His Valentine Surprise. Tanya Michaels

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      “I can’t wear a bathing suit to school, Daddy! And plus it’s winter.” She sighed, clutching her stuffed horse close. “Do I have to get out of bed?”

      “’Fraid so.”

      “Hug first?” she pleaded. Of all her regular procrastination techniques, this was his favorite.

      “Absolutely.” He sat at the foot of her bed, leaning back along the wall, and she scooted into his lap, snuggling against him. He kissed her on top of the head, breathing in the apple-scented detangler he’d combed through her unruly hair last night. Even with the spray-conditioner, she still winced when he hit a knot. And he was completely hopeless when it came to fixing her hair for ballet class—he barely managed simple pony-tails and barrettes for school. The coppery curls were untamable. No matter what style he attempted, it ended up lopsided.

      With his everyday shortcomings, it was little wonder the poor kid had been dropping hints for the past few months. Mark was not oblivious to the fact that his daughter yearned for a mother figure. Thank God for Dee, Jessica’s older sister. How would he have survived the past two years without his sister-in-law’s help?

      If the store closed, would Vicki have to move away from her aunt and uncle? The knot of dread which had recently taken up residence in his chest tightened. She’s already lost too much. No little girl should have to grow up without a mother. How could he possibly take her away from her friends and family in Braeden, North Carolina, the only home she’d ever known?

      He tried to shake off the omnipresent worry. Extra stress wouldn’t change the outcome of today’s meeting. Besides, he’d been working quite a few extra hours lately, and Vicki deserved the benefit of his full attention.

      “You know I love you, right, Bug?”

      “Love you, too.”

      “We make a good team, you and me.”

      “Teams can be lots of people,” she said. “Like when Coach B splits us up to play kickball at school. Two isn’t very many.”

      Her words sliced through him, her delicate suggestion that, much as he loved her, he wasn’t enough.

      Mark chose his response carefully. “Two might not sound like very many, but when you think about it, we have plenty of other people who love us. Aunt Dee, Uncle Frank and Bobby, Mrs. Norris, Lucy at the store, Cade…”

      Cade Montgomery had become Mark’s best friend since Jess died—because the sometime white-water-rafting guide, sometime carpenter was single. It was so much less awkward to hang out with Cade than all the married couples Mark and Jessica had known. Cade was about as confirmed a bachelor as a man could get, but he was surprisingly good with Vicki. He’d even promised to come to her ballet recital.

      Of course, he’d later asked Mark if any of the little ballerinas had hot single moms.

      Mark sighed. “Honey, is this about wanting a mom?”

      “Will I ever have one?”

      He knew the answer she wanted to hear, but the few dates he’d had in the past two years had left him cold. And even if he had more interest in the idea, he would put it on the back burner right now while he tried to sort out his job situation. Providing a stable home and financial security for his daughter were his priority.

      “Someday, maybe.” It was the best he could offer her without being dishonest.

      “Are you shy?” she asked. “We talked about shy at school, like when you don’t know how to make a new friend or are nervous to sing in music class. If you feel shy with girls, I can help!”

      He grinned at that, imagining his six-year-old coaching him through first-date nerves. “You can, huh? Well, that’s very nice of you, but it will have to wait until later. Right now, you need to get ready for school. We’re already running late.”

      “Okay.” She sat up, patting him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, Daddy. I have a plan. A good one.”

      Oh, boy. Part of him was amused and curious, wanting to ask his inventive daughter for details. On the other hand, he’d rather not encourage her Mommy Quest. It had wrecked him when he opened the letter to Santa she’d given Mark to mail—the one she’d insisted on writing all by herself. Mark had tried throughout November and December to get her to tell him what she wanted for Christmas, but she’d coyly refused to answer. Anxious to make sure “Santa” met her request, he’d finally seen it spelled out in green crayon. As a result, he’d over-compensated in the toys he’d bought her. She’d seemed delighted with them on Christmas morning, but after a week had passed, she’d turned pensive again.

      Maybe if they didn’t discuss her “plan” to overcome his supposed shyness with the ladies, she’d eventually forget about it. Yet even as he wanted to cling to that hope, he knew better. Vicki had inherited her mother’s curly locks and big brown eyes—but she had Mark’s stubborn streak.

      THE STORE MARK RAN WAS called Up A Creek, a tongue-in-cheek name for a place that sold sporting goods and equipment for outdoor recreation. Right now, however, up a creek seemed entirely apt for his situation. This breakfast felt too much like a last meal.

      Across the table, Bennett Coleridge, owner of the dozen or so Up A Creek locations, looked sympathetic as he picked up the syrup pitcher. “Understand, if I do close the store, there are still opportunities in the company for you. We have other sites. The one in South Carolina is closest, although if you wanted a complete change, our two stores in Colorado stay busy all year round.”

      And busy meant profitable.

      When Up A Creek had first opened in Braeden, North Carolina, there had been a campground just outside of town and a popular lodge half an hour beyond that which offered hiking and kayaking excursions. Both had unfortunately closed in the past couple of years. Now it seemed as if the store Mark managed might be next to succumb to tough economic times.

      Bennett had mentioned the possibility of Colorado if the Hathaways “wanted a complete change.” But Vicki had been born here, had spent her entire life in the same house. For her, anything outside Braeden limits would be an overwhelming change. Mark knew that his personal life—or lack thereof—disappointed his daughter. How could he tell her that he was a failure professionally, too? That she’d have to move away from her school and her friends?

      He swallowed hard, determined to sound calm. Businessmen like Bennett were swayed by numbers, not desperation. “I know the store’s profits have dipped.” Around here, some folks were working two jobs to make ends meet, sacrificing their free time for recreation; others had been laid off, without the funds to maintain a hobby.

      “But I have some ideas that might help turn things around,” Mark said. He sounded passably convincing.

      Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

      “Well, a few months ago I spoke to Principal Ridenour about sponsoring a booth at the elementary school’s spring Fitness Fair. It’s an all-day event local coaches and doctors started last year to educate parents on the risks of childhood obesity. In addition to the information, they provide stations that demonstrate fun ways the kids can keep in shape. It’s a perfect platform for us. I can do a small-scale climbing wall, remind parents about the importance of bike helmets and staying hydrated, give out promotional coupons for items that will pull them into the store.

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