Читать книгу Honeysuckle Bride - Tara Randel - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH A WEEK left before school started, Jenna decided to follow through and sign the girls up for swimming lessons. Wyatt may not want to be involved, but his unwillingness wouldn’t stop her. After some research, she discovered the local country club held weekly lessons. She called, set up a time with the instructor and checked one more activity off her growing list.

At first, the girls were excited about the idea, until it came time to put on their swimsuits. Suddenly, Bridget had an upset stomach and Abby couldn’t find her suit.

Jenna stood in the doorway to their bedroom, a serious frown focused on the girls, who sat cross-legged on the floor, dolls and accessories scattered around them. “Abby, we unpacked your bathing suit. It’s in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”

Abby dipped her head and glanced at her sister, as if not sure what to say or do. Bridget, however, kept her eyes leveled on Jenna with a stare she’d come to recognize as a “don’t push me” look.

“Bridget, do you want some seltzer water?”

She wrinkled her pert nose. “That won’t help.”

“Hmm. I seem to remember it helped after too many hot dogs and French fries on Friday night.”

Bridget shrugged. “I ate too many eggs this morning.”

“Then how about the pink stuff?”

The ten-year-old sent Jenna an, “as if,” look.

Yes, Jenna knew Bridget’s aversion to seltzer. Or any kind of chalky stomach remedy. The thick concoction made her gag every time she attempted to swallow it. She also knew that Bridget’s stomachaches usually stemmed from nerves. If they worked out the problem, Bridget was fine.

Still, she had to get the two moving. Let the battle begin.

“I see. If that’s the case, you won’t make miniature golf tonight with Nealy and Lilli. They’ll be disappointed, but will understand you’re too sick to join them.” She shifted her gaze to Abby. “Guess it’ll just be you playing golf later while your sister stays home with the sitter.”

A frown furrowed Bridget’s brow.

Jenna held back a grin, ready to pour it on. She snapped her fingers. “I nearly forgot. We were also going to the mall later. I wanted to look for new school shoes.”

She knew her volley would hit the mark. Only ten and already Bridget loved shoes.

Abby rose and walked to her dresser, opening the drawer to remove her swimsuit.

Jenna pulled a surprised face. “Oh, will you look at that. Right where we put it.”

Abby grinned, knowing her little trick hadn’t worked. So much for the truth pact. As she began to change, Bridget gathered up her own suit, which was lying on the bed. “I’m not super sick. My stomach will feel better soon.”

“That a girl.”

“I don’t see why Mr. Hamilton can’t teach us,” Bridget groused. Since the day at the beach, Wyatt had become her hero.

“I told you, he’s not up to it right now.”

“I wonder if he’d let us play with Cruiser?” Abby asked. “Do you think he’ll let us come over again?”

“Mr. Hamilton is a busy man.” Or not, but Jenna wasn’t about to figure out the man’s schedule. Time to change the subject. She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes and we’re out the door.”

As the girls got ready, Jenna went to her bedroom, reluctantly thinking about Wyatt. Once Bridget mentioned his name, her mind focused on his anguished expression under the moonlight when he’d refused to give the girls swimming lessons. Sympathy tugged at her. As much as she’d hoped he’d instruct the girls, she had to admit, she understood why he couldn’t. Too much too soon after his son’s accident.

The counselor she and the girls had been seeing in California urged her not to get stressed over the grieving process, since it varied for every person. There was no time limit, no set-in-stone method to deal with loss. Even the stages of grief were sometimes different for people.

Her mind flashbacked to the beach. Bridget flailing around in the water.

On the other hand, she resented Wyatt’s accusation that she was reckless with the girls’ safety. Clearly, he had lingering issues after his son’s death, and she had her own learning curve to deal with. She’d only recently gone from taking care of herself to being in charge of a family of three. Given her own insecurities as a caregiver, she didn’t appreciate his negative outlook.

Shaking off the thought, Jenna retrieved the beach bag from the closet and tossed a tube of sunblock inside.

While Jenna still grieved Carrie, she’d gotten to the point where she had to put the cares and concerns of the twins first and foremost in her life. Yes, she would have liked Wyatt to work with the girls because they’d established a rapport. He could have looked at the lessons as a way to kick-start him into living again, but honestly, she didn’t know the man well enough to intrude on his privacy. If he kept those emotional walls intact, she never would.

She should probably keep some distance from Wyatt. By his own admission, he wasn’t very social, so that solved the problem of running into him. Yet, he stirred...something...in her. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she’d thought buried after François humiliated her. The world-renowned chef had ended their relationship after her cooking show became successful. She’d foolishly believed he loved her, had thought his group of friends were also her friends. But his large ego and notorious jealousy had them siding with him.

But Wyatt... She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed he was different than most men she knew. You didn’t grieve so deeply if you were self-absorbed. He was both hurting and guarded. A dangerous combination for a woman who’d always taken care of the other foster kids she happened to be living with. Yes, she’d grown up and achieved a bit of success, but the need to be a part of something more, of her own family, hadn’t dimmed with time.