The Wrong Man. Laura Abbot
the law.”
“I hate you!” He couldn’t bring himself to glimpse in the mirror once more and see the belligerence that he knew sparked in his daughter’s eyes.
“That’s too bad. I love you.” Pulling in to the driveway of the school, he noted that most of the children had already been dropped off. While Kylie unbuckled her seat belt, he spoke soothingly. “Try to enjoy yourself. Give school a chance. You just might like it.” He mustered a grin, which was met with the withering scorn of a pint-size cynic.
Kylie scrambled from the car, and without a backward glance trudged toward the school entrance. By afternoon, her teacher had told him, Kylie would be fine, but with a fatalism born of experience, he knew that the cycle would repeat itself tomorrow morning.
It didn’t help that after school she would be bussed to a day-care center and then picked up by her grandmother until he got off work. Or that the cold Montana winter kept her confined to the condominium much of the rest of the time. Or that his rental agreement prohibited pets.
But even if he could have addressed all those issues, he still wouldn’t be able to provide the one thing she needed most—her mother.
LIBBY CAMERON shrugged into her goose-down coat, gathered the tote bag loaded with graded papers, locked the door and carefully made her way down the ice-covered steps of her house toward the Suburban SUV waiting at the curb. “Brr,” she said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Cold morning in Whitefish.”
Doug Travers grinned. “What’s a little bracing Montana air?” He picked up her gloved hand. “Especially when I’m with such a pretty woman.”
The scent of expensive after-shave and new-car leather mingled with the welcome warmth from the heater. “Thanks for taking me to work. One of the other teachers will drop me off at the garage after school to pick up my car.”
“Sure I can’t help?” The eagerness in Doug’s voice was unmistakable.
She studied his profile—firm chin, full lips, Roman nose, high forehead, prematurely receding hairline. Handsome in a successful-executive kind of way. A good man. Dependable. Family-oriented.
Libby had been surprised when Mary Travers, principal of the elementary school where she taught, had suggested the blind date with her son. Initially Libby had resisted, reluctant to consider dating after several dead-end relationships. And she most certainly did not want to entertain that ridiculous fantasy called romance. In fact, living alone was a bargain compared with hooking up with the wrong man. She was no fool, and experience had been a powerful teacher. Yet slowly but surely, Doug had ingratiated himself with her. He had been a total gentleman in the six months they’d been dating, and much as she hated to admit it, having an escort for movies, community functions and faculty parties was pleasant.
“Lib, I was able to get tickets to the symphony in Missoula this weekend. I thought we could run down there, have a fancy dinner, take in the concert, stay at the new bed-and-breakfast I heard about.”
Her palms moistened in her suddenly overwarm gloves. Was it her imagination or had he deftly slipped in that last part about the B and B? She found herself stammering, “I…the concert… Who’s the guest artist?”
He gave her a puzzled look before answering. “A cellist from Prague.”
“Oh.” Say something, she urged herself. “Which night?”
“Saturday,” he said evenly as he pulled into the faculty parking lot.
She scrambled to hook her arm through the handles of her tote. “Let me think about it.”
He stayed her departure with a hand on her forearm. “Lib, are you worried about the B and B?”
Her mouth went dry as week-old chalk dust. “I didn’t quite know what to think.” She must sound ridiculous. Any thirty-plus woman in northwest Montana would jump at the chance to spend a weekend with Doug Travers. By any standards, he was a catch. A successful insurance agent accustomed to nice things, generous with his money, a doting son and uncle. She wished…
“I’ll book separate rooms,” he said, his wistfulness implying he had hoped for something else.
Libby swallowed. “That would be nice.” She stepped from the car. “All right, then. I’ll look forward to it.”
As she stood in the overcast early morning watching him drive off, an unsettled feeling lodged in her stomach. Up to now their relationship had been…comfortable.
The cold December wind whipped the ends of her scarf, mocking the word. What normal, red-blooded man wanted to settle for comfortable?
Why couldn’t she offer more?
She knew the answer. Don’t go there, she muttered as she sought the sanctuary of her brightly decorated classroom, where the giggles, hugs and infectious enthusiasm of second-graders made her come alive in a way nothing else had since…
Idiot! Absolutely do not go there.
TRENT RESTED on his haunches, surveying the French doors he’d just installed in the monstrous family room. Through the glass he could see the city of Billings, then, across the Yellowstone River, the sweep of prairie shadowed by dark, heavy clouds. Behind him in the kitchen, his father-in-law conferred with the demanding home owners, who were belatedly requesting yet another change in the specifications. Trent groaned. He didn’t understand how Gus stood it, but as his father-in-law frequently reminded him, building a custom house meant exactly that—fulfilling the customer’s expectations, no matter how inconvenient or frivolous.
Tool chest in hand, Trent moved to the guest bedroom, out of earshot. Plugging in his sander, he worked on shelves for a built-in bookcase. Even before his friend Chad’s phone call last week, he’d wondered how much longer he could last as a home builder. Not that he hadn’t appreciated Gus Chisholm’s employment offer at the time. When Trent had met Ashley, he was coming off a series of jobs that included ski instructor, rafting guide, ranch hand and carpenter. He’d known he had to settle down if he wanted to marry her. Up to that point, though, he’d concentrated on fun and adventure, unwilling to commit to the hazy notion of “career.”
Soon after, it was no longer a question of wanting to marry Ashley. He needed to marry her. Her pregnancy had caught both of them off guard. So much for the infallibility of condoms.
Gus’s offer to have Trent join him in his business building luxury homes had been a godsend, and he didn’t want to think about what he and Ashley would’ve done without the company medical insurance when Ashley got sick. But more and more lately, Trent realized he didn’t have the patience for the construction business or the diplomacy to massage the egos of wealthy, demanding clients.
Was now the time to make a change? Chad Larraby, his best friend since boyhood, needed a partner in order to buy out Swan Mountain Adventures, an outfitter in their hometown of Whitefish that offered seasonal excursions—rafting, hunting, fishing, hiking, backpacking and mountain biking. It was the perfect job opportunity. He and Chad had always made a great team, whether it was pulling off a spectacular high-school prank or combining their scoring talents to win the league basketball championship. There was no one Trent trusted more.
He pinched his nose, permanently crooked from an opposing center’s elbow. Back then, he and Chad were convinced the world had been invented for pleasure, and they had taken every opportunity to test that belief. Now? Chad was married with a son and a daughter, and both men took fatherhood seriously. Although miles apart, they’d tried to stay in touch, but since Ashley’s death, Trent had especially missed his friend’s ready laugh and common sense. Chad’s was an offer he had to consider. The work would satisfy both his zest for adventure and his need to secure the future.
But what would a move back to Whitefish—or anywhere for that matter—do to Kylie? Was it fair to uproot her from her grandparents?
It wasn’t a question of finances. He and Ashley had set aside considerable savings, hoping to buy a house, and Gus had been generous