From Fortune to Family Man

by Judy Duarte

  She rarely made evening plans during the week, so she didn’t need to check her calendar. “Sure, that’s fine.” She studied the man seated beside her, the way he seemed comfortable in his skin, even at a place like Cowboy Fred’s.

  “You told me you were going to work from home a couple days a week,” she said. “How’s that going?”

  “Not as well as I’d hoped. I haven’t been able to get much done, so I end up staying at the office longer on the days Rosie’s in preschool. Only trouble is, I have to pick her up before six o’clock, and when I finally arrived yesterday, she was the last kid there. She didn’t seem unhappy about it, but I felt bad.”

  “I can understand that, but I’ll bet things will begin to run smoothly soon. And then you’ll fall into the perfect schedule.”

  He stretched his arm out along the back of the bench, his hand dangling close to her shoulder. Close enough to touch, actually.

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence,” he said, “but I have to admit I’m not so sure that’ll ever happen.”

  She took a sip of the wine, something cheap and most likely out of a box. Not that she was a connoisseur by any means, but she didn’t mind paying a little more for something decent.

  “I have a favor to ask,” he said. “Remember when you offered to help me out?”

  “Yes, and I meant it.” She adored Rosie and was glad to play a role in her life. She also sympathized with Kieran, although she wondered if what she was feeling for him might be a little more than that. Still, she had no misconceptions about ever developing anything other than a friendship with the gorgeous and brilliant executive. But he clearly needed help, and he was asking for hers.

  “I don’t know anything about kids or child rearing,” he said.

  Neither did Dana, for that matter, but she planned to read some parenting books and articles so she’d have more to offer him than a respite now and then.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure. My childhood wasn’t typical, and I don’t just mean because I grew up in a wealthy family. I was practically raised by nannies—and none of them stuck around very long.”

  “I’m afraid mine wasn’t that much better,” Dana said. “I lost both my parents in an accident, then I spent my teen years in foster care.”

  At that admission, Kieran turned in his seat, his knee pressing into hers and zapping her with a jolt of heat. His gaze latched on to hers, as if he’d felt it, too. But surely he hadn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope it didn’t sound as if I was complaining about my lot in life, when yours...”

  “I survived. And for the record, my time in foster care wasn’t what you’d call a bad experience. I could have had it a lot worse.”

  When he didn’t respond, she feared she’d put a damper on things, so she smiled and said, “On the upside, my foster family lived next door to the public library, where I liked to hang out. I passed the time by reading all the books I could get my hands on, especially those in the history section. That’s also where I did my homework, met my best friend, learned to do research and then created my career plan. So it all paid off in the long run.”

  “Now I understand why you work at the history center.”

  He probably found that incredibly boring, but she wasn’t about to stretch the truth and make herself sound like someone he’d be more interested in. Interested in for what? she asked herself. Dating came to mind, but that wasn’t going to happen, so she halted that line of thinking. She continued to tell him her life story as dull as he might find it.

  “Once I turned eighteen,” she said, “I was on my own. I was a good student, and a young librarian named Monica Flores convinced me that an education was the key to a successful life, so I went to college.” She also graduated with honors, but decided not to mention it. She did, however add, “I’m not in school this semester, but I’m going to pick up a class this summer and two more in the fall. If all goes as planned, I’ll have a master’s degree in history by mid-December.”

  “You’re a busy lady.”

  She offered him a shy but warm smile. “Not too busy for you and Rosie.”

  Again their gazes met and locked. That is, until Rosie yelled, “Dannnna!”

  They both looked up to see the little girl in the yellow tunnel of the climbing structure. She waved at them through a plastic window.

  Dana waved back. “We see you, sweetie.”

  “Are you hungry yet?” Kieran called out.

  “No!” Rosie shrieked before crawling onto another section of the structure, one that housed a red slide.

  “It might take a while for them to make the pizza,” Kieran said. “I’d better order it now. I found out the hard way that Rosie goes from not being the least bit hungry to starving in the blink of an eye.”

  He’d no more than gotten to his feet when Rosie screamed. At least, it sounded like her cry and came from the direction she’d been heading.

  They both jumped up and hurried to the far side of the structure where Rosie sat on a pad at the bottom of the slide. She was crying, the lower half of her face covered in blood.

  “Oh, my God,” Dana said, as she hurried to the injured child. “What happened, sweetie?”

  “A bad boy punched my nose!” she shrieked.

  Dana shot a glance at Kieran, who’d come up beside her. He’d paled at the sight of little Rosie, yet he scanned the structure as if looking for the boy.

  “Come with me,” Dana said, scooping up the bloodied child in her arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Where’s the kid who hurt you?” Kieran asked Rosie.

  She pointed to the top of the slide. “He’s the one. In the green shirt with a dragon.”

  Dana didn’t see anyone there and assumed the boy had run away. But Kieran must have because he took off like a bolt, obviously in search of the boy who’d hurt his little princess.

  Chapter Four

  Kieran wasn’t sure where the “bad boy” had gone, but he was determined to find him. What kind of hellion would bloody a little girl’s nose?

  Righteous indignation grew into flat-out anger with each step he took in his search. Not only would he confront the kid who’d hurt Rosie, but he was going to have a little talk with the mom and dad, too.

  When he spotted the only boy wearing a green dragon shirt in the vicinity, he realized the bully was much smaller than he’d thought. In fact, he didn’t appear to be any older than Rosie.

  Before Kieran could take another step, the boy’s mother swooped in and, from the crease in her forehead, the frown on her lips and the grip on his arm, she appeared to be well aware of what he’d done.

  Kieran slowed to a stop. As he stood off to the side, close enough to hear the conversation, he observed the parent and child.

  “What happened?” the mom asked the boy. “Did you hit that little girl?”

  “Yes. But she punched me first!” He pointed to his eye, which appeared to be a little red. “Right here! And it still hurts.”

  The mother dropped to one knee and studied the alleged injury carefully. “Why did she do that?”

  “I don’t know.” He grimaced. “I told her my dragon likes to eat princesses, and I told her she better get out of the way. Then she did this.” He fisted his small hand and made a punching motion toward his eye.

  “I’m sorry she hurt you, but that didn’t mean you had the right to hit her back. You’re going to have to tell her you’re sorry.”

  The boy looked down at his scuffed sneakers then back at his mom with a frown. “Okay. But she has to say sorry, too.”

  “I’m not worried about her manners. I’m concerned about yours. You know better than to hurt someone, even if they hit you first.”

  His chi
n dropped to his chest, resting on the graphic, right about where a burst of fire came out of the dragon’s mouth. “Okay. But will you come with me?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  As the mother bent forward and placed a kiss on her son’s cheek, Kieran realized he didn’t need to get involved after all. The woman clearly loved the boy and was teaching him right from wrong, as well as showing him how to be kind and thoughtful. So he turned and walked away.

  He wished he’d had a parent like that when he’d been growing up. Not that he hadn’t been loved or disciplined, but more often than not, those lessons had come from nannies and au pairs—and minus the kiss on the cheek.

  When he reached the big red slide, Dana still wasn’t back from the restroom where she’d taken Rosie to wash off the blood. He hadn’t liked seeing Rosie hurt, but she’d probably learned a hard and painful lesson.

  Hopefully, she hadn’t been seriously injured. When he’d been a boy, he’d gotten a couple of bloody noses, and he had never suffered any lasting damage.

  But that didn’t make this any easier. When he’d heard Rosie cry, when he’d seen the blood dribbling from her nose, his heart had dropped to the floor, and he’d almost lost it. All he could think about was chasing after that bully and making sure he didn’t get away with hitting a little girl. But that was before he’d found out that the princess had struck the dragon first.

  Now what? What would a real father do at a time like this?

  Too bad he didn’t have any memories to draw from so he could teach by example. His dad had been a workaholic, and by the time Kieran had come around, Gerald Robinson practically lived at the office or was flying off to who knew where.

  And his mom hadn’t been around much, either. She’d been too caught up in shopping trips to Manhattan, visits to spas and hair salons and whatever else it was some mothers did when they didn’t have time for their kids.

  Still, he was going to have to talk to Rosie, just as the boy’s mom had done with him.

  How would Zach have handled this?

  Too bad Kieran couldn’t just whip out his cell phone and ask.

  No, he was on his own from now on, and his gut clenched at the thought.

  That is, until Dana walked out of the bathroom, a reminder that he wasn’t entirely alone. She still held Rosie in her arms. The new princess shirt he’d bought her was now bloodstained and probably ruined. So was Dana’s lacy blouse.

  On the upside, it appeared that the bleeding had stopped.

  “How’s she doing?” Kieran asked.

  “She’s all right. Just a little sore.” Dana brushed a motherly kiss on Rosie’s brow. It was a sweet move, a touching one.

  Had Zach lived, Dana probably would have filled a maternal role in the child’s life.

  “Hey,” Kieran said to Rosie. “You and I are going to have to go find that boy so you can apologize to him.”

  Dana didn’t object, but she scrunched her brow, clearly confused by Kieran’s comment.

  “Apparently,” he said, filling her in, “Rosie struck the first blow.” Then he turned back to Rosie, “Of course, two wrongs don’t make a right. And hitting hurts. That’s why we don’t punch people when we get mad.”

  “No.” Rosie crossed her arms in an unexpected show of defiance. “I’m not gonna say sorry to him.”

  Kieran looked at Dana, hoping she’d help him figure out the proper approach.

  She gave a slight shrug, then turned Rosie to face her. “When we hurt someone, we apologize. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Rosie scrunched her little face. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, you do,” Dana said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Kieran offered, just as the boy’s mom had done.

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “Okay, but then I want to go home.”

  Now she was talking. Kieran had already spent more time at Cowboy Fred’s than he wanted to. “I’ve got an even better idea, Rosie. I’ll ask the guy at the counter to box up our pizza so we can take it with us. What do you say about that?”

  “Okay,” she said. “Can we eat it and watch a princess movie on TV?”

  “Absolutely. Now come on, let’s go face that dragon.”

  Moments later, they found the boy standing next to his mother, scanning the climbing structure and probably looking for Rosie. Dana placed the girl on the floor, and Kieran took her hand in his, but he had to give it a little tug to get her to move forward and face the boy and his mom.

  “I’m sorry for punching you,” she told the child.

  The boy looked at Rosie. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to make blood come out of your nose.”

  “Tell her your name,” the boy’s mother suggested. “That way, maybe you can be friends and play together.”

  The boy didn’t say a word, and Rosie merely stared at him.

  The mother placed her hand on her son’s head. “This is Michael.”

  “Yeah,” he said, directing his response to Rosie. “But sometimes people call me Indiana Jones, ’specially when I have my toy whip.”

  Rosie smiled. “Then you can call me Princess Rosabelle.” She must have thought of something because her smile faded. “I’m not going to play with you when you have a whip.”

  Michael shrugged, then turned to his mother and wrapped his arms around her leg, clearly glad the apology was over.

  Apparently so was Rosie because she hurried back to Dana and lifted her arms, making it known that she wanted to be picked up again.

  When Dana complied, Rosie hugged her neck. “Let’s go home now, Uncle Kieran.”

  “Maybe,” Michael’s mom said, “the next time you come to Cowboy Fred’s, we’ll be here, too. And then you and Michael can play together.”

  Kieran didn’t know about that, but he offered the mom a smile. Then he went to the counter and told the teenage clerk to make their order to go.

  “Perfect timing,” the teen said. “Your pizza is just coming out of the oven.”

  Moments later, with the large pizza box in hand, Kieran found Dana and Rosie at the entrance, having the matching stamps on their hands verified.

  “Why don’t you follow us back to my place?” he suggested. “I promised you pizza for dinner, and I don’t want you to think I’d ever renege on a deal like that.”

  Her pretty smile lit her eyes, reminding him of a field of bluebonnets.

  “Sure, why not?”

  When she shifted Rosie in her arms, he again spotted the blood splatter on her blouse. “Looks like I’m going to owe you a new top.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I insist.”

  She shook her head. “Actually, you’d never be able to find another like this. I bought it at a vintage clothing shop downtown, so it’s one of a kind.”

  If it was that rare, it was probably also expensive. “Now I really feel bad.”

  “Don’t,” she said, as she pushed open the door. “Believe it or not, I’m up on all the latest techniques for stain removal. I learned them because of the unique places I sometimes shop.”

  “You like to wear vintage clothing?”

  “Yes. I actually prefer it.”

  At that, his steps slowed. Hers did, too. When their eyes met, he studied her for a moment. Dana was a novelty and one of a kind, just like her favorite articles of clothing.

  With unabashed honesty, he said, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  He’d expected her to brighten, to take his flattering remark to heart, like most of the women he knew would have done. But her waifish smile made him wonder if she’d taken his comment differently than he’d actually meant it.

  “I’m sure you haven’t,” she said, her voice soft and vulnerable—maybe even hurt.

  “That was actually a co
mpliment,” he told her.

  “Then thank you.” She smiled again, and while it seemed a lot more genuine this time, her eyes weren’t nearly as bright.

  If she were another woman, one of those he usually dated, he’d apologize by surprising her with a piece of jewelry or by taking her someplace special.

  But Dana didn’t seem to be the kind of woman to get caught up in high-priced trappings. And, while that left him without a ready peace offering, it pleased him in an unexpected way.

  * * *

  Dana had to admit that an evening spent watching animated movies while eating pizza never had sounded appealing, at least not since she’d graduated from high school. But on the drive over to Kieran’s condominium, she’d actually looked forward to having dinner with him and Rosie.

  Now, as they sat on the floor, around a modern, glass-topped coffee table and watching a classic cartoon movie on television, she found herself having fun. Rosie was an absolute delight and said some of the cutest things. Her happy chatter had both adults smiling more often than not.

  Dana’s only complaint, if you could call it that, was the meal itself. Cowboy Fred’s pizza was the worst she’d ever eaten. No, she’d have to take that back. When she was a teenager, her foster dad used to stop by a sports bar on his way home from work on Friday nights. He’d meet his wife there so they could have a couple of beers with their friends. After they’d “wound down” from a stressful workweek, they would bring home cold pizza for Dana and the other kids to eat. The topping was always greasy, the crust tough and hard to chew. Looking back, she suspected that, even if they’d brought it straight home still warm from the oven, it wouldn’t have tasted any better.

  Rosie reached for her glass and downed the last of her milk. “I’m all done.” Then she pushed her plate aside and zeroed in on the movie.

  Kieran, who sat next to Dana, turned to her and asked, “Do you think she had enough to eat? She ate the cheese off the top, but she only took a couple of bites of the crust.”

  Dana offered him a slight shrug. “Who knows? At least she drank her milk.”