by Jeannie Watt
“What’s an achievement?” Kristen asked as she came into the kitchen with Katie a few steps behind her.
Annie leaned down to give each girl a kiss. “Your awards. They mean you’ve accomplished something.”
“I got an award for breathing once,” Grady said. Annie shot him a dark look, and the girls both cocked their heads. “It was all about self-esteem,” he explained. “Everybody got an award just for showing up at basketball camp.”
“How’s that special?” Kristen asked.
“It isn’t. Which is why these awards of yours are real special. You did something hard to earn them. Where do you think my award for breathing is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. But I can tell you exactly where my rodeo buckles, my high school letter and my spelling bee award are.”
“You won a spelling bee?”
Grady looked at Annie. “All these scars and buckles and they’re impressed by the spelling award.”
“As well they should be.” Annie gave her girls “the look.” “Stay clean.”
“We will.”
“No mud pies. In fact...don’t leave the house.”
The girls nodded in unison. Grady had to admit that they looked pretty cute in their dresses, one purple and blue, one turquoise and brown, similar in style but different enough to allow the girls their own personality, and he also knew how quickly they could get uncute, given the proper mix of mud and water.
Once Annie drove away, he jerked his head toward the living room. “Watch television until it’s time to leave, okay?” He went into the kitchen and came back with the timer. “If I’m not back in the house when this thing dings, then come and get me, okay?”
“All right.” Kristen already had the remote and was cruising through channels while Katie curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her.
“Stop!” she called. “I want to watch that...”
Grady let himself out the back door, hoping to get at least a start on framing the gardening shed before he had to take off for town.
As he fully expected, he lost track of time. What he hadn’t expected was to look at his watch and realize that the girls should have called him twenty minutes ago. If he didn’t get a move on, they were going to be late.
He jogged to the house, peeling out of his sweaty T-shirt as he went. “Girls, get whatever you need. We have to go. Now.” He disappeared into his room and came out buttoning a light blue long-sleeve shirt. He stepped out onto the porch and quickly brushed the fine sawdust off the jeans that were going to have to do, because he didn’t have time to take off his boots and find new ones. When he came back out into the kitchen, there was no sign of the girls...but there were noises coming out of the bathroom. Water splashing noises mixed with hissed whispers.
His stomach clenched as he approached the door. He hesitated, then gave a short rap. There was a gasp on the other side of the door, and then Kristen said, “We need a few more minutes to get ready.”
“You were ready.”
“Uh...” More water noises. More whispers.
“What’s going on?” He rapped again. “Come on. What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m counting to three. One...”
The door cracked open. Grady pushed it the rest of the way open, then almost fell over when he saw Katie.
“How?”
It was the only word he could manage. How had Katie managed to dye half of her head pink?
The girls shuffled guiltily. “We already got most of it off.”
He didn’t think so. “What is it?” he asked, coming into the tiny room to get a closer look.
Both girls shrugged. “Something that came with the new cake baking set.”
Food coloring perhaps? Two fresh dresses hung from the towel bar, ready to replace the wet ones they were wearing.
Grady did his best to be positive as he freaked out. “Okay, the dresses—that’s good, but what about your hair?”
Katie picked up a dripping hank of pink hair and dropped it again. Her lip shook a little; then she sucked it up and said, “I wanted a little pink streak in my hair. My friend Rose’s mom let her have a little pink streak for the awards.”
“Why didn’t you ask your mom to help you?”
“We thought she’d say no,” Kristen said. “So I helped, but more came out than was s’posed to.”
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission—a strategy he was well familiar with. But neither forgiveness nor permission was going to help them now.
“I...uh...don’t know what to do,” he admitted to himself out loud as he took a closer look. “A hat maybe?”
“We don’t got hats.”
“Except for winter ones.”
Somehow he didn’t think a knit cap was the answer. Desperation jabbed him as he fought for a solution to partially pink, dripping wet hair. She’d gotten a streak all right—one that covered about a third of her head. The top of one ear was pink, too.
“You could braid it,” Kristen said, “and hide some of the pink.” Katie’s face brightened, then fell again as Grady shook his head.
“I’m not talented in that particular arena. Can you braid?” he asked Kristen. She shook her head sadly.
“Lex taught me,” Katie said. “But I can’t do my own hair yet.”
“Well, we’ve got to do something. We may not be early like your mom asked, but if we can figure something out fast—”
“Mom might not kill us?” Katie asked hopefully.
“I was thinking more along the lines of we won’t be that late.” Killing was a given at this point.
He walked around his niece, trying to figure out his next move, visualizing what the rodeo girls had taught him to do with his horse’s tail while they were flirting with him in high school. Over, under, over...stick in a ribbon. He could do it...or something close to it.
He pulled the new hair dryer off the shelf and clicked it to high as he pointed it at Katie’s head. He was probably setting in the color and doing all kinds of wrong, but darn it, they were going to make that ceremony. Once her hair was dry—which thankfully hadn’t taken that long—he set the dryer on the back of the toilet and assessed. The pink wasn’t a soft petal pink that would have blended with her natural blond—it approached neon. It needed to be hidden.
“Katie, change your dress fast. Kristen, find me a brush and some hair dudes while she changes. Then you go change.” Kristen frowned at him and he said, “You know, rubber bands or whatever they’re called.”
“Elastics,” Katie said as she grabbed her dress off the towel bar and headed for the door.
“And some kind of bow,” he said to Kristen, who was now rummaging through drawers. “Something really, really big.”
* * *
LEX GOT BACK from her dental appointment earlier than expected, and while she’d offered to watch the store, she was glad when Danielle insisted on putting up the bee-back-soon sign with the little honey bee on the corner. Several small businesses took time off every year for this event. Thanks to a grant and a dedicated county librarian, the city made a big deal about their reading program. The winners at each grade level received prizes and a special award from the mayor and were then guests of honor at a sundae-making party and the games and prize drawings that followed.
Lex and Danielle and Annie managed to get front-row seats in the parents’ section, and Annie stacked all of their purses on Grady’s chair. As soon as they were seated, Annie checked her watch, then craned her neck, trying to see the parking lot. “They’re supposed to be here by now.”
“Maybe Grady lost track of time.”
“He better not have. Last year they missed getting Dedicated Reader Awards by only a couple
books, and it crushed them.” Annie pulled out her phone and started texting.
The chairs were rapidly filling up and soon there were none left except for the one next to Annie, and only two empty chairs on the stage.
The head librarian, Mr. Westcott, took the microphone and welcomed the families and friends of this year’s dedicated readers. He explained the program as Annie squirmed in her seat. Next he handed the microphone to the mayor and just as Annie reached in her purse to take her phone out again, Grady’s truck roared into the parking lot. Annie’s shoulders relaxed and then, as she caught sight of the girls jogging on either side of Grady, they stiffened again. It was pretty obvious why.
One of the twins looked as though she was dressed for an awards ceremony—cute dress, shiny black shoes, curled hair bouncing on her shoulders. The other twin... Katie, maybe?...also had on a cute dress and shiny black shoes. Her hair, however, was twisted up into a bun thing, and balanced in front of the bun was what appeared to be a floral display.
“Oh, dear heavens,” Annie said on a low groan.
The girls took their seats behind the mayor, and Grady stepped to the side of the stage, shifting his weight and folding his arms over his chest. He looked relieved and stressed at the same time. And maybe a little afraid. He didn’t so much as glance their way.
Lex pressed her lips together, because it was all she could do to keep a straight face when she looked back at Katie. Flowers everywhere. She wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that duct tape was involved somewhere in the process.
“She looks adorable,” Danielle said, patting Annie’s knee.
“I think her hair is pink,” Annie responded.
“How can you tell?” Lex asked. It was hard to see her hair with all the flowers.
Awards were given, Katie’s hair stayed up for the most part and she only lost two flowers on the way to the podium. Another little girl picked them up and solemnly handed them back as Katie took her seat. Grady stayed where he was, out of harm’s way, but Lex didn’t think that was going to last for long.
After the mayor announced the award winners, Annie found her girls and hugged them, telling them how proud she was. Even though she gave the pink hair a long, hard look, she didn’t say a word as she hugged Katie again, kissed her head and told her to get in line. Then she stood up and zeroed in on her brother, still standing twenty feet away. He made a helpless gesture and started toward them. Lex knew she should leave, but there was no way she was missing out on this explanation.
“I appreciate you babysitting, Grady. Really, I do—”
“She wanted a pink streak in her hair. Like Rose. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Somehow she doesn’t look like Rose,” Annie pointed out.
“She has roses...” Grady smiled weakly.
“That she does.” Annie settled her hands on her hips, then let out a sigh. “You get points for creativity.”
“I had to duct-tape some of the lower flowers. Hopefully it won’t hurt too much when you take them out.”
“Of course you duct-taped them.” Annie shook her head. “Go have a sundae, Grady.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” He started toward the line, where Katie and Kristen were.
“I think he did a decent job,” Lex said. Surprisingly she meant it. He must have been horrified to find that he had a neon pink–haired kid on his hands. A laugh welled up inside her, but she choked it back and gave a small cough.
“Yeah,” Annie replied. “But it’s still a touch embarrassing.”
“I’m sure she’ll be in the picture they put on the front page of the newspaper,” Lex said. The reporter had certainly taken enough photos of her, knowing a human interest story when he saw one.
“No doubt.” Annie smiled up at her. “Do you want to get a sundae?”
“No. I’ll head back to the shop. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Before Lex turned to go, Grady caught her eye from where he stood in line between the twins, and she saw something she didn’t usually see in his expression. Uncertainty. Good. Guys like Grady needed a little uncertainty in their lives.
* * *
THE DUCKS ARRIVED the next day, along with their grateful owner, Peter’s grandmother, Nancy, a plump woman in her late seventies who’d at one time been her down-the-road neighbor. Each duck had a name, and Nancy had thoughtfully provided Lex with an identification key. To Lex’s untrained eyes, all the female ducks looked the same, both in the labeled photos and in person. The only one she could identify from the photo was Channing, the drake.
“I named him after Channing Tatum,” Nancy confided. “I waited a long time to hatch such a perfect specimen.”
“Excellent choice,” Lex said. “I see the resemblance.”
With Peter’s help, they set up the pen, made of sections of grid fencing—complete with a protective screen over the top—and the portable pond, which needed to have water running through it all the time to keep it fresh. Then there were food troughs, bags of food, a duck house. When they were done, Lex understood why Peter had called her. Not many people would have had the space for this.
“Only seven weeks,” Nancy cooed to the ducks, who seemed more interested in grazing on the fresh green grass than in listening to their mama. Lex’s dogs had watched as the pen had been built, showed a moderate amount of interest when the ducks were released then all but yawned and fallen asleep after the ducks settled in. Like Peter, waterfowl were not their thing. Nor were the ducks of interest to Felicity. The cat rubbed against Lex’s leg, then headed to the house, tail swaying in the air.
Nancy looked close to tears as she walked toward Peter’s truck. She stopped before opening the door and pulled a wallet out of her jacket pocket. “Will thirty dollars a week be enough?”
“For caring for the ducks?” Lex asked in surprise. She shook her head. “I can’t take money. It’ll be a privilege to keep them for you.”
Nancy’s face brightened. “Really?”
“Of course. I may have to get some ducks of my own.”
“You will never regret it. They bring such joy!”
Lex met Peter’s eyes. He smiled at her, a very nice smile from a very handsome guy, and she felt...nothing.
Damn.
Just because Grady sparked something inside her every time she was close to him, just because she thought about their kisses a bit more than she should, it didn’t mean she had to obsess or worry. She was in control of her life, not Grady and not the community. She would bring this thing with Grady back to where it should be. Mutual animosity would be nice, but animosity only seemed to encourage him.
And her.
She needed to get a handle on the situation, establish a casual-acquaintance relationship with him and then maybe she could relax. No more kissing—that was a given. She was simply too private a person to be a participant in a spectator sport, and if that meant telling Grady that he had won the war, so be it. She’d happily wave the white flag of surrender.
Chapter Ten
On Monday morning Annie came in to the store looking frazzled. The twins, she explained as she hung up her purse and pulled on the smock she wore at the store, had started coming down with colds on Saturday, were cranky as could be on Sunday and now they were officially sick.
“Do you want to take the day off?” Danielle asked with a concerned frown.
Annie tied the waist strings at the back of the smock. “No. Grady’s doing fine with them, but I do need to run the cough medicine out to him before noon. The pharmacist said he’d have the prescription filled by ten. I’d be back in less than an hour.”
“Or I could drop it off on my way home,” Lex offered, recognizing a golden opportunity when she saw one. She could talk to Grady in relative privacy instead of at riding lessons or some other
public forum. “Unless you want to check on the girls, that is.”
Annie’s expression brightened. “You don’t mind? Dropping it off? I mean...” She made a face, and Lex knew what she was thinking. If she didn’t mind seeing Grady after becoming the talk of the community by kissing in the stands and telling Tiffani the Mouth that they were sleeping together.
“It’s on my way home,” Lex repeated matter-of-factly.
“Thanks so much. It actually might be better if you brought it. If the girls are awake when I get there, they may not want me to leave.” Annie smiled a little. “They’re never clingy except when they get sick. Then it’s cuddle city.”
Half an hour later Lex turned into Annie’s driveway. The garage door was open, and next to the small table saw was a weight bench. Grady was on his back, pressing a big barbell.
Lex got out of the truck and strolled over, white pharmacy bag in hand. “You shouldn’t do that without a spotter.”
Grady hefted the barbell back into the stand and then sat on the bench, reaching for a towel, which he used to wipe his shoulders and chest. A scar started at his rib cage and dipped south, and Lex noted a few smaller scars scattered here and there. Scars that probably meant he’d barely escaped death. The idea made her stomach tighten. “It won’t crush me. I wait for Annie to do the heavy ones.”
“Good to know,” Lex said briskly, shoving thoughts of near death out of her head and tearing her gaze away from the sheen of perspiration on his incredibly muscled torso. She held up the bag. “Cough medicine.”
“Great.” He slung the towel around his neck and got to his feet, crossing to stop in front of her, and as soon as he got close, she felt all the sensations she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t feel when she was near him. The feeling that she couldn’t get quite enough air in her lungs. The tiny electric prickles of awareness dancing over her skin. She lifted her chin, commanded herself to get a grip.
“Have any hair adventures lately?” she asked mildly.
“Nope, and I’m happy to say that while the pink stuff doesn’t wash out, it gets lighter as time goes on.” Grady took the bag from her as she held it out. The paper rustled as he lowered his hand to his side.
