Daddy by Surprise (12 page)

That fact alone should have scared the hell out of her, but it was too late to back out now. The boys would regard this opportunity to stay with Char and Jenna as a mini-vacation. The only kind Kat could afford. Especially if her period failed to show up on time.

She could handle Jack and his time-traveling swoo, she told herself firmly. He was here. And now. And that was how they both were going to stay.

“A
RE YOU SURE
about this? I could probably buy camping gear and set up a tent.”

He was helping her change the sheets on her son’s bed half an hour or so after the ball that he’d inadvertently set in motion took off like a rocket. Those book-club women really got things done, he silently acknowledged.

“It’s fine,” Kat mumbled, giving the top sheet a crisp snap. Jack inhaled fresh air and sunshine, not the artificial perfume of a dryer sheet. “I fold and tuck the corners,” she told him.

He knew how to make a bed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he did as asked, and continued to look around the room. It felt on the small side and was definitely decorated in the eclectic clutter of a young boy, but he couldn’t spot a speck of dust on the shelves above the desk, and there was no lingering odor of sweat socks that he remembered from being in an all-male dorm in college.

“Didn’t I hear you tell Tag that you never went camping?” She was already done with her side and waited with the lightweight cotton blanket balled against her chest. Her eyes had that challenging twinkle he’d noticed the night they met.

“That’s true, but there’s a first time for everything, right? And I’d give it a try if this was too uncomfortable for you.”

Something in her expression changed. Softened. She gave him the same indulgent smile she’d used with her son that afternoon of the tattoo. He got the impression she’d forgive his shortcomings as long as he was honest about them. Why? Because the men in her life were never truthful? Or were they just never up-front about their flaws?

“I appreciate the gesture, but this probably isn’t the best venue to try out a new skill. I can tell you from experience that the campgrounds are wall-to-wall tents and bodies. And if you don’t have the right equipment, the mosquitoes will eat you alive.”

She plumped a pillow, then picked up a matching blue-and-white-stripe pillowcase. Wedging one end under her chin, she added, “By the way, how are your tattoos?”

He yanked the collar of his recently laundered T-shirt down and to the left, exposing the slightly withered-looking outline of his favorite tattoo. “Almost gone. Truthfully, I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to you in the first place. I remember those pictures you showed me of how henna slowly fades. I would have preferred that. Plus, we might have skipped a trip to the emergency room.”

The pillow plunked to the bed. The pillowcase hung limply in her hand. Her mouth was open wide enough for him to see four fillings in her molars. Other than those, her teeth were perfect. “Wait a minute. Did you just admit that you were wrong and I was right?”

He nodded slowly. Was that a trick question? “Yes. I should have listened to you. You’re the expert. I was paying for your expertise. I tell people that all the time in my business. But some patients—people like me, apparently—come into the office with one thing in mind and can’t be dissuaded. You did your best to talk me into a better choice, and we both know I was wrong.”

Her cheeks flashed with color and she quickly resumed her task. With a tender pat, she smoothed the striped bedspread and stepped back. “There you go. I hope you’ll be comfortable. The mattress isn’t extra long, you can stretch out at an angle.”

He’d noticed the clever conformation of the bunk bed the first time he’d visited the house. Instead of the double-decker model he remembered from his first year in the dorm, this unit sported a double bed on the bottom and perpendicular to it, creating an L-shape, was the upper twin, with a ladder built in to the end support.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “With the pillow on that end, you get a sort of cavelike effect. I like that. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid holed up in a cave with their gang. I always thought that sounded kind of adventurous.”

She bent over to gather up the dirty sheets. As she did, she explained the rationale behind the bed purchase. “Before we moved in here, we lived in a two-bedroom apartment. I gave the boys the bigger room and I slept on a futon beside my desk so I could study at night. But when my mom got sick, it looked as though I might wind up taking care of her, so I went hunting for a bigger place. Since this bed can accommodate three, I figured I could give her my bed, move Jordie in here—he sneaks in most nights, anyway, then if we had company, I could take the top bunk.”

“You’re awfully quick to give up your bed,” he said casually.

Her shoulders stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Listen, I thought we established that I’m not easy and I don’t usually jump in bed with—”

He held up both hands. “Whoa. Not what I meant. You’re generous. You put other people’s needs ahead of your own. I wasn’t putting you down.”

“Oh.”

“But since you brought up the subject, is it okay to ask what you decided? I thought you might call and let me know. About the morning-after pill, I mean.”

She hugged the bundle in her arms tighter and rested her chin on the fabric with a sigh. She worked the corner of her mouth—the mouth he’d been fantasizing about for days—with her bottom teeth for a few seconds before answering. “I should have called. I’m sorry. But I figured if you didn’t hear from me, you’d assume no news was good news.”

Her blasé tone didn’t gibe with the serious look in her eyes. But she changed the subject before he could pin down her answer to something more concrete.

“I better toss these in the laundry basket and go over my checklist for tomorrow. A new venue means new challenges,” she said with an air of resignation. She glanced around once, then left the room.

There would be time, he told himself. As he’d gathered from her very friendly friends, Kat was setting up a tattoo booth in the wild and woolly campgrounds he’d heard so much about. In fact, Libby, the auburn-hair beauty to whom the others seemed to differ, had pulled him aside while Kat was helping her sons pack.

“Kat won’t ask for help, Jack, but we’re all worried about her working the tattoo booth inside the campground. I’ve always heard anything goes in Thunder Alley. Normally I wouldn’t have pushed the idea of a relative stranger moving in, but you seem pretty decent. I’ll sleep better knowing you have her back.”

He could have sworn he detected a slight emphasis on the word
sleep.
Had Kat shared with her friends the fact that she’d spent the night in his bed?

He followed her through the spotless kitchen. Jack had offered to help Libby clean up once Kat had joined Jenna and Char in the driveway with the boys, but she’d shooed him outside to “keep an eye on things.”

He’d watched from the deck, curious as to how Kat’s sons would react to the news of the coming week’s arrangements. Both appeared to react favorably. The younger one actually jumped up and down with joy and wrapped his arms around Char’s thighs in a quick hug.

The elder, Tag, glanced Jack’s way—his look pensive. Jack figured he was trying to work out all the angles. Jack had been a little older when his father’s troubles started, but he’d found that kids sensed what was happening no matter how diligently their parents tried to keep the truth from them.

But whatever Jenna was saying seemed to work like a balm on the boy’s suspicions, because within minutes Tag was grinning with obvious excitement. He looked more like his mother when he smiled. Except for his teeth. Even from a distance, Jack could tell the kid was a candidate for braces.

As he watched the fivesome turn and head back to the house, Jack felt very much the outsider. He knew why. He not only lacked the desire to connect with Kat’s children, he didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about it if he were so inclined. He’d painted himself into a proverbial corner and he didn’t possess a key to the door behind him. Not that he’d use it if he had one, but…

“Are you sure your sons are okay with this?” he asked Kat as she returned from the adjoining laundry room. She stopped abruptly, as if surprised to see him.

And why wouldn’t she be? All he seemed capable of was following her around like a puppy dog.

She picked up a small yellow sponge and rubbed at an invisible spot on the countertop. “They’re kids. And male. Both get to do something unexpected and fun—without their mother. What’s not to like?”

“Well, they can’t be too happy about me being here.”

“Tag’s the only one who caught that part of the deal.”

She squeezed the water from the sponge with more force than seemed necessary, then turned to look at him. “He did ask if I was going to marry you.”

Jack nearly swallowed his tongue. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t date. He’s seen you here twice. I guess that qualifies as a serious relationship in his book.” Her tone was light, but he sensed something broken and sad behind the sardonic chuckle. “Wanna finish off the cotton candy on the deck?”

Not really.
He’d already eaten a chocolate sundae he didn’t want. “Okay.”

She opened a cupboard, rising on the toes of her cheap rubber thongs to reach a fluorescent-blue bag. “Grab a couple of waters from the fridge,” she ordered.

He did as asked. When he turned to face her, a bottle in each hand, she told him, “We wash and reuse bottles. That’s tap water. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I recycle under threat of never hearing the end of my boorish waste from my sister. I say, ‘Bring it on.’”

Her laugh seemed genuine. “I’m really lucky to be living in a time when being cheap can pass as environmentally conscious.”

Her admission was so Kat. Honest and unpretentious. Slightly apologetic when, in fact, the world should have been apologizing to her. He realized with sudden clarity that he would have fallen head over heels in love with her at that moment. If he weren’t in love with someone else. Katherine. The schoolteacher. The woman of his dreams.

Ever since that night in Custer, he’d found himself thinking about Katherine—a victim of fate, yet so brave and resilient—at all the wrong times. On his bike in traffic. Placing a bet at the blackjack table. While taking a walking tour of Lead.

Had Katherine visited the nearby mining town when she lived in Deadwood? he asked himself. Right before he remembered that she wasn’t real and he was losing his mind.

Kat was real. She wasn’t Katherine, but she certainly was desirable. Sexy.

Kat regretted inviting Jack outside the moment he joined her at the railing of the small deck. She wished she didn’t feel like jumping out of her skin every time he accidentally touched her. But she did.

“Wanna grab a chair?” she asked, pulling one of the four molded-plastic deck chairs from the stack in the corner. She dropped it in her usual spot and sat, kicking off her flip-flops to rest her heels on the top railing. The white-painted wood looked about as chipped and peeling as Jack’s tattoo.

The sight had made her faintly queasy when he’d shown it to her earlier. Now more than ever she was glad she’d thrown the black ink in with the hazardous waste. Jack’s were the last black tattoos she planned to give.

He sat beside her. A little too close, but she refrained from saying so.

“Are your tats still itchy?” she asked, wiggling her toes in the slight breeze. The night was warm but not muggy.

“Not bad. The antihistamine helped. No lasting ill effects.”

We hope.

Kat didn’t want to talk about her decision, but he deserved to know. Just in case.

“You asked me a question earlier and I sort of avoided answering.”

“I noticed,” he said, his tone amused. A refreshing change that she didn’t expect to last.

She let her feet drop to the deck, then she turned to face him. “Listen. I don’t expect you to understand something I don’t entirely get myself, but…um…I was all set to go into the clinic. I told myself it was the smart thing to do, given the circumstances, but then…I didn’t go.”

“May I ask why?”

He sounded serious. Maybe even concerned, but at least he wasn’t shouting or looking for something to punch the way her father did when he was upset. He’d never struck her, but she’d lost track of the times a beer bottle went flying across the room when he and her mother were arguing.

She looked at Jack a minute longer. His brow was gathered in a questioning look, but he didn’t appear coiled and ready to explode. Kat actually felt safe enough to try to explain her rationale. “My mother has always said things happen for a reason. I used to think that was Mom’s excuse for all the wrong turns she made in life. I promised myself I was going to plan better and not let my life be subject to the whims of fate. But—” she took a deep breath and let it out “—apparently I
am
my mother’s daughter.”

His head tilted slightly as if trying to figure out her meaning.

“I slept with you that night, Jack. I didn’t plan to. If I had, I would have brought along birth control. I’m a savvy woman of today. I know about STDs. I’m not embarrassed to walk into a store and buy condoms. But sex was so far from my mind—” She stopped when she noticed his frown. She’d hurt his feelings.

Reaching out, she touched his arm. The way she might comfort Jordie. “I don’t mean that you’re not a sexy, desirable guy, Jack. You are.” Her fingers were tingling in a very un-motherlike way. Swoo alert. She pulled back her hand. “But that night you were puffy and itchy and practically comatose. I still can’t believe you managed to…Never mind.”

He snickered softly, adding to her surprise. What was with this guy? Didn’t he ever get mad?

“Maybe I wasn’t myself,” he said cryptically. “But given that we made love without benefit of birth control, certain repercussions might follow. And you led me to believe that you were going to eliminate that possibility.”

“I know,” she said, looking down. “I planned to. But there was a voice in my head that said you wound up in my bed for a reason. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel right about trying to undo that, regardless of what happens.”

Neither spoke for several minutes, then Jack asked, “So…if you wound up pregnant, did you plan on calling me?” His tone was faintly accusatory.

At last. A reaction she could understand. “Of course,” she said defensively. “As complicated as it would probably be having a long-distance father in the picture, you and the baby still deserve to know each other.”