Oh, man. Just his luck.
Sandi Bradshaw-soon-to-be-Harding.
His fiancée.
And Meg. They weren’t supposed to be back from that Phoenix overnight shopping trip until Saturday evening. Not morning.
Bryce clapped a hand over Gina’s mouth, swept her into his arms and ducked behind a U-Haul trailer parked outside the provisional museum at a Canyon Springs shopping plaza.
Wouldn’t you know it. There went the surprise.
He had half a dozen historical society members painting walls. Kara, Devon—and LeAnne—cleaning storefront windows and miniblinds. Grandma Mae serving refreshments. And he, Trey and Joe still had to unpack a display case delivered late yesterday afternoon, then make dozens of trailer trips between the old and new facility. With the funding coming through for the firefighting job, there wasn’t much time to get everything taken care of before he launched into exams and the training academy.
Car doors slammed. Familiar female laughter echoed across the parking lot.
“You can come out from your hidey-hole, Bryce,” Meg called between giggles. “Sandi saw you. And it’s a little hard to camouflage a dozen recognizable vehicles and that big trailer.”
Sheepish, he stepped from behind the U-Haul and set Gina on her feet. Waving her U.S. Army cap, she charged toward her still-laughing mother and he followed along behind.
“Mommy! Mommy! What are you doing here? This is a surprise.”
Sandi knelt for a hug, then stood to level a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look on him. But her eyes danced with the same love he knew reflected in his own.
“So what happened?” He slipped an arm around her waist, but turned an accusing glare on Meg. “Who’s responsible for this breach of security? I want names. Ranks. Serial numbers.”
Meg and Sandi pointed at each other.
“Oh? A collaboration, is it?”
Gina grabbed his free hand. “What’s laboration, Uncle Bryce?”
“Collaboration in this instance means willingly assisting the enemy.”
Sandi playfully punched him in the arm. “Since when am I the enemy?”
Meg laughed. “I can’t be accused of aiding and abetting. More like breaking down under duress of intense cross-examination. Interrogation just short of bamboo shoots under the fingernails.”
He pulled back from Sandi. “I knew you had some bossy inclinations, but nobody warned me about outright torture. I might need to rethink this engagement stuff.”
Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “Just try it, Sergeant, and you may find yourself begging for mercy.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
Gina tugged on his hand. “Mommy says you’re going to be my new daddy?”
It was a question rather than a statement, as if seeking confirmation. He glanced at Sandi. So she’d talked to Gina about this. He’d never want the little girl to think he could replace Keith. Nobody, even on his best day, could ever replace his good buddy. Ever be a better dad than Keith would have been.
But he himself would be the only father Gina would remember. And he never wanted her to regret it. Sandi smiled encouragement, and he crouched down by the little girl. Tugged on the bill of her army cap. Looked her in the eye.
“I’d be proud to be your daddy—if you want me to be.”
Gina studied him a long moment, her brow crinkled in concentration. Then her face brightened.
“Uncle Daddy!”
She flung her arms around his neck, all but squeezing the stuffin’ out of him. He lifted her into his arms, then turned to the woman he loved. “Uncle Daddy, huh? I think we’ll have to work on that one.”
“I don’t know.” She tilted her head. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Guess it does at that. Kind of like our new place will. Hardings’ Hideaway.”
“I love that name.”
“Grandma promises there will be frequent off-base outings to the park for a certain little someone when I’m not out on fire fighting business. You know, to ensure coast-is-clear canoodling time.”
“Ooooh. I like the sounds of that even better.”
“Me, too.” He gave the “certain little someone” snuggled in his arms a hug, then set her on the ground to race after Meg to the new facility.
“I guess you want a peek at the interim Canyon Springs Historical Museum?” He gave Sandi an admonishing look. “Admit it. You’re back in town before you’re supposed to be because you didn’t think we could do it without you here to manage things. To boss us around.”
“Speaking of which—” She rummaged in her purse. Pulled out a too-familiar red spiral notebook.
He groaned and tried to snatch it out of her hand, but with a laugh she spun away. Turned her back on him to run a finger down a tightly scripted page.
“It’s not that bad.” She gave him a flirty over-the-shoulder smile.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Hmm. Let’s see.” She made a soft clucking sound with her tongue. “Oh, here’s one you may like.”
She snapped the notebook shut and sashayed back to his side, a smile playing on her lips.
“I don’t think I want to hear it.”
“Oh, but I think you do.”
He heaved a beleaguered sigh. What did she have in mind for him this time? “Okay, let’s have it.”
Eyes dancing, she slipped her arms around his neck. Snuggled in close.
“What’s this?” he pretended to protest, but slipped his hands around her waist. “Buttering me up for my chores?”
“Nooo.” She placed a silencing finger to his lips.
“Spill it, soldier, or I’ll throw you in the stockade.”
She took a deep breath, eyes focused on his. “As happy as I am to now have the support of the society members, to feel at home in Canyon Springs at long last, the thing that makes me happiest is—”
“Yes?”
“Finding a home in your heart.”
Man, that sounded good. His words came husky. “But about that chore you’re withholding…”
She pulled slightly back in his arms. “Not to be diverted, are you?”
She sighed, and behind his neck he could hear the pages of the little notebook she still held flipping through her fingers. “Ah. Here it is.”
He groaned in resignation.
“Page fifteen. Line three.”
Get ready. Here it comes.
Then he heard the notebook drop to the ground behind him.
And slowly, tantalizingly, her sweet mouth smiled up at him, sparkling eyes gazing deeply into his. Man, she was buttering him up. Big-time. Must be a chore to end all chores.
“So, here it is, Sergeant,” came her breathless whisper. “Kiss your fiancée—and that’s an order.”
Heart soaring, he responded with a hearty laugh.
Would have saluted, too, but he found himself otherwise engaged.