Father Most Wanted. Marie Ferrarella
Читать онлайн книгу.
if you each just pick one book, you can come back with your daddy some other time and pick another one. And another after that.” She smiled warmly at them. “That means you have something to look forward to. And I get to look forward to seeing you all again. How about it? Sound like a deal?”
She already recognized Bethany as the serious one. Standing beside her father, Bethany nodded. “Sounds like a deal,” she agreed. “Okay.”
Eager not to be left out, Stephany echoed, “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay.” Tiffany sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the surrendered cache that had momentarily been hers. She began rifling through the pile. “I want this one now and this one later and this one…”
Tyler was tempted to physically separate Tiffany from the books, knowing that of the three of them, she was the one who had a penchant for prolonging things. There was somewhere he had to be within the hour, and he had already lost some time.
But instead of giving in to his feelings, he stepped back. “Make your choices, girls,” he instructed. “Put the rest back and meet me at the register.” Tyler turned from his trio and looked at Brooke. “Very nicely done.”
This time the lowered voice was perfectly plausible. Absorbing the amused praise, she smiled. “I’ve had lots of practice.”
He glanced at her hand. No ring. Still, that didn’t mean as much these days as it used to. Neither did wearing one. He still had his because he felt incomplete without it. As incomplete as he felt without Gina.
“Refereeing your own kids?” he guessed.
Brooke shook her head. It was her greatest regret. Marc had always told her that children would be something they would discuss seriously “later.” For them, later never came.
“No, I don’t have any. But I get lots of customers.” Her gaze swept over the girls, who were still solemnly making their choices. “And I’ve always loved kids. I worked at a preschool when I lived in New York.”
Tyler envisioned an arena of screaming children, all vying for attention at once. That had been his one and only experience with preschool. After that, Gina had taught the girls at home, inviting neighborhood children over to make sure that the girls learned how to interact with kids their own age.
“Was that part of the bad experience?” He realized that had to sound as if he was prying. “Sorry, none of my business.”
The man was far too polite for a New Yorker. That had to be a different accent she detected in his voice.
“No, it’s okay.” She waved away his apology. “I don’t mind answering. To be honest, that was the only part of the experience that was good. All the way through.” She thought of several children who had won her heart and wondered if they still remembered her. “I hated leaving them.”
He heard the qualification in her voice and waited. Finally he asked, “But?”
She deliberately pushed thoughts of Marc and his infidelities out of her mind. Why was she suddenly seized with a desire to unburden herself to a perfect stranger? The man had come looking for storybooks, not true confessions.
Brooke tossed her hair, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “But this is home and I needed to come home. You know how it is.”
“Yes, I do.”
There went her imagination again, reading things into his tone of voice.
But he did sound sad, she thought. Had returning home for him been a bad experience or was it the opposite? Did he long to return home only to know that for one reason or another, he couldn’t?
Not her place to ask. It was just going to be one of life’s little mysteries, she thought. Like where second socks disappear to between the laundry hamper and the dryer.
The winsome trio interrupted the conversation by trooping up to the register. Each placed her carefully decided-upon final selection on the counter. Tiffany vied for top honors, placing hers on top after Stephany had just done the same. Bethany gave both her sisters the evil eye, meant to quiet them.
Tyler hid his smile. Bethany had always been the one unofficially in charge.
“Okay, Daddy, we’re ready,” Bethany told him importantly.
“Excellent selections, ladies,” Brooke said as she scanned each book in turn, ringing up the sale. The register came up with the final total. She pointed to the figure. “And this, Mr. Breckinridge, is what they all come to.”
Stephany looked around, then turned her face up to her father, her small brows drawing together in confusion. “Who’s she talking to, Daddy?”
Bethany gave her a reproving look. “That’s Daddy’s grown-up name,” she informed her sister, then looked at her father for confirmation. “Right, Daddy?”
Brooke thought it a rather odd exchange. The girls were so bright about everything else. Why did something as ordinary as formally addressing their father cause any of them confusion?
“Right,” Tyler answered. Taking his charge card out of his wallet, he glanced at it before handing it to Brooke.
She could have sworn he looked just the slightest bit apprehensive. Probably wondering if his three little darlings had caused him to max out his card. The man tried to give the appearance of being in charge, but it was evident to anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention that the girls had him tied up in neat little knots around their small fingers.
The authorization number flashed, catching Brooke’s eye. She wrote it down on the three-layered credit slip before handing it to Tyler to sign.
He took the pen she offered him and began writing his name. Biting off an oath, he stopped. There was a touch of both frustration and sheepishness in his eyes as he looked up at her.
“I’m sorry, I was preoccupied.” His eyes indicated the slip. “I started writing down the name of someone I’m supposed to meet later this afternoon. Would it be too much trouble to write up another slip?”
“No, no trouble at all.” She reached into the drawer for a blank slip, then grinned. “I guess being around this handful might make anyone forget their name at times.” Lowering her eyes, she ran the credit slip through the machine, embossing it, then wrote in the pertinent information. Finished, she held out the slip to him while reaching for the one in his hand.
To her surprise, he ripped it up in front of her, then tucked the pieces into his pocket. “I’ll just get rid of this for you.” There was no room for discussion or dissent.
Brooke shrugged carelessly. It made no difference to her one way or another. “Been the victim of credit-card fraud lately?”
He looked up from the slip he was carefully signing. “What?”
She nodded toward his pocket. “You’re so careful with the receipt I thought that maybe someone had stolen your credit card before. You know, once burned, twice leery, that sort of thing.”
“Yes, something like that.” Finished, he handed the signed receipt to her, exchanging it for his card. He slipped the latter back into his wallet.
Nothing wrong with being careful, she thought, watching him. She smiled as she handed the large colorful bag with the girls’ purchases to him. There was a sleepy-eyed teddy bear, dressed in a nightshirt and nightcap, sitting and reading a storybook with his picture on the cover decorating the side of the bag. Stephany oohed over it.
My father would have been touched, Brooke thought. The teddy bear, Wandering Willie, had been his creation. “He was my favorite, too, when I was your age.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Is he that old?”
“Tiffany.” Tyler flashed Brooke an apologetic look. “Everyone over ten is old to Tiffany.”
She’d taken no offense. “I remember how it was.” On impulse, Brooke rounded