Who's Your Daddy?

by Lynda Sandoval

  We were greeted at the command post like heroes, surrounded by applause, cheers, and whistles of joy. News media had gathered, and the whole area was brightly lit by spotlights on the various pieces of emergency equipment and news vans packed into the trailhead parking lot.

  The paramedics took over care of Jenita the moment we broke out of the trees—thankfully, because the hike down had been painstaking, exhausting, and stressful. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Jenita’s parents weeping with relief and raining kisses on their little daughter’s face.

  Everyone was hugging and crying and laughing all at once, and I stood back with a huge grin on my face and took it all in. We had averted something horrible, and we knew it. Suddenly, one of the cops grabbed me and gave me a giant hug. After I’d been passed around for congratulations to what felt like hundreds of cops, volunteers, and friends, my gaze locked with Dylan’s across the crowd. We grinned at each other, and it felt like everyone else disappeared. It seemed like slow motion when he started walking toward me but finally he threw his arms around me, picked me up, and twirled me around.

  I laughed, but when he set me down, he didn’t let go. The mood of the moment changed and my throat went dry.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to him.

  “For what?”

  “For making it less scary.”

  He pulled back. “Don’t be silly, Lila. You did amazingly well up there.”

  “Well, I didn’t puke,” I conceded. “But, I couldn’t have done any of this without your help.”

  “And I couldn’t have done it without yours,” he countered. “So, how about if you let me thank you by taking you out to Mountain Lion Coffee for a cappuccino.”

  My heart jumped, and I swallowed hard. I so so SO wanted to go. “B-but the snow is getting so—”

  “Come on, Lila. It’s practically on the way home.”

  “You two should go on,” said my father, who’d approached without me noticing. “You did a great job up there, m’ija. Go relax and have some fun.”

  I threw my arms around my dad’s neck, surprising him, I think. He stiffened for a split second before wrapping me in a giant bear hug.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too, Lila Jane, and I’m so proud of you.” He pulled back, then planted a smooch on my cheek. “Go have a cappuccino, then head home. I’ll be there later.”

  I looked from him to Dylan, who was watching me with hope and expectation in his eyes.

  “Okay.” I smiled. “Let’s go.”

  fourteen

  Outside, the snowstorm raged, but the interior of the Mountain Lion coffee shop welcomed us with warm gold lighting, soft alternative rock music from a Boulder station, and the delicious aroma of freshly ground Jamaican beans. Bright orange flames licked and crackled inside the fireplace, and I spied an unoccupied sofa in front of it.

  Me. Dylan. A fire.

  How much did this rock the my world?

  A multipierced college student with excellent dreadlocks sat studying at one of the tables, but other than her and the barrista, the coffee shop was empty. The walls, painted warm mango, seemed to embrace us. In fact, sitting inside Mountain Lion Coffee, you’d never know that a major tragedy had just been thwarted on the Elk Bugle trail. Being in the little coffee shop made my whole soul sigh with relief. Being there with Dylan had the same effect on my heart.

  I felt both exhilarated and exhausted by what we’d gone through. In fact, I felt permanently changed in a lot of subtle ways. The most interesting switch had happened inside my head, though. I hadn’t seen it coming, but all of a sudden, I had no interest in being my regular snarky self with Dylan. I wasn’t even so invested in hiding my crush anymore.

  I wanted to ask him questions, to find out more about who he really was. I wanted to find out what had prompted him to join the junior narcs, because the more I got to know him, the less he seemed to resemble my brother, Luke. (Bonus!)

  Dylan Sebring piqued my curiosity. He made me want to know everything there was to know about him, about myself when I was with him … even about the potential of an US.

  YIKES!

  “Grab a table,” Dylan said, looking around. “I’ll get us a couple cappuccinos.”

  “Can I have a caramel machiatto instead?”

  He grinned. “That’s a total chick drink, Lila.”

  “So? I happen to be a chick, you know.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he said ruefully.

  I punched him in the Where the Wild Things Are tattoo spot, wondering what he meant by that. “I thought you said I was like one of the guys? If you’re going to insult me, you can’t say I’m one of the guys AND a total chick. Pick one or the other.”

  “Lila, you are like one of the guys, but I meant it as a compliment.”

  Inside me something fluttered. “Oh.”

  “Duh,” he said, in this sarcastic tone that made me want to hug him. He made a face at me and headed up toward the counter.

  Feeling a million kinds of warm and fuzzy from our snitty banter, I eschewed the idea of a table and made a bold move: I went for the cozy loveseat by the hearth instead. Screw it. If the dumb supper and a million other ridiculous rituals were going to point me in Dylan’s direction, I was going to take advantage of this non-date-esque date to find out WHY.

  I stopped in front of the loveseat and shrugged out of my feloniously ugly parka, then sank into the cushy pillows. The snow outside the big picture window looked magical from where I sat, and the firelight and warmth felt magical on my skin, too. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than right there with Dylan. I could think of a few outfits I’d rather be wearing for this particularly romantic moment, but man pants or not, I wasn’t going to knock spontaneity.

  A couple of minutes later, Dylan approached carrying two coffee drinks in thick, plum-colored mugs, and a couple of white chocolate cranberry biscotti, too. My stomach growled, and I realized with a jolt that I was freakin’ starving.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten,” I said.

  “Hungry?” He set everything down on the little table in front of the loveseat.

  “Way,” I told him. “You?”

  One side of his mouth quirked up as he removed his jacket. “So, let me get this straight. You’d actually eat in front of me?”

  I gave him the “what are you, a freakin’ lunatic?” look. “Well, uh, yeah? What kind of question is that?”

  “I don’t think I ever saw Jennifer eat,” he said.

  My gut tightened. “Yeah, well, I’m not Hellsp—I mean, Jennifer.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Another “don’t I know it.” Now I had to sit back and wonder what he meant by THAT, too.

  He plopped down on the loveseat next to me, then leaned forward and grabbed the mugs. Handing me one, he winked and said, “Cheers.”

  I pushed aside all my wondering. “Yum. Thanks.” We clanked mugs and sipped. I wrapped my hands around both sides of the warm ceramic and inhaled the heavenly aroma. Sometimes the smell of coffee was even yummier and more comforting than the taste of it.

  Dylan blew out a breath and rubbed his forehead. For the first time, I noticed that he looked tired.

  “Wiped?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “You?”

  “Totally.”

  “Your dad really rocks in that kind of an emergency, Lila.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed, feeling a little stab of guilt wrapped up in a whole lot of respect. “I hadn’t really taken the time to notice that about him before, but today he made me proud to be his daughter.”

  Dylan’s eyes were warm, intense. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you made him proud to be your dad, too.”

  My tummy did that flippy thing again, and I bought some composure time by sipping my coffee and taking a bite of the crunchy biscotti. “You know,” I told him finally, “you’re a whole lot different from how I expected you to be when this whole, hellish junior narc nig
htmare began.”

  He chuckled. “How did you expect me to be?”

  I made a gag me face. “You know … like a typical jock. Like my brother, Luke.”

  “Come on. Luke’s a good guy.”

  “Spare me.”

  “He is.”

  “He used to be.” It made me sad. “Until he hooked up with Miffany.”

  “Well,” Dylan conceded, “Miffany’s definitely a hag.”

  I raised my mug. “Finally, an assessment we can agree on.”

  He lifted his mug, too.

  We sipped, then I asked, “But, if you think Miffany’s vomitous, why date her best friend? Haven’t you heard that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their friends?”

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t know how to answer that, though.” He cleared his throat. “But, what I really want to know is, what am I like?”

  “I don’t know. Kind of … normal.”

  He laughed. “And that’s a good thing?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.” I took another sip, and then I remembered my dad’s big speech in the dining room earlier that afternoon. The whole conversation seemed like it had happened weeks ago, but I totally owed Dylan. “By the way, thanks for telling my dad I was doing a good job with the narcs. I never thought you’d lie on my behalf, but that was cool of you.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  I pulled my chin back with skepticism. “Oh, come on. You told him I was pleasant to work with, for God’s sake. Unless you’re a chronic glue sniffer, you can’t possibly believe that.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I can. I happen to think you’re a blast to work with.”

  “I complain constantly.”

  He inclined his yead. “You protest a lot, but you do good work while you squawk, Lila, and you’re funny.”

  I sat back and studied his face for a few moments. He seemed sincere, and I realized I needed to know more about this guy, right here and now. “Tell me something.”

  “Snow is cold.”

  “Shut up, Dylan.”

  He grinned. “Okay, what?”

  “How did you get involved with the narcs?”

  It was his turn to lean back and study me. “How do you think I did?”

  I reached up and scratched my cheek while I considered it. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you dug the idea of being in authority, so you joined up the moment you were allowed to. Like all the Moreno men. You know, the whole gung ho, macho jock thing.”

  Dylan’s expression remained amused.

  “What?”

  “You’re so judgmental, Lila Jane.”

  I narrowed my gaze into a threatening scowl. “Call me that again, and you’re a dead man. Besides, I am not judgmental! I call ’em as I’ve always seen ’em.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “So? Are you going to tell me?”

  “What?”

  “How you came to be a junior narc.”

  “Oh, that.” He sipped, then swallowed. “I stole a car.”

  My brain froze. “Huh?!”

  He flipped his hand. “Well, not ‘stole,’ technically. At least that wasn’t my intent. I took it for a joyride on a dare. Summer before last.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing.

  “Some old friends of mine and I saw this amazing car parked over by the north boat launch at the lake. It was a Viper, unlocked, with the keys in the ignition.”

  “Tempting.”

  “Way. We started joking around, daring each other to get inside and take it for a spin. You know how ninth grade guys are.”

  I made a BLECH face. “Unfortunately.”

  “I wasn’t planning on getting in, but they challenged me one time too many and I couldn’t resist.”

  I scoffed. “See? Typical jock.”

  “Be quiet.” He reached across the cushions and plinked my forehead with his finger.

  “Ow!” I rubbed the stinging spot, but even the plink gave me tummy swirls. Man, I was in trouble with this guy. Especially knowing he was more hottie-rebel than I’d ever given him credit for!

  “Anyway, I decided just to take the Viper for a short spin and return it to the exact spot where we’d found it, unscathed. Unfortunately, the White Peaks PD had other ideas.”

  “They ruin all the fun.”

  “Yeah.” He huffed out this humorless little laugh. “The owner of the car, I guess, saw me drive off in his ride. He called 9-1-1, and they snagged me in a matter of minutes.”

  “Score one for the good guys.”

  “I guess.” He looked chagrined. “I got pulled over and arrested less than a mile from where I’d snatched the car.”

  Wow. I mean … wow. “Dude, can I say that completely doesn’t seem like something you’d do? Not even under the influence of testosterone overload and peer pressure.”

  “I know. And, I’m not bragging about the car thing.” He ruffled his hand through his hair. “I was at a really low point in my life, I guess. It was just after my parents divorced, and they were not getting along. I felt like each of them was trying to use me to hurt the other one.”

  “That blows.”

  “Yeah. We’ve made up, though.” He leaned against the arm of the loveseat with his back and propped one leg up on the cushion between us. I could feel his body heat from the nearness of that leg, and I liked it.

  “But, still. The car theft isn’t my proudest moment.” He seemed to struggle with his next words. “Your dad really saved me, though.”

  I blinked at him in confusion. “My dad?”

  “Yeah. I was all set to go on probation and even do a little bit of time in juvenile hall, if the judge decided to make an example out of me. Your dad pulled rank, called in favors, whatever. I’m not sure how it all came about, but the next thing I knew, I found myself sitting in his office. He told me that I needed to be a part of something that would teach me discipline and respect for the rules.”

  Ha! It was the same spiel Dad had laid on me. I smirked. “Did you think he was going to enroll you in karate?”

  “What?” Dylan looked lost.

  Hmmm. Maybe the karate thing really had been a mental stretch. Who knew? “Never mind. Go on.”

  Dylan shook his head, as though to rid it of cobwebs. “When your dad gave me the chance to prove myself with the Explorers, I couldn’t jump on it fast enough. I mean, it was that or juvie and probation.”

  “Not much of a choice.”

  “No. And even though your dad knew exactly why I was in the Explorers, he never treated me like I was some dirtbag delinquent who needed to be closely monitored.” Dylan gave a self-derisive snort. “I know how rebellious I was back then, and that wouldn’t have worked for me at all. Instead, he gave me responsibilities and encouraged me to study for and take the promotional tests. It was as if he believed in me.”

  “He probably did.”

  “Yeah, but he had no reason to. See what I mean?” Dylan shook his head slowly “I know you think being an Explorer is the worst thing in the world, but it saved my life, Lila. My parents were so caught up in their own trauma back then, and I’d started hanging out with some real slackers. I don’t know where my head was.”

  I swallowed tightly, my respect for Dylan blooming into something huge and leaving me breathless. “Thanks,” I said. “For telling me all that.”

  He shrugged. “In answer to your unspoken question, yeah, I wanted to be like your dad. I still do. But that doesn’t mean I want to become a police chief.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head and grinned. “I want to go to the Olympics. But no matter what career I choose, I want to be the kind of man your dad is.” He flipped his hand. “I mean, he gives people the benefit of the doubt, even when they might not deserve it. He looks past the behavior and sees the potential, and that is what he focuses on.”

  It was true. I just hadn’t seen it so clearly.

  “I want to always remember that people make mistakes. I want to give them choices and chances. Pa
y it forward, you know? I owe him that much.”

  That sense of pride in my father returned sharply. My dad had played a key role in transforming my number-one crush into the awesome guy he was. It had a freaky kind of karmic justice to it. I admitted to myself that, in the past, I had made a few snap judgments. Maybe my fear and loathing of being a junior narc was one example. (Although the man pants were still ugly, and nothing would change my opinion on that.)

  I finished my machiatto and set the mug on the table. “So, do you like being an Explorer, or do you like the fact that it saved you from juvie?”

  “Both. At first it was just an easy ticket out, but the more I participated, the more I respected myself. And the more I respected myself, the better I felt about my parents’ divorce, my life, my future—all of it.” He cast me a playful sidelong glance. “It’s fun being an Explorer. Plus, it helped me to stop making knee-jerk assessments about other people.”

  I knew he was nudging me, much like my father had probably nudged him back then, to do the same. “Give me an example.”

  He pursed his lips and thought about it. “Okay. I used to think girls like Jennifer were the ultimate prize. Who wouldn’t want to date them, you know?”

  UGH. I hadn’t expected that. Jealousy hauled off and kicked me square in the gut. “Oh.”

  “But now, I’ve had the chance to meet a more unique girl.”

  My heart revved. “You have?”

  “Yep. She follows her own path and doesn’t fall into that annoying clique behavior. She’ll eat in front of me. Plus she’s funny and smart and witty and beautiful and well, not very nice.”

  I blurted a nervous little laugh. “Who?”

  “You.”

  GLURK! Was this actually happening? I wished I could digitally record this entire moment, so I could play it back at any speed, zoom in, zoom out, and all that stuff at will. “Me?”

  “Yup.” He reached across the back of the sofa and gently brushed tendrils of my hair away from my neck. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Lila.”

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “With other girls, I always felt like I had to play the role of the popular jock. As if they liked my image rather than the real me. That’s a lot of pressure. Besides, I don’t feel like that guy deep inside.”