Daddy by Surprise (5 page)

“I would if I had one,” she said, releasing a deep breath. Her sigh had the unintentional result of reminding him of his dream. He took a drink through the straw to ease the lump in his throat. He needed to keep his focus on something other than her charming little body, her smell, her touch. It wasn’t going to be easy, but small talk might help.

“So, tell me more about this Hollywood thing. Are they hiring locals to be extras?”

She put her hands on the outside of his shoulders to get him squared up the way she wanted. He felt tilted slightly to one side, but his view of the hillside was less provocative than watching her move. The reddish dirt reminded him of home. He’d done his share of hiking around Red Rocks.

She used a piece of fabric to wipe the area where the tattoo would go. Her touch was firm and practiced.

“Extras?” he prompted.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I was visualizing this design and got distracted. The TV show. Right. They are hiring people. My friend Libby put my name at the top of the list.”

“I’ve never been around a movie or television set. They’re not doing this for a couple of weeks, you said?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t know the exact date.”

“But you signed up?”

“Well…um…sure. I can always use the money. As long as the filming doesn’t fall during the Sturgis Bike Rally.”

The guy he’d bought his bike from had urged Jack to attend the event. “Motorcyles like you have never seen in your life, man,” the guy had raved. “And the partying. Totally crazy.”

Jack had purposely planned this trip to avoid the mayhem. A fact that would have made Jaydene laugh since his attitude seemed to support her contention that he was antisocial and unadventurous.

“You attend the bike rally?”

“Have for years. I can do a couple of grand’s worth of tattoos when the bikers are in town. A lot of their lady friends want the look, but not the permanence. I do body piercing, too.”

He tried to look over his shoulder to where she was squatting. “Really? Maybe I—”

She used the heel of her hand to push his head back down. “Piercing involves needles. No way around it. Now, sit still. I’m sketching in the gap from my stencil. Your biceps are pretty well developed for a dentist.”

For a dentist.
A general assumption he’d come to expect. His wasn’t the most glamorous of occupations, but as a little boy he could still recall how proud he’d been when his father came to the school to inspect his classmates’ teeth. Free. “Just doing my civic duty,” his dad would say humbly.

Years later—after the accusation and brouhaha—people had speculated about his father’s motive for volunteering to do the school exams.

Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on the strange feeling of a pen lightly dancing across his skin. The heat from her hand was there, too. The sensation was utterly sensuous and hypnotizing.

He wasn’t sure how or when, but the next thing he knew Kat was shaking his opposite shoulder. “The first one is done, but I think we’re going to have to move inside before I do the one on your back and your chest. The wind’s come up. Feels like rain.”

Rain? Not a good thing for a biker.

He blinked and sat upright, a little groggy from his nap. “I fell asleep.”

“I know. Happens all the time. The applicator works like a micro massage or something.”

His embarrassment eased. He picked up his shirt, but she grabbed it from him. “This ink is drying fast, but not that fast. Why don’t you go inside and check out the design in the mirror? See if the black ink is living up to your expectations.”

He stood, covering his yawn with his left hand. She held the door open for him. “The bathroom is straight ahead, first door on the left.”

The vanity was spotless, but also jam-packed with juvenile toiletries—boy kind. A comic-book hero toothbrush. Some other action-figure soap dispenser. Two hairbrushes. Two tubes of toothpaste. Neither was the kind his father would have approved of.

He turned sideways. The image on his bicep was larger, and much darker, than it had looked in the picture. The black seemed to shine like newly spilled tar. He assumed the brilliance would fade pretty quickly. What surprised him was how vibrant and dynamic the design looked when he flexed.

“What do you think?” she asked from the doorway.

“I’m beginning to understand why people get tattoos. This is great. I love it.”

“Phew,” she said, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her smooth brow. “I’m glad. The gothic barbed wire has a lot of detail.”

He looked at her in the mirror, standing close enough for him to see but not close enough to actually make contact with him. He found it funny that she remained so aloof after she’d just spent twenty minutes touching him. He wondered if her edginess was because of the small space he’d inadvertently invaded.

When her gaze met his, he saw for the first time just how blue her eyes really were. Like a Rocky Mountain lake reflecting the sky on a sunny day. Gorgeous.

She quickly retreated and motioned for him to proceed ahead of her. “We should probably get to the others right away. I want the ink to have time to dry before you take off. It could be a problem if you got caught in a storm.”

He looked around as he returned to the kitchen. The living room was small—about the size of his office waiting room—but every bit as neat as the other parts of the house he’d seen. Probably a tough accomplishment with two young children. He could see stacks of board games under the coffee table and what looked like an Xbox or some video-game apparatus. Although his office manager stocked several of the latest games for their younger clients, Jack had never owned one. His father hadn’t approved. He thought video games created fat, lazy kids.

Kat’s son wasn’t fat. Jack couldn’t speak to the kid’s ambition.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine. Although I’m a little embarrassed. I can’t tell you the last time I took a nap.”

“It was after eleven when you left the bar.”

“And then I stuffed myself with chicken-fried steak. It was delicious, by the way.” He even took a photo of the monster-size plate covered in white gravy. Rib-sticking, a heart attack on a plate, as he’d heard people say.

He lowered himself onto the straight-back chair that Kat had carried inside. “Let me put this pillow on the table. Rest your forehead on it and put your hands in your lap. Do you think you can hold this position for half an hour?”

“I’ll try.”

She cocked her head as if surprised by his answer. His sister often accused him of being too honest. “Girls like a little mystery, Jackson. You don’t always have to spell everything out in black and white.”

Maybe, but hyperbole wasn’t his style. Which was why he felt compelled to set the record straight where Kat Petroski was concerned. “You know I’m not an experienced biker, right?”

She looked up from the binder she’d brought into the kitchen and set on the counter beside the sink. “Pardon? Oh, right. I already guessed that.”

“Because the bike looks new?”

She danced a fingertip across the fabric of his jeans. “Your leathers aren’t broken in. But, hey, you have to start somewhere. It’s not a comment on your ability to handle the bike or anything.”

She picked up her stencil and leaned forward. The smell of ink and something delicious, like oatmeal cookies, filled his nostrils.

Damn. Between her touch and her scent he was going to be lucky if he managed to keep from making a fool of himself. He turned his chin so he could see the door of the refrigerator. A small collection of school photos were grouped in one corner, with the rest of the space devoted to art projects and papers. A spelling test with a big red A-plus on it. A kid’s pencil sketch of trees and a very large bird, probably an eagle.

He couldn’t remember his mother ever hanging a single thing he or his sister produced anywhere in the house. She wasn’t the sentimental type, his father once told him. “Mom lives in the moment. It’s a good place to be.”

But at the moment, soft hands were touching his back and a faint breath tinged with wintergreen drifted across the hair on the nape of his neck. Gooseflesh formed across his arms.

“Are you chilled? I can close the window. Probably should, anyway. Sometimes the rain doesn’t give you any warning.”

“I’m fine. Maybe you should skip the one on my chest. Would you believe I left my rain gear in my hotel room? Talk about unprepared.”

She shrugged. “Worst case, you can put your bike in my shed and I’ll give you a ride to Deadwood. I need to pick up my check from the bar.”

“You’re not on duty tonight?”

She leaned down to his level and shook her head. The saucy curls bounced. Up close he could tell the sun-streaked colors varied from very light cream to burnt gold. He’d never been drawn to blondes, but that bias didn’t seem to apply to her.

“I was filling in for a friend last night. I’d work there more often—the money’s good—but finding a sitter is always a challenge.”

“What about your sons’ father?”

“Fathers. Plural. Two boys. Two ex-husbands. And as much as I’d like to say Pete and Drew are totally committed to making sure their sons’ mother gets an occasional break, I’d be lying.”

He couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t sound as if she expected things to be any other way. He wondered why.

“Can’t you write that kind of arrangement into your custody papers?”

“Oh, that’s how things started out, but life intrudes. Younger siblings develop rashes. Stepmoms have second and third babies. Schedules change, and since I remember what it’s like when divorced parents bicker, I try to keep things on an even keel for my boys. Even if it inconveniences me.”

He found that commendable. Heroic, even.

He’d been thinking a lot about what constituted a hero. Even before he knew for sure he was coming to the Black Hills, he’d read about some of the local characters, like Wild Bill Hickok. Was his enduring fame due to the circumstances surrounding his untimely death? Or did his legacy stem from a code of honor he’d held to dearly until that fateful night in the Number Ten saloon?

Jack wasn’t sure, but the idea of exploring off the beaten path came back to him. “How long have you lived in the Black Hills?”

“All my life. I was born in Spearfish, but between my parents’ divorce and my own marriages, I’ve lived all around. Custer. Sturgis. Belle Fourche. Rapid. You name it, I probably lived there.”

“So, if I wanted a tour guide who could show me the
real
Black Hills, you’d be the one to hire, right?”

She bent down to his level again. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Would you be interested?”

“Do you mean I’d drive you around in my car?”

He shook his head. “On my bike. It came with an extra helmet. You could give me a running history of the area and tell me where to go.”

She frowned slightly as if thinking over the proposition. “When?”

“Tomorrow? If it doesn’t rain.”

“Well…Jordie is supposed to go to his dad’s tomorrow for a week, and Tag has another two days of camping scheduled, so I suppose I could. But I couldn’t do it for free.”

“Of course not.” He did some quick math. Eight hours. Forty dollars an hour seemed fair. He quoted her the price.

“Seriously? Deal.”

She flashed a bright smile, then quickly ducked her head and went back to work. “No more talking. You’re making my ink dry too fast.”

He was careful not to chuckle. Didn’t want to move and ruin her artistry.

He wasn’t an impulsive kind of guy, but in two days he’d made two big, impulsive gestures. So far, he was very satisfied with the first. He only hoped the second would prove equally smart.

After all, there had to be worse things than riding around the mountains with a beautiful blonde on the back of his bike.

“R
EADY
?”

Jack couldn’t hear her voice over the roar of his engine, but he read the word on her lips. Her pretty pinkish coral lips that glistened in the morning sunshine. The storm had blown itself out during the night and the day looked very promising, Jack thought, turning off the deafening rumble of his engine.

He removed his helmet and got off the bike. In the background, her neighbor’s dogs barked with a furor that surely would have meant dismemberment if they were loose.

“Enough,” Kat shouted in the dogs’ general direction.

The barking stopped.

“Nicely done,” Jack said. “You’re going to make a great teacher.”

She seemed pleased by his remark, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she repeated, “Are you ready for this?” She patted her purse, which had enough straps to qualify as a backpack, too. “I picked up a bunch of promotional fliers in case you change your mind about doing the tourist thing. And I have a really detailed forest-service map, too.”

Something he’d been thinking about buying. Jack liked that she seemed to be taking her role as his guide seriously. That made the arrangement seem less like a date. Which it definitely wasn’t. He couldn’t afford to date her, not after last night’s dream. Another sizzler.

He bent to retrieve the spare helmet he carried. “Sure am. Everything square with your sons?”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate. Maybe she sensed that he wasn’t really into kids.

“I listened to the weather report and it looks like you caught a break. Hot and sunny all day.”

The storm he’d ridden home in the day before had produced a mere sputter of precipitation, but the strong headwind had left him chilled to the bone, despite his leather jacket.

He’d spent the rest of the evening under the covers, his nose in a book he’d picked up at the convenience store. The more he read about Seth Bullock, local lawman-turned-entrepreneur, the more intrigued he became about the man behind the myth. According to the book, he’d founded a town in 1890. Maybe they’d have time to visit Belle Fourche, too.

“I’m ready for a little heat so I can show off my cool tattoos,” he said, running a finger along the neckline of his T-shirt. He was careful not to touch the actual tattoo, even though he felt the urge to scratch it. Kat had been adamant about keeping his hands off it. “Shower with warm water, no soap. And pat dry,” she’d said.

“I thought you might be thinking that, so I brought along some sunscreen,” she said, holding up her bag.

He opened one of the side compartments. “Great. Drop it in. I’ll put some on later. I’ve been cooped up indoors way too long and need a little color.”

She hesitated—the mother in her probably wanted to slather him down, anyway—but after a moment tucked her bag into the space. She shook her head lightly before donning the helmet. The sun made her hair sparkle with white-gold highlights he had a feeling were completely natural.

As she tightened the chin strap, he studied her. For a small woman, she was nicely proportioned with a little extra padding where it counted. Her bright yellow tank top appeared to have a built-in bra because he couldn’t see another set of straps. Her faded denim jeans fit her like a second skin. On her feet were well-worn hiking boots, and tied around her waist was a long-sleeved white shirt.

A man’s shirt, he could see by the label when she turned to walk to the bike. Probably belonged to one of her husbands, he thought, frowning at the unsettling sensation in his belly. Why should he care if she still wore a former husband’s shirt?

“So where are we going first?” he asked, throwing his right leg over the seat and scooting forward to give her room to get settled.

“You have two choices—north or south. I suggest south. Sylvan Lake. The Needles Highway. Harney Peak. If you’re up for a hike, you’ll get a fabulous view of the entire Hills.”

“How long does it take to get to the top?”

Even though she wasn’t snuggled against his back, he felt her shrug. The sensation made him all too aware of her. This could be a long day, he thought.

“I can’t remember. I haven’t done it in a while,” she said.

Me, neither.

As if realizing her comment could be misconstrued, she added too quickly, “Four hours, I think. Up and back. Depending on how fast you are. I mean, how fast you walk.” Her groan made him smile. “Can we go now?”

“Good idea. I think I’d rather ride than walk, but I’ll let you know when we get there, okay?”

She nodded so vigorously their helmets clicked.

He looked down to make sure her feet were on the pegs, then he started the bike. When her hands settled lightly on his waist, he felt their warmth permeate his whole body the same way her touch had yesterday. It was a reward in and of itself. He didn’t understand it and told himself any woman’s touch would do the same thing to a guy who hadn’t had sex in months. But a part of him knew that wasn’t true.

Shifting sideways enough to make eye contact, he asked, “Can you hear me?” He tapped the side of his helmet near his ear.

Her smile showed pure delight. “Wow. That’s perfect. I was expecting some crackling walkie-talkie thing. And I can hear music in the background. Daughtry. One of my favorites. How’d you know?”

He didn’t want to admit that he’d seen the name on a list on her table yesterday. He’d downloaded it to his MP3 player last night. Probably a dumb gesture, given he’d never see this woman again after today, but he’d done it, anyway.

“Are you an
American Idol
fan? It’s one of the few shows the boys and I agree on. Although that’s not something they’d tell their fathers.”

Jack didn’t ask why. He knew why. There’d been hundreds of things he didn’t tell his dad. And vice versa. Especially the big stuff.

“Turn left when you leave my driveway,” she said, leaning into him, even though she didn’t need to in order to be heard. “I hate crossing traffic, but it’s fairly light this time of day.”

“For the height of summer, I’ve found the traffic pretty tolerable. Especially compared to Rocky Mountain National Park.”

“You won’t say that when we reach Hill City,” she said with a low chuckle that wormed its way into his very core. “And there’s always a crowd around Mount Rushmore.”

He checked both ways, then gunned it. The bike shot across the road smoothly. Kat resumed talking once they were up to speed.

“If we’re not hiking Harney Peak, we can afford to take our time. I can show you some of the back roads, since you said you were interested in history. If this were a four-wheeler, there are all kinds of places I could take you.”

He didn’t doubt that for a minute. He could think of a few that weren’t on the map. But the thought disappeared when the semi they were passing suddenly pulled out to pass the car ahead of it.

Jack swerved to the shoulder and cranked on the gas. The bike shot ahead and easily cleared both vehicles, but the sensation of flying, along with a rush of adrenaline, made his entire body tingle. “Holy crap,” he muttered. “That semi driver must not have seen me. I flashed him, too.”

Kat’s heart felt squeezed to the size of a peanut and she could barely find the breath to say, “Thank God you have sharp reflexes. That could have been ugly.”

“I agree. But you helped by leaning the right way with me. You’ve done this before, I think.”

“My first husband had a bike in high school. He sold it after Tag was born. Broke his heart, he claimed, but I notice he hasn’t bought one to replace it.”

She sat back and relaxed her death grip around his waist. “For being new to riding, you did that well.”

His chuckle was low and masculine. “Thanks. It comes from driving with an inherently high adrenaline level.”

Again, he downplayed her praise. His modesty was refreshing, but sometimes it rang false. She was about to test her theory when she reminded herself that she was a paid employee, not a prospective girlfriend. This wasn’t a date.

She cleared her throat and looked around, wondering what to point out. A familiar sign made her cry, “Oh!”

She lifted her arm and pointed. “There’s the turnoff to Sentinel Pass. We can start your tour there. Hang a right at the big white tepee.”

Once they were off the main highway, she inched back. “You better slow down. The potholes are bad enough in a car. On a bike, they’ll probably loosen old fillings. Everybody is hoping the new money coming to town will encourage the county to fix the road.”

He didn’t say anything, but the bike bobbed and weaved until they reached the outskirts of town. Since there was no traffic behind them, he pulled to the shoulder and stopped to look around.

Pointing toward the large purple-and-yellow billboard a few feet away, he asked, “What’s the Mystery Spot?”

“Sentinel Pass’s one and only tourist trap. My friend Jenna owns it with her mother. Her father was the mastermind behind it. He was also a scientist who taught at the School of Mines during the school year. He died a few years ago. The Spot is sort of hokey, but in a good-spirited way. My sons love it. In fact, Tag—the one you met—was going to work for Jenna this summer, but it didn’t work out.”

“How come?”

“Too much driving on my part.” And considering the price of gas…“He’s still mad at me.”

“My mother wouldn’t let me work when I was a kid, either. Because of my asthma. I don’t remember how old I was, but it seemed like everybody I knew had a summer job—even the girls. I felt left out.”

That had been one of Tag’s arguments, too. “When he has a car of his own, he can work wherever he wants.”

“But he won’t have as many choices and he won’t have had this experience to put on a résumé.”

She sat back with a snort. “Why do people who don’t have kids always have the strongest opinions about how to raise them?” she asked. “He won’t be nine for another couple of months. This so-called job was really my friend’s attempt to help me out with child care this summer while giving Tag a chance to earn a little spending money.”

“Oh. I see.” His chuckle sounded conciliatory. “Sorry. You’re right. Not my business. But I do remember giving my mother a hard time for depriving me.” He said the word mockingly. “Fortunately, I discovered swimming that summer and my asthma got better. Plus, I was living in a city where I had access to public transportation. So, I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on, okay?”

She nodded, embarrassed by her outburst. She wasn’t usually so quick to take offense. Ever the peacemaker, her mother used to say.

“Let’s cruise through town,” she suggested. “I’ll point out all the historic spots. Like Seymour, our dinosaur. And the post office where Libby worked as postmaster.”

“She’s married to what’s-his-name…the talent-show guy?”

“Cooper Lindstrom. He and Lib are so much in love it almost hurts to see them.”

He put the bike in gear and slowly made the turn. Kat sat up a little straighter, hoping to see someone she knew. How often did a mother of two get to ride behind a handsome guy on an awesome new Harley?

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it hurt to see them together?”

She hated the way he not only listened, but actually heard what she said. She wasn’t used to that. “Um…well—” how honest did she want to be? “—because seeing Libby and Cooper together makes you wonder if that all-encompassing, only-in-romance-novels kind of love is ever going to come your way or if you’re going to be a freakish statistic that throws off the bell curve your whole life.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but stopped the bike in the visitors’ parking just the other side of the fire station. He turned off the engine and removed his helmet. Kat did, too, even though her cheeks were on fire.

“I want to meet these people,” he told her when they were both standing.

“Are you making fun of me?”

He shook his head, but he was smiling, so she wasn’t certain he meant it. “I’ve never seen that kind of love and I want to.”

She was still trying to make up her mind whether or not he was kidding when a voice called, “Kat? What are you doing here?”

Kat spun around so fast she almost dropped her helmet. “Char. Why aren’t you at the tepee?” They hadn’t talked since Char brought a happy, exhausted Jordie home the day before.

“I had to mail a bunch of stuff. Thank God for Internet sales, that’s all I can say.” She looked from the bike to Kat to Jack and back to Kat. “I told you I’ve forgiven eBay for screwing up Libby’s original ad, right? I mean, why not? It all worked out. And it was partly Lib’s fault for thinking she could post an ad without naming an exact dollar figure.”

Kat hadn’t really paid much attention to Libby’s original ad, which had been responsible for bringing her plight to Cooper’s attention, but she did know that Char listed a great many items on the online auction site. “I guess…Um, Char, this is Jack…” Her mind went blank.

“Treadwell,” Jack supplied. “Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands. “He’s from Denver. I’m showing him around the Hills.”

One of Char’s dramatically arched eyebrows lifted. “Starting in Sentinel Pass?”

“Yeah,” Kat said, standing her ground. “That’s the point, isn’t it? All the hype about the TV show is supposed to bring tourists in. Jack’s a tourist. He wanted to see the place. Right?”

Jack’s enigmatic gray eyes were glinting with humor, but he nodded gamely. “I especially want to see the famous lovers.”

Char’s explosion of laughter nearly made her drop her fistful of mail. “Which pair? We’ve got two, you know. This love thing seems to be catching. Might be something in the water. Which is why I drink wine.”

Kat rolled her eyes. They’d had this discussion before. Char had made it clear she didn’t believe in love, despite her addiction to romance novels. “Libby and Jenna aren’t back yet, are they?”

Char shook her head. “I’m picking Jenna up at the airport on Sunday. She said she tried to call you last night and didn’t get an answer. Libby and Coop are flying home later. He didn’t want her traveling without him. I don’t know why. She’s pregnant, not an invalid.”

Kat knew why. Neither of her exes—or anyone else in her family—had ever worried about her like that, but then, nobody had ever loved her the way Cooper loved Libby. Which probably wasn’t surprising. To be loved, first you had to be seen for who you really were.