FATHER IN TRAINING (35 page)

"She said that?"

"This morning. After our meeting. They're not going to do stars anymore, but I want to."

"Huh?"

He heard a sound from inside the house. Now more than ever he wanted to confront
Sandy
. Yet he knew it would be better if everything happened on her terms. He would have to practice patience.

"I gotta run, Nichole. See you soon."

"Bye."

He hurried back to his place and collected the bucket and chamois. After storing everything and coiling the hose neatly, he went inside and started pacing. How much longer?

By two that afternoon, he was ready to go crazy. What if the kids had been wrong? Was he wishing for a dream? Was
Sandy
only a fantasy, someone he would always want but never be in a relationship with? The waiting was getting to him. If he walked the living room one more time, he was going to wear a path through the rug.

"Enough of this," he growled, and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from the hall. A drive would clear his mind. He would leave a note on the door, in case
Sandy
came by.

He wrote it quickly, then crossed the kitchen floor and jerked open the back door.
Sandy
stood there, with her hand raised, ready to knock.

"Kyle," she said, surprised. "Hi."

He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. God, she was beautiful. She'd put on a white gauzy dress with narrow straps and a full skirt. Her legs were bare, as were her arms. She wore makeup, which was unusual. So was the way her hands kept twisting together over and over again.
Sandy
was nervous.

In his gut, the pain he'd felt since she'd thrown him out last night faded. The band around his chest loosened and his heart rate increased.

"Were you going somewhere?" she asked, pointing at the helmet.

"What? Oh, no." He placed it on the counter,
then
stepped outside next to her. "I was thinking about taking a ride, but it can wait. What's up?"

He didn't want to hope, but he couldn't help himself. She was here. She'd obviously planned what to wear, maybe even what to say. The air around them grew still, as if even the plants and animals wanted to listen.

"I've been thinking," she said slowly. "First, I want to apologize for last night. I didn't want to listen to what you were saying, mostly because I knew you were right. I have been afraid emotionally, and I've been using my ideals of the perfect man to keep people from getting too close."

"People?" he asked.

"Men." She swallowed,
then
looked up at him. "You, specifically." Her eyes were wide and expressive. He could see her concern, her apprehension, and something else. Something wonderfully warm and welcoming. Something that, had he been less cautious, he might have labeled as love.

"You were right about Lindsay," she said. "About everything, really. All the children, me. I did have these preconceived ideas about your life and what you wanted in a woman. I couldn't believe you were interested in someone like me. I'm not special."

The hope inside grew until he couldn't deny it. He'd never been able to deny her anything. "You're perfect," he said, touching her cheek.

She turned her head into his caress and smiled. "Far from perfect, Kyle. You were right about Thomas—I could have done better in my marriage. I'm bossy and opinionated. I tend to jump to conclusions. My feelings scare me and I hide behind my specific ways of doing things. I make rules because I believe rules make my world safe. But they don't. They keep me from what is really important. I care about you."

She paused and drew in a breath. He dropped his hand back to his side. And waited.

"This is harder than I thought," she admitted. "You were much easier to talk to when I practiced in front of my bedroom mirror."

"It's not so bad," he said. "Just start at the beginning. Tell me that you love me."

She took a step toward him. Her skirt brushed against his jeans. He could hear the whisper of fabric. She reached for both his hands and held them tight. Their gazes locked.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Tell me you want to be with me always."

"I want to be with you." She smiled. "Forever."

Now it was his turn to get nervous. He brought her right hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Her breathing increased slightly as she swayed toward him.

"Tell me—" He cleared his throat. "Tell me that you want to marry me."

"Will you marry me?" she asked.

"Yes." He swept her up in his arms. "Oh,
Sandy
, today, tomorrow, whenever you say."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Tomorrow sounds lovely."

"I love you," he said.

"I'll never get tired of hearing that," she told him. "Can you forgive me for being a fool?"

"Of course. I should have handled the situation with Lindsay better," he said. "You had every right to be mad at me."

"No, I didn't. You were the one who was right. I reacted like a fool. I was scared about how I felt about you. I wanted you to be irresponsible so I wouldn't have to love you, but you kept doing the right thing."

"I'm glad," he murmured, bending his head toward her. "I've waited over half my life for this."

"You don't have to wait any longer," she promised. "I'm here. For always."

"Is he
ever
gonna kiss her?" Blake asked.

"It doesn't look like it," Lindsay answered. "I didn't know grown-ups talked this much."

Kyle turned slightly and saw three faces peering up at them from the bushes next to his house.

Sandy
giggled. "They must have followed me."

"Figures," he said. "We might as well give them what they want."

"Please," she said, reaching toward him.

As he brought his mouth to hers, he squeezed her tightly against him.
Sandy
felt right in his arms. As if she'd always belonged there.

"When can I tell them I want a baby sister?" Nichole asked.

"Not now," Lindsay said. "Hush. They're finally kissing. This is the good part."

* * * * *