Babysitter Bear Read online

"Is finding people what bodyguards do?" she asked, trying to keep it light.

  "Not normally. But this is a special case."

  "Wow, you guys really must not have much work."

  She smiled, but this time Dan barely smiled back, just a slight tug at his mouth. His eyes were serious and intense. "You're worth it, Paula."

  Paula dropped her gaze, flushing. "I don't want trouble. Believe it or not, I don't even want to get Terry in hot water. I still don't know how things fell apart like they did. He wasn't a bad man, and I thought for a while after the divorce that we could still be friends. Now I don't even know how much of that was a lie. After all, he was lying to me about literally everything else."

  "Whether he's good or bad or neither, he put you and the kids in danger," Dan said. His voice was icy, and hard enough to even make Mina—who didn't appear to be paying attention to the adults—glance up from the ice cream and coloring book spread out in front of her. "And he's not willing to man up and come back here and fix his problem."

  "He might not even know about it." She couldn't believe she was defending Terry of all people. "I mean, I don't think he'd do anything to endanger the kids. Whatever else he is, I believe that he loves them."

  Dan huffed out a sigh and looked like he wanted to argue further, but ground his teeth and backed down. "I'm not going to show up on his doorstep and hustle him, if that's what you're worried about. It's up to you. But it seems to me that none of this is going to be resolved, at least not easily, without involving him somehow. Or contacting the police."

  Paula shook her head. "No police. Not yet. Look, I ... I can dig up some of my old correspondence with him tonight. The support checks and the kids' birthday cards, whatever I have around. How does that sound?"

  "That would help a lot," Dan said earnestly. "And now, how about a topic that's not your ex?"

  She had to laugh. "I really wouldn't mind, thanks."

  He smiled too, but it dropped away, his gaze turning soft and serious. "How would you feel about a real date? I had a great time with your family—our families—" He said it unselfconsciously; he didn't even seem to notice that he had referred to the Rugers that way. "But I'd like to take you out to a nice restaurant. Show you a good time."

  Paula's breath hitched in her throat. "Well," she said, "the options are the Char Pit bar and grill, or La Taquerita. Meat char-grilled, or meat with beans and cheese, that's what this town has for fine dining."

  Dan broke into a brilliant smile. "Is that a yes?"

  "Of course it's a yes." She felt ridiculously happy and light, as if she was half drunk on champagne. "We'll just have to work out childcare."

  "That one's easy," Dan said. "Take the kids over to Derek and Gaby's. I'll have to ask, of course, but Lissy and Austin seem like sweet kids and not too much trouble. I don't think the Rugers would mind. They've been great about giving me time off in the evenings if I need it. In fact, if you're good with it, I can ask now."

  "Yes." Her whole body seemed to be fizzing with that all-over happiness. "Yes, please."

  The tinkling of the bell on the door was an unwelcome intrusion into her world of happiness. She went to give the newcomers menus and coffee, and when she came back, Dan had his phone out and was texting. "They're good with it anytime," he said, glancing up with a wide grin. "Are you free tonight?"

  "Tonight," she said, dazed. "Yes, tonight. Tonight would be great."

  A date. Wow. What was she going to wear? She wasn't sure if she even owned a dress anymore. Not that either the Char Pit or La Taquerita was the sort of place you wore a dress to.

  "We're good to go," Dan declared after another round of texting. "Derek says you can bring the kids over this afternoon." He grinned at her. "So what's your pleasure, steak or beans?"

  "Steak," she said promptly. "Steak and a beer to unwind at the end of the day sounds amazing."

  "Do you need reservations?"

  "It's a bar and grill, so no."

  They went on chatting until the lunch rush got too busy for Paula to stay at the counter. Dan left with a cheerful wave. Paula whisked his and Mina's dishes into the back, feeling like her feet barely touched the ground.

  "You look happy, boss," Mitch called.

  Paula slammed the door of the dishwasher with a flourish and cranked it to the wash cycle. "I have a date tonight, Mitch."

  "Yeah? With the big one-armed guy?" Mitch had perfected the art of having conversations while his hands went on with the fast-paced business of a short-order cook, whisking burgers off the grill onto their buns and slapping more burgers on to replace them. "He seems like a good guy."

  "He's great," she said. "Really great. Wonderful. Amazing. And other nice adjectives."

  She let Mitch off a little early, closing the kitchen except for sandwiches so that she could scrub things down and have the diner ready to close up as soon as she flipped the OPEN-CLOSED sign over in the window. She closed out the cash register and then drove to pick up the kids from school.

  "This is so unnecessary, Mom," Austin complained, throwing his book bag in the backseat.

  "Look, think of it as a favor that you're doing for your poor overprotective mom so she doesn't fret herself into an early grave waiting for you to get home from school."

  She delegated Austin to fix a snack for Lissy in the kitchen while she went upstairs to take a shower and change into something nice. Well, nice-ish. It was the Char Pit, where the usual clientele's idea of dressing up was wearing your less-stained garage coveralls. She opted for a clean pair of jeans and a fluffy sweater that was nice enough to make her feel a little dressy while still practical enough that she could walk around the Char Pit without worrying about spilling a beer on it.

  It was still too early to take the kids over to the Rugers'. The sound of the TV came up the stairs; it sounded like the kids were watching cartoons down there. It was rare for Austin to spend casual time with his little sister, and she didn't want to interrupt them. What else could she do with herself?

  Oh right. She was supposed to dig out some of Terry's old stuff to help Dan and his friends try to find her ex.

  She went down the stairs quietly, past the doorway to the living room with the TV blaring old Nickelodeon cartoons, and on into the little room that had been her parents' shared office back when her parents still lived here and ran the diner. Since they had retired to a Tampa condo, no one used the room much. Paula had gotten in the habit of doing most of her business paperwork at the kitchen table while the kids did their homework. It was easier to keep them on task that way, and answer questions if they needed help.

  But it was still useful to have an actual office, with a desk and filing cabinets and everything. She just wasn't in here very much—so rarely, in fact, that in order to get to the desk, she had to edge around her (rarely-used) sewing machine and some crates of yarn that she'd moved in here over the holidays to clear space in the living room for the Christmas tree.

  "Need to find a better place to put those," she muttered as she hunted through the drawers of the big, heavy wooden desk that had been her dad's. But she knew even as she said it that she probably wouldn't. That sewing machine would be living here until Austin moved out for college.

  She wasn't completely sure that the papers from Terry would be here, but it seemed the most likely place. And actually they weren't that hard to find. There was a big bundle of check stubs from the child support checks in her tax records drawer, and a scattering of cards and torn envelopes in a loose pile, mixed in with other paperwork. It was all really a mess. She didn't remember leaving everything this messed up, but, well, it had been a busy year. Paperwork always seemed to take a backseat to more important work.

  Looking at the envelopes only made her angry all over again. At first the checks had come regularly, as did birthday presents for the kids. Terry would drive down from the city to spend weekends with the kids, whenever he could get away.

  And then he had just—what? Lost interest? Stopped caring?
r />   "Mom, why are you looking at Dad's old stuff?"

  Paula jumped. She hadn't even heard Austin come in.

  Well, it wasn't like she had any reason to keep it from him. "Mr. Ruger and Dan are trying to find him for us."

  She saw Austin's shoulders go up a bit, whether at the mention of Dan or his dad, she wasn't sure. But he looked intrigued. "Do you think they can?"

  "I don't know. They're going to try." It occurred to her all of a sudden that the envelopes and things from Terry were all together, as if someone else had been looking at them too. That would also explain the mess. She wasn't ever going to be the world's greatest admin assistant, but she was usually better than this at keeping her important-paperwork drawers tidy. "Honey—have you been looking at these?"

  Austin looked instantly guilty. Her heart broke a little.

  "It's fine if you look at these, honey, he's your dad. Here." She held out the bundle of envelopes. "You can have these for now. I'll show them to Dan and Mr. Ruger later."

  Austin shook his head. "I don't—I mean—I hope they find him. I was just looking for a phone number or something. Like, for talking to him."

  Fury at Terry rushed over her. He didn't deserve such a sweet, loyal kid.

  "Well, if they find him, you can definitely talk to him. And maybe he'll call sooner." When was the last time Terry had called, anyway? Maybe for Lissy's last birthday.

  "I don't want to talk to him," Austin said, not meeting her eyes. "I just wanted to ask him about—stuff."

  "About what? About the—the diner situation?"

  Austin shrugged, still not looking at her.

  "Honey, it is not your responsibility to fix this. Not in any way. You know that, right?"

  "I know," Austin said, a little too quickly. "I just want to—like, find out what he ..." He started to raise his hands and then dropped them. "Never mind."

  "You and me both, kid," Paula muttered.

  She reached out an arm and wrapped it around Austin's shoulders. He held back for a moment before leaning against her and drooping his head on her shoulder, like he would have when he was a little kid.

  Kids grew up, but they never stopped needing their moms.

  "It's not your fault that your dad isn't in your life, kid," she said quietly. "And it's not your fault that he's kind of a ... a deadbeat. But it's not your problem to fix. It's his—and mine. And I promise you I'm going to do what I can about that."

  She had to. It was starting to look like finding Terry's sorry butt, wherever he was, and dragging him back to deal with his own mess was the only way she was ever going to get everything back to normal.

  She kissed Austin on top of his head.

  "Now come help me get your sister's stuff together. Do you want to take your homework over to Derek and Gaby's tonight?"

  "I'd rather stay here."

  Paula shook her head. "Not an option, sorry. Not right now."

  "Can I could go over to Bobby Hogan's house, then?" Austin asked hopefully. "He just got Nukemaster III for his birthday and I haven't played it yet."

  "Nukemaster? That doesn't sound very wholesome."

  Austin rolled his eyes. "Mom, it's a shooter game. It's not supposed to be."

  While she mulled over the counteroffer, her phone buzzed in her hip pocket. It was Dan.

  Paula patted Austin's shoulder and answered it.

  "Hey," she said, with a rush of heat flushing through her.

  Damn. She had it bad.

  Austin rolled his eyes, squirmed out from under her arm, and slunk out.

  "Hey, there," Dan's warm voice said, and then grew apologetic. "So we might need a rain check on that date."

  "Why?" Paula asked anxiously. "Did something bad happen?"

  "No, not that. Gaby has an event tonight. They're catering some kind of thing at the high school, it's pretty big, and Derek promised to help her. He just forgot about it earlier with the security job on his mind."

  "Oh," she said, disappointed. "So you have to stay in and watch the kids."

  "Yeah. I'm really sorry."

  "I'm not," Paula said. To her own surprise, she didn't even hesitate. "I can come over anyway, if it's okay. I'll bring my kids and we can watch movies. At the very least I can give you some adult company."

  "You don't have to. I know you were looking forward to a night out."

  "I was," she said. "But look, one thing about families is that you have to bend your plans sometimes. It looks like our dates just keep having the kids in them, but you know what? That's not a bad thing. I think it would be fun to hang out with you and the Ruger kids, and I'm sure Lissy would enjoy a play date. She's awfully jealous of Sandy having his own horse, you know."

  Dan laughed softly. "In that case, why don't you come over a little early while it's still daylight and she can ride the horse?"

  "Oh my gosh, she'll die of joy."

  "And I can cook dinner for you," he said, sounding like he was starting to warm up to the idea.

  "For me and the kids, I hope."

  "Oh, okay, fine, I guess they can eat too." There was warm humor in his voice. Her stomach swooped pleasantly.

  "I guess I'll leave the dress and the dangly earrings at home this time, then."

  There was a slight intake of breath. "You don't have to. If you want to. I mean, it's not the Char Pit ..."

  "But what is," she said, laughing.

  "Really, I gotta go to this place to see if it's really that much of a hole."

  "It's actually not. They do a really great medium-rare ribeye, and the beer is good. I just haven't been there in forever."

  Dan turned serious again. "I'm definitely taking you out as soon as we can both get away."

  "And I'm holding you to that." She smiled into the phone, even though he couldn't see it. She just felt so good. "And I just might put some makeup on. You know. Just because there aren't many opportunities to wear my nice lipstick around here."

  "I can't wait."

  "Me too," she said, and meant it down to the tips of her toes.

  Dan

  "It smells like cookies in here!" Sandy yelled, bursting through the door with his school backpack dangling from one arm and his skates from the other.

  "Boots off," Dan called. He was balancing a hot cookie sheet carefully with one oven-mitted hand and the other end resting on the tips of the metal clamps.

  Exactly as much time later as it took to kick off two snow boots on the run, Sandy pounded into the kitchen. "Can I have a cookie? Can I have two?"

  "There's a word missing from that sentence."

  "Please," Sandy said, and underscored the point by curling his fists under his chin and looking as adorable as possible. With his brown curls and huge eyes, the results were both adorable and hilarious. Dan laughed and pointed him toward the tray on the counter, a plastic one with Santa on it that the family either used year-round or hadn't put away after Christmas; either way it had turned out to be a good cookie storage depot.

  "Careful, the chips are still hot."

  Sandy scooped up two. "Why did you make cookies?"

  "Because I wanted cookies. And because we have guests coming over, Lissy and her brother." He laid the baking sheet in the sink and scruffed the kid's hair. "Do you want to show Lissy how to ride your pony when she gets here?"

  "Lissy's a girl," Sandy declared through a mouthful. "Ow. Hot."

  "Yes, and? Girls can ride horses too. Also, I told you it was hot."

  "You smell weird," Sandy declared.

  "Thanks, kid, that's what I needed to hear."

  "Like ... perfumey," Sandy said, wrinkling his nose.

  "It's called cologne, buddy. When you're old enough to date, you'll figure out why." Dan pointed to the book bag with his clamps. "Put that away and pick up your boots, would you? There's another cookie waiting if you get it done in the next five minutes."

  Sandy pounded off, sounding just as loud in his sock feet as if he was still wearing boots.

  "And don't wake u
p your sister!" Dan called after him.

  A moment later, sock-clad footsteps that were carefully placed, and yet somehow loud, beat a tattoo up the stairs.

  Dan busied himself scrubbing the cookie sheet and told himself that he was not at all stressing over Paula coming over. It wasn't going to be a terribly romantic date with several small children running in and out. He wasn't even entirely sure what had spurred him to bake cookies—

  Feed mate. Mate might stay.

  —right, okay, not that much of a mystery after all.

  He had wanted to dress up for it, but had managed to stop himself from doing anything beyond putting on a clean black T-shirt that was also incidentally one of his tighter ones—he hoped she'd like that without making her feel like she should have dressed up—and shaving with extra attention to detail before dabbing a little cologne behind his ears.

  What if she did dress up, though, and now she feels underdressed? he wondered. Maybe he should have a dress shirt handy just in case ...

  This was ridiculous. What was it about Paula that turned him into a nervous teenager again?

  Mate. Mate. Mate. It wasn't words from his bear exactly, just a sense of anticipation.

  Right. That would be it.

  The doorbell rang.

  He ran a hand over his hair, second-guessed himself in twelve different ways in half a second, swooped to put away a dish towel, opened the oven to quickly check the pot roast, and then went to open the door.

  Paula was standing on the front porch in her red-purple-green quilted coat, looking bright-eyed and pink-cheeked and impossibly beautiful. She was hand in hand with Lissy, who was wearing the googly-eyed frog hat.

  "Hi," Paula began to say, just as Lissy chimed in over the top of her, "Where are the horses?"

  Paula laughed. "One-track mind," she explained. "It was all she could talk about on the ride here."

  "Hi," Dan said, slightly breathless. "Uh, come in. There are cookies."

  Lissy was temporarily distracted from horses by the offer of cookies. "Boots!" Paula said, and Lissy kicked them off and ran into the kitchen with all her winter gear still on.

  "Well, then," Paula said, laughing. "Lissy, honey! Two is your limit, okay?"