All-American Father

A hiccuping sound escaped her attempt to swallow. She never let the past in. With today and tomorrow to worry about, who had time? She just kept working. Kept her head down. Refused to give up.

“Bailey.” He reached for her arm.

“Don’t waste your pity on me.” She backed toward the kitchen, clutching her dishes to keep from tossing them at his head. Something raw and ugly had been building since first seeing Derrick in all his successful glory. Resentment she’d never before felt toward anyone or anything. “Save your energy. I know it must be tough being dumped by the woman of your dreams and starting over with a new six-figure opportunity in your fabulously successful law career, saddled with two kids someone else was supposed to be taking care of. But spare me the sob story. You’ll find a way to handle Leslie’s problems, just like you’ve handled everything else in your life. When you’ve hit rock bottom and have no way out except letting down the people you love, then maybe we’ll talk about running out of options.”

He should hate her for what she was saying—she did.

But if his problems that weren’t really problems didn’t get out of her house, she was going to embarrass herself and burst into tears for the first time since her father’s funeral. Derrick Cavenaugh made her remember a world she didn’t have time to think about anymore—the one from her dreams, where she got to risk everything and win, instead of fighting the never-ending, losing battle she’d been stuck in for over a decade.

Derrick’s eyes narrowed. The hand that had been reaching toward her returned to his side, his fist clenched.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your morning.” He turned to go, but stopped at the door to the hall. “You know, I get that I’ve had my life handed to me on a silver platter. Things have been easy for so long, I’m not sure I’d know the high road if it rolled up to my house and rang the doorbell. But there’s nothing more rock bottom than watching my little girl ruining her life.”

Maybe it was the gruffness in his voice, or the terrified love ringing in each word, but after he left, Bailey sat back down, instead of heading off to tackle her Sunday morning chores.

She’d railed at Derrick, when it was her life that was driving her crazy. She’d judged him, because she’d never felt more like a loser herself. And she’d totally disrespected the very real threat he faced of not getting through to his daughter.

Since when had her pain-in-the-butt life become an excuse for being an unfeeling bitch?

“WHAT’S UP?” Selena asked over the phone. “You sound wrecked.”

“Nothing new.” Derrick rubbed at the shooting pain behind his right eye. “Leslie’s gone again.”

“I thought you grounded her.”

“Yeah, well, that seems to mean about as much to her as everything else I say.”

Bailey had accused him of feeling sorry for himself. Truth was, he was terrified.

The happy, sweet little girl he’d known was gone, and the prickly preteen who’d taken her place was determined to hurt herself and everyone around her.

“Do you know where she went?” Selena said over a commotion on her end of the line.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked.

“I’m working on a mixed-media project I owe a client.” A loud crash nearly drowned out her words. “Of course Drew and Axel are demolishing my studio faster than I can get anything done. So, you’re going after Leslie, right?”

Bailey’s fierce expression flashed through his mind.

Find a way to solve your own problems.

“I think I know where she went.” Right back to that girl Ginger’s house. For no other reason than he’d forbidden her to. “Once I find her, we have some damage control to do this afternoon, at the convenience store she shoplifted at Thursday.”

He was going to convince the crabby owner to see things his way, whatever it took.

“Savannah can hang out here for as long as you need,” his friend offered.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he forced himself to say. Selena sometimes slaved over an installation for months. Her work had been featured in some of San Francisco’s premier office buildings. She didn’t need another kid hanging around, adding to the confusion.

Not to mention that he should be spending his first Sunday off in months with Savannah, rather than pawning her off on someone else.

“You didn’t ask,” Selena countered. “I’m offering. Can’t promise you won’t get the kid back covered in oil paint and dog slobber, so you might want to drop her off in the rattiest play clothes she’s got. But it’s about time you’re confronting Leslie. I’ll even keep Savannah overnight and get her to school in the morning, if you think it’ll help.”

Selena had been pressuring him to wake up for months. But he’d been too focused on clinching the Reynolds-Allied deal to listen. Then Leslie had upped the stakes.

“I could use the afternoon to work some things out,” he finally said. “But—”

“Then take it. Go do the dad thing. Savannah will keep Drew and the Tasmanian Devil busy. We’ll be fine here.” Another crash was followed by Selena’s frustrated groan. “As long as Drew stops playing fetch in the loft!”

The last of her statement had been screamed for her middle schooler’s benefit. Derrick chuckled in spite of his lousy morning, and the even lousier afternoon to come.

Do the dad thing.

Whatever the hell that was.

CHAPTER FIVE

DOING SOMETHING DUMB for a good reason didn’t make it any less of a bad idea. But dumb or not, Bailey couldn’t stop herself from knocking on Larry Drayton’s door.

She had a lot riding on getting a promotion and the salary increase that would come with it. But not trying to help Leslie Cavenaugh wasn’t an option. Apparently, neither was forgetting the heart-stopping picture the girl’s father had made as he’d left the Gables that morning.

This wasn’t about doing a favor for an old crush, she reminded herself. Or about making the world better for a man whose reality was already ten times better than hers. This was a one-time shot to help give a second chance to a mixed-up kid whose life had been turned upside down.

Something Bailey understood more than she cared to.

And the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could hit up Drayton with her own agenda.

She knocked again.

“What!” he bellowed from inside, as close to come in as he ever managed.

She hadn’t taken two steps into the office before she tripped over her feet, coming face-to-face with her really dumb idea, multiplied by a factor of two.

Leslie Cavenaugh was slouched in the same ugly chair as before, the waist of her too-short shorts ending way below the hem of her revealing halter top. Just looking at the kid’s platform sandals made Bailey’s feet hurt. And beside her sat a stunned, absolutely delicious-looking Derrick.

Bailey turned to beat a path back to her car.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Drayton griped. “I had a feeling you were behind this nonsense. You’re not dumping this in my lap, then hightailing it out of here. I’m not letting this girl work off her crime, unless you agree to be responsible for her hours.”

“Me?”

“If not, I’m pressing charges. I got no time to supervise the little thief. You either keep an eye on her, or there’s no deal. I don’t care how many free hours Mr. Cavenaugh says he’s willing to let her work.”

“Bailey’s not—” Derrick was on his feet.

“I’m not—” Bailey said over him, then stopped.

Please tell my boss this isn’t a good idea, she begged Derrick with her gaze.

Deciding to put in a good word for the kid was one thing. Agreeing to supervise Leslie’s time, when Bailey’s schedule was already stretched to the breaking point, wasn’t going to happen.

“This is my daughter’s mess,” Derrick argued. “Leslie needs to be the one to clean it up. There’s no reason to make more work for Bailey.”

“Well, the girl’s sure as hell not going to hang out here after school without someone keeping an eye on her. And Bailey’s the only employee I’d trust to do that.”

“After school?” Bailey said through the shock of receiving the first ass-backward compliment she’d ever received from the man.

“I get to come straight here when I get off the bus.” Leslie sounded as if she couldn’t be more bored. “Then call my dad from the pay phone outside, because my cell phone is now contraband. Then I get to work for nothing until he swings by whenever he can manage to make it home from work.”

“I’ll be here at six every afternoon until we have this cleared up.” Derrick had his daughter’s undivided attention for the first time. “If Mr. Drayton and Ms. Greenwood agree to this, you owe them another apology and a thank-you. And you’ll damn well show up where you’re supposed to be every afternoon, on time and ready to work. Ditch to hang out with your friends just once, and I’ll drive you down to the courthouse myself, and file the charges for Mr. Drayton.”

“Like you care where I go, as long as I’m out of your way.” Tears welled in Leslie’s heavily made-up eyes. “So you’re forced to spend time with me for a while. So what? I know you’d rather be in town kissing your boss’s butt.”

Bailey couldn’t breathe.

She’d fork over any number of body parts to have just one more afternoon with her father. The same kind of longing had filled Leslie’s outburst. Instead of a preteen gone wild, they were listening to a little girl who missed her daddy.

“I suppose I could come in a few hours each afternoon,” she heard herself promising, even though she’d hoped to snag more better-paying bistro hours instead.

Derrick’s relieved smile made taking her offer back impossible.

“You either work a full shift, or you’ll be doing it on your own time,” Drayton warned. Half shifts were a cardinal sin at the well-oiled machine that was the Stop Right. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’ll pay me, because I’ll spend the time straightening out the twisted mess you make of your books every quarter, instead of working unpaid overtime on the weekends.” It was uncomfortably easier to stiffen her spine and demand her due with a former college all-star standing beside her, frowning at Drayton on her behalf. “And there’s the matter of the management title you’ll be giving me, along with the raise I should have as the only employee you trust. But for now, do the right thing. Think of the good it will do your reputation in Langston. Show everyone you have a heart. Give a twelve-year-old a break.”

“A chance to learn from her mistakes,” Derrick added.

“Come on, Larry,” she reasoned. “You don’t really want this town to think you’re too much of a crank to lift a finger to help a kid who’s willing to pay for her mistake working for you for free.”

Drayton’s jaw dropped. She could see the silver fillings capping six back teeth.

She’d called him Larry.

She’d pushed back, rather than accepting his crappy attitude as part of a job she couldn’t afford to lose.

Derrick planted his hands on his hips, muscles hardening beneath the soft knit of his shirt. Leslie slid closer to the edge of her chair.

“Fine.” Drayton threw his arms in the air. “But I want the girl working. And if she doesn’t show for a single shift, I’m calling the police back and refiling charges. You’re getting off easy, little girl. Don’t make me regret it.”

The twelve-year-old who’d been sulking when Bailey arrived was too busy gawking at her dad to respond.

“Answer the man.” Derrick’s hand cupped his daughter’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” The kid leaned into her father’s touch as she faced Drayton. “I’ll be here.”

“Your daddy says your bus lets you off at your house at three-thirty, and that you can walk here,” Drayton said. “You and Bailey had better be here tomorrow by quarter ’til four.”

“I’ll be here at three.” Bailey turned away from the united front she and Derrick and his daughter had made. “We need to discuss my future here.”

Her future.

Her Grandmother’s future.

The raise she’d told herself she wasn’t leaving without.

The exhilaration of finally standing up to her tightwad boss wilted as she walked away from the office. She’d be lucky if she didn’t lose hours now, instead of increasing them.

“Bailey!” Derrick caught up with her in the narrow hallway that led into the store. “I don’t know what to say. I had no right this morning, asking you to get involved in my family’s problems. But if you hadn’t…if your boss hadn’t listened to you, my daughter would be on her way to court in a few weeks, instead of having a second chance.”

He stepped closer, until she could count the soft hair peaking above the V neck of his pullover. Smell the soap he’d showered with that morning. Wonder how he kept in such impressive shape, when he worked in a corporate office six or seven days a week.

A finger tipped her chin up until she was looking into warm gray eyes.

Good Lord.

Those eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “For showing my daughter how people stand up and do the right thing, instead of taking whatever path of least resistance is handy.”

He was talking about himself, she realized.

She should apologize for the horrible things she’d said that morning. But Derrick’s finger was still caressing the sensitive skin below her chin. He was too close. And yet, not close enough.

She edged away.

“I need to get going.”

“Bailey.” He stopped her that time with nothing more than the concern in his voice. “I don’t want working with Leslie to cause trouble for you here.”

“It’ll be fine.” Leslie wasn’t the problem. Bailey being in the same room as Derrick, and not completely losing sight of her own priorities, was the problem. “Your daughter will be here a week, maybe two. It won’t take long for her to learn that this is the kind of dead-end job she’d rather die than be working at in ten years.”

There was that half smile again. The one that said he didn’t quite understand.

Join the club.

He reached into the back pocket of his fitted-to-perfection jeans, withdrew his wallet and from it a business card, which he handed over.

“This is my work and my cell number,” he said. “If there’s any trouble tomorrow afternoon…”

“I’ll let you know.” She hesitated, then took the card.

A zing of awareness shot up her arm from where their fingers brushed. An instant of pure sensation that felt better than anything had in a long time. Good enough to tempt her with the need for more, whatever the cost.

Dear God.

What had she gotten herself into?

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I can wear your tennis shoes.” Leslie snickered. “Are your feet really that scrawny?”

The first thing Bailey had done once Leslie arrived at the Stop Right was hand over an old T-shirt to replace the tank top Leslie had worn that morning—because it irked her dad that he could see the straps of her bra beneath it. Then Bailey had shoved a ratty pair of sneakers at her.

“Cracks about how you’re already as big as I am,” Bailey snapped, “won’t end well for you, when your dad asks if you’ve been working and playing well with others.”

Leslie couldn’t stop the giggle that followed.

Maybe working in this dump wouldn’t be so mind-numbing after all.

“I didn’t hear your boss say anything about having to dress frumpy to do the job,” she snarked, even though the sneakers were way more comfortable than the strappy sandals she’d worn all day.

Who knew fitting in at school could hurt her feet so much?

“Trust me,” Bailey said as she handed over the same kind of band that held her own ponytail in place. “Frumpy is preferable to ‘Hey, baby, you wanna wait outside ’til I’m off work?’ We get a steady stream of beer drinkers in here. You won’t be selling them anything, but you’ll look cute enough stocking shelves for them to notice. Better make it clear that even thinking about touching you would be illegal.” Bailey pointed toward the hair band. “Pull your hair back.”

Eager to cooperate and grossed out by the thought of skanky guys gawking at her—Leslie made her own ponytail.

“Is that why you dress the way you do?” she asked. “Because you don’t want men to notice you?”

Bailey seemed smart enough, even cute, for a grown-up. Leslie’s dad had clearly thought so.

“I dress this way—” the woman looked down at her wrinkled shirt and raggedy jeans, as if she’d just noticed them “—because what does it matter how I look when I’m hustling from one dead-end job to another, so I can make my mortgage? That’s what people do when they have no other choice.” She nailed Leslie with a wicked-cold glance. “A lot of people would kill for the opportunities you’re throwing away. So, listen to your dad. Figure out a way not to lose the good things he’s trying to make sure you have in your life.”

The guy from behind the register poked his head into the storeroom as Bailey turned toward a stack of boxes.

“Someone’s out here to see the kid,” he said, before heading back up front.

“Oh, my God, my dad’s such a tool.” Leslie made her sigh extra bratty, to cover a sneaky rush of happiness.

He’d broken away from his all-important job even earlier than he’d promised, just to check on her.

“Unpack the chips in these boxes into a cart, then restock the displays out front.” Bailey patted her shoulder. “I’ll deal with your dad.”

And even though Leslie had only known Bailey for a few days, she had no doubt that the woman could handle just about anything.

DRESSED IN paint-splattered cargo pants and a curve-hugging tank top, the woman waiting by the register looked just as exotic as she had at Margo’s. The memory of how Derrick had pulled Selena Milano into a hug, laughing in an easy, familiar way, had Bailey gritting her teeth against a ridiculous spurt of jealousy.

The man could hug whomever he wanted to. What business was it of hers, if his taste in women had progressed from flighty blondes to something more substantial? Bailey was the shop girl who’d agreed to babysit his kid, nothing more.

She held out her hand. “You’re Selena, right? You didn’t have to stop by. I told Derrick he could call and check in.”

“I don’t know if you remember it or not, but I was in Derrick’s class at Western. And—” A teenager and a barking whirlwind skidded down the aisle, nearly barreling into Bailey. “Drew, I told you to play outside.”

“They’re okay.” Drayton was long gone. He’d split as soon as Bailey made it clear she wasn’t backing down on her ultimatum to be made a salaried manager, or she was out of there as soon as the Cavenaugh girl was.

She smiled down at the boy and the animal.

“Just remember, if you break it, you buy it.”

Having a pet to wreak havoc on her own life was on the list of nice-to-haves Bailey never gave a second thought. The must-haves kept her busy enough.

“Outside.” Selena jerked her head toward the door, raising an eyebrow as her son inhaled to argue. “You’re already in the hole for two weeks’ allowance. Wanna make it three?”

Boy and dog dragged their feet and paws as they trudged outside. The door’s jingle snickered at the dejected picture they made.

“What on earth am I going to do with him?” Selena asked the world in general.

“Your son?”

“Him, too.” The artist smiled. “Are you in the market for an overactive canine to add a little color to your uneventful life?”

“I wish.” What would uneventful feel like? “He’s not your dog?”

“Looks like he is now.” Selena’s smile widened as Leslie pushed a shopping cart full of snacks into the store. “Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”

“Is my dad with you?” Leslie tried hard to look like she didn’t really care.

“No, sorry,” Selena commiserated as the twelve-year-old’s shoulders slumped. “Drew and I were out this way for his baseball team’s pre-season meeting. I thought we’d stop and see how things were going. Nice threads,” she added with a wink.

“Yeah, they’re swell.” Leslie shuffled toward the half-empty rack of snacks. “Everything’s just peachy.”

“Tell her father she’s doing great,” Bailey offered, still trying to place Selena in her Western High memories. But Bailey had been four years behind Derrick’s class, and all she could seem to remember was him.

“You’ll probably talk to Derrick before I do,” Selena said. “He only shared that Leslie would be spending afternoons here because I nagged him about it. He told me not to bother you while I was in town. That he trusted you, which was unusual enough to make sure I wouldn’t pass up the chance to snoop. He’s one of my closest friends, but that man doesn’t trust much of anyone these days, women most of all.”

“Oh, well…” Bailey caught Scott Fletcher hanging on every word. She stared him down, and he finally turned back to the sitcom blaring from the small TV Drayton kept behind the register. “I guess I should get back to the office. I have to balance the weekly accounts before heading over to Margo’s later.”

“How are things going at the Gables?” Selena snooped on, undeterred.

Bailey hesitated, finally deciding the best response to the out-of-the-blue question was saying nothing at all.

“I know,” Selena conceded. “I sound like a hopeless busybody, but I’ve always loved that old place. I actually stopped in the middle of the street the first time I laid eyes on it. The Victorian architecture… The picture the house makes on the edge of that bluff overlooking the bay… It’s really something. I have Langston clients who bring me out this way a few times a month, and everyone around the community admires how hard you’ve worked keeping the inn going for your grandmother.”

“Yes, well…” Everyone? “The bank still lets us live there.”

For now.

“Derrick mentioned how great it looks inside. It impressed the hell out of him, when I told him you’d stayed on after your father died, instead of heading off to college.”

“Bailey, you gonna be here for a few more minutes?” Scott brushed by without waiting for an answer. “I’m going out back for a smoke.”

Stunned by the idea that someone like Derrick Cavenaugh, not to mention her tiny community, was impressed enough to gossip about her paycheck-to-paycheck existence, Bailey let Scott go—when she’d made it a firm rule not to enable the teenager’s determination to flirt with lung cancer. Stepping behind the register, she put several feet between her and the woman smiling at her inability to respond to the most unexpected compliment she’d ever received.

She’d blown every expectation she’d ever had for her life. She’d made such a success of the last eleven years, her grandmother’s business was on the last of its nine lives.

“Mom?” Selena’s son poked his head inside. He held the panting, drooling dog by the collar.

“We should get going,” Selena said. “Say hi to Derrick for me. See you later, Les.”

She waved and headed after her son.

Leslie pushed the now-empty cart to the front of the store.

“Selena seems nice.” Bailey tidied the various promotional displays crowded around the register.

“I guess.” Leslie drooped against the counter in a display of preteen sulking.

“So, she and your dad been friends since high school?”

“I guess.” The kid studied Bailey for a minute. “They’re not dating, if that’s what you mean.”

Bailey knocked over the carton of dollar-store-quality penlights. “What? No, I wasn’t…I mean, I’m not—”

“He hasn’t dated anyone since my mom screwed him over for his best friend.” Leslie fiddled with a loose thread on her T-shirt’s hem. “The way I figure it, my mom started stepping out right after Savannah was born. The Mighty DC never pulled his nose out of his work long enough to notice. Not until she filed for divorce.”

“Looks like you’ve got him noticing now.” Bailey gave the kid’s shoulder a friendly nudge. “But working here is nothing compared to the price you’re going to pay if you don’t rein in some of the acting out. You don’t want to spend the rest of the year needing a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card just to leave your house.”