Daddy Daycare. Laura Altom Marie

      Chapter Four

      After spending an hour helping Levi install three window air units, Travis parked himself back in the living room rocker and was about to take his first bite of that sandwich Kit had long since fixed him when a god-awful racket erupted from the kitchen.

      The clacking of claws against linoleum preceded barking, then the nose-wrinkling stench of wet fur.

      “Yep,” Kit said, clapping her hands while three blurs of varying colors ran in a barking circle around the living room, then out into the entry hall, through the kitchen, back into the living room, only to start the whole process again. “I’d say they’re happy to be out of the shed. Levi, hon? Do they have any canned food inside?”

      “Already dishing it out, sweetie!” he sang from the kitchen.

      Rubbing his forehead, Travis groaned.

      Libby didn’t know how fortunate she was to be tucked away upstairs taking a nap.

      Planting his sandwich on a side table, Travis stood. Hands on his hips, he said, “This isn’t going to work.”

      “What?” Kit asked.

      “What do you think?” he said, eyeing the dogs, which were running slowly enough now that he could at least discern specific shapes and sizes. No way he could figure out what breed each dog was, seeing how not one of them had less than three distinct breed characteristics. The smallest, with a coat of rusty gray, looked part dachshund, part toy poodle, part Yorkie. The medium—Travis was hardly a dog expert—was probably a beagle-basset-Yorkie mix. The largest and by far oddest most closely resembled a black Lab, but the hair was shaggy like a Yorkie’s and he sported a bulldog’s flat nose. “They’ve got to go.”

      “Go where?” Kit asked. “This is their home. The smallest is Cocoa, then Gringo, then Priscilla.”

      “I thought the big one was a boy.”

      “Does she look like a boy?” Kit asked, kneeling beside the butt-ugly mutt, touching her cheek to the dog’s.

      Shaking his head, grinning, Travis said, “What she looks like is rabid. You might want to slowly step back, then run get a few shots.”

      “Don’t listen to the mean man,” she said to the dog, covering her shaggy ears. “He’s cranky because of the heat.”

      Among other things, Travis thought, too exhausted to do much else besides stare incredulously as Gringo helped himself to the bologna sandwich.

      “Oops,” Kit said, back to giggling. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to eat it. No doubt it was a reflex thing.”

      “No doubt,” Travis said, marching into the kitchen to fix a duplicate.

      Kit followed. “I’m sure in a week or so you’ll love the dogs as much as Marlene and Gary did.”

      “Yeah,” Levi said, deep-sixing three large cans of Alpo into the under-sink trash. “Gary always had a soft spot for strays. Used to tease Marlene about being his best find.”

      Travis choked on his first mustard-soaked bite. “He compared my sister to a stray dog?”

      “Lighten up,” Kit said, slipping her arm around Levi’s waist. “It was a joke. Used to make Marlene howl.”

      Levi kissed the top of Kit’s head.

      Travis looked sharply away.

      Along with the dogs, the lovebirds needed to go. On top of his sister’s death, he was in no way ready to deal with feelings for Kit he’d thought long gone.

      “What’re you doing for supper?” Kit asked. “If you want, Levi and I could get you some takeout.”

      “Thanks,” Travis said, “but I’m good. I might hit town later for a few essentials, though. Speaking of which, do you know where Marlene might’ve left the keys to her car?”

      “Here,” Kit said, walking the short distance to a wall-mounted key rack currently holding more leashes and reusable plastic bags than keys. “It’s not fancy but gets the job done.”

      Travis rubbed his forehead.

      In light of the surprises he’d already encountered, he didn’t even want to imagine what his sister had found to be an acceptable ride.

      “Now,” Kit said, taking Levi’s hand, leading him to the back door, “mothers start arriving at the daycare by five-thirty, so I’ll need you to be up and alert by then. Candy Craig’s usually the first one here, but she’s having car trouble and her ride can’t get her here till six. The two of you will have three children—and Libby—until seven-thirty, and I’ll be in to help around eight-thirty, so you should be fine until—”

      “Whoa,” Travis said, shaking his head. “I don’t do children—as in multiple kids. Libby’s about all I can handle along with my regular workload.”

      “Sorry,” she said with her usual grin, not looking remotely apologetic, “but until I find a replacement for Marlene, I was hoping you’d pitch in at the daycare. I meant to broach the subject earlier, you know, how it might be fun and educational for you to get practice with kids, but the dogs got in the way. My role these days is mainly managerial, stretching myself between all six franchises, but I’ll spend as much time as I can helping you learn the ropes. From Libby you already know baby basics, and Marlene told me you’re up to date on CPR through your company’s course. Trust me, for the short time you’re on your own, you’ll do fine.”

      Travis growled.

      “Oh, come,” she said. “It’ll be fun. Please?”

      Lord help him, but in his already weakened emotional condition, Travis was unable to resist her charm. “I’ll only be alone thirty minutes?”

      “Tops.” She shot him a toothy grin. Coincidentally the same one she used to wield when flirting him out of the last few M&M’s back when they’d been an item.

      Knowing full well he wanted his sleep as much as he’d wanted that candy, he must have been temporarily insane to blurt, “Give me a little more instruction and I’ll do it.”

      FRIDAY AT 4:48 a.m., Travis tried putting a pillow over his head to block what felt like the third eight-point-oh earthquake of the morning. Why had he agreed to work at the daycare for even thirty minutes? And while he was asking questions, why hadn’t Marlene mentioned her house being five feet from a railroad track?

      Gee, probably because she knew he’d have told her to nix the deal—which, Marlene being Marlene, upon hearing his objections, would’ve only made her that much more determined to go through with a real-estate transaction only a train buff or a masochist would love.

      Knowing he had to be up soon anyway, he grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand, putting in a call to this right-hand man to explain that his trip would take longer than