally defined your prospective partnership when you approach places like Hawk Summit, the better the chances they’ll accept.”

Mark shook his head, chuckling. “You may have the largest collection of flannel shirts in North Carolina, but I swear you wore a suit in a previous life.”

“Who, me?” Cade sipped his soda, avoiding the implied question. He’d only been in Braeden for four or five years and rarely talked about where he was from or what had brought him there. “Dude, I build cabinets in my garage. But I did date an MBA once. Maybe I picked up some pointers from her.”

As they exited the Burger Shop, automatically bracing against the biting wind, Cade suggested, “Maybe you should date an MBA. Totally solve all your problems—get some informal consulting on the store and make Vic happy. Don’t you think the kid deserves a mother figure?”

Mark ground his back teeth together. “Some of us have an ethical problem using women.”

“I don’t ‘use’ anyone!” Cade sounded legitimately offended. “I may not be looking for anything serious, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fond of the women I spend time with.”

“Sorry. But don’t you think trying to appease my six-year-old would be a pretty crappy reason to ask someone out?”

“Fair enough.” Cade unlocked his truck. “So ask someone out for you. I’ve never busted your chops about living like a monk—statistically speaking, I’m probably dating your share of ladies as well as mine—but it’s been about two years.”

“Are you suggesting there’s a statute of limitations on how long I love my wife?” Mark growled.

“Of course not. If you’re still carrying a torch, that’s your business. I’m just saying…if the problem is you’re nervous about getting back on the horse—”

Mark snorted.

“So to speak.” Cade flashed a grin. “Allowing more time to slip by isn’t going to ease your nerves. It’s like jumping in a pool. Don’t stand on the edge staring down into the deep end, just close your eyes and do it.”

Cade turned the keys in the ignition and neither man spoke as they pulled out of the parking lot. Mark couldn’t help tossing his friend’s advice around his head, though.

After a few minutes, he blurted, “I’ll always love Jess, but I think it would be possible to love someone else, too. In theory.”

“But in practice?”

“Jessica and I met in high school.” He’d only kissed three or four girls before he’d started dating his future wife. “We were together a long time. After the first year she’d been gone, I felt obligated to try again. I went on a few dates over the course of three months and they were so awful that I quit. What’s the point of trying to find room for it in my schedule when it was only making everyone involved miserable? One woman reached over during a movie and held my hand wrong.”

Cade snickered. “How can you hold hands wrong?”

“It’s like having a side of the bed, I guess, but with fingers. Shut up,” Mark said when his friend continued to laugh at him. Okay, it sounded stupid when he tried to explain it out loud, but the truth was, he and Jess had fit seamlessly after so many years together. It wasn’t just that when they held hands his thumb was always on the outside, it was everything.

On one of his ill-fated dates, he and the woman had gone by a drive-through restaurant to grab food for an outdoor concert and he’d reflexively asked the employee to leave the mayonnaise off her burger. Explaining that he was used to ordering for his late wife had done nothing to ease the first-date tension. Another time, he’d attempted a good-night kiss but they’d both leaned in on the same side, banging their noses together.

“I feel like one of those people who got the full-on amnesia, where they have to relearn everything from words to how to hold a spoon. It’s so damn frustrating.”

Cade considered this. “Maybe it’s all in how you choose to look at it. Take me—learning all about a new woman is part of the fun. It’s exciting. No two are alike.”

That kind of “excitement” held little appeal for Mark. Besides, it wasn’t just getting to know strangers that made dating difficult. He and Jessica had grown up together; in a lot of ways, she’d shaped the adult he became. Because he’d been blessed in finding the woman he wanted to be with so young, he’d never had experience with a breakup or how different women liked to be touched, the types of relationship lessons many guys learned by the time they finished college. When he was out with someone now, it wasn’t only that Mark didn’t know her, he felt like he barely knew himself.

“I admire your confidence with women, but not all of us can be Mr. Smooth,” Mark said wryly. “Turns out, I’m more the stammering and second-guessing type.”

“You don’t know that! Jess clearly thought you were Prince Charming and I’ll bet lots of other women would agree. Three or four awkward evenings in the course of your lifetime is hardly definitive proof that you suck at dating.”

“How comforting. Look, if it will shut you up, I’ll make you a deal. Drop the subject until April, when Coleridge makes a decision about the store. After that, if I’m still here, you can set me up with every single female you know.”

“Every?” Cade laughed. “Better clear your summer calendar.”

“I was being figurative, not literal. Just give me until April.”

“Deal. But I’m not your problem. What kind of deal are you planning to make your daughter?”

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. He definitely needed to follow Principal Morgan’s advice—get more involved with Vicki, keep her busy and happily occupied with other aspects of her life. Because left to her own devices, by April she’d probably be going through the Braeden phone book, calling women individually to ask if they would be interested in dating her daddy.

WHEN MARK WALKED THROUGH the door leading in the house from the garage, Mrs. Norris looked up quizzically from her knitting at the kitchen table and Vicki, who appeared to be doing her homework, squealed with delight.

“Daddy!” She bolted out of her chair and barreled toward him. “Why are you home early?”

“I asked Roddy to come in at four-thirty instead of seven. He said that just this once, he can handle inventory by himself.” Which meant that instead of sleeping in tomorrow, Mark would have to double-check the numbers in the morning, but it seemed like a fair trade-off in order to spend an extra evening reassuring his kid. “Is it okay with you that I’m here already?”

Nodding enthusiastically, she hugged him. But then she pulled away, biting her lower lip and glancing back toward Mrs. Norris. “We were gonna order a pizza for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me.” He extricated himself from his daughter enough to set his laptop case on the kitchen counter, then handed Mrs. Norris the envelope with her weekly paycheck. “Everything going okay here?”

“Vicki was no trouble whatsoever. We made cutout gelatin shapes for afternoon snack and read a chapter book together.” The elderly woman grinned, her cloudy blue eyes suddenly flashing with an impishness that made her look far younger. “But your phone’s been ringing a lot today. Took some mighty interesting messages for you.”

Mark groaned. Were people calling to complain about Vicki’s email…or to answer it? Surely the women of Braeden had more sense than that. Her letter had been a child’s act of desperate whimsy, not a legitimate solicitation in the Braeden Bugle personal ads!

After Mrs. Norris had wished them both a great weekend and headed home, Mark sat in one of the kitchen chairs, studying his daughter. “Any hard homework tonight?”

She shook her head. “Not on Fridays. Just a word search on tall tales and legends. But I can’t find Paul Bunyan.”

“Really? That’s strange. Isn’t he like ten feet tall?”

After looking at him blankly for a second, she giggled. “The word, Daddy. I can’t find the word Paul Bunyan.”

“Ah.” He set up his laptop as she continued her search, wondering if he still got credit for coming home early to be with his daughter even if he planned to work tonight.

A few minutes later, she triumphantly declared, “Finished!”

“Way to go.” He waited until she’d put the sheet back into her red Return to School folder. “Part of the reason I came home early is because we need to talk about some stuff, Vicki-bug.”

Her face fell. “Am I still in trouble?”

“Well, we need to work on that apology you promised Principal Morgan, and—”

“She’s pretty,” Vicki interrupted.

Mark frowned, not sure if was just a random observation—which he’d discovered were not uncommon from six-year-olds—or if she had a specific purpose for saying so. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“I thought principals were scary. And mean, like in that cartoon Bobby watches. Our principal is a lot more better.”

They’d had the “cartoons are not accurate” discussion a year and a half ago when Vicki tried to color a tunnel on the wall with black marker. “I’m sure Ms. Morgan likes you and the other kids. Why else would she get a job at a school?”

“I like her, too. Did you like her, Daddy?”

Not particularly. But that was a knee-jerk reaction to her criticism, not the whole truth. The woman was undeniably attractive, but beyond that, he’d been touched by the empathy in her voice when she asked about his wife and he’d admired the way Shay had handled Vicki. She’d addressed the situation with the exact right combination of kind understanding and sternness.