Second Chance Dad Read online

  Chapter Two

  Punching Billy Baer! Vince followed Kenzie’s little red electric bicycle into the garage and parked the Harley next to it. They both slid off and placed their helmets on the respective seats. It amused him that she mimicked everything he did. He tugged on her ponytail as she adjusted her backpack. She wrapped her arm around his waist, he wrapped his around her shoulders, and they headed across the backyard playing their game of trying to see who could put their foot in front of the other one as they walked.

  He watched her small sneaker jab in front of his boot in the tall grass and figured he’d better mow tonight or old Mrs. Haythorn would be over here cutting the lawn for him.

  Boo stretched his paws out in front of him and yawned from his afternoon nap, his rear end straight up in the air and tail wagging in excitement as they climbed the three stone steps onto the back porch. Kenzie turned Vince loose and squatted, throwing her arms around the gigantic red beast. “Hey there, Boo. You should’ve been at school today. Bully Baer was a total dweeb again.”

  She giggled as Boo’s long pink tongue lolled out and licked her neck in unconditional adoration.

  Vince headed into the kitchen, closely followed by Kenzie with Boo trotting along behind. The screen door slammed shut behind them, and the dog sat his butt on the floor and waited patiently while she tossed her backpack on the chair and handed him a doggie biscuit out of the daisy-painted canister on the bar.

  The mutt stretched out full-length on the cool vinyl and made short order of the biscuit. Kenzie grabbed two sodas from the fridge and gave one to Vince on her way to the pantry.

  Vince popped the top and dodged Boo’s flapping tail. If he’d realized he was allowing Kenzie to adopt a horse seven years ago, he might have been more insistent on one of the smaller pups. But she’d tossed a fit at the animal shelter for the red puppy with the huge feet. It had reminded her of her favorite TV show at the time, Clifford. Part Irish Setter and part Great Dane, Boo was a bottomless pit. Girl and dog were inseparable, leaving Vince to justify why half his grocery bill went for dog food.

  “So, who’s the new kid?”

  Rummaging through the pantry, Kenzie retrieved a package of cookies and plunked it and her soda on the bar. She hoisted herself onto the bar stool and waved a cookie. “Ashton and his mom just moved here from some fancy park in Dallas. His dad lives there with his new, very hot girlfriend.”

  “Highland Park?”

  Kenzie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Highland Park is a ritzy, old-money neighborhood, not a park.” Vince grinned. “But what does his absentee dad and very hot girlfriend have to do with why you got in a fight over the kid?”

  She took a drink and her blue eyes lit with mischief. “I couldn’t just stand by and let Billy pick on him. Then I’d have been no better than Bully Baer.”

  Although Vince was proud she was willing and able to stand up for herself, and evidently others as well, he wasn’t sure that noble motive was entirely the root of this incident. “You used this new kid as an excuse to punch Billy Baer.”

  Kenzie washed her cookie down with strawberry soda. “Stupid bullies tick me off.”

  “Agreed. But next time you might give the new kid a chance to fight his own battle, or Billy and his gang of misfits will peg him for a sissy and continue to make his life miserable.” Vince tossed his empty can in the recycling bin and grabbed the pickup’s keys off the counter. “I’ve got to run over and check on the crew working on the Andersons’ dock before they skip out early and we miss our deliverable. Want to go with?”

  “Come on, Boo.” She sealed the package of cookies, jammed her pink ball cap with the ridiculous logo Pink Is The New Black on her head backward and picked up the soda. “We need to stop for dog food.”

  “Woof,” Boo chimed in, trotting out the door behind her.

  Out of dog food already?

  AFTER CHECKING ON the progress of the Andersons’ dock, Vince pulled into the crowded Wal-Mart parking lot. He loaded a fifty-pound bag of dog food, two boxes of breakfast cereal and other odds and ends into the cart and headed across the store for new socks for Kenzie. Where they disappeared to once inside the dryer was a mystery, but he’d never done a load of laundry and had the socks come out even. There had to be a huge cosmic black hole somewhere full of all sizes and colors of mismatched socks.

  Of course, they didn’t make it past the video-gaming department without her spotting a game she couldn’t live without. “Dad, they have Wii NASCAR. Can we get it?”

  “Forty bucks? You got that much saved from your allowance?” He flipped the game over and checked the rating.

  “I have eighteen. Come on. You’ll play it as much as me, you know you will. If we get it, you can deduct the other two dollars for my half from my allowance this week.”

  Her keen rationalization always suckered him into helping fund her plans. He tossed the game in the cart. “Fine, but don’t try to hit me up for the full ten dollars when you only get eight Friday.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She gave him a hug and headed toward the girls’ department. “I’m going to wipe you off the track when we get home.”

  “In your dreams.” He should count himself lucky that she had only asked for one game this trip. “No games until all your homework is done. And you get me called up in front of Principal Montgomery one more time and the Wii goes in the closet until school’s out. It’s been years, but I distinctly remember graduating sixth grade. I’ve got no desire to go back.”

  “It’s okay, you’re cool. You still like to play games. And you slowing down in your old age is what gives me the edge so I can win.”

  Picking through the bins, she selected a plastic bag of assorted socks plus a new purple-striped sleep shirt and Vince herded her in the general direction of the checkout. His day had started at 5:00 a.m., and he still had to get home, unload the groceries, throw something together for dinner, make sure Kenzie did her homework and took her bath, and only then could he get time to work up the bid for the two docks on Lake Travis. He grinned. And now there was NASCAR to work into the schedule.

  “Ashton! Hey!” Kenzie called out, making a ninety-degree turn into the boys’ department.

  “Hey.” The kid Kenzie had defended at school today stood in the boys’ jeans section grinning at her. His mom didn’t look nearly as pleased.

  “Can you make Mom understand that these faded jeans are way cooler than those dark-blue ones?” he asked.

  Kenzie held the offensive jeans in front of her. “Geesh, these things are so stiff they can stand up even when you aren’t wearing them.”

  Vince ventured a grin at the mom. She looked even more uptight here than she had at school. Chocolate-brown eyes and lashes, complexion like melted vanilla ice cream. He’d seen some bow-shaped mouths, but hers was classic. A pair of designer sunglasses perched on top of her dark curls. If he tugged one of those soft little ringlets, it’d probably spring right back into place.

  She offered a half grin and took the jeans out of Kenzie’s hand. “These are nice. Tailored.”

  “And Bully Baer will call me a nerd,” Ashton said.

  “It’s not my fault if Billy Baer has no taste,” Ashton’s mother defended in a gravelly, Demi-Moorish voice. “I won’t have you going to school in sloppy, faded clothes.”

  Vince leaned on his cart, staying out of the fight as he followed the woman’s quick perusal of his daughter’s faded jeans and pink ball cap. She dismissed Kenzie’s casual style, picked through a rack of three-button golf shirts and selected a banana-yellow-and-white-striped number.

  This boy was going to get the crap beat out of him tomorrow.

  With a mutinous scowl, Ashton slunk into the dressing room, the jeans and golf shirt grasped in a tight fist.

  Undeterred by the mom’s ruling, Kenzie plowed through a shelf of faded jeans as if she could override her if she found just the right pair.

  “Vince?” Hanna’s sultry pronunciation of his nam
e sounded sexy as hell. She stared at him as if she’d rather be anywhere else than standing in the boys’ department at Wal-Mart. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve actually been introduced.”

  “Pardon my manners.” He grinned and extended his right hand, hoping to at least get along, seeing as how their kids seemed to have hit it off. “Keegan. Vince Keegan. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hanna Rosser.” There was a definite wariness as she brushed his hand with those long, delicate fingers.

  He gave her right hand a gentle squeeze, avoiding the huge emerald solitaire. “Kenzie tells me you and Ashton just moved to town.”

  “Last week. And it’s back to town. I grew up here.”

  She didn’t sound too happy about that. “Right. And you and your mom are opening a bookstore in the old souvenir shop just off 281.”

  “How come I’m not surprised you know that?” She pulled her hand away, then adjusted the shoulder strap on her neat little purse. Judging from those woven Cs on the fabric, he’d take bets it wasn’t the fifty-dollar-knockoff variety. Her left hand was bare, with a conspicuous pale circle around her ring finger.

  “Small-town grapevine. Can’t beat it. When do you open for business?”

  “Next week. Mom’s been overseeing the renovation the past couple of months while I handled the ordering and—” she appeared to have lost her train of thought “—wrapped up some things in Dallas.” Frowning at the video game in his cart, she didn’t even look up. “We’re including a large children’s section. Mackenzie might find some books she’d enjoy.”

  Wow. He’d totally bombed as a father just because he allowed his daughter to play video games? What did Ms. Rosser have in her cart? He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and looked around, but there were no other carts in sight. How could anyone come to Wal-Mart and manage to leave without at least a dozen items? “Maybe I’ll bring her by.”

  Ashton shuffled out, looking like a striped banana stuffed in dark jeans, his turned-down mouth showing he was almost as unhappy as he’d been earlier sitting in front of Principal Montgomery’s desk. “Mom.”

  Kenzie handed him the faded pair she’d selected and a dull green T-shirt.

  Clutching the ensemble, Ashton looked to his mother for approval. “No way, Ashton.”

  “Might help him fit in,” Vince said, pitying the kid.

  Hanna tugged at one of her short curls and the little wrinkle between her brows deepened. “I believe I know how to dress my own son.”

  Maybe the woman could have the kid’s shirt monogrammed to match the beige initials on the collar of her starched white blouse.

  Vince leaned in and whispered. “Faded jeans, fourteen ninety-nine. Green T-shirt, five bucks. Boy’s self-confidence, priceless.” Even the faint whiff of Hanna’s perfume smelled expensive.

  Her big brown eyes scorched through him, then focused on her son’s face. She blew out a deep breath. “Try them on.”

  Clutching the faded jeans like a trophy, Ashton raced back into the dressing room.

  “So anything with a decent brand is still taboo in Marble Falls?”

  “There are plenty of people around here who have a taste for expensive clothes, but they aren’t exactly the rage on sixth-grade playgrounds.”

  Ashton bounded out of the dressing room almost as quickly as he’d entered, wearing the jeans, the T-shirt and a wide grin. “They’re cool.”

  “They’ll be more comfortable once you get them broke in.” Kenzie tugged the green shirttail out of his waistband.

  Judging by those ever-deepening frown lines between Hanna Rosser’s eyebrows, she wasn’t any more impressed with Ashton’s new fashion statement than she was with Vince and Kenzie’s intervention. “Do you know how hard your father works so you can wear nice clothes?”

  Called that one right. Time to escape before he ticked her off even worse. Vince jerked his head toward the checkout. “We’d better get moving, Kenzie. Boo’s in the truck. Later, Ashton. Ms. Rosser.”

  “Mr. Keegan.”

  Kenzie dragged him back through the grocery section for fresh strawberries and by the time they finally worked their way to the checkout, Ms. Rosser stood at the next register, a small box of caramel chocolates on top of the faded jeans and shirt, and her nose buried in one of those entertainment rags they always stocked at the checkout to siphon more money out of people’s wallets.

  It was fascinating how young she looked with her attention riveted on some bizarre story in a tabloid.

  They’d both checked out before Hanna noticed Vince. She clutched her two plastic bags, the rolled-up tabloid sticking out the top of one.

  “So, do you think Elvis weighs four hundred pounds and works behind the counter at the Memphis KFC?” he asked.

  She glanced down at the bag and her cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink. “They must have stuck it in my bag by accident.”

  She shifted the bags to her other hand, fished her sunglasses off the top of her head and shoved them on her nose. As she adjusted her shoulder bag, her blouse gaped apart, giving him a glimpse of sexy pink lace against creamy breast.

  He gulped and looked up, catching her eye as she noted the direction of his stare. Shit! What did he say now? Nice bra there, Hanna. “Let me know if you spot Elvis.”

  Chapter Three

  Hanna wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand and grabbed a handful of mystery novels from the cardboard box. Smiling, she arranged them on the shelf she’d just polished. Bluebonnet Books was just what she needed to take her mind off the fiasco her life had become. Books had always been her escape. When Hanna was young, her mother had installed floor-to-ceiling bookcases in Hanna’s bedroom beside the padded window seat where she’d read to her. Books about faraway places and people with exciting lives. The stories had given Hanna a yearning for life outside of small-town Texas.

  “I thought you were going to put those in the front display window to draw in folks strolling down the sidewalk. That author’s on the New York Times bestseller list.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hanna straightened the books on the shelf, whether they needed straightening or not. “I plan to put some up front, too, Mom. Doesn’t hurt to have a few copies in both places so they’re easy to find.”

  “I’m sure you know what’s best,” Mom said. “We also need a display of the latest romances on an end cap. Mrs. Haythorn reads a romance a day. Oh, and Mr. Miller always used to lend those adventure books to Daddy after he’d read them, so make sure they’re at eye level. His knees are bad.”

  Toting the box to the front of Bluebonnet Books, Hanna dropped it on the wood floor, which was scarred and aged from years of various businesses that had opened their doors there. Hopefully the bookstore wouldn’t suffer a fate similar to the other shops. She glanced through the large plate-glass window as Darryl and Mary Wortham strolled by arm in arm, as much in love as they had been when Hanna went off to college. How could she have been gone fifteen years and returned to find everything the same? She took a breath and considered the wisdom of going into business with her mother. True, the combined funds helped. She’d never have pulled it off without her mother overseeing the renovation and being in the store to receive shipments while Hanna was still in Dallas battling Richard in divorce court. And it would be good to have two of them to switch off managing the store until they could afford to hire additional help. Plus Norma Creed needed something to keep her busy and out of everyone else’s business.

  But after only one week officially back in town, Hanna already doubted the wisdom of spending twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week with her passive-aggressive mother. Not that she didn’t love her mom, but living under her roof again after fifteen years away put Mom smack in the middle of every aspect of Hanna’s life. That wasn’t good in the best of situations, and right now Hanna was still trying to recover from Richard’s heart-breaking betrayal and the bitter divorce.

  In a few months, she hoped the store would start turning enough of a
profit that she and Ashton could find their own place.

  Scooping up a couple of books, she turned as a small red motorized bicycle putted up to the curb—with her son riding behind that girl.

  “Ashton!” Her heart leaped into her throat as she dropped the books and raced out of the shop. “What are you doing on that thing?”

  He slid off from behind Mackenzie and removed the red helmet, grinning as if he’d just descended from an amusement-park roller coaster. “You don’t have to pick me up anymore, Mom. I got a ride.”

  No way! “You are not ever to get on that thing again. You could be killed.”

  Mackenzie threw her leg over and stood beside Ashton, removing her own helmet. What was left of her ponytail hung in tangles. “We had on helmets.”

  “He did not have permission to get on a motorized bicycle. That thing is small and hard to see and dangerous.”

  “I know how to ride it and watch for cars and stop at lights and stuff,” Mackenzie said. “I’m a good driver. I took a class and got all the questions right.”

  “Why are you two even out of school?” Hanna checked her watch. Oh my God. She’d been so busy stocking the shelves for next week’s opening she’d forgotten to pick up her son. “Both of you hear this very clearly. I won’t have Ashton riding on that thing. End of subject.”

  Ashton stood on the sidewalk shuffling his new white sneakers. “But, Mom.”

  “No but Moms. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Hanna stepped aside so Dave Barkley, carrying two plastic bags, could pass on the narrow sidewalk. Mrs. Barkley had probably given him a list of groceries to bring home from their corner grocery store. All the men in town gathered each afternoon in the old wooden chairs out front of Dave’s store to shoot the breeze. Hanna returned his nod and waited until he climbed into his truck. “Mackenzie, I don’t know how things work at your house, but we have rules in this family. The first rule is to ask permission before doing new things. The next time you would like Ashton to do something, he has to check with me first or he won’t be allowed to run around with you. If your parents let you risk your life, that’s their business, but Ashton’s safety is my responsibility. Do I need to spell this out?”