Picket Fence Surprise

“Oh.”

He waited, focusing in on the sticks as if he really cared about them. Patience had never been his favorite virtue, but he had learned to appreciate it during his time in jail. Proof that there was a silver lining to everything.

At last, Heather spoke, her words quiet—though not, he suspected, from fear of being overheard.

“She caught me by surprise.”

“I figured.”

“I’m not sure...” She sighed. “It’s not as simple as Millie believes.”

“Tell me a part of parenting that is.”

At that, she laughed, though not with her usual abandon. He crouched and adjusted his focus. There was a tiny dandelion poking through the sticks, a flash of yellow he would have missed if he hadn’t changed angles.

“How do you manage it?” she asked. “Sharing Cady must be hard.”

“Do you mean, like, the timing? The logistics?”

“For a start.”

“It takes a lot of communication. But you probably know that already.”

“Right.”

“If you want, I can give you a copy of the schedule we use. You couldn’t do the same times, not with school and all, but it would give you someplace to start.” And maybe she could accept it with more grace than he could. For while Xander understood the need for a schedule and was blown away every time he realized how close he had come to missing out on the miracle of Cady, a part of him still ached at the reality of needing a spreadsheet to mark his time with his daughter.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She crouched beside him and tugged on one of the sticks, tumbling the pile into a new arrangement. The dandelion vanished from his view. “Of course, I’m probably jumping the gun. Hank—”

She stopped. He raised the camera, using it as a shield so he had to watch out of the corner of his eye as the emotions played across her face. Hope, wistfulness, some kind of longing that made him feel he should reach over and squeeze her hand...

He hadn’t known Heather when she was married to Ian’s brother Hank, but he’d known about her, and them. He remembered Ian telling him about Heather’s abrupt departure from the marriage and Comeback Cove, and even during that self-absorbed point in his own life, he had wondered how a mother could willingly leave her child.

These days, knowing Heather, seeing how she glowed whenever she was with Millie, he wondered all the more.

“Anyway—” Heather clapped her hands as if dismissing the topic “—the other big issue would be work.”

“Isn’t Millie a bit young to have to think about a job?”

Yeah, it was a lousy joke. But Heather was the pacesetter here.

“You do know that when you’re all hunched over like that, it would only take one little push for me to send you over. Right?”

On the other hand, maybe he should take a stronger lead in the conversation.

“Sorry. Whatever. Why is work a problem?”

She adjusted her position so she was sitting on the ground. Guess her thighs weren’t up to the test.

Not that he was going to think about her thighs.

“The job itself isn’t the trouble. It’s the hours. Which are totally reasonable until you tack on the megacommute every day.”

“Gotcha. So you’re gone from, what? Eight to six?”

“More like seven thirty until about seven.”

He whistled. “Busting ass to impress the boss?”

“Busting ass to get the work done.” Her head swiveled. “And to let me leave early on Wednesdays, so I’m home when Millie finishes school.”

He didn’t have to follow her line of vision to know she was checking on the kid in question.

“You’re right. That doesn’t leave much time for anything, let alone having time with a kid.”

“I know.”

It was the way she watched Millie that caught him in the gut. Like she didn’t dare miss one action or one giggle, in case she might never get the chance again.

“What about getting a new job?”

This time when she laughed, it was like he’d said the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

“Right. Because Comeback Cove is overflowing with jobs.”

He bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that there were a lot more options for her than there were for someone who had, oh, a criminal record to add to the list of references.

No regrets, Xander.

Instead, he waved a hand toward the river and said, “I hear the town is looking for someone to help sell all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re creating a new position. Tourism director, or something like that. There was an article about it in the Comeback Cove Chronicle last week.”

She did a double take. “You read the Chronicle? I thought their only subscribers were the people who work at town hall. And maybe the folks who advertise in it.”

“Of course I do. I’m a concerned, involved citizen.” Who also happened to be trolling the community calendar for events where he might meet someone looking for a guy with an adorable daughter, a steady job and a slightly checkered past.

“You’re about twelve steps ahead of me, then. But...tourism? It’s a nice thought, but I don’t have any experience in that.”

He raised the camera to his eye and focused in on Cady, now spinning in circles with Millie. “You’re in marketing.”

“Sure, but—”

“Would it cost you anything to apply?”

“No.”

“If you got it, would it make things easier for you to have more time with Millie?”

This time, her silence went on long enough that he had to check to be sure she was still sitting in place.

“Yo, Earth to Heather.”

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“I’ve heard that can be dangerous.”

She shook her head, seeming to cast off some spell that had gripped her. “What does that mean?”

“It means that there’s a time to think and a time to do. Take a chance. Go with your gut.”

Her head swiveled. Her gaze locked on Millie.

“My gut is the last thing I need to listen to.”

He had never understood people who didn’t trust their own instincts. How was a person supposed to navigate all the noise of the world without having some core sense of what to do and where to go?

Though on the other hand, refusing to listen to your gut was probably a lot safer than his specialty of acknowledging and then ignoring the truth he didn’t want to see.

“But,” she continued, “there is a certain logic to the thought.”

Ah, now they were getting somewhere.

“I doubt I could even get an interview, but you’re right. It would give me a deadline to update my résumé and get into job-changing mode. If nothing else, getting an offer from someplace else might give me some negotiating power. Shift my hours, arrange to work from home part of the time...something that could make things more possible.”

She turned a sunny smile in his direction, one that had his own gut suddenly tightening.

“Thanks, Xander. You’ve been a huge help.”

No problem. My pleasure. The smart and sensible response was clear in his head.

So why did he open his mouth to say, “You know, I’ve sat in on a good number of classes on résumé writing over the years.” Most recently as a guest—ahem—of the Province, but knowledge was knowledge, right? “If you’d like me to have a look at yours, just say the word.”

“Seriously?”

Xander, you idiot. What if she’s wearing those shorts again? “Anytime.”

“Thank you. I haven’t had to do this kind of thing in years. I just might...” She shrugged, not dismissively, but almost as if she were hugging herself. “I owe you.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” He pushed to his feet, stifling a groan as he straightened. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so smug about her choosing to sit instead of squat.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’m going to stay here for a minute.” She nodded toward the house. “Watch the show for a bit.”

He followed her gaze and saw Millie doing an admirable imitation of a horse, galloping in circles around Cady. A soft neigh carried across the grass.

“Okay then. Let me know if I can help, and I’ll see you around.”

With that, he set off across the lawn, doing his best to stay focused on the crowd in front of him rather than the woman behind him. Forward. Onward. No regrets.

He managed to face away from her until he hit the deck, where Millie ceased her prancing long enough to pull up in front of him.

“Whoa,” she said to the air, then looked to him. “Hi, Mr. Sorenson. What’s my mom doing?”

He had to look back at her then, didn’t he?

Heather no longer sat cross-legged and contemplative on the grass. Instead, she was kneeling, hands moving on the ground.

Moving...a pile of sticks?

“Millie,” he said, resting his hand on her curls, “I can’t be certain, but I think your mom is giving hope to a weed.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT NIGHT, over on the other side of town, Xander buckled Cady into her high chair, set a sippy cup of milk on the tray and took a neat step out of the line of fire before his darling child could spray him.

“Drink, pretty girl. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Cady banged the cup on the tray. “Cookie, Daddy? Pease?”

“After you eat your real food.” In short order, he had a bite-size smorgasbord in front of her—pasta, peas, bites of cheese and chicken. Cady scowled at the assortment.

“Want cookie.”

“Cheese.” He snagged a piece and popped it into her mouth. “Chow down.”

As he’d expected, Cady frowned but obediently chewed before picking up a bite of pasta.

Confident that the meal was under way, Xander grabbed his bowl of beans and followed suit. He used to wait until Cady was done before he attempted to eat, but then she would need a bath. Or she’d pull something over. Or decide there were too many tissues in the box, and it was her God-given duty to empty it. He would race after her and food would be forgotten, and he would fall into bed at night and realize all he’d had since breakfast was a cup of coffee and a handful of Cheerios. Nothing that he couldn’t endure for a day, but definitely not a habit he wanted to build for a lifetime.

So he and Cady ate together now. Not that she was thrilled about staying in her chair until he’d had a chance to catch his breath and unwind a little, but c’est la vie.

And even if she shrieked, and he had to shovel his food in while praying the neighbors didn’t turn him in as a possible child abuser, it would be a more successful dinner than the one he’d shared last night with the latest Ms. Online Dream Date.

“Looks like we’re still in the market for a stepmommy, Cady. Hope you’re not disappointed.”

She dropped a cheese cube on the floor. Lulu, their scruffy but well-loved beagle blend, gave an appreciative whine as she snapped it up.

“No food on the floor, kid. Lulu already had her supper.”

“Ruru supper?”

“That’s right. She already ate. Don’t want her to get sick.”

“Ruru sick?”

“No.”

Cady’s tiny blond head shook back and forth. “No sick.”

Maybe he was going about this dating thing the wrong way. Maybe he should stop taking women to nice restaurants and coffee shops, and start arranging to meet at Bits and Pizzas. He could take Cady, the date could fall in love with her—or not—and depending on everyone else’s reaction, then he could worry about details like his feelings for the woman in question. Or how Ms. Online handled the revelation of his time in the Big House.

“Except I feel like I have to tell them up front,” he said to Cady. “If that’s gonna be a stumbling block, I want to know straight out of the gate. It wouldn’t feel right to keep that hidden.”

Which he supposed was rather ironic—the former convict worrying about doing the right thing. But it wasn’t like history was destiny.

“Did the crime, did the time, from here on in my life is mine. Right, Lu?”

Lulu paused in her nosing of a piece of pasta long enough to glance his way.

“I shouldn’t complain.” He spooned up more beans. “It’s not like things were going really well anyway. I mean, she was nice enough. She has a kid, told me all about him, really loved the pictures of you, Cady girl. So you know she’s smart.”

Cady raised her cup at an angle he knew too well.

“Uh-uh. No shower, remember?”

“Milk!”

“Drink it.” He tapped the cup. She peeked up at him. He plastered on a stern expression, she sighed and cup met mouth.

“The thing was, Cade, she didn’t laugh a lot. I can’t see how you build something with someone you can’t laugh with. And I’m not saying I’m Mr. Comedy,” he added when Lulu rose and turned away from him. “But I had some good lines in there and some funny stuff happened. Like when the guy at the next table got a call. You could tell he was in the middle of being dumped, and instead of taking it outside, he sat there saying ‘but...but...’ and then he came out with, ‘Damn it, I even paid for you to get your cat fixed!’ I was busting a gut trying to keep from laughing. She—Amanda—she kept sending him dirty looks and complaining about cell phones in public. Which, hey, I totally get it. Still, there was something freakin’ hilarious going on beside us, and all she could think about was the rule that was being broken.”

“Cookie? Daddy? Cookie?”

“Two more bites.” He pushed the necessary pieces in her direction. As expected, Cady ignored the small portion he’d set in front of her and raked up a handful from the remainder.

“Eat slowly, kid. Don’t want you to choke. Sloooooooooow.”

Which was advice he should have given himself last night. Instead, as soon as Amanda had finished commenting on the lack of consideration and broken rules, he had gone for the ultimate test and told her about his own experience breaking the rules. And the law.

To her credit, she had listened to the whole story—at least the thirty-second version he had perfected. She had nodded and said something about everyone making mistakes, and downed the rest of her wine pretty fast.

“But I really wasn’t surprised when she left to go to the ladies’ room and never came back.”

“Back?”

“She went bye-bye, babes.”

“Bye-bye,” Cady echoed. “Cookie? Pease?”

He checked the tray, then the floor. Either Lulu was getting faster or Cady really hadn’t dumped it all overboard. “Okay. You earned a cookie. Maybe even two, but don’t tell Mommy.”

“Mommy?” Cady swiveled toward the door. He needed to work fast.

“Mommy in the morning, Cade. After night-night. Look, here’s a cookie! Who do we have—is it a lion? Yeah, I think it’s a lion. What does Leo the Lion say?”

“Rawr.”

“Good trained monkey.” He dropped a couple of animal crackers on the tray and gave thanks that Cady wasn’t yet old enough to tell Darcy everything that went on at his place. Not that Darce would care about an extra hippo or tiger. She was into nutrition, but she wasn’t overboard. But he could live without having her hear about his Adventures in Dating from their daughter.

“The problem is, you’re too smart, kid. Pretty soon I’m going to have to keep all my stories for Lulu. Either that or find someone else to share them with.”

Of course, that was the rub, wasn’t it? If he had someone to share things with, he wouldn’t be off on these fiascos in the first place.

“Ah, well, Cady. I never thought I’d have you, and here you are.” He bopped the end of her nose. “And that right there makes me the luckiest daddy on the planet.”

She beamed up at him and whapped her cup against his arm.

“Ow!” He pulled the cup from her grasp and did the parental finger wag. “No hitting. Got it?”

She scrunched up her face in what he knew was the precursor to a wail.

“Tough, kiddo. You hit Lulu last week and now me. Not good.”

Tiny pink lips quivered.

“No. Hitting.” He squatted in front of her and tweaked her ponytail. “And no complaining when you do something and have to face the music.”

She searched his face and broke into a slow, sunny grin.

“Guess I’m not so good at taking my own advice, am I?” He returned to his chair, picked up his bowl. “I’ve been doing a lot of complaining myself. I’ve gotta move forward. Stop whining. Go with my gut.”

My gut is the last thing I need to listen to.

“You know, Cade, Heather didn’t send me her résumé.”

Cady picked up her second cracker and waved it in the air. “Rawr.”

“Technically, I don’t think giraffes roar, but what the hell.” He shoveled in another bite. “Maybe I should drop her a line, remind her that I was serious about the offer.”

The giraffe giggled.

“What? It’s a friend thing. Perfectly legit.”

Lulu barked sharply.

Xander sighed. “Yeah, I know, girl. It’s probably not a good idea.”

But Heather knew all about his past. It had never stopped her from hanging around with him at the North events.

“Of course,” he mused, “there’s a big difference between goofing around in a group and...and whatever.”

But she was so easy to joke with.

“And if I ask her out and she says no?” he asked Lulu. “I bet there’d be lots of jokes at Thanksgiving dinner after that.”

Yeah. Bad idea.

He tossed his bowl in the sink and grabbed a washcloth. Cleanup time. That was what mattered at this minute: cleaning and chattering and singing and pushing all thoughts of Heather from his mind.

It would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t been wearing those shorts.

* * *

HEATHER LOOKED AT the résumé on her laptop and blew out a breath of pure exasperation.

“All the years I’ve put into building you up, and this is how you thank me?”

It wasn’t a bad résumé. She was still objective enough to see that. It was a solid, administrative-type, semi-impressive recounting.

It was also as boring as a piano recital when your kid wasn’t one of the performers.

She grabbed her weekly bottle of root beer, raised it to her lips and breathed in. Ah, sweet bliss. Was there anything in the world that couldn’t be improved with root beer?

Then she blew out across the top of the bottle in a steady stream, making a sound much like a flute with indigestion.

In addition to the laptop, her kitchen table was littered with every book on writing résumés that the Comeback Cove library possessed. She hadn’t thought to check the publication dates until she got home and found that most of them still focused on the weight of the paper that the job applicant should use, and how to ensure that even the envelope left the right impression. Because every application still had to be snail mailed. Right.

Maybe it wasn’t as boring as she thought. She’d probably just been staring at it so long that she’d lost all perspective.

Which meant that, really, the best thing she could do would be to find some fresh eyes.

“Son of a sea biscuit.”

She slumped back in her chair, arms sagging, and stared up at the ceiling.

He made the offer totally voluntarily. It would be perfectly fine to shoot him an email and ask him to have a look.

Except...

Except she thought maybe he’d been scoping out her butt at the picnic.

In and of itself, that wasn’t a problem. She’d been checked out before, usually by guys who had their own theory as to the proper way to welcome a new transfer to the office. She had long ago perfected the fine art of saying no while keeping things friendly and light.

Except that deep down, beneath the logic and the sense, she kind of liked the idea of Xander finding her hot.

Nothing could ever come of it, of course. It didn’t matter that she liked hanging out with him at birthday parties and such. Or that when she bumped into him in town, she always walked away feeling a little happier. Or that watching him sneak peeks at her from behind the camera had made her want to assume the classic arms-back-head-tilted-breasts-forward bikini photo pose.

Or even—maybe mostly—that when she was with Xander, she felt like she was with someone who could understand how it felt to be living your second chance.

None of that mattered, though. Because she had spent the last hunk of her life easing her way back into Millie’s world, building a working relationship with Hank, doing everything she could to smooth the waters and prove that she wasn’t the same terrified woman who had thought that the best way to protect her child was to put most of a continent between them.

She was logical now. She thought things through and knew how to stop and step back and evaluate situations with her head, not her gut. She had systems and schedules and safeguards in place to ensure that she would never, could never play hell with Millie’s life again, even accidentally.

Doing anything more than sneaking a few peeks at Xander would be like typing up her schedules and systems and having them translated into Esperanto.

“Not because he went to jail,” she said out loud, because if any aliens were tracking her brain waves, she wanted them to be clear on this. “That’s not a selling point, but it’s workable.”

No. The issue was that Xander was too close. Too much a part of Millie’s extended family, and even more so in August when Darcy and Ian got married, and Millie and Cady became official stepcousins.

At least that was how Heather thought they’d be related.

A...whatever between her and Xander would be uncomfortable for everyone. It would shift the dynamics, and probably not in a good way. And when it ended—which was inevitable, given that she knew Xander was looking for Ms. Forever while Heather identified as Ms. Been There, Failed That, Never Again—it could get messy and lead to major awkwardness.

For herself, she could handle awkward. Seriously. She’d had plenty of practice over the years, what with attending events with her ex. And then his new wife. And now their new baby.

But Millie didn’t need that. Ten, even almost eleven, was way too young to have to deal with shifting loyalties and adult drama. Millie deserved peace and love and ponies and flowers, and a mom who made life easier instead of more complicated.

But if Heather wanted to be the mom Millie deserved, she was probably going to need to change jobs.

Which meant she really needed a kick-ass résumé.

Which meant that since most of her other trusted friends were her work contacts, she really should take Xander up on his offer.

Argh.

Quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, she typed up the email.

“Business business, see attachment, all business, thank you very much, I owe you forever—no, scratch that, business—and, send.”

There. There was no way anyone could mistake that for anything other than a grateful acceptance of a generous but semiprofessional offer. Not a hint of flirtation to be found.

At least, not until an hour later when she read his reply.

I took a quick look. I have suggestions, but it’s probably easier to do this in person. Are you busy tomorrow? I have Cady, but if you come over around naptime, I can give you my undivided attention.

Oh hell.

* * *

PROMPTLY AT 2:00 P.M. the next afternoon, Xander looked up from the front step where he was waiting and spotted Heather riding what seemed to be an ancient pink bike up the street. She looked athletic, like she had energy to burn.

Not that he could think of any way to help her expend that energy. Nope. He was operating in a strictly advisory-friend-helper capacity today, doing his duty and offering his suggestions and then moving along, all before naptime ended.

And if he’d had other possibilities in the back of his mind when he had asked Heather to come over—because yeah, for a few minutes there he had given in to Saturday night wildness—well, he’d come to his senses since then. There would be no checking her out. No discussion of anything more suggestive than experience and education. If his gut didn’t like it, then tough.

Because somewhere between last night and this morning—probably when he had stepped into Cady’s room to check on her before he went to bed—he had remembered why Heather was doing this. She wasn’t coming over for him. She was doing this for Millie.