Second Chance Dad

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 name 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.