Single Dad. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ tried card tricks. They tried cutting-rope tricks. They made a quarter miraculously disappear in a glass of water, and a scarf miraculously change color, and a broken toothpick miraculously heal itself. By then, Killer was chattering six for a dozen. The topic strayed from magic to girl stuff. Important things, like how to braid hair. Dolls. Perfume. Best friends. How disgusting boys were—especially Tommy Bradley.

      “He tried to kiss me,” Killer said with a scrunch of her nose. “What a yuck.”

      “Tommy Bradley lacks a little technique, hmm?”

      “He really gives me the creeps—don’t tell my dad about that, okay? My dad wouldn’t like it if a boy tried to kiss me. He already told me he’s not gonna let me date until I’m forty-five. As if I’d want to.”

      “I won’t tell,” Ariel said gravely.

      “I’m gonna grow my hair just like you. And wear earrings just like you. I just have to get a little older about the earrings, Dad says.”

      Half the little one’s conversation was peppered with whatever her dad said and thought. Ariel couldn’t help but picture Josh surviving the incessant stream of girl talk. She’d never rationed smiles—or laughter—and she wasn’t that busy. It was easy to give the child the female companionship she was so poignantly lonesome for.

      Killer had fresh French braids and the bagged-up quarter magic trick—discounted—when she skipped out of the store around three.

      Fifteen minutes later, Ariel discovered the missing ruby-eyed dragon.

      * * *

      Lightning striped the black sky. Rain slashed down in gusty torrents. After five days of killing heat, the storm was more than welcome, but Josh was soaked through by the time he jogged from the Bronco through the alley and up the back metal stairs. When he reached the top, rain drizzled down his neck and matted his eyelashes. Still, he hesitated before knocking.

      He really didn’t want to be here.

      Killer had told him that Ariel lived over the shop, and lights shone through the pale curtains, fair evidence that she was at home. It was past eight. He’d been to his place, had dinner and messed around with the kids for as long as he could procrastinate this little chore. Any later than this, and an unexpected caller at night would probably scare a woman alone. Hell, an unexpected guy caller could probably scare her now, but at least eight o’clock was still reasonably early.

      He just really didn’t want to knock on that door.

      Rain sluiced through his hair and rivered off his denim jacket. Impatiently he set his jaw, squared his shoulders. And firmly back-knuckled the door.

      The back light popped on. He heard her, on the other side, undoing a dead bolt and locks. His shoulder muscles were bunched and braced even before she poked her head out.

      “Josh?” Her clear-bell voice made his name sound like a question, but there didn’t seem to be any startled shock in her expression. She glanced at him, chuckled as she said, “Good grief, are you wet! Come on in, before you drown out there—” and then looked down and past him.

      It wasn’t hard to guess that she was searching for another body. “Killer isn’t with me. Killer is grounded for the rest of her life,” he informed her.

      “Ah.”

      The twinkle of humor in her eyes disarmed him—maybe she didn’t know about his daughter’s latest shoplifting escapade? Either way, he positively wanted this encounter over quick. One horrified glance had revealed that she was in pajamas. Silky, sexy, scarlet pajamas. And the last time he’d seen her, her hair had been all piled up. Now it was down, brushed smooth, about three miles of silvery-gold taffy that swished almost to her waist. He averted his eyes, trying to look nowhere, not at her place and for sure not at her, as he dug inside his jacket for the small wrapped package. “I believe this dragon thingamabog belongs to you.”

      “Yeah, I’m afraid it does.” Her soft green eyes met his. “I realized she had it about three minutes after she left the shop.”

      “You know she took it? Since yesterday afternoon?”

      “Yes. I just wasn’t sure what to do. I really didn’t want to get her into any more trouble.” She hesitated. “Look, wouldn’t you like to come in and dry off for a few minutes? I’ve got some coffee on the stove. You want a splash of brandy in it?”

      “I...” He never planned on coming in, not once he realized she was dressed for bed. But the friendly offer for coffee threw him. She could have been madder than a wet hen—hell, she could have called the cops on his kid. If there was some protocol for a single dad in this situation, he just didn’t know what it was. “I never meant to take up your evening. I just wanted to give the thing back to you and apologize.”

      “I understand...but you’re worried about your daughter, aren’t you? Maybe it’d help if we talked about it.”

      Personally, Josh never found that talking helped much of anything. But he figured he owed her some kind of explanation for his daughter’s recent kleptomaniac streak, and he didn’t want Ariel thinking he was the kind of dad who didn’t give a damn about his kids. So gingerly he stepped inside.

      She took his jacket. And he had to heel off his boots or risk tracking in mud. The next thing he knew, he had a fragile-looking china cup in his hands, filled with some kind of fancy gourmet coffee, fragrant and rich and topped off with a splash of brandy.

      “Come on in the living room. More comfortable to sit in there,” she said easily.

      He took a gulp of the brew as he followed her, hoping the liquor might settle his nerves. It didn’t. Guessing conservatively, he figured the chances of his being comfortable around her rivaled the odds of a federal balanced budget. There’d be colonies on Mars first.

      “I’m crazy about your daughter, you know.” She curled up in the corner of the couch, and motioned him to the closest chair. Her sweep of a smile seemed honest and warm. Somehow that smile made it easier for him to talk than he’d expected.

      “She’s crazy about you, too. Practically everything she’s said in the last week was a quote from you. Don’t take this wrong, okay? But I think half the problem is this attachment she’s formed to you.”

      Ariel nodded thoughtfully. “I had the feeling she was really lonesome for a woman’s company.”

      “I know she’s lonesome for a woman’s company. She took her mom’s leaving hard. I have two boys....”

      “She told me about her brothers.”

      Josh rubbed his jaw. “Nancy’s leaving, the divorce, hasn’t been easy on any of them. But Killer definitely had the hardest time with it. And still is. That’s no excuse for stealing. She knows better. But I don’t want you thinking she’s a bad kid. She’s not bad. She’s...” Well, the squirt was damn near perfect in his eyes—always had been. Yes, exasperating and exhausting and an incredibly confusing little female person, but a light in his life like nothing else. Only, how was a grown man supposed to put that in words?

      “I never thought she was bad, Josh,” Ariel said gently. “In fact, I can remember shoplifting a pack of gum when I was that age.”

      “Shoplifting СКАЧАТЬ