The Third Daughter's Wish

He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t fathom why he was making the careless comments. Maybe because Josie had recently celebrated her twenty-seventh birthday. Their almost eight-year age difference didn’t seem titanic, as it had when she was that wild nineteen and he was twenty-six.

Gabe stepped forward and sank three balls as he reminded himself that he had no business interfering in Josie’s love life. No reason to warn Josie off Wisconsin.

And infinitely more reason to choke his attraction to Josie than to nurture it.

They’d ignite, explode and be done.

He liked her too much for that.

“You have to admit, the guy has a great smile,” Josie said.

Gabe studied the pool table and didn’t say a word.

“And if you really think I have a type,” she added, “think about that country music deejay I dated.”

“Chubby-cheeked, middle-aged wiseacre?” Gabe asked.

“Yeah.” Josie nodded, lifting a corner of her mouth at some memory. “He had a wicked sense of humor. Man, was he fun!”

Gabe maneuvered around for a likely shot. “That guy lasted, what? Two months? One of your longer stints.”

“Mmm-hmm. Now think of Jerry, the computer programmer.”

Gabe hadn’t liked that one, either, and Josie had dated him over the course of an entire summer.

“Remember him? Such an intelligent kisser.”

Was she trying to prove her point, or make Gabe jealous?

“So you see?” she said. “Those two had to be total opposites. I don’t have a type. Maybe this guy’s exactly what I need to get my mind off my worries.”

She swiveled to check out her admirer, dropping her scrutiny from his hat to his chest to his running shoes. Although she made a show of peering beyond him then, squinting at the clock near the bar’s television, the message had been sent.

She’d looked. Briefly, but directly.

“It’s getting late,” she said to Gabe in an obvious tone. “Guess we should finish this game and quit.”

That was when the guy approached.

Of course. Only a complete moron would have missed Josie’s invitation.

Gabe frowned at the pool table as he listened to her get-acquainted conversation with the other man. This was no big deal. Josie flirted all the time.

But tonight was a work night, and Gabe had only come out with Josie to pull her out of a blue mood. They really should be leaving soon.

After fumbling his shot, Gabe waited for a lull in the conversation so he could tell Josie it was her turn.

“I’m a student,” Wisconsin was saying. “I go to Butler County Juco over in El Dorado. I was on my way home and saw this place, so…” He shrugged.

Josie had nodded through the guy’s explanation. Apparently, she was still interested, even though the kid had just told her he was Juco-student age. Presumably, too young.

“Home…to Wisconsin?” Josie approached the pool table, sank her shot and then peered at the lettering on the other guy’s chest.

“Nah, I bought the shirt on vacation,” Wisconsin said. “I live in Wichita—Willowbend North.”

The subdivision he’d named was filled with pricey homes, and no student-type rentals that Gabe could picture.

Josie let out a soft whistle. “You own a house in Willowbend?”

That grin got even more stupid. “Well, okay. I live with my parents,” Wisconsin said. “But only because they’re paying for my classes. As soon as I get a job that covers both rent and tuition, I’m outta there.”

At least Josie was scowling now. “You don’t work?”

“Sure I do. I make donuts. But my, er, responsibility eats most of my check.”

Josie pocketed her last striped ball. “A responsibility besides financing your own housing?”

“A little boy,” Wisconsin said. “A son. Guess he’d be about two now.”

Josie gaped at the younger man. “You don’t keep track of his age?”

“I don’t see him all that much.”

Ha! Wisconsin was starting to fidget.

“But I pay for his food and diapers. A man has to step up to the plate. I really believe that.”

Gabe hid a smirk behind his beer bottle, feeling as if he’d just won some big, dopey prize at the fair. He waited while Josie missed sinking the eight ball by a mile, then stepped forward, feeling wickedly victorious as he focused again on the game.

He knew what was coming.

Wisconsin had broken Josie’s biggest dating rule—and she might not acknowledge this, but she had plenty. She didn’t date single dads. Under any circumstances. Ever.

“Well, good luck to you, then,” Josie said as Gabe pocketed his sixth and seventh balls. “My boyfriend and I will finish this game, then get out of your way. You waiting to play, are you?”

“Your boyfriend?” Now Wisconsin gawked at Gabe. “Someone said you two were just buddies.”

“You didn’t ask us,” Gabe said. As he had dozens of times before, he looped an arm around Josie’s waist and pulled her close.

The poor guy stared, blinking a couple of times as if he was replaying Josie’s earlier interest in his head. Then he met Gabe’s eyes.

Gabe nodded.

“Oh, okay. Ah. I have to work in the morning. The donuts…Early.” He hesitated for a second, eyeing Josie, then headed toward the exit.

“Thanks,” Josie said, watching as Gabe sent the eight ball into the far corner pocket, ending their game just after she’d ended hers.

“No problem. I could tell you didn’t like him all that much.”