The Daddy Secret

by Judy Duarte

  Rick tossed a grin right back at her, and her heart nearly shot out of her chest.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” He handed her a piece of notepaper, with Sparkle Plenty Tile and Carpet Cleaners written in a feminine script, along with the contact information. “The owner’s name is Burl Kimball. That’s his cell number. He’s expecting your call. He’ll clean your carpet whenever it’s convenient, then he’ll bill me for it.”

  When his dog had made the mess, he’d offered to pay to have the carpet cleaned, but she’d been so eager to get him out of the house as quickly as she could that she’d told him it wasn’t necessary.

  Later, when she’d tried to vacuum after the mud had dried, a dirty residue had remained all the way up the stairs, into the guest bedroom and down again. The stain had been an annoying reminder of Rick and his dog. She’d planned to have it professionally cleaned, but her funds were limited until she landed a job.

  The fact that Rick was following through on his offer to cover the cost of the cleaning, that he was accepting responsibility for his delinquent dog and that he wanted to set things to right, touched her in an unexpected way.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll give Burl a call tomorrow.”

  “So is it okay?” Lucas asked her.

  Mallory turned to the boy, realizing he was still waiting for her to respond to his request, which she seemed to have forgotten amidst the sparking pheromones and hormones. “Is what okay?”

  “If Buddy plays with me for a while.”

  Did that mean Rick was going to leave and then come back for the dog? That wasn’t likely, so he’d probably stick around. Which meant...

  What? That she’d have to entertain him while he waited? And if that were the case, they’d be stuck in that swirl of awkward emotions that threatened to spin around them until it grew to the size of a Texas twister, threatening to destroy everything in its path.

  The way she saw it, her options were limited, especially if she didn’t want to come across as a cranky mom who expected a Stepford child and a perfect household.

  “Okay,” she told Lucas, “but don’t let him get into the flowerbeds. And take him through the side gate, not through the house.”

  “Thanks. We’ll be careful.” Lucas took the leash from Rick’s hand, then dashed around to the back, taking the dog, with its tail wagging, with him.

  So...

  Let the awkwardness begin to swirl.

  Mallory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I...uh, need to check something on the stove.”

  “Whatever it is smells good. And spicy.”

  “Thanks. I’m making tacos tonight.” She nodded toward the doorway. “You’re welcome to come in, if you’d like. Unless you’d rather go around back with Lucas.”

  “I think it’s best if he and Buddy play by themselves.”

  Okay, then. So it was Texas twister time. She stepped aside, letting Rick into the house. After shutting the door, she led him into the kitchen, where the aroma of beef, tomatoes, onion and chilies filled the air.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “I have soda in the fridge. I also have a bottle of wine I can open.”

  “Soda sounds good to me.” He took a seat on one of the barstools and watched her fix him a root beer on ice.

  After handing him the glass, she checked the meat on the stove.

  “Is that another one of Sue Dunlop’s recipes?” he asked.

  “No, this is one of my own. Or rather, it’s one of my mother’s. She got it from Lupe, one of our neighbors in San Salvador.”

  Mallory’s parents had been missionaries, so she’d grown up in third world countries until she was thirteen—at least, during the school years. She spent her summer breaks in Brighton Valley with her grandparents, brushing up on her English.

  “So you learned more than Spanish while living in Central America,” Rick said.

  “Yes, I did.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. She and Rick used to laugh about the fact that she was more fluent in Spanish than he was, even though she wasn’t Hispanic and he was—at least, on his father’s side.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked.

  “I don’t want you to think this is going to be a regular thing—me dropping by at mealtime. It’s just that Lucas showed up again at the clinic this afternoon, and after the incident yesterday, when he came home late and you were worried, I thought I’d make sure he got home safely.”

  She turned and leaned against the counter. Then she crossed her arms and cast him a smile. “And the visit with Buddy? Whose idea was that?”

  “Lucas really likes that dog. And, for what it’s worth, Buddy’s gotten pretty attached to him, too.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want him to have a pet, but I was hoping to get him a rabbit or a gerbil—something small that lives in a cage.”

  “If you could see the two of them play together, you might change your mind.”

  “You have a point, but I told my landlord I’d keep up the yard work. And I’m afraid a dog like Buddy will tear things up.”

  Rick didn’t argue, and she was glad that he hadn’t. The truth was, an oversize, energetic dog wasn’t a good fit for them. There was a good chance she’d be working full-time soon. And Lucas was going to start school on Monday morning. Who would be at home to take care of Buddy? The poor dog would be lonely and miserable.

  “Can I do something to help?” Rick asked, gesturing toward the kitchen counter.

  Since his very presence alone had elevated her heart rate and caused her body temperature to rise at least a degree, it might be a good idea to assign him a chore.

  But before he arrived, Mallory had prepared small bowls with chopped lettuce, tomatoes, grated cheese, sour cream and salsa. So there wasn’t much left for him to do.

  Still, she had to think of something that might ease the tension—and still the attraction that sparked whenever he was around.

  “You can set the table while I fry the tortillas, if you’d like.” She pointed to the cupboards where she stored the plates, as well as the drawer where she kept the silverware.

  Yet as he moved about the kitchen, as if cycling in and out of her life, her heart beat faster and she fought the urge to fan herself.

  If he mentioned anything about her rosy cheeks, she’d blame it on the heat from the stove, although she knew better.

  When Rick finished the assigned chore, he asked, “What next?”

  “Why don’t you call Lucas inside and have him wash up for dinner.”

  “All right.”

  When Lucas came in the house, Buddy put up a fuss.

  “Why can’t he come in, too?” the boy asked. “He feels bad out there all by himself.”

  “Not while we eat,” Mallory told him.

  “Please?”

  It was difficult not to give in to him when he gazed at her like that—his eyes sad, hopeful, pleading. But she’d never liked the idea of having animals in the house, so she held firm.

  Besides, if Lucas asked again if he could keep Buddy as a pet, she could remind him of the dog’s need for constant companionship and how neither of them would be home for the bulk of the weekdays, which was validation enough.

  They’d no more than sat down to eat when the howling began.

  “Poor Buddy,” Lucas said as he stuffed his taco with beef, cheese and lettuce. And lots of tomatoes, just as Rick had done.

  So they both favored tomatoes. That was one more thing they had in common—in addition to beautiful blue eyes, dark hair and olive complexions.

  After Buddy let out one rather mournful cry, Lucas leaned back in his seat and frowned. “He misses me.”

  “He needs to stay outside,” Mallory said firmly, “especially while we eat.”
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  “But he’s crying.” Lucas again sought her gaze, his eyes pleading with her to reconsider.

  “Actually,” Rick said, “he’s just trying to get his way by whining, like some kids are prone to do. Buddy might look fully grown, but he’s still a puppy and has a lot to learn.”

  Lucas seemed to think on that awhile, then said, “I can teach him to behave.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Rick tossed the boy a smile. “But it won’t be easy. The family that adopts Buddy will need to take him to obedience training classes.”

  And that was yet another reason Buddy wasn’t the right pet for Lucas—or the kind of project Mallory needed to tackle right now. She was still getting used to parenting full-time, and with her grandfather’s illness, as well as trying to create a home for Lucas and looking forward to the nuances of another position as a social worker at a new clinic, she didn’t have time to learn the proper method of disciplining a rambunctious, overgrown puppy.

  “I’m sorry,” Rick said. “I guess it was a bad idea to bring him here tonight. I’ll take him home.”

  “Please, don’t go,” Lucas said. “I’ll get a ball and throw it outside for him to play with. Maybe that’ll keep him happy until we finish eating.”

  At this point, Mallory was willing to try just about anything. They had to get the dog to stop whining and crying before any of her new neighbors complained about the noise. “Let’s try the ball first, Rick.”

  Lucas pushed back from the table and left the kitchen before she could blow out a sigh. Moments later, he returned with a rubber ball.

  After a little maneuvering at the back door, a couple of happy barks, a few thumps and bumps, Lucas managed to throw the rubber ball all the way to the back fence. From the sound of rubber striking wood, it must have bounced across the yard, sending the dog running.

  Lucas then shut the door and returned to his seat. But there was no telling how long the peace and quiet would last.

  “If you guys don’t have anything to do this Saturday,” Rick said, “the Lazaros are having a backyard barbecue. Marie’s a great cook, so the food is always awesome—and plentiful. I’m sure there will be some kids there, so Lucas would have a chance to meet someone before he starts school on Monday.”

  Mallory didn’t know what to do with an invitation like that. Was Rick trying to ease himself into his son’s life—and thus, into hers, as well? Or was he just being neighborly?

  Yet she liked the idea of Lucas getting a chance to meet other children. That’s why she’d been allowing him to ride his bike in the neighborhood, hoping he’d make friends. But apparently, the people who lived on their street were mostly older couples and retirees, which was probably why Lucas kept dropping by the veterinary clinic.

  “A barbecue sounds fun,” Lucas said. “Can we go, Mom?”

  She struggled with an answer. Something about going to a barbecue with Rick and Lucas felt a little too family-like and inappropriate for a woman who was involved with another man.

  But how could she say no?

  “I suppose it would be all right. That is, if Dr. Martinez doesn’t think the Lazaros will mind. I’d hate to be a party-crasher.”

  Rick tossed her another heart-stopping grin that nearly stole her breath away—and made her wish she could reel in her acceptance of the invitation.

  What had she been thinking? She was practically engaged—not that she’d actually agreed to marry Brian. But he’d let her know that he had that in mind. And she hadn’t told him no.

  So spending time with Rick Martinez—whether it was eating tacos or at a barbecue with his friends—was only going to mean trouble of one kind or another.

  Hadn’t her grandfather said as much ten years ago— that getting involved with someone she knew was wrong for her from the get-go would only lead to problems in the future?

  And hadn’t he proven to be right?

  “Hank and Marie won’t mind at all,” Rick said, “but I’ll give them a call.”

  She glanced at Lucas, whose smile had put a spark in his eyes. “Think it would be okay if I took my PlayStation?”

  “Don’t bother. There’s always a lot going on in the Lazaros’ backyard, like flag football and games of tag. You won’t miss your video games—I promise.”

  “Cool. Thanks for inviting us.”

  As much as Mallory wanted to backpedal and suddenly remember an imaginary appointment or previous engagement she’d already scheduled for that exact day and hour, she couldn’t disappoint Lucas. Not when she hadn’t seen him this happy since before his mother’s accident.

  “When you make that call,” Mallory said, “please ask if there’s something I can bring.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be necessary, but I’ll let you know what Marie has to say.”

  Before she could respond, a thump and a scratch sounded at the door.

  “Uh-oh,” Lucas said. “I’d better go check on Buddy.”

  “I’ll do it.” Rick pushed back from the table. “You stay here and finish your dinner.”

  Mallory watched as Rick went to the door to check on the rascally dog, wondering if the overgrown pup would try to crash through into the kitchen, anyway.

  Sure enough, when the door opened, Buddy jumped up to greet Rick, placing his muddy front paws and dirty snout on the front of his shirt.

  “Uh-oh.” Rick took the dog by the collar. When he turned, allowing Mallory a full glimpse of the problem at hand, she gasped.

  Buddy held the green ball in his mouth, along with a beautiful begonia bloom, roots and all.

  Rick glanced over his shoulder, those blue eyes filled with remorse. “I’m sorry, Mal. I’m sure he didn’t mean to dig up your plant. He was probably just going after the ball. But it looks like I’m going to owe you some time in the flower bed.”

  She blew out a sigh. She knew she’d have to trust her instincts when it came to letting that pesky dog be a part of her family—or even to come for a visit.

  Trouble was, her instincts told her to beware of letting Rick ease his way back into her life, too. And if she didn’t do something to slow things down quickly, she was going to be in a world of trouble.

  Chapter Five

  On Saturday afternoon, Rick drove Mallory and Lucas into town and to the quiet neighborhood where Hank and Marie Lazaro lived.

  When he’d picked them up a few minutes ago, Mallory had come to the door wearing a pretty mint-colored sundress that had set off her green eyes in such a way that another man might have forgotten the many reasons their star-crossed teenage relationship had failed in the first place and why it shouldn’t be resurrected. In fact, Rick was kicking himself for even asking her and Lucas to go with him to the barbecue, especially since he’d been so determined to maintain a healthy distance from the woman who’d crushed his youthful dreams and had broken his heart.

  What in the world had provoked him to do such a stupid thing?

  Aw, come on. Really? You don’t know?

  Okay. If he really wanted to dig deep and get analytical, he had a pretty good idea why the invitation had rolled off his tongue when they’d been eating tacos at her place the other night.

  He’d wanted her to know that things were different now, that he actually had friends who’d become like family to him, people who’d be more apt to grace the photos on the society pages of the local newspaper, rather than be listed in the column that announced recent criminal activity or arrests made within various areas of the county.

  Hank Lazaro, a retired detective with the Wexler Police Department, probably rubbed elbows with some of her grandfather’s friends, including the district attorney who’d once been Reverend Dickinson’s golf buddy.

  Besides that, Hank and Marie also had a home that was similar to the one in which Mallory had once lived with her grandpare
nts—although it wasn’t nearly as pristine and stuffy.

  Right before that knock-down/drag-out fight that had landed Rick’s uncle in jail and his aunt in the hospital, Mallory had invited Rick to have dinner with her at her grandparents’ house. Rick had agreed, but he’d worried about the impression he’d make on the Reverend Dickinson and his wife. Would he know which fork to use? Would he say the right things?

  At seventeen, he’d been cocky and sure of himself in almost any situation on the street. But that evening, as he’d made his way up the steps to the front door of the Dickinson house, which was located behind the Brighton Valley Community Church, he’d felt completely unbalanced and out of place.

  But hell, why wouldn’t he feel that way? People didn’t even call it a house. They referred to it as the parsonage, which made it seem holy, a place set apart and untainted by the likes of guys like Rick.

  Even though Mallory had met him at the door with a sweet kiss and an everything’s-going-to-be-okay smile, that uneasy feeling hadn’t gone away.

  In fact, the moment he’d stepped foot inside the clean and tidy abode, he’d felt as if he’d somehow dirtied the sanctuary. He might have showered, shaved and splashed on some of the best dime-store cologne he could afford, but it hadn’t seemed to matter. He’d felt as though, somehow, his clothes still carried in the stench of cheap cigarette smoke and stale booze that permeated the carpets and curtains in the apartment in which he’d lived.

  And while no one had really said anything, Rick would have bet hard cash—if he’d actually had more than five bucks in his wallet—against Monopoly money that the reverend and his wife hadn’t been the least bit happy when Mallory had asked to bring her “boyfriend” home for dinner, although they’d both feigned tense smiles throughout.

  Rick had faked a happy face the entire time, too, but he’d been miserable.

  So yeah. That’s why he’d asked Mallory and Lucas to attend the barbecue at the Lazaros’ today—and why he’d called Hank as soon as he’d gotten home the other night to make sure it was okay to bring two guests. And just as expected, he’d been told it was more than all right.