GRACE LOOKED OVER to where Poppy sat on the couch, the book open on her lap. She could see Billy in that little girl’s form. She had the same pensive look that Billy got when he was frustrated—the drilling gaze, that way of chewing the inside of her cheek.
Poppy slapped the picture book shut and heaved a loud sigh. She looked over at the bag of books on the floor, where Grace had been sitting. Grace could feel the girl’s curiosity emanating from across the room, but Poppy didn’t move toward the bag. She sat motionless, staring at the bag, chewing the side of her cheek.
“You can see what other books I brought,” Grace said, raising her voice so Poppy could hear her. “Go ahead!”
Poppy looked back at Grace solemnly. “But maybe I should save them, so I don’t run out.”
“Sweetie, there’s a whole library filled with books. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Yeah?” Poppy brightened. “Okay!”
Poppy squirmed off the couch and landed on the ground, next to the book bag. Along with the picture books, Grace had brought a children’s classic, The Secret Garden. She wasn’t sure if Poppy would have the attention span for such a long book, but she’d figured Billy could read it to her... Billy pulled a hand through his tousled hair. “Let’s not talk about this. I never meant for you to know. I’ll figure something out.”
He was pulling away from her.
“She doesn’t think you’re an idiot,” Grace interrupted.
“No, she thinks I’m a jerk who keeps teasing her,” he retorted. “And I hate that, too. Because teasing her is the only way I can distract her from the fact that her dad can’t even read those little picture books she whips through in a minute flat.”
“Dyslexia isn’t about intelligence,” she countered.
“Tell that to a four-year-old,” he muttered.
“I think you should!” she said. How long did he think he could hide this from a curious little girl? Kids picked up on way more than adults ever realized.
“Gracie, you always mean well,” Billy said, those dark eyes fixing on her. “But no.”
“Would you rather drive her crazy with teasing?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped. “But I know for sure, I don’t want to tell my kid that I can’t read!”
Grace blinked, then pressed her lips together. His kid. Yes, that was what this came down to. Grace didn’t have any say in this. She’d never been a part of the romantic side of his life, and when a child emerged, she wasn’t a part of making these decisions, either.
“Fine—the parenting is your call,” she said after a beat of silence. “But how did I not know this?”
“I didn’t want you to.” His voice was low and gruff.
“You couldn’t trust me?” she asked quietly. “I was... You and I...” How to even encapsulate their relationship in a few words? They’d been everything to each other—at least he’d been to her. She’d have helped him.
“Look, a guy doesn’t tend to advertise something like that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not a moron. I work with my hands. I don’t need books out there, in the saddle. I use my instincts! I’m a good cowboy.”
“I know.” Grace eyed him uncertainly.
“For the record.”
“I’m not sure I want to know this, but—” she swallowed “—did Tracy know?”
“Yeah.”
Grace tried to hide the sting of his answer, and she dropped her gaze, trying to tamp down the hurt so he wouldn’t see it. He’d told Tracy...not her. Tracy was the one who was selfish and coy, who hadn’t been willing to stand by him if it meant being a stepmom, and he had opened up to her?
“And you wouldn’t tell me?” Grace couldn’t help the bitterness that oozed out of her tone.
“She only found out once we were in Denver,” he replied. “She kept pestering me about why I did things the way I did, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, I was supposed to tell her anyway, wasn’t I? We were living together! That’s what couples do—they share their stuff.”
“I guess it isn’t my business...”
Tracy had a part of Billy that Grace had never had access to—his romantic side. She got to share a life with him, a home, a bathroom, even! What Grace wouldn’t have given for a chance at sharing some simple couple routines with him—a favorite cereal, or doing the dishes together. But he’d looked right past her and he’d given those things to Tracy, so why not his deepest secrets, too?
“When I told her, she was mad because I couldn’t go for the better-paying jobs, and rent was expensive, and she was stressed out—”
“It isn’t your fault, though,” Grace interrupted.
Billy bit the side of his cheek, his gaze turning inward for a beat or two. Grace watched him, wondering why he’d been so blind to Tracy’s true character. Were long, slim legs and that tiny waist of hers really worth it?
“I should have told her sooner, she said.” Billy shrugged. “I guess, if she’d had all the information, maybe she could have thought better of moving in with me.”
“That’s what she said?” Grace asked.
“Of course not...” He sighed. “Look, I tried calling you then, because I wanted...” He stopped, licked his lips.
“Wanted what?” she breathed.
He didn’t answer right away, but he smiled weakly. “Moral support, I guess. You didn’t pick up. Or call me back.”
“I know...” Still, he’d told Tracy first. “She didn’t deserve your secrets, you know. You could have told me, Billy...”
“Why?” he said with a shake of his head.
“I could have helped!” she shot back. “I’m a teacher, for crying out loud!”
“Teachers tried,” he replied.
“You could have told me so that I’d have at least understood,” she pressed. “Of all people, I really cared!”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be one of your students,” he shot back.
Grace stared at him, then shook her head. “What misery that would have been,” she said, irony dripping from her tone. “I’m a good teacher, you know.”
“I’m not a kid, Gracie.” And he looked at her with agony shining in his eyes. “I liked things the way they were between us—friends, equals. We were special, you and me. I didn’t want to become the project you were trying to fix.”
“Students aren’t projects,” she argued. “You never would have been that to me.”
“Yeah? Well, they aren’t buddies, either. There’s this...distance...between a teacher and a student. It’s all professional—big smiles, hearty encouragement. I wasn’t going there with you.”
She saw hot defiance in his dark eyes. He hadn’t wanted that distance between them...but he also hadn’t wanted to close that gap, either. He saved that for other women.
“At least I cared!” she whispered hoarsely.
Billy’s gaze softened, and he reached out and moved a tendril of hair away from her face so tenderly that her heart skipped a beat. His rough fingers brushed against her temple.
“I should have told you,” he murmured. “Thing is, I might not be educated, or smart, but I’m definitely a man. I just wanted to keep feeling like one.” His voice was so low and deep, she almost didn’t hear it. His fingers still brushed against her cheek...
Three years ago, she would have moved right into the moment and seen if that tenderness might turn into a kiss, but not anymore. Grace dropped her gaze and stepped back, her face cold where his hand had been.
He dropped his hand to his side and heaved a sigh.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?” she asked, forcing lightness to her tone.
Across the room, Poppy had found the copy of The Secret Garden and was hunched over it.
If Grace had been the one who cared about him all along, then why hadn’t he ever looked deeper? That was the problem—it always had been. He wanted her support, her friendship, to be her priority... He just didn’t want to tell her too much.
Was that what friendship was to him? Because in her heart, she’d sailed right past friendship. What she’d offered him—that hadn’t been simply being his buddy, and she had no one to blame for that but herself.
Now he needed her. Now he had no one else to distract him. But give him another leggy blonde, and he’d be gone again. She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t about to let him feel all male and testosterone-driven with her.
“Gracie...”
She looked back over at Billy to find him watching her with a tentative look on his face.
“I can teach you to read,” she said quietly. That was something she could offer for the sake of their friendship. “I could do it at the same time I’m teaching Poppy. I can get you started at least.”
“I don’t want to be your student,” he countered.
“It isn’t the same,” she said. “This would be...a friend lending a hand. Nothing more. I’m not going to be here more than two weeks. It’s like you teaching me to ride a horse.”
“Excepting reading isn’t a hobby,” he said.
“To a lot of people it is. I can teach you. If you want.”
“Yeah?” He frowned slightly, looking toward his daughter once more. “You think I could learn?”
“I’m positive.”
Billy’s eyes were trained on his daughter as a myriad of emotions battled across his face. He didn’t feel for her the way he’d felt for Tracy, or even Carol-Ann. But he needed her right now, and she didn’t require payment in the form of some temporary romance. It wasn’t her job to make him feel like a man, but she could teach him how to read.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll do it for Poppy. I’ll give it a try.”
For Poppy. It was a good reason. He’d kept his secrets all those years, and in fairness, she’d kept hers. She’d been in love with her best friend, and since when was that ever a good idea?
THAT EVENING AFTER Grace left, Billy sat on the couch, waiting while his daughter changed into her pajamas. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What had he done tonight? Images of Grace were still seared into his mind, but this wasn’t the Grace from years of friendship.
Not that it should even matter right now. What did he have to offer a woman like Grace? He’d outed his illiteracy. That was the first dumb thing he’d managed. And secondly he’d looked down into Grace’s eyes, and he’d seen something he hadn’t seen before—
“Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
Grace had never been the girlfriend type. She’d been his buddy, but she was dressing differently now, and there was a different air of competence about her that he couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t the same old Gracie. She’d always been soft, and suddenly those soft curves were drawing his eye in a way that had never been part of their friendship in the past. He’d always thought she was pretty and figured the guy she landed would be a lucky devil, but he’d never considered her for himself. But when he looked down at her there in the kitchen, he’d been imagining kissing her—stupid as that might have been. He was a brand-new dad, and already messing things up with his daughter because he wanted to spend time with Gracie—this was not when he should be messing around with romance. His mother had proven just how disastrous that could be for a kid. It sounded like Carol-Ann hadn’t been much better.
But three years had changed Grace from a buddy into a woman. How had that happened?
Grace had left a few minutes ago, after reading a chapter of The Secret Garden aloud to Poppy. His little girl had settled right down and leaned against Grace’s shoulder in such quiet happiness. This kid loved being read to.
And now Billy was left with the memory of Grace rattling around in his head. And not just the comfort of her friendship. Tracy had always been jealous of Grace, and he’d never really understood why... But now he thought he could see it.
Poppy came out of her bedroom clad in her new unicorn pajamas. She had a book under one arm and the blanket from her bed clutched in the other hand.
“I want to read this one,” Poppy said, holding up the book. She passed it over to him and squirmed up onto the couch, next to him.
“Okay. But you never like how I read,” he said, grabbing the blanket and draping it around his daughter.
“You need the blanket, too,” Poppy said, nudging a corner onto his knee. “Then we’ll both be cozy.”
“Okay, we’ll both be cozy.” Billy looked tenderly down at his little girl. She wouldn’t stay this small—that’s what everyone kept telling him. In the short time she’d been with him, he’d already noticed signs of her getting older, slightly more mature in her views of things. Her vocabulary sure was growing!
“Now, you read the story, Daddy,” Poppy said. “But no silly business. You have to read it right, or I’ll tell Miss Beverly.”
“You’ll tell on me?” he chuckled.
Suddenly her lip quivered and she shook her head. “No, I won’t tell on you...”
Her eyes were wide and her cheeks paled. How many times had her mother asked her to keep secrets? He had no idea, but if she’d been left inside a parked vehicle while her mother went into the bar, then he had a feeling there were more secrets this girl had been keeping. He’d gotten some lectures of his own as a kid. Don’t tell anyone you’re home alone in the evenings, son, or they’ll take you away from me! And he’d been scared to death of someone finding out how much his mom left him on his own. Moms didn’t have to be perfect, or even functional, for their kids to love them with their whole hearts.
“Poppy, you don’t have to worry,” Billy said. “You’re with me now, and no one is going to take you away. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Poppy was silent. She dropped her gaze to the book and started to pick at the corner with her small, pale fingers.
“I’m not ever going to ask you to keep secrets,” Billy said. “Not a single one. Okay? Because I’m not going to do anything that would get me into trouble. So you can tell Miss Beverly anything you want. I’m a good dad, and I’m going to stay that way.”
Poppy eyed him for a moment. “Mommy went away, though.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But we’re going to call her tonight and see if she can talk a little bit, okay?”
“We’ll call Mommy?” Poppy asked, brightening.
He’d tried calling Carol-Ann a few times on the cell number she’d given. They’d talked once when Poppy was asleep already. It had been one of those one-sided conversations in which Carol-Ann shouted into her phone, the sound of a party blaring behind her.
“But story time first,” Billy said. “You’ve got to read to me.”
“No, Daddy, it’s the other way around,” Poppy said solemnly. “You read to me. That’s how it works. I know that because, in stories, the daddies always read to the children. That’s the way it works.”
He looked down at her for a moment, uncertain of what he’d even do. But then, before he could think better of it, he said, “I don’t know how, Poppy.”
“Yes, you do!” she said with a shake of her head. “You just read it right, and stop being silly!”
If only it were that easy. He wasn’t the kind of guy who pestered a little girl for entertainment. He loved this kid, and he wanted to do just as she asked.
“When I was small like you, I didn’t learn to read,” he said slowly. “And when I went to school, it didn’t... It was hard.”
Poppy frowned, looking up at him.
“See, Poppy, when I look at the words, they get all jumbled up for me, and I’ve been making the story up instead of reading it because—” a lump closed his throat “—because I can’t.”
“Daddy, you don’t know how to read?” Poppy whispered.
Billy’s heart ached, and he looked away from her. “Nope.”
“I can show you how,” Poppy said hopefully. “It’s easy!”
“Well...” Billy rubbed a hand over his chin. “Miss Beverly says she can show me some tricks that might help while she’s teaching you. Would you mind sharing Miss Beverly with me?”
“Okay.” Poppy slid closer to Billy again and leaned her cheek against his arm. “We still need a bedtime story, though, Daddy.”
“How about I tell you one?” Billy said hopefully. “Then you can read your book in bed.”
Poppy nodded, and Billy slid his arm around her, racking his brain for a story.
“Once upon a time, when I was a little boy,” Billy began, “there was a boy in my class who used to pick his nose.”
“You aren’t supposed to,” Poppy said.
“Well, I know that, and you know that, but this kid didn’t,” Billy said with a low laugh. “And one day, he was caught picking his nose by a big bully.”
“Was it you who picked your nose, Daddy?” Poppy asked solemnly.
Billy eyed her for a moment, then sighed. “Yes.”
“Okay, go on. What happened?”
Billy chuckled. He might not have stories from books in his head, but he had a whole lot of life experience. He still had wisdom to pass along to his daughter, and some of it was pretty simple, like don’t pick your nose in first grade.
After he told his story, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Carol-Ann’s number. It rang five times, and then she answered, sounding groggy.
“Do you know what time it is?” she growled into the phone.
“Carol-Ann, it’s Billy,” he said.
“Oh.” Her tone softened somewhat. “It’s like...three in the morning here, and I am seriously hungover...”
“Sorry.” He winced. “Poppy wanted to say hi.”
“Yeah?” Carol-Ann sighed. “Okay. Put her on. But tell her to talk softly. My head is going to explode.”
Billy passed the phone over to his daughter, and Poppy put it against her ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Mommy? It’s me. I miss you. When are you coming back?”
There was a pause while Poppy listened, holding her breath.
“But I miss you,” Poppy whispered. “I don’t want to see you on TV. I want to see you here!” Silence again as Poppy listened. “But I miss you...”
Poppy’s tears fell and she threw the phone back at Billy, then ran to her bedroom, her quilt dragging after her. Billy watched his daughter go, then picked up the phone.
“Carol-Ann?” he said. “What did you say to her?”
“I said I have a chance to be something,” Carol-Ann said. “Billy, I wasn’t much of a mom back in the States, anyway. You might as well know it. But explain it to her. It’s better this way—I’ll have a real chance at a career in modeling. That doesn’t come easy. Maybe you can send her out on a plane in a few months to visit me.”
Sending his four-year-old on a plane to Germany. Yeah. Not likely.
“She needs to see you,” he said. “Pictures even. Maybe you could text me some selfies or something, and I can at least show her pictures of her mom.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Carol-Ann said. “And send me some pictures of her, too! I know this is going to be a hard wait, but it’s worth it...”
“I don’t think it is,” he said quietly.
Carol-Ann was silent. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going back to sleep. Tell Poppy I love her.”
Love—it was more than a word; it was an action. And Carol-Ann had no idea what love was if she could walk away from her four-year-old for a modeling gig. His daughter was going to carry the scars from this for the rest of her life.
“I’m going to fight you for custody when you come back,” he added quietly. He hadn’t planned on threatening her with this, but he realized in the moment that it was true. When Carol-Ann came back to the States, there would be no picking up where she had left off. Poppy needed a safe home, with a parent who would put her first. And now that he knew about his little girl, he wasn’t going away again.
“Stop being dramatic,” Carol-Ann sighed. “I’ll send pictures, all right? When I get up. In the morning. Thanks for everything, Billy. I appreciate it.”
Billy hung up the phone without another word. Then he pushed himself to his feet and headed for Poppy’s bedroom. He paused at her door and knocked on the frame softly.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Being a dad was going to be more than buying snow pants and figuring out how to do her hair. It was going to mean manning up in every way possible for her. He’d be the father she needed. He’d make up for Carol-Ann’s insufficiencies and he’d give Poppy all the security and love that made for a good childhood.
This wasn’t about child welfare services anymore, if it ever was. This was about his daughter. And one of these days, he was going to read his daughter a bedtime story. Poppy deserved the whole package.
Maybe Grace was right—he should have opened up to her sooner. Maybe she could help him to be the father he longed to be, if he could just keep things balanced properly. He needed his friend.