by Beth Andrews
“Then I want to go to Gramma’s,” Hayley wailed. “I don’t want to be here! You’re mean. You’re the meanest mom in the world!”
Nina shut the mixer off. “Great. Do I get to wear a crown?”
“No. No crowns and I’m not going to give you a Christmas present, either.” Hayley crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “I’m going to call Gramma and have her come get me.” She stomped off, her feet making an incredible amount of noise for someone who weighed less than fifty pounds.
“If you so much as pick up that phone,” Nina warned, “you’re going to lose television privileges for a week.”
Dillon came up next to her. “You do realize you’re fighting with a six-year-old, right?”
She glanced at him, too tired, frustrated and, to be honest, clinging to the end of her very short rope to even be embarrassed. “She started it,” she mumbled.
“Mommy’s mean,” Hayley said, running over to Dillon. “She won’t let us go to Daddy’s.”
“We can’t go to Dad’s,” Marcus called from the table, a book opened in front of him. “He’s not going to be there, remember?”
“But he promised to take us to the movie.”
The disappointment in her little girl’s voice broke Nina’s heart. She crouched in front of her. “Honey, I’m sorry, but your dad and Rachel had to go out of town. You’ll see them Thursday.”
“Then can Gramma take me to the movie tonight?”
Nina caressed her daughter’s silky hair. “The wedding reception is at Grandma and Papa’s lodge, so they have a lot of work to do tonight to get ready. Besides, you get to have a sleepover at Grandma’s tomorrow. But only if you behave tonight. Do you understand?” Hayley sniffed and nodded. “Good. Now, go and play with your brother while I finish up a few things, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, sounding so long-suffering Nina struggled not to smile. “Do you want to play with us?” she asked Dillon.
Before he could answer, Nina said, “Mr. Ward’s done working for the day, honey. He has to get home.”
“Why don’t you let Mr. Ward figure out when he has to leave,” Dillon suggested.
“Is there a problem?” she asked. “Didn’t you and Kyle get the windows hung?”
“No problem. And yes, the windows are hung.”
“Great.” At the sink, she washed her hands. “So we’re still on track for the grand reopening.”
“As on track as we’re going to get.”
She patted her hands dry with a paper towel. She had big plans scheduled for a week before Christmas. She had an ad reserved in the Serenity Springs Gazette and had come up with a list of specials and sales to draw customers back.
She laid the ball of dough on the flour-covered counter. “Do you really believe we’ll be ready to reopen by Wednesday?”
“Should be.”
“That doesn’t exactly ease my mind.” She kneaded the dough. “You’re not very good at assurances.”
“Some things are out of my hands, like the electrician pushing us back on his job list. If you need coddling, I suggest you look elsewhere.”
She slammed the dough down onto the board. She’d just wanted a bit of reassurance. Someone to tell her things were going to work out, that she’d made the right decisions. Was that too much to ask for?
She glanced at Dillon. His T-shirt was dusty, the short sleeves hugging his biceps. His mussed hair and dark stubble gave him a sexy, dangerous edge. She averted her gaze.
Maybe she didn’t want assurances. Maybe what she really wanted stood across from her, all strong and steady and more than capable of offering her the one thing she couldn’t ask for.
Comfort.
“Knock it off!” Marcus yelled.
She sighed. Marcus and Hayley were playing tug-of-war with the video game. “If you have to fight, could you at least keep it down to a low roar?” she asked them wearily.
They lowered their voices. She heard a hissed, “stupid face,” followed by a whispered, “doo-doo head.”
“You’re not going to break that up?” Dillon asked.
“Kids need to learn to deal with some problems on their own. That includes arguments.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Besides, Hayley’s already informed me I’m Queen of the Mean Moms, so it’s not as if I’m worried about losing Mother of the Year.”
“Yeah, she was pretty ticked at you when I came in.”
“She’s just disappointed. Something else she’s going to have to learn to deal with. Although I have to admit, it kills me to see her that upset.”
“Your ex bailed on them, huh?” His tone was mild, barely curious.
She tossed the dirty utensils into the mixing bowl, nodding.
Trey had been more upset about Nina’s angry reaction than the thought of letting his kids down. He’d had no qualms about letting her know how unfair she was being.
Right, she had no reason to be angry just because she’d have to not only deal with the fallout of his bailing on the kids, but also because she’d had to rearrange her work schedule yesterday. And to make matters worse, she’d had to listen to Trey’s self-absorbed condescension while he explained how she was overreacting.
“It is what it is,” Nina said. And how Zen was that? Maybe all those self-help books really were working. “The kids will get over it. But in the meantime, they need to keep themselves occupied and out of my hair for a few more hours—”
“Hours? It’s already past five. How much more do you have to do?”
“I just have to finish up a few things.”
He studied her and though she told herself not to, she couldn’t help but fidget under his intense scrutiny. “How many is a few?”
“I need to prep for the appetizers tomorrow—slice the vegetables, make the dough and dips. Plus I still need to make the cookies and fruit tarts…and Kelsey wanted a couple of cheesecakes along with her wedding cake—”
“And you thought you could get all of that done tonight? By yourself?”
“Actually, I thought Lacy would be able to help me, but she had to cover the check-in desk at the motel. And…well…that’s not all.” She exhaled, ruffling the curl that had fallen across her forehead. “I still have to finish the wedding cake.”
He straightened and glanced at the corner where the cake was assembled, frosted and surrounded by dozens of icing flowers. She still had to decorate it.
“Let me get this straight. My sister’s wedding is in less than twelve hours and you still don’t have the cake done?”
“Well, I meant to finish it. It’s just that somehow my week got away from me.”
“It got away from you because you refuse to tell anyone no—and because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. Now your back’s up against the wall.”
“I know that, all right?” she burst out as the enormity of everything she had to do sunk in. “It’s not like I planned it this way. I knew I shouldn’t have taken on so much extra work, but I couldn’t say no and miss an opportunity to show everyone what I’m capable of.” Her chest constricted and she found it hard to breathe. She broke out in a cold sweat. “And each time I took on more work I figured one more thing wouldn’t hurt, that I’d somehow find the time. And now I’m at least eight hours behind schedule and I won’t be able to work tonight because my kids need me but I still have all the piping and decorating to finish. And that doesn’t even count the other prep work I’ll have to do in the morning so that there’s enough product here so Lacy can work while I attend the wedding and—”
“Stop.” Dillon grabbed her by the upper arms. “Take a breath.”
She placed a hand over her racing heart. “I…I can’t.”
“You can. Lower your head,” he told her as he gently nudged her head forward, kept it there with a warm hand to the back of her neck. “Now inhale.”
She squirmed, panicked when the air she sucked in didn’t fill her lungs.
“Shh…” He massaged her neck. “You’re doing great.
Inhale again and count to five. Good. Exhale.”
She followed his instructions—inhale, count to five, long exhale—several times until her dizziness passed.
“Better?” he asked.
“I think so.” She lifted her head and his hands fell back to his sides. Was she a wimp if she admitted she missed the contact? “Thank you.”
“Mommy?” Hayley asked, standing next to Marcus. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled, knew it was shaky but it was the best she could manage. “I just…” What? Lost her mind? That seemed to be the most reasonable explanation.
And unfortunately, she didn’t have the time—or the energy—to search for it.
“I just need to buckle down and get back to work,” she told them, ruffling Marcus’s hair. “Everything will be okay.”
Her kids didn’t look convinced. Neither did Dillon. She pulled her shoulders back, clapped her hands together and forced a laugh. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. Why don’t you go out front and make sure the Closed sign’s flipped over?”
Once her kids were out of the room, she shut her eyes. Could feel Dillon still watching her, feel his body heat. “The only expectations I will worry about are those I put on myself,” she murmured. “I will open myself to the possibility of success and success will be mine.”
“What are you doing?” Dillon asked.
“The book I’m reading suggests using affirmations as a way to get through stressful situations. I can do this,” she chanted, “I can do this. I can—”
“Damn right you can.”
She opened her eyes. “What?”
“You don’t need affirmations and you sure as hell don’t need me to tell you that you’re smart and capable and tough. You hired me and Kyle—the two baddest badasses in this town. I have complete faith you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”
She blinked. “I can?”
“Yeah. And I’m going to stick around to make sure you do.”
CHAPTER TEN
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Dillon descended the steps from his apartment, his arms piled high with blankets and pillows. As he reached the bottom, he thought about Nina’s hesitation to accept his offer to hang out with her kids.
It wasn’t brain surgery. Just keeping two little kids occupied, happy and out of their mother’s hair for a few hours.
How hard could it be?
He pushed open the kitchen door. Nina stood between Marcus and Hayley, one hand on each of their heads keeping them apart as they tried to tear into each other.
“Marcus, apologize to your sister,” a frazzled Nina said.
“Why should I?” Marcus pulled away from his mother’s hand. “It was her fault.”
“Is it time for Friday night wrestling?” Dillon asked as he came in. “Should I make popcorn?”
“Marcus took the game away from me.” Hayley rushed over to Dillon and grabbed his leg. “And he didn’t give it back, even though Mommy said he had to.”
“I’m not done with it.” Marcus’s face was red, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “How come she gets everything she wants?”
“It’s because I’m a girl,” Hayley said matter-of-factly, “and Daddy’s princess.”
“There are no princesses here,” Nina said, “no matter what your daddy says.”
“Yeah,” Marcus added with a sneer. “Princesses are stupid.”
Hayley’s lower lip began to tremble. The kid could flip on the waterworks on a whim.
“You don’t want to be a princess anyway,” Dillon said.
She sniffed. “I don’t?”
“Nah. Being a princess would be boring.”
“But they wear fancy dresses and pretty jewelry and go to balls and dance with princes.”
Dillon shook his head. “You need to cut back on the fairy tales there, short-stuff. Besides, princesses don’t have great adventures—”
“Ariel had a adventure when she got human legs,” Hayley said, blinking innocently. “And Jasmine rode on a magic carpet. And—”
“They don’t get to have adventures like we’re going to have,” he said.
“We’re having an adventure?” Marcus asked. “What kind?”
Dillon shifted the load in his arms. “Let’s go into the front room and I’ll fill you both in.”
Their argument forgotten, the kids raced out of the room.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nina asked, her forehead furrowed.
“Don’t worry about it. If I have any problems, I’ll let you know.”
She smiled. “Well, if you’re sure…”
Hell, when she looked at him like that, as if he’d just set the freaking moon—instead of watching her kids for a few hours—he wasn’t sure of anything.
“What kind of adventure are we having?” Marcus asked when Dillon went into the other room.
Hayley skipped up to him. “Is all that stuff part of our adventure?”
“The kind that keeps you both out of your mother’s hair,” he said to Marcus, setting the blankets and pillows on a table before turning to Hayley. “This stuff is going to be our construction materials.” When they both looked at him blankly he added, “We’re going to build a tent.”
Hayley poked at a blue blanket. “But it’s too cold to sleep outside.”
“You don’t have to be outside for a tent, dummy,” Marcus said, his big-brother disgust clear on his face and in his voice.
Hayley’s face fell.
“Marcus,” Dillon said, “why don’t you help me move this table so we have more room? Hayley, can you put all the pillows on that chair over there?”
Once he and Marcus were out of Hayley’s hearing, Dillon said, “Do you know what a bully is?”
“Sure, they talk about it at school all the time. A bully is someone who picks on you or maybe even hits you.”
Dillon nodded and crouched down to be eye level with the kid. “That’s right. And a bully can pick on people by making fun of them or even calling them names.” He paused. “Like calling your sister a dummy.”
Marcus blushed and ducked his head. Maybe Dillon should’ve kept his mouth shut but he’d known too many bullies in his lifetime. People like Glenn who used fear and intimidation to get what they wanted.
But still, Marcus wasn’t his responsibility. It wasn’t his job to correct him or to want better from him. “Listen,” Dillon said as he straightened, “forget I—”
“Hayley,” Marcus called, his chin raised, “I’m sorry I called you a dummy.”
“That’s okay,” Hayley replied.
Dillon patted Marcus on the shoulder. “Okay, you two,” he said, “let’s build a tent.”
It took them a good half hour, but they managed to build a fort that didn’t fall on their heads. Even with the fourth side pinned back, Dillon had to keep reminding himself there was plenty of air.
He sat closest to the opening.
“Did you camp a lot when you were a kid?” Marcus asked as he helped himself to a second slice of cheese pizza.
“I slept out a few times,” Dillon said, finishing off his third. “Why?”
Marcus shrugged. “You’re pretty good at building tents.”
He should be. When he and Kelsey had been young and she’d had a nightmare, she’d come into his room and he’d build her a safe place to spend the night. And now she was getting married tomorrow. The realization hit him hard.
“I had you two to help me,” Dillon said, shoving aside the unwelcome feelings. “Anyone like another root beer?”
“Daddy says sodas aren’t good for us.” Hayley sipped from her can. “He says it rots teeth and is one of the reasons why Marcus is getting fat.”
Marcus blushed and he set his pizza down.
The more Dillon heard about Dr. Trey Carlson, the less he liked the asshole. He kept his face expressionless, his voice neutral when he asked, “What does your mom say about soda?”
“She says we can have some on weekends, but no more
than one and only if there’s no…no…” She scrunched up her face and looked at Marcus.
“No caffeine,” her brother said.
“Right. ’Cause that keeps us up and we need our sleep.”
“Soda can rot your teeth,” Dillon said smoothly, “but only if you drink too much of it. And Marcus is just the right size.”
Hayley nodded. “Marcus told me not to tell Daddy we helped you the other day and that we shouldn’t tell him you watched us tonight.”
“Hayley,” Marcus growled, “you have a big mouth.”
“What?” she asked. “You did say that.”
“It’s not a lie,” Marcus told Dillon quickly, as if he were some sort of judge as to what was and what wasn’t a lie. “I just didn’t want him to get mad at Mom.”
“Daddy use to yell at Mommy and make her cry,” Hayley confided, snuggling closer to him, her head on his arm.
“He said you were bad,” Marcus said, “and that Mom needed to learn she couldn’t trust just anyone. So I thought it would be better if he didn’t know we’d helped you.”
Dillon nodded, not knowing what to say to these kids. “That’s probably a good idea. But if your dad finds out, I don’t want you to lie. And I’m sure your mom wouldn’t want you to, either.”
“I don’t think you’re bad or scary.” Hayley grinned up at him. She put her warm—and slightly sticky—hand on his arm. “I think you’re nice.”
He wanted to shake her hand off, wanted to growl that he wasn’t nice.
But he couldn’t. So he forced a smile and, as gently as possible, extracted her from his side and put a movie into their portable DVD player.
Hayley soon became engrossed in the film—some holiday, feel-good fantasy about a train heading to the North Pole. Dillon picked up the mess from their dinner. He tossed the paper plates and napkins into the trash and set the soda cans aside for recycling, turned—and about jumped out of his boots to find Marcus behind him.
“Jeez, kid,” Dillon said, “you practicing to be a ninja or something?”
“No. I…what you said before, about bullies? So…does that mean if someone says something mean and makes someone else cry all the time…is he a bully?”
