by Tara Randel
Jenna stood in the doorway to their bedroom, a serious frown focused on the girls, who sat cross-legged on the floor, dolls and accessories scattered around them. “Abby, we unpacked your bathing suit. It’s in the bottom drawer of your dresser.”
Abby dipped her head and glanced at her sister, as if not sure what to say or do. Bridget, however, kept her eyes leveled on Jenna with a stare she’d come to recognize as a “don’t push me” look.
“Bridget, do you want some seltzer water?”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “That won’t help.”
“Hmm. I seem to remember it helped after too many hot dogs and French fries on Friday night.”
Bridget shrugged. “I ate too many eggs this morning.”
“Then how about the pink stuff?”
The ten-year-old sent Jenna an, “as if,” look.
Yes, Jenna knew Bridget’s aversion to seltzer. Or any kind of chalky stomach remedy. The thick concoction made her gag every time she attempted to swallow it. She also knew that Bridget’s stomachaches usually stemmed from nerves. If they worked out the problem, Bridget was fine.
Still, she had to get the two moving. Let the battle begin.
“I see. If that’s the case, you won’t make miniature golf tonight with Nealy and Lilli. They’ll be disappointed, but will understand you’re too sick to join them.” She shifted her gaze to Abby. “Guess it’ll just be you playing golf later while your sister stays home with the sitter.”
A frown furrowed Bridget’s brow.
Jenna held back a grin, ready to pour it on. She snapped her fingers. “I nearly forgot. We were also going to the mall later. I wanted to look for new school shoes.”
She knew her volley would hit the mark. Only ten and already Bridget loved shoes.
Abby rose and walked to her dresser, opening the drawer to remove her swimsuit.
Jenna pulled a surprised face. “Oh, will you look at that. Right where we put it.”
Abby grinned, knowing her little trick hadn’t worked. So much for the truth pact. As she began to change, Bridget gathered up her own suit, which was lying on the bed. “I’m not super sick. My stomach will feel better soon.”
“That a girl.”
“I don’t see why Mr. Hamilton can’t teach us,” Bridget groused. Since the day at the beach, Wyatt had become her hero.
“I told you, he’s not up to it right now.”
“I wonder if he’d let us play with Cruiser?” Abby asked. “Do you think he’ll let us come over again?”
“Mr. Hamilton is a busy man.” Or not, but Jenna wasn’t about to figure out the man’s schedule. Time to change the subject. She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes and we’re out the door.”
As the girls got ready, Jenna went to her bedroom, reluctantly thinking about Wyatt. Once Bridget mentioned his name, her mind focused on his anguished expression under the moonlight when he’d refused to give the girls swimming lessons. Sympathy tugged at her. As much as she’d hoped he’d instruct the girls, she had to admit, she understood why he couldn’t. Too much too soon after his son’s accident.
The counselor she and the girls had been seeing in California urged her not to get stressed over the grieving process, since it varied for every person. There was no time limit, no set-in-stone method to deal with loss. Even the stages of grief were sometimes different for people.
Her mind flashbacked to the beach. Bridget flailing around in the water.
On the other hand, she resented Wyatt’s accusation that she was reckless with the girls’ safety. Clearly, he had lingering issues after his son’s death, and she had her own learning curve to deal with. She’d only recently gone from taking care of herself to being in charge of a family of three. Given her own insecurities as a caregiver, she didn’t appreciate his negative outlook.
Shaking off the thought, Jenna retrieved the beach bag from the closet and tossed a tube of sunblock inside.
While Jenna still grieved Carrie, she’d gotten to the point where she had to put the cares and concerns of the twins first and foremost in her life. Yes, she would have liked Wyatt to work with the girls because they’d established a rapport. He could have looked at the lessons as a way to kick-start him into living again, but honestly, she didn’t know the man well enough to intrude on his privacy. If he kept those emotional walls intact, she never would.
She should probably keep some distance from Wyatt. By his own admission, he wasn’t very social, so that solved the problem of running into him. Yet, he stirred...something...in her. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she’d thought buried after François humiliated her. The world-renowned chef had ended their relationship after her cooking show became successful. She’d foolishly believed he loved her, had thought his group of friends were also her friends. But his large ego and notorious jealousy had them siding with him.
But Wyatt... She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she sensed he was different than most men she knew. You didn’t grieve so deeply if you were self-absorbed. He was both hurting and guarded. A dangerous combination for a woman who’d always taken care of the other foster kids she happened to be living with. Yes, she’d grown up and achieved a bit of success, but the need to be a part of something more, of her own family, hadn’t dimmed with time.
Besides, this vague emotion for Wyatt was no reason to place herself, or the girls, in the path of a man still mired in grief. Jenna needed to keep them surrounded by joy as they began a new chapter in their lives.
Stop thinking about him. He’d made his intentions clear. And she had to focus on her own job, being a good mother.
As she passed their room, Jenna told the girls, “You’ll have a good time with Katie, the swim instructor. She sounds like she’s lots of fun. I’ll go pack our towels.”
“If you say so,” Bridget grumbled.
Jenna sighed. No matter what it took, she’d make sure the girls liked the lessons.
Thirty minutes later, they stood poolside, the sharp scent of chlorine muted by the rich, tropical aroma of suntan lotion. Both girls wrapped their arms around Jenna’s waist like she was the only thing between them and certain disaster.
“C’mon, you two,” she cajoled. “We’ll have a blast.” Well, they’d have a blast if they actually got into the water. “You told me you wanted lessons. What’s wrong?”
Bridget looked up, fear shadowing her big brown eyes. “I’m scared.”
Extracting herself from the girl’s tenacious hold, Jenna crouched down so they were eye to eye. “I know you are. That’s why you need lessons. But you’ll soon feel comfortable in the water.”
Bridget didn’t look convinced. She glanced at the huge in-ground pool. “We’ll stay in the shallow end, right?”
“Absolutely. And I’ll be there with both of you.”
She removed the cover-up over her one-piece bathing suit in case the girls wanted her in the pool. If joining them in the crystal-clear water made them feel safe, she wouldn’t hesitate.
Katie appeared, chatting easily with the girls. While Abby seemed to warm up to the teen with a winning smile and long brunette hair, Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and glared.
The sense of missing the mark overwhelmed Jenna again. How could she make Bridget see the lessons were good for her? She tried to imagine what Carrie would have done in this situation, but came up blank. Every time she thought she was making headway, she found herself back at square one, questioning her place in the girls’ lives. Swim lessons were just a small part of what Bridget and Abby would be involved with as they grew up. If she couldn’t handle this, what did the future hold for them?
She shook off her dismal thoughts, taking the lead to move down the cement pool steps and stand by the waiting instructor, splashing the warm water around her. “The water’s perfect. Let’s at
least get your feet wet.”
Bridget shook her head, turning tail to walk to the chaise where they’d placed their towels.
Jenna held back a sigh. The hot August sun beat down on her back, and she wished she’d kept her sunglasses on. The glare from the pool, along with the girls’ attitudes, gave her the beginnings of a headache.
Abby sat on the pool edge and dipped her feet in the water.
“I know the first lesson isn’t very fun,” Katie said, loud enough for Bridget to hear, “but once you see how simple swimming is, you’ll want to paddle down to the other end on your own.”
Jenna doubted that, but she silently applauded Katie’s enthusiasm.
She and the teenager kept up a running dialogue, hoping at least Abby would give in and lower herself into the water. Between Bridget’s mutinous pout and Abby’s hesitancy to move beyond the edge of the pool, Jenna was ready to give up for the day. Pasting an encouraging smile on her face, she sluiced through the water toward Abby, stopping short when she caught a glimpse of Wyatt heading toward them.
Dressed in a pair of navy trunks, he strode with confidence, his broad shoulders and lean build tanned from hours in the sun, his dark hair gleaming in the bright daylight. His shuttered gaze met hers just before he slipped sunglasses on.
Jenna swallowed hard, a hundred different thoughts running through her head, the main one being, he’s here.
* * *
WHEN WYATT EXITED the locker room door to the pool area, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the club. Probably when he’d taken Jamie for a day of swimming. His son had loved the water, most likely a genetic trait since Wyatt and his brother, Josh, had been water rats for as far back as Wyatt could remember.
Since the night of the welcome party for Jenna, Wyatt had woken with nightmares. Not the usual, of Jamie crying because Wyatt couldn’t save him. No, these new dreams were different, centered on Bridget flailing in the water and Abby yelling for someone to help her sister. He’d shot straight up in his bed, a sheen of sweat bathing his skin, his breaths short and jerky. He’d run a hand over his chest, Jenna’s voice filling his head with accusations of him not wanting to protect the girls.
It wasn’t that he’d refused her request just to give Jenna a hard time. He simply didn’t think he had it in him to teach the twins the one skill Jamie hadn’t quite mastered. The one skill that might have saved his life. Jamie was confident in a pool, but he hadn’t spent much time in deep sea water. Unable to stay upright in the strong Gulf current, despite the life vest he wore, he’d gone under before Wyatt could get to him.
Last night, when he heard Jenna’s voice in his head, if you were such a bad guy, you never would have dived into the water after Bridget, he decided to let go of the fear rendering him useless. He’d called Nealy to find out if Jenna had scheduled lessons, figuring Jenna would flat-out refuse his offer after he pretty much dissed her parenting skills.
He moved through the maze of lounge chairs set up for sunning and tables with umbrellas scattered around the pool deck. He noticed one of the girls sitting on the edge, dipping her feet in the water. The other sat yards away on a chaise, her body stiff with tension. He assumed it was Bridget, figuring she might be afraid of the water after her close call at the beach.
The young instructor coaxed Abby into the pool, rewarded when the girl slipped into the water. While Abby seemed more willing to give swimming a try, Bridget plainly refused. From the defiant look on her face, she wasn’t going anywhere.
He bit back a chuckle, more nerves than amusement. Seemed the little one had a will of steel.
His stomach in a knot, Wyatt tossed his towel on an empty chaise and went toward them, almost stopping short at Jenna’s surprised expression.
Once her shock dissipated, her brows angled in suspicion. Yeah, he deserved the look, but he wasn’t backing down.
“Hey, Abby,” he said in a quiet tone as he approached. “How’s the water?”
Abby turned around to look up at him just as Bridget jumped off her perch on the chair, eyes bright as she ran to him.
They both called to him at the same time.
“Mr. Hamilton!”
“Where’s Cruiser?”
He smiled down at Bridget. “Cruiser is at home. And if it’s okay with Jenna,” he turned his attention to her, “you can call me Wyatt.”
“I think Mr. Wyatt would be better,” Jenna replied in a curt tone. Oh yeah, she was miffed at him.
He nodded then rubbed his hands together. “So, how’s the lesson going?”
“Bridget won’t come in,” Abby informed him.
Understanding her trepidation, he turned to Bridget. “True?”
Her smile slipped a bit. “I’m...um...”
He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she placed her smaller one in his. Ignoring the rush of emotion at the trusting gesture, he led her to a waist-high wall at the outer edge of the pool area, giving her a boost before joining her to sit on the sun-warmed cement.
“You don’t want to go in the water?” he asked.
“I do, but what if I go under again? I couldn’t breathe last time that happened.”
“That’s because you didn’t know how to swim. I believe Katie will show you what to do if you get pulled under again. She’s also going to show you how to use your arms to stroke through the water and kick your feet.”
Bridget frowned. “She’s okay, but you really know how to swim.”
He chuckled. “So does Katie or she wouldn’t have her job.”
“Well, this is a pool, not the beach.”
“You have to start somewhere. This is a perfect place to practice.”
“Did you start in a pool?”
“Yes. In fact, my brother and I learned how to swim right here.”
Bridget’s eyes went wide. “This exact pool?”
“This exact pool.”
“You learned to swim here before you swam at the beach?”
“We had a good instructor, listened to everything he taught us. Before we knew it, we were swimming in the waves by ourselves.”
He and Josh had spent hours in the water, horsing around and having a great time. In the summer, they’d gone swimming from sunrise to sunset, their skin turning a mellow brown, the chlorine lightening their dark hair. In the winter, their mother had to threaten them to get out of the pool, their skin all pruney and lips blue from the cold. And when they got older? He and Josh had participated in every form of water sport from competitive swimming to surfing, strapping their boards onto the car roof to drive to Daytona Beach at the mere promise of big waves. Wyatt had always loved anything to do with the water.
With a frown, he realized he couldn’t remember when he’d last thought about those good times. All his water-related memories focused on Jamie drowning.
Shaking off the uncomfortable revelation, he said, “My brother and I raced against each other on the swim team in high school.”
“You can do that? Race in the water?”
“Sure. But you have to start with the basics.”
He and Bridget watched as Abby stood in the water up to her waist, moving her arms back and forth in imitation of the instructor. Jenna’s eyes zeroed in on him, as if waiting to see if she needed to come to Bridget’s rescue. He’d never let anything happen to the little girl, but Jenna didn’t know that.
“Will you be close by?” Bridget asked. “Just in case?”
“Why do you think I wore my bathing suit?”
“To go swimming, silly.”
“Yes, but I hoped to be here for you too.”
“Really?”
His voice hitched. “Really.”
Quietly, Bridget glanced up at him, her voice small. “Do you think I can be good
at swimming?”
“I think you can be good at whatever you put your mind to.”
After processing his words, she grabbed hold of his hand and yanked. “Let’s go. Abby is already ahead of me.”
Wyatt helped her from the wall and followed her to the water. You can do this. Despite his mind screaming at him to run, to get away from this emotional land mine, his heart knew he was doing the right thing by being there for Bridget.
Jenna glided to the side in time to help Bridget slip into the water. The youngster hopped a few steps to join her sister as Katie welcomed her. Jenna rested her elbows in the gutter, kicking her feet and refusing to meet his eyes. The drain made a sucking sound as Wyatt lowered himself into the pool beside her. With an inward sigh, he stood watching the twins’ progress.
The day had heated to just below scorching. While the air temperature should have bothered him, instead what worried him was the rush of attraction he felt as he stood next to Jenna. He’d only known her for a few short days, yet he couldn’t seem to control his reaction to her.
Finally, she spoke, still not facing him. “Why are you here?”
Right to the point. He nearly chuckled at the indignation lacing her voice.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had a change of heart?”
She skimmed her hand over the top of the water in a nonchalant motion. “You mean you’re not here to criticize my parenting style?”
“Fine. I deserved that, but c’mon, you can’t be mad because I was concerned.”
His remark earned him an evil eye.
“Not one word,” she warned.
As he moved his own hand through the water, their arms brushed, resulting in a jolt of longing. He tried not to pay attention to her soft skin turning pink under the strong rays of the sun, without much luck. “How about a truce instead?”
“I suppose. After all, you did show up.” She looked at him questioningly. “How did you know we’d be here?”
He shrugged. “Small town.”
