Susan Crosby - The Single Dad's Virgin Wife

“Yes, I would, thank you.” She put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and walked down the stairs with her. “I’m looking forward to starting class tomorrow. Do you enjoy your schooling?”

“Sometimes. It kind of depends on the teacher.”

“I’ll do my best to make it interesting and fun, Ashley.”

“I know you will,” she said with a smile as they walked into her bedroom. Zoe emerged from the bathroom, her strawberry-blond hair damp and tousled, a dab of toothpaste above her lip. She hopped right into bed and pulled the blankets up to her nose.

“What time do you get up in the morning?” Tricia asked Zoe.

“When Ashley pulls the covers off and won’t let me have them back.”

Tricia smiled. “Who wakes you up?” she asked Ashley.

“My head. I wake up early on my own around seven. Then I wake up everyone else. We go to the classroom at eight. Zoe’s usually the last one there.”

“Do you make your own breakfast?” Tricia knew that Cora didn’t come until eleven-thirty.

“I don’t like breakfast,” Zoe said. “It makes me sick to my stomach.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “We eat cereal or peanut butter on toast. And a banana or apple. We fix our own.”

“What time does your father leave for work?”

“He’s gone before we get up.” Ashley climbed into bed and settled the bedding over her.

Tricia leaned down for a hug from her, then moved on to Zoe, whose body language said, “Don’t come too close,” so Tricia just smoothed back her hair and said good-night.

She encountered the same situation with the boys. Adam hugged her. Zack retreated from contact. She wondered where Noah was. She couldn’t hear any sounds within the house.

How did he spend his evenings? Working? Watching television? Should she track him down and find out?

She decided to return to the classroom and finish reviewing the children’s previous work. Thank goodness none of them were in high school yet and taking chemistry or something else she hadn’t studied in years.

After a while she heard someone coming up the stairs, the footsteps heavy enough to be only Noah’s. He called her name, alerting her that he was about to enter the room.

“How’s it going?” he asked, standing at the top of the staircase, his hands shoved into his pockets.

She leaned back in her chair. “I’m making headway. At least it’s early in the school year. They seem to stick to a fairly rigid schedule.”

“That’s my preference.”

So, it was his doing that the children’s class work was so highly structured. “I’ll make an appointment to see their—What is the title of the person who oversees the children’s schooling?”

“Educational Specialist, but everyone calls her an E.S. Cynthia Madras is her name.”

“Thanks. I’ve read the rules and regulations on homeschooling, but I’d like her input on the children individually.”

He dragged a chair closer to her desk and sat. “She’ll tell you that Ashley is a visual learner who studies more than the others and worries if she doesn’t do very well on tests. Zoe and Adam are kinetic learners who have a hard time sitting still and like to have a noisy environment, which drives Ashley crazy. And Zach is an auditory learner with an exceptional memory. He studies the least and absorbs the most.”

Tricia liked that he knew so much about his children’s learning styles. “I appreciate the summary.”

“I keep a close watch on their education. I meet with each of them individually every evening to—” He stopped, hesitated. “I used to meet with each of them. I’ve been working so late the past year that I haven’t gotten home in time most nights to have one-on-one time with them.”

“So, you’re not home for dinner?”

“Rarely.”

“I see. Well, maybe you’ll be able to incorporate the individual time into your schedule again soon.”

“Maybe.”

A long pause ensued. She knew she needed to change the subject. “Who cleans up the dishes at night?”

“No one. Cora takes care of it when she comes in.”

“Do the children have any chores to do?”

“School is their job.”

She decided not to start an argument with him on the value of responsibility through chores. Not yet, anyway. “Your future sister-in-law and I had a nice talk,” she said instead.

He was obviously happy about the change in subject, because his expression smoothed out. “What do you think?”

“I think Valerie is head over heels about your brother, and yet very down to earth. I like her a lot. I expect I’ll learn even more about her when I attend her bachelorette party.”

His brows went up. “I’m sure you will. I guess as his best man I need to figure out a bachelor-party plan myself.”

“Definitely. Next weekend. You don’t want to have the party the night before the wedding. Saturday night, since Friday is Halloween.”

“Right.” He stood. “You’re all set here, then?”

“Yes, thanks.” A little nervous, but excited. “Are you ever gone overnight? For work,” she added, realizing he might think she was wondering if he had a girlfriend or someone he visited when he had…needs.

“Not for the past few years.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always lived in the city. Being so isolated out here is kind of creeping me out.”

He watched her for a few long seconds. “Come with me,” he said, then he went down the stairs.

She followed because he gave her no choice. He waited at the foot of the last staircase, then they walked into the dining room, through the kitchen, into the utility room. He grabbed two jackets from the rack there, passed one to her, then he held the door open. She went down the stairs, putting on the jacket as she went. His jacket; she could tell from how the cuffs hung past her fingers.

The night was quiet and dark. Moonless. She couldn’t see the lights of another house or building, just stars. Millions of stars. She hadn’t paid attention to them Friday night, hadn’t paid attention to anything but him, and how he talked about his father.

Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked down the driveway to the four-car garage. She’d seen him drive a fancy black sports car, but had no idea of the brand. She figured it was his commute car. A large SUV was also parked in the building, a Cadillac.

“I’ll give you a garage door opener,” he said. “You can park in the garage. I want you to use the Caddy to drive the kids around.”

“Okay.” She tugged her collar up against her neck. “I don’t even know what you do for a living, except that you and David are in business together.”

“We own Falcon Motorcars, custom-made automobiles. We’ve been strongly in the European market for a long time but are moving more toward American business now. It’s a big transition for us—David’s brainchild, so that he can stay stateside more.”

“So that shiny sports car you drive is one of your own?”

“The latest model. At this point we only produce the two-seater sports car, a four-door sedan, and made-to-spec limos. I’d like to incorporate an SUV, but that’ll be a few years down the road, I think. We’re headed to the American LeMans circuit first.”

“You’ll be making race cars?”

He nodded, then cocked his head as they heard a noise. “That’s an owl.”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” she said with a smile. “What else is around?”

“Deer. Dogs and cats, wild and tame. Raccoons, fox, skunks, all the usual small wild animals. A variety of birds. Early in the morning you can sit at the kitchen table and see quail. There are grouse and mourning doves and hawks. None of them is your enemy, Tricia, although the deer eat the vegetation, which is annoying sometimes. And if threatened, any animal will protect itself. You really shouldn’t worry about them.”