FATHER IN TRAINING (15 page)

"That's just your opinion. In
my
opinion, I'm doing just fine. I've been fine and I plan on continuing to be fine. Now I think it's time for you to leave."

She held her breath and waited. A part of her wanted him to turn and go, but a voice inside cried out for him to force her into admitting the truth. She was desperate for some happiness, but she couldn't give up control to anyone. It wasn't safe. Thomas had taught her that, and before him, her mother. She had to be responsible for herself and her children. There wasn't anyone else she could depend upon.

Kyle stared at her,
then
he reached forward and grabbed her left hand. He tugged until she stumbled closer. Behind them, she could hear the sound of a TV show blaring through the open window.

He continued to hold on to her hand,
then
he glanced down and rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring. "You ever get lonely? You ever get tired of being the only one? Don't you ever want someone to help you, to care about you?"

She snatched her hand back. Yes, her heart cried. But she was too afraid to speak the words. Kyle tempted her with what she could never have. "Wanting it isn't the same as having it happen."

"Maybe it's right here in front of you, but you're too stubborn or too scared to see what's being offered
. '
Night."

He turned and walked down the stairs, then disappeared into the darkness.
Sandy
stared after him, watching until she saw the light click on in the gatehouse. She stood there, abandoned, feeling the brush of his fingers against her wedding band and fighting the loneliness that threatened to consume her soul.

Grilled-cheese sandwiches and a tossed salad hadn't sounded so bad when she'd first suggested the children make lunch, but now, surrounded by the mess, she realized she'd made a mistake.
Sandy
stared at the cooked bits of cheese and the burnt spill next to the right front burner. She had no idea what it could be because they weren't supposed to have cooked a liquid. There were dishes piled in the sink and open containers of salad dressing and cheese on the counter. Her feet crunched on the crumbs underfoot. Exchanging cooking for cleanup had not been one of her better ideas.

It was Kyle's fault. The kids had been bugging her all morning and she'd just wanted them to go outside and leave her in peace. If he hadn't spoiled them by entertaining them, they wouldn't have been so bored with their usual activities in the afternoon and they wouldn't have gotten on her nerves, so she wouldn't have suggested they cook lunch and she clean up. It was also his fault because she wasn't as patient as she usually tried to be because she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.

Sandy
crossed to the window and moved the new crisp blue-and-white curtains aside. If she tilted her head slightly to see around the big oak tree in her front yard, she had a view of her entire driveway and the back of Kyle's house. Even now, he was outside with her kids, washing his car as he did every week. A warm afternoon breeze fluttered through the open window, bringing with it the faint sound of laughter. They were having a good time with him. Only a really horrible mother would begrudge her children that.

Sandy
sat down at the dirty table and sighed. Okay, she was a bad mother. There was a part of her that resented her kids' easy relationship with Kyle. For her, nothing about him was simple. It didn't seem fair. Not only did they get to spend time with him, but he really seemed to like it. She half suspected he'd changed his work schedule just to be with them. Since the kiss—which in her mind often appeared in capital letters as "THE KISS"—he'd been working nights, coming home shortly after dawn, sleeping until about one in the afternoon, then hanging out with her children. As if he
were
their father.

She'd tried to ignore the situation. However, that was difficult when every other sentence Nichole spoke started with "Kyle says…" followed by whatever bit of wisdom he'd imparted. Lindsay was still pursuing him with the fervor of an old maid watching her last, best hope slip away. At least that was amusing and almost made up for her concern. But it was Blake who kept her from approaching Kyle and telling him to back off. Her quiet, uncommunicative, withdrawn son had started laughing.

Not a lot, not all the time, but enough for her to know that he was coming out of his shell. And she would do anything to see Blake return to the bright, outgoing boy he'd been before his father had rejected him. She would even admit Kyle Haynes into her life and accept the pain and suffering that would surely follow.

Sandy
rose from the table and collected the last of the dishes. After setting them on the counter, she opened the dishwasher and started loading. A half-guilty smile tugged at her mouth. She hadn't rinsed the plates first. She who yelled that command every night as the children cleaned the kitchen. Unrinsed glasses followed, along with the silverware. When the dishwasher was full, she poured in the soap and started the cycle. Then she straightened and stared at the machine. If the most wicked thing she'd done in her life was to put plates in the dishwasher without rinsing them first, Kyle was right: she wouldn't recognize a spontaneous thought if it came up and bit her, and she desperately needed a little fun in her life.

But how? And with whom? Those two questions brought her mind back to the kiss. And Kyle. Why had he done it? Why had she responded? Where were they going to go now?

She capped the salad-dressing bottles and stuck them in the refrigerator. Next, she put away the bread. Finally, she reached for a dishcloth to wipe off the counters. But instead of tackling the task, she leaned against the tile. The second question was easiest to answer. She'd responded because Kyle's embrace had sparked some incredible passion buried deep inside of her. She'd never felt anything quite like it before. With Thomas, making love had often been spontaneous and usually fulfilling, but she'd never felt swept away or compelled beyond reason. She would never have considered doing it outside on the porch where practically anyone could have seen them. Maybe Thomas would have liked her better if she'd been more like that.

Was her response unique to Kyle or had she reacted so passionately simply because she hadn't been with a man in so long?
Sandy
turned and began wiping off the counter. She collected the crumbs,
then
tossed them in the trash. Next, she tackled the kitchen table. When everything was gleaming, she rinsed the dishcloth and wrung it out.

She walked back to the window and moved the curtain aside. Her three children were still helping Kyle with his car. She watched them and wondered when she'd gotten left out of the loop. Was it when she'd asked him to leave and implied he should never come back? Or was it before that? Was being out of the loop the price she paid for being in control?

The back door opened and Nichole ran in. "What time is it, Mommy?"

She glanced at the clock next to the oven. "Nearly two-thirty. Why?"

"I'm 'posed to be at Mandy's by three. We're going swimming. Don't you remember?"

Sandy
reached out and touched her youngest's red curls. "Of course I do. Go get your bathing suit and a towel, and I'll take you right over."

Nichole grinned,
then
started up the stairs.
Sandy
followed more slowly. Nichole and Mandy had quickly become friends.
Elizabeth
had been wonderful, as had Travis. In fact, all of Kyle's family had gone out of their way to make her and her children feel welcome. Without her noticing it, he'd drawn her into a world where people cared about one another. She smiled wistfully as she remembered the last time she'd taken Nichole over to Mandy's. She'd walked Nichole to the front door. Before she knocked, she'd glanced in the window and seen
Elizabeth
and Travis kissing on the living room sofa. Travis had held his wife tenderly in his arms.

Sandy
hadn't known what to do. Before she could decide, Nichole, who hadn't seen the adults, pressed the bell. Elizabeth and Travis had separated,
then
Elizabeth
had smiled as her husband had whispered something in her ear.

Sandy
suspected it had been a promise to continue what had been interrupted.

Sandy
walked into her bedroom. The furniture was in place and most of the boxes had been unpacked. Except for the stack of pictures still waiting to be hung on the wall, no one could tell she'd only moved in a month ago. She changed her T-shirt for one that hadn't been stained by coffee, then pulled off her headband and reached for her brush. A shaft of sunlight spilling through the open window caught the diamond in her wedding band and made it sparkle. She put the brush down and stared at her ring. She still remembered the day Thomas had slipped the simple gold-and-diamond band on her finger. She'd had so many hopes for their future.

What had gone wrong? Where had she made the first mistake? She'd been so sure he was the right one for her. If only she'd known he was more interested in having fun than in being a husband or father. If only she'd known how lonely she would feel years before he'd actually died.

She touched the ring and remembered the feel of Kyle's hand holding hers. He'd rubbed the ring as he'd asked if she ever felt the loneliness. Maybe, instead of reacting with fear and anger, she should have told him the truth.

Sandy
walked to the window. From the second story, she could see into Kyle's backyard. They'd finished with the car and were now digging in the garden and laughing. Who was this man who stole her children's hearts and made her forget her promises to herself?

Slowly, she drew the ring from her finger. It came off easily. The thin band of paler skin was the only proof it had been there. She'd thought she would feel naked, but she didn't feel anything at all. The circle of gold rested in the palm of her right hand. Thomas had already been gone two years. Was it time to let go? She didn't know.

She walked to the jewelry box resting on her cherry-wood dresser. She pulled open the top drawer and placed the ring inside. She would keep it there for today and see how she felt about not wearing her ring. If it bothered her too much, she could always put it back on.

Chapter 8

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S
andy
backed the car out of the garage and turned it in the wide driveway.

"We gotta stop by Kyle's," Nichole said. "I left one of my dolls there, and I promised Mandy I'd bring her by."

Sandy
stared at the gatehouse up ahead. She wasn't sure where her other two children were, but Kyle was standing in the afternoon sunlight, trimming a hedge. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd been wearing slightly more than a pair of shorts. What was it with that man? Didn't the sheriff's department pay the deputies enough to provide for food
and
clothing? Or was it just her luck that every time she turned around, he was practically naked?

She let the car roll forward until it was even with the bend that led to Kyle's driveway, then put the vehicle in Park. "I'll wait here," she said. "Hurry, please, or you're going to be late."

Nichole flashed
her a
smile. "I'll be right back."

Sandy
grinned as her youngest raced out of the car and called a greeting to Kyle. "I gotta find my doll."

"I think you left it in the garage," he told her.

He put down the clippers and glanced at the car.
Sandy
clenched her teeth. Please, God, let him stay where he was. She didn't need to be staring at his bare chest right now. Not when she was still in a weakened condition.

God was busy, or He had a different plan for her life because Kyle started toward her and he didn't show any signs of stopping. She drew in a deep breath and reminded herself she was a mature woman. She could handle this situation. It wasn't going to be a problem. She would remember to keep breathing deeply and focus on something neutral. Like the steering wheel.

He came around the back of the car. She followed his progress in the mirrors, mentally noting he had the audacity to look great even as a two-inch-high reflection. When he reached the driver's side, he waited until she rolled down the window, then he leaned forward and braced his forearms on the car. His forehead rested against the top of the car, his right elbow bumped against the door lock. She could see his face, the slight sheen of perspiration coating his shoulders and bare chest. She could see the tanned skin, the dark hair curling down to his waistband, the muscles. He overwhelmed her. If she was the fainting kind, she would have been a goner for sure.