Saving Alyssa. Loree Lough

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      Being sociable hadn’t killed her, but now she was stuck passing time with this Jeff person, the total opposite of Chuck: married, with two children, and happy about it. Billie groaned inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t whip out his wallet and show her a bunch of home-and-family photos.

      She caught sight of herself in the big mirror behind the counter. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that its purpose was to make the narrow shop appear wider. Too bad it couldn’t give the illusion that she was something other than an ill-tempered, self-centered—

      A small girl skipped out of the back room, singing “What a Wonderful World,” as her shoulder-length ponytails bounced in sync with her stuffed bunny’s floppy ears. When she spotted Jeff, she lit up as if Santa himself stood before her.

      “Mr. Jeff!”

      Hoisting her in his arms, he said, “How are you today?”

      “Happy to see you.” She looked behind him. “Where’s baby Jeff?”

      “Home with his mom. Nap time, y’know?”

      “Now that I’m seven, Daddy says I don’t have to take naps.”

      The baby Billie lost had been a girl....

      Jeff put the child down as she reported, “Daddy said to tell you it’ll take at least another hour before he can start on your bike. He’s having troubles with that other one.”

      “No problem. Tell him I’ll come back this afternoon.”

      As she ran off to deliver the message, Jeff shook his head. “She’s a handful, that one. I’d invite her to my place, give her dad a break from the constant noise and motion, but he won’t let her out of his sight.” He glanced toward the back room. “My wife took it personally at first, and to be honest, so did I. Took us a while, but eventually we figured out that some single dads never trust anyone.”

      Billie had come here to drop off her broken bike, not to make friends or speculate about the shop owner’s parenting and social skills.

      The child returned to say, “If you’re not in a hurry, Daddy wants to know if tomorrow morning would be okay with you.”

      Jeff patted the top of her head. “That’s more than okay. In fact, it’s better than okay. Looks like I’ll see you in the morning, Alyssa m’dear.”

      Billie blinked back tears. The name on her daughter’s angel-adorned tombstone at Philadelphia’s Cedar Hill Cemetery was Ciara Marie, but Alyssa had been her second choice for girls’ names.

      Jeff paused at the door. “You might want to tell your dad there’s another customer out here.”

      “Oh, he knows.” She pointed at the camera high on the entry wall, hidden among cable housings and adjusting barrels. “When the other man saw her come in, he said, ‘Whoa, she’s pretty,’ and Daddy said, ‘Yes, she is.’”

      Laughing, Jeff said, “They’re both right.” He opened the door partway. “Your dad must have gotten distracted, got busy with something and forgot she’s here. Maybe you can tell him she sprained her ankle, and from the looks of it, ought to get home and prop it up.”

      Alyssa glanced at Billie’s swollen, bandaged ankle. When she fixed her big blue eyes on her, the breath caught in Billie’s throat. Would her little girl have been this stunning...if she’d lived?

      Alyssa faced the back room and bellowed with a power that belied her size. “Daddy! Daddy! Mr. Jeff says come out and talk to this pretty lady about her bye-sickle because she has a big fat hurt ankle!”

      Billie cringed as a dark-haired man emerged from the back room, wiping grimy hands on a grimier rag. “Who needs an intercom system with a human speaker on the premises?” He bent to kiss her forehead. “For a li’l bitty thing, you sure do make a lot of noise.”

      “Oh, Daddy, you always say that!”

      The man smiled at Billie. “And yet she continues her quest to attempt to break the sound barrier.”

      The wide eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s a sound barrier?”

      He shot his daughter a wink. “It’s just a fancy way of saying noisy.”

      She thought about it for a minute before asking if she could watch some television.

      “The remote’s on my desk. But you know the rules....”

      She did her best to mimic her dad’s baritone. “‘The cartoon channel only, and if the volume goes over number twelve, off it goes!’”

      Billie watched as his gaze followed Alyssa into the back room. He loved her. That much was clear. But something more glimmered in those black-lashed green eyes....

      Jeff opened the bike shop’s door all the way. “Catch you in the a.m., Noah.” Eyes on Billie, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

      “Same here.”

      The little girl’s father stepped closer. “Noah Preston,” he said, “owner, repairman, candlestick maker. I’d shake your hand, but...” He showed her the rag again, then tipped his head toward the street. “That your Cannondale in the rack?”

      Billie nodded, wondering why the sign out front said Ike’s Bikes if the man’s name was Noah.

      “Bent the frame, eh?”

      “’Fraid so.”

      “Saw you limping earlier, so sit tight while I bring ’er inside for a closer look.”

      She reached into her pocket. “You’ll need this to unlock it,” she said, dropping the key into his upturned palm.

      One of her twin brothers had been a marine, and even after five years out of uniform, Troy still wore his hair “high and tight.” There was something about his ramrod-straight stance and no-nonsense word choices that told her he hadn’t always been a bicycle repairman. However, if the wavy, collar-length hair was any indicator, Preston had not been a jarhead. No, he had been something else. Billie had given up her job as a flight attendant and enrolled in law enforcement courses because Chuck didn’t like being alone, sometimes for days on end. But he hadn’t liked the long hours she spent hitting the books, either, so she focused on web design, and used study time to read mysteries and thrillers. The fact that Preston managed to keep an eye on Alyssa even as he unlocked the bike and carried it inside made her think maybe he’d been a cop. Had an on-the-job injury forced early retirement?

      The bell above the door chimed as he elbowed his way back inside with her bike. “Did I hear you telling Jeff that you walked here with this thing?” He leaned it against the counter, then squatted to give it a once-over.

      “Um, yeah.” She shrugged. “But only because I couldn’t ride it from Tongue Row.”

      “Tongue Row? That’s what, six, eight blocks?” He stood, stepped behind the counter and picked up a spiral notebook. “Between that ankle and the bent frame, I’m surprised you got here at all.” He slid the notebook forward. СКАЧАТЬ