Second Chance Dad. Pamela Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ 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?”

      Chapter Four

      Hanna broke down a box and tossed it onto the growing stack, turning as the bell over the door clanged. A lady in jeans and a loose white blouse entered the shop, closely followed by an uncharacteristically docile Mackenzie.

      The woman ran her hand through her short salt-and-pepper hair, actually more salt-and-cinnamon, and adjusted her enormous hobo-style purse on her arm. She was probably one of those perpetually prepared women who could produce anything from that monster purse from a wet wipe to a Swiss Army knife.

      Eyeing Hanna, she extended her hand. “You must be Hanna Rosser.”

      Hanna smiled and shook her hand. Tiny brown freckles dotted every exposed inch of the woman.

      “I’m Claire Maguire, Kenzie’s grandmother.” She turned to Mackenzie. “Don’t you have something to say to Ms. Rosser?”

      One corner of Mackenzie’s mouth turned up, but the other maintained her scowl. “I won’t make Ashton do anything without asking your permission first.”

      Claire cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow.

      Mackenzie yanked off her pink cap and twisted it. “I’m sorry.”

      The apology was obviously coerced, but it was a start. Hanna extended her hand. “Apology accepted. And I apologize for getting so angry СКАЧАТЬ