A Sweetheart For The Single Dad (The Camdens Of Colorado Book 8)

by Victoria Pade

  Yep, still terrific-looking.

  If only that could be toned down some.

  “Is there a reason you’re stuffing candy bars in your pockets?” he reiterated.

  “The profits go to the center?” she said with a nod at the note taped to the machine.

  It was a lame answer and he saw through it. “Try again?”

  She told him what she was doing.

  “That’s not a good idea, Lindie,” he said when she had. “Kids will work you, if you let them. And even if the candy really is for Gramma, kids also talk and you’ll have this whole place wanting you to do the same thing for them. Plus once word gets out that you’re a soft touch or kids think you’re gullible you could be in line for—”

  She knew he was right. She’d been in this situation before too many times to count. And yet... “Clara is seven. She isn’t a mastermind manipulator. And all she wanted was one lousy chocolate-frosted graham cracker to take to her grandmother. My grandmother took me in—along with my brothers and sisters and cousins—when we didn’t have anywhere else to go, too. Granted, money wasn’t an issue, but I can’t imagine how awful I would have felt if she’d had to sacrifice something she wanted to feed us. I felt bad enough about other things, it would have been even worse to know that. It’s just a few stupid candy bars and I’ve already told Clara she can’t say anything about it. But even if she does and I end up having to buy them for the whole place, then fine. But today Clara needs to take her gramma a treat and I’m going to make sure she can. Shoot me.”

  He shook that handsome head of his. Just when she thought he was going to tell her there were rules against this or something along those lines, he sighed and said, “I know the Murphy girls. I know that they’re good kids and that none of them is diabetic or has allergies—because if you don’t know those things, you could be causing real problems with treats like this. But because I know that with these particular kids it’s probably okay... Come on, I’ll play lookout while you give them to her. This once!”

  The downside was just that it made her like him more, but Lindie only said, “Thanks,” and then took him up on his offer by leading him to the kitchen where Clara was watching for her.

  The little girl ran up to her expectantly and the three of them went to where the backpacks were kept. While Sawyer blocked them from view with his back to them, keeping an eye out for witnesses, Lindie passed the candy bars to the child to stash, wondering how this would look on a security camera if there had been one.

  But there was just no way she could have lived with herself if she’d refused the child.

  When the deed was done and Clara left them to return to the kitchen, Lindie again watched Sawyer shake his head at her. But what he said was “I have another game waiting for me. Try not to get yourself into more trouble, huh?”

  He left her standing there, still with no idea if he was trying to avoid her deliberately.

  And with nothing else to do but go on with her kitchen duties, Lindie went back to clean up and finish the afternoon.

  * * *

  At six o’clock the community center was turned over to adult education, art and fitness classes.

  Rather than shoving kids out the door at the stroke of six, one person from the daytime schedule remained with them in the lobby to keep an eye on the children waiting to be picked up.

  That night Sawyer was the person.

  While Lindie still wasn’t sure if he was open to it, his staying back finally gave her the chance to talk to him so she joined him.

  “Get into any more mischief?” he asked as she sat with him on a bench.

  “I don’t think so. I did talk to Clara about not even telling her sisters what I’d done, about just giving the loot over to her grandmother on the sly and letting her grandmother take it from there.”

  “I hope that happens and Clara doesn’t just down five candy bars herself—on the sly.”

  “I have faith in her,” Lindie said, knowing that too many times in the past she’d said that same thing only to discover that her faith in someone had been unfounded.

  But hopefully that wouldn’t be the case here.

  Sawyer nodded with a slow, we’ll-see kind of air to it as he kept those keen blue eyes on her for a lengthy moment.

  “Stuff will get to you here, Lindie. You have to be careful. There are a lot of hardships, a lot of need, a lot of sad things going on. But you can’t just step in with a quick fix or a pocketful of candy bars every time. That can end up a disaster.”

  “So you just ignore it?”

  “No. You ask questions. You try to find out if there might be a bigger problem that could have a better all-around solution or help that doesn’t depend on you hitting the vending machine.”

  Lindie shot him a mock frown. “I thought I was to blame for everything and was supposed to make things right.”

  “Not like today,” he said.

  “Instead I should have turned it over to the Candy Bar Outreach program?”

  “Instead you ask if there were other things Gramma couldn’t afford at the grocery store—like milk or eggs or cereal or meat. You try to find out if there’s enough to eat in general—healthy stuff. You might have found out that it wasn’t only candy bars that Gramma couldn’t swing. And if that’s the case—or even if you just find out that things are a little too tight—you hand over the information to Marie who will talk to our social worker. Then the social worker will look into it to see if maybe food stamps would help ease some of the burden. What you heard today could have been a clue to a much bigger problem than Gramma not getting her sugar fix.”

  “Oh,” Lindie said, knowing that once again she should have proceeded with some caution.

  “It’s better if you don’t just rush in,” he said as if he’d heard her thoughts. “The social worker here is great. She’s amazingly diplomatic and she knows how to approach these things so nobody ends up feeling like their toes have been stepped on, or like their kids have aired dirty laundry. They can get the help they need and keep their pride intact.”

  Lindie flinched. “You think I offended Gramma?”

  “Again, I know these girls and I’ve met Gramma and she’s a really nice, down-to-earth, levelheaded lady, so I know this isn’t going to cause problems at home and she’ll probably just eat the candy. And I already talked to Marie, told her it might be good to have the social worker do an interview to see if Gramma needs some help with the expenses of four kids added to her budget. But from here on—”

  “I’ll watch myself,” Lindie swore, thinking that this was the second time today she’d had to make that vow when it came to this place.

  Sawyer accepted it easier than her grandmother had, though, because he seemed to relax his posture, stretching both arms along the top of the bench and looking at her as if he was getting his first glance of the day.

  Then, in a more conversational vein, he said, “So, what is it you do for the family business if you aren’t their assassin—which, by the way, I’m still not quite convinced of since you’re hanging around. You aren’t just hoping for the chance to make toast of me tonight, after all, are you?”

  “Is that why I wasn’t assigned the rec room? You fear for your life?” she countered.

  His expression showed some confusion. “I don’t have anything to do with where volunteers are sent for the day.”

  So, possibly, it hadn’t been a conspiracy?

  He wasn’t trying to get away from her now—or even trying to persuade her to leave. Instead he was chatting with her. Lindie decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and drop her suspicions.

  “I have a degree in communications.” She answered his question simply. “So I oversee our public relations. And sometimes, if it’s absolutely necessary for someone in the family to speak out, I’m our spokesperson.”

  “How come I haven’t seen you before this, then? Because believe me, I would have remembered.”

  The appreciation in the way he was loo
king at her convinced her that was true. But she tried not to take it to heart. “I’ve been our spokesperson several times in my eight years on the job but it’s always been to announce positive things, so they probably didn’t interest you enough to pay attention.”

  He was paying attention to her now, though. Close attention. “I know Camden Inc. is family owned and operated,” he said. “So how does that work? What’s the hierarchy? Who’s the boss?”

  “The titles are really just formalities. Camden Inc. was left to H.J.’s ten great-grandchildren. The way he set it up, we run it—we’re the board of directors—and we each have one vote in everything so no one carries more clout than anyone else.”

  “And that works?” Sawyer asked skeptically.

  “It does for us. To be honest, it’s the way we were brought up. Our grandmother—we call her GiGi—raised us after the plane crash that killed our grandfather and all of our parents. Ten kids is a lot to handle. But for it not to be constant war, we were taught a lot about cooperating with each other, about solving the problems and disagreements we had. I guess we learned really well how to get along and that crossed over into business.”

  “And was Howard or Mitchum your father?”

  That could have been a loaded question given the history between his father and Howard, so Lindie was glad to say “Mitchum was my dad. There are six of us. I’m a triplet and we’re the youngest. Along with our cousin Jani, who’s our same age.”

  “You’re a triplet?”

  “With my sister Livi and our brother Lang.”

  “So Howard had—”

  “Four kids. My cousins,” she said a bit defensively in case he was going to say anything against them or their father. Then to redirect the conversation, she took a different tack. “Even though there are so many of us, though, we’re easy to work with. Don’t worry that it would be complicated to take us on as a client.”

  “Not going to happen,” he reminded her, though he seemed amused.

  “I’m just saying that you’re welcome to talk to any vendor, any outsourcing, anyone we deal with, because you won’t hear complaints that they don’t know who they’re answering to or are ever pulled in different directions by us. We’re one solid unit, decisions are majority rule, and we all know how to cope with being on the losing side of a vote.”

  “Not a concern I have because you won’t ever be my client.” Again, he said that nicely but firmly.

  But Lindie was persistent. She had to be to justify sitting there with him when her instincts were telling her to run while she still could.

  “If you don’t have plans,” she said, “Camden Inc. could buy you dinner and we could talk about it.” Just for business. Only for business. Not because she wanted to have dinner with him.

  He shook his head as if she were incorrigible.

  “Two things,” he said. “I do have plans. Since I’m already in Wheatley on Thursdays, I take my son to dinner. And Camden Inc. will never buy me anything. That would look to my clients like a bribe.”

  Hmm. If having dinner with him really would have been for no reason other than business, why did she feel personally shot down?

  It was stupid, she told herself.

  Nevertheless that was how she felt. And rejection wasn’t something she was accustomed to personally or professionally so she wasn’t exactly sure how to respond.

  Just then the last of the kids went out the front doors so Sawyer’s job was done. He pulled his arms from the back of the bench and said, “That’s it for us. We can take off.”

  There wasn’t any us or we, she was tempted to point out in a miff, as if that would get back at him for the rejection of her dinner invitation. But she saw her petty response for what it was, reprimanded herself for it and merely stood when he did.

  He held the center’s front door open for her to go out ahead of him and they walked together to the parking lot.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  Lindie pointed to it and that was where he headed.

  She wondered if his big white SUV was parked in the same general vicinity but after scanning the lot she spotted it at the opposite end.

  So he was walking her to her car. That helped soothe the sting of her earlier thoughts that he’d arranged to have her assigned away from him and his so recent rejection, too.

  “Are you still on board for tomorrow?” he asked along the way.

  “I’ve already let them know at work that I’m taking the afternoon off,” she informed him. “Shall I be here to help serve lunch to the kids or are you coming at one just to work on the park?” she asked, recalling what he’d told her of the Friday schedule.

  “You’re only coming for me?” he asked with a combination of challenge and something that sounded like satisfaction at the thought.

  “Just asking,” she said a bit aloofly because she wasn’t willing to give his ego too much of a boost.

  They’d reached her car. She unlocked and opened her door, standing on the inner side of it to look at him over the top of the window frame.

  He finally answered her question. “I can’t make it for the lunch. Huffman Consulting is sponsoring it. I’m having all the food sent in and served so the center staff and volunteers can have a treat in advance of the work, but I can’t be here until one.”

  “So they won’t need servers,” Lindie concluded.

  “No, but you’re welcome to come and eat.”

  “I guess I’ll see when I can get away and decide tomorrow,” she said.

  “And for tonight you can think of me eating dried-out macaroni and cheese to the mechanical serenade of robot bears,” he said.

  “But at least it won’t be a bribe,” she goaded.

  He grinned and just stood there looking at her for a minute before he said, “We could have dinner another time maybe. As long as I pay.”

  Was he asking her out? Or just feeling guilty for turning her down? Had the impact of being rejected showed?

  Oh, she hoped not.

  Because she didn’t like the thought of a pity invitation—or even the vague suggestion of one—she said, “And as long as I get to talk about you taking us on as a client.”

  He just laughed. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it called her glance to the creases that appeared at the corners of his eyes, to the lines that went from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth, to that mouth...

  It was a good mouth. Sexy. And suddenly Lindie was thinking about it in terms of kissing.

  Of him kissing her.

  Of her kissing him back.

  She was wondering what it would be like.

  And guessing that it might be something he was particularly talented at because how could he be anything else with a mouth like that?

  Then she caught herself and looked at a car that had just pulled into the lot as if she was all cool and calm and not suddenly wanting to know how the man kissed!

  “I should let you get to dinner with your son,” she said, reminding herself that he had a son and what her own stance on that was.

  “Yeah, robotic bears wait for no man,” he agreed, clasping the top of her car door and pulling it open a fraction of an inch more so he was in control of it as she got behind the wheel.

  “Come tomorrow in clothes that can be washed,” he warned then.

  “Right. Because you’re going to have me doing something down and dirty,” she repeated what he’d threatened when they’d first talked about this, her tone holding the innuendo this time.

  It made him grin but he didn’t confirm or deny anything. He merely said, “See you tomorrow,” before he closed her door and walked away.

  Leaving her with the sight of a terrific rear end.

  A terrific rear end that was not going to make it any easier to get the image of him out of her head.

  Where it seemed to have taken up residence since she’d met him.

  No matter how hard she tried to evict it.

  Chapter Four


  “Ooh! What is that?”

  Even though she’d been the one to ask the question, Lindie wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to know the answer. Along with Sawyer and two twelve-year-old boys, she had been cleaning storm drains since the Wheatley park cleanup project began on Friday afternoon.

  She suspected that Sawyer had chosen that particular chore because it was the worst one that needed to be done and he was amused by the idea of a Camden doing it under his supervision.

  But she doubted that there was much satisfaction in it for him. Because while she did follow him to the gutter, the two twelve-year-old boys—Tyler and Eric—insisted that she not be allowed to do more than wield the rake to drag the wet leaves and debris and muck out for Sawyer and the two of them to actually put in trash bags. As a result—and considering that they were all wearing thick gardening gloves—she wasn’t even getting her hands dirty.

  Unfortunately she also wasn’t getting to talk to Sawyer because the boys were very intent on showing off and posturing and making sure Lindie found out about their sports achievements and accomplishments while they all worked.

  “It’s a dead rat,” Tyler informed her, picking it up by its long tail to show her what she’d just pulled out of the drain.

  At Lindie’s recoil Eric said, “Don’t make her look at it!”

  “It’s okay,” Lindie said. “But I think it’s more important that you don’t touch it.”

  “Yeah, get rid of that,” Sawyer advised.

  Tyler deposited it in the trash bag.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t even rake,” Eric suggested to Lindie. “It’s gross.”

  Lindie caught Sawyer rolling his eyes, sighing and shaking his head. Before he could comment, Lindie said, “It’s fine. Let’s just get it done.”

  She wasn’t quite sure what was inspiring the boys’ chivalry today. She’d come prepared to get “down and dirty” and had worn a little white tank top underneath a pair of shapeless denim overalls she hadn’t had on since doing yard work for her grandmother the summer between her sophomore and junior year of college.