Dawn Atkins - Adventures In Parenthood

Ginger cried quietly.

Dixon racked his brain for something to talk about.

“Is this your bedtime book?” Aubrey picked up Ramona the Pest from the nightstand.

How had he forgotten? “Yeah,” he said, taking the book. “Time to read.”

“Can Auntie Aubba do it?” Ginger asked.

“If she wants to.” He looked at her.

“I’d love to.” She smiled hesitantly.

“That’s the reading chair right there.” Dixon motioned at the tiny chair a foot from the bunk beds.

“You’re kidding.”

“Trust me. It’s the rule.”

She sat in the low chair, set the book on her knees, which jutted up to her chin, and opened it to the marked page.

She’d barely finished a paragraph before Sienna gave a strangled cry. “You have to stop. Make her stop, Uncle Dixon.”

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey closed the book on her thumb, bright red blotches on her cheeks.

“That’s not nice, Sienna,” Dixon said. She was upset, but that was no excuse to be mean.

“She’s trying to sound like our mommy,” Sienna said. “You’re not her,” she said to Aubrey. “Don’t pretend you are.”

“Your mom’s my sister. We sound alike, I guess.”

“Now my stomach feels sicker,” Ginger said.

“That’s probably all the junk food I let you eat,” Dixon said to ease the moment.

“I’ll let you finish.” Aubrey handed him the book, ducking his gaze, clearly mortified. “Night, girls,” she muttered, almost running out the door. She pulled it shut.

“No! Leave it open!” Ginger called. “We need the line of light!”

The door cracked. “Sorry,” Aubrey called from the hallway.

“You girls need to be kinder to your aunt,” Dixon said. “She lost her sister, and she’s sad, too. In the morning, I want you to say you’re sorry.”

Sienna didn’t respond, and he didn’t feel like pushing it.

“Now get some sleep,” he said. Sleep would help. But from the doorway, he saw both sets of eyes staring at him, wide-awake.

Please let them sleep, he silently prayed. It’s their only escape.

Their wide eyes still haunting him, Dixon headed for the living room to talk to Aubrey, uncertain how emotional she would be. He’d been startled when she’d fallen against him on the porch. She’d always had such a sexy swagger. She was more fragile than she let on.

They all were. He felt raw, like the skin beneath a blister, sensitive to the air. And the girls were on the brink of hysteria every minute. They would all have to be careful with each other. That was all there was to it.

* * *

HER VOICE HAD made the girls cry. The sting of that shame threatened to level Aubrey, but she forced herself to forget it, to stay busy. She wasn’t ready to sink into the sorrow that awaited her. She grabbed her roller bag to get settled in the guest room.

Except there she saw Dixon’s suitcase open on the floor beside the computer desk, and smelled his cologne. Of course he’d be here. He’d been staying with the girls.

“You can have this room.” His voice floated from the doorway, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb.

“No, no. I’ll use the other bedroom.” She started to pass him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “But that’s Howard and Brianna’s room. It might be difficult for you.” He held her gaze. She’d forgotten how intense his dark eyes were, how they pulled you in, turned everything else into a blur. At the wedding, it had been the way he’d looked at her that had convinced her to drag him onto the dance floor, then out to the beach, to get more of those eyes on her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She had to be.

“You sure?”

She blew out a breath. “Truthfully? I’m not sure about anything. For now, let’s go with fine.”

“I’m sorry about that nonsense over your voice. I asked Sienna to apologize.”

“There’s no need for that.” She threw back her shoulders, hating that Dixon had noticed her hurt. “I understand completely. Brianna and I went through that after Mom died. One of us would use one of her expressions and it felt like a sucker punch.”

“Still, Sienna was harsh.” He frowned. “They usually don’t pick on each other so much, either.”

“That’s normal. Brianna and I had a terrible fight when we got back from the funeral over a borrowed sweater. We were taking out our anger about Mom dying on each other. That’s what the girls are doing, I’m sure.”

“That makes sense.” His gaze gentled.

“It won’t last long. It didn’t with me and Brianna. In fact, we got a lot closer, leaned on each other more. We were all we had.”

“It must have been hell to lose your mother so young.”

“At least we were nearly adults. The twins are so little.” Her eyes stung, but she refused to crumble like she had on the porch. It was strange. They hardly knew each other, but they’d been forced into an intense intimacy.

“I hope Ginger and Sienna will get closer, too,” Dixon said.

“I’m sure they will. And they have you and me, too. And your mother.”

“She doesn’t visit much.”

Brianna had told her as much. “Actually, the last time I talked to her, Brianna said she wanted to look for our father’s relatives. He was estranged from his family.”

“Do you want that?”

“If the girls have more relatives, it would be good for them.”

“It would,” Dixon said.

“Maybe I’ll see what I can find. Later on...after we get past all this.”

“Sure.”

Standing so close, she couldn’t help but respond to how male he was—broad and strong, with straight, square features. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt, revealing muscular forearms. There was something sexy about that look.

Dixon was sexy, period.

For one second, she wanted to reach for him, go to bed with him, stop fighting so hard to keep her head above the waves of grief that threatened to engulf her. He would be her life raft. She would be his.

A soft sound escaped her lips. Dixon’s breath hitched and twin candle flames lit in his dark eyes, just as they had that night in Mexico.

When the band had quit playing, she’d kicked off her heels, grabbed Dixon’s hand and snatched a nearly full bottle of good champagne on the way to the beach, running, laughing, feeling lighter than air....

Now Dixon’s breathing shifted, he tilted his mouth closer.

Why not?

They could open up a sliver of time to escape, to hide out in each other’s arms.

“We have things to discuss,” Dixon said, flipping the switch, making them both blink in the sudden harsh light of reality.

It took her a second to adjust, but she knew he was right. This was no time to escape. “Let me put away my things, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

She rolled her bag down the hall. Stepping into the room was almost too much for her. The space was full of Brianna’s happy energy, and it smelled of her perfume—Joyful, a perfect word for her sister. Every surface held framed photos of the couple and their girls.

She remembered Brianna showing her the room, gleefully dancing from item to item—the curtains and pillows she’d made, the antique bureau she’d refinished to match the headboard. She’d been so proud, so happy.

How can you sleep here, with Brianna’s lost happiness swirling like smoke, burning your eyes and searing your throat?

Aubrey braced herself against the bureau, closed her eyes and silently recited her mantra: you are stronger than you know. Trust your training. Trust your will. Trust your courage. The only obstacles are your own doubt and fear. Conquer yourself and you conquer all.

After a beat and a breath, strength poured through her. It worked. It always worked, and it always surprised her.