Anna DeStefano - All-American Father

“It’s about Leslie,” he said to Bailey. “If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be bothering you again. If you could just give me a few minutes.”

He’d done his research before coming over. Because of Selena’s relationship with the bistro owner and her contacts around the Langston community, Selena had been able to fill him in on Bailey’s battle to keep her and her grandmother’s business going. He shouldn’t be here, asking for an enormous favor. But he had to reach his daughter before it was too late, and Bailey’s help could be too important a factor not to try one more time. Without her, he had no chance of reasoning with the Stop Right’s crotchety owner.

“All right.” Bailey cast a sideways glance toward her grandmother.

The attractive older woman turned to the double range set into the wall and opened the top oven door to check on the pastry inside. Derrick’s mouth watered. His empty stomach screamed.

He’d grabbed a bagel on the way to the office yesterday. Then everything since the call from Ginger Nash’s grandmother was a blur. He doubted he’d even eaten, though he vaguely remembered heating a frozen pizza for the girls.

“Coffee?” Bailey motioned toward the cabinet filled with mugs.

“Sure, thanks.”

Handing him the steaming mug, Bailey motioned toward the dining room that opened off the kitchen. He stopped short of begging for some of whatever marvelous creation was baking in the oven. When they sat and Mrs. Greenwood appeared, laying a plate of sugary pastry beside each of them, Derrick nearly kissed her hand.

“You two take all the time you need,” she said after waving away his thank-you. “Our guests don’t usually make an appearance before nine on Sunday.”

Derrick peeled away a layer of cinnamon, butter and crisply baked dough, then began tearing it into bits. He couldn’t swallow if he tried. Couldn’t look Bailey in the eye. These were good, hardworking people who didn’t need to worry themselves with his problems.

Bailey’s level gaze said she was thinking pretty much the same thing.

“There’s nothing I can do to get your daughter out of whatever Drayton’s decided to do,” she said on a sigh. “I wish there was.”

There was no residue of Thursday’s hostility in her tone. Only heartfelt concern for a child she barely knew.

And that compassion gave Derrick the upper hand.

He shook his head at the smug thought. Lawyers were manipulative bastards, and he’d worked hard to become one of the best.

“I’m not trying to get her out of it anymore. I want to offer Drayton a deal, but the man’s not returning my calls.”

“What kind of deal?”

“My daughter was caught smoking pot with her friends yesterday morning. Whatever phase Leslie’s going through, her behavior’s spiraling more and more out of control, and nothing I’ve tried so far has made a dent. Help me convince your boss to put her butt to work. No salary. The length of time is up to him. I’ll agree to whatever he thinks is equitable, to work off her crime. Leslie has to start facing the consequences of what she’s doing, before I lose her for good.”

A LARGER-THAN-LIFE champion becoming a desperate single parent wasn’t an easily stomached sight, certainly not before breakfast.

Bailey didn’t know which made her sicker, Derrick’s heartbreaking concern for his child, or the thought of how Drayton would take advantage of it.

“You and your wife might want to reconsider—”

“My ex-wife’s back in Atlanta with her new husband, sweating the real-estate market, because the two-point-five-million-dollar palace he bought five years ago is in Windward. Seems Buckhead would be better for Amanda. She doesn’t want to have to drive the Ferrari too far when she’s ready to shop. With all those details on her mind, Leslie’s commitment to ruining her life seemed like a preteen phase the last time we spoke.”

Bailey blinked as Derrick pulverized the last of his cinnamon roll, adding bitter and divorced to her growing list of things she hadn’t expected in this grown-up version of her schoolgirl crush.

“I’m really sorry, Derrick.” She shook her head at the memory of the stunning blonde she’d heard he’d married, the cheerleading captain who’d ruled Western at Derrick’s side during Bailey’s freshman year. “I hadn’t heard about the divorce. I’ve been a little out of touch the last few years.”

A tired, defeated man looked up from his plate, instead of the conquering hero he played so well for the rest of the world.

“I don’t remember much about you back in school,” he admitted. “Except you laughing once, when you passed Amanda and me in the hall. Something about hoping I liked hanging out with leeches, ’cause I’d be paying for the privilege for as long as Amanda held on. Looks like you were right.”

“And you’re still paying.” Bailey winced. Had she really been that much of a snot?

“No, my kids are paying, and I haven’t protected them any better than I did myself. Alimony and child support were Amanda’s priorities during the divorce. To get the settlement she wanted, she asked for joint custody of the girls. But ever since she married her NFL superstar, Leslie and Savannah have been with me, and Amanda’s showing no sign of wanting them back.”

“Kids could definitely cramp a socialite’s style.” Or a successful lawyer’s. “So you brought them cross-country and away from the rest of your family. Why?”

“My parents are retired to Florida now. Leslie and Savannah have only met Amanda’s mother a couple of times. And Langston was someplace new. A slower pace than living in downtown Atlanta. And the job with my new firm promised a partnership as soon as I close the deal I’ve been working on since I got here.”

“Nice.” Something too much like envy tainted Bailey’s response.

“Yeah, except I’m no better at being a single father here than I was at being a married one in Atlanta. That’s why I came over to—”

“I can’t help you, Derrick.” She couldn’t even get through the morning without needing a contingency plan for outmaneuvering the IRS.

“You could reason with your boss. Pull a few strings. Get Drayton to see that putting Leslie to work would be a win-win proposition for the store. What does he have to gain by taking her to court?”

Derrick had been close to pleading when he arrived. Now, annoyance glittered behind the slate-gray eyes he shared with his daughter.

The man was a champion. He’d probably never had to beg for anything. He’d never scraped by on nothing, not even pride.

“By all means, see what you can talk Drayton in to, but count me out,” Bailey said, not liking herself much while she said it. “My boss is a hard-ass, and whatever markers I hold at the store, I need them to work out my own Hail Mary deal.”

“You really care that little about what happens to a messed-up twelve-year-old?”

Ah-ha. The gloves were off, and that made things easier all around.

“You know, you didn’t even know I existed before Thursday.” She picked up her plate and mug as she stood. “How is it that you’ve got my self-centered motives all figured out, in just a matter of days?”

Derrick was standing, too, lending height and muscle to the devastating good looks that had turned her to goo as a teen.

“Bailey—”

She raised her free hand to stop him.

“I may have had a crush on you, along with every other girl at Western, but you were full of yourself then, and you’re full of yourself now. I get that it sucks that the world’s not revolving around you anymore, and that you’ve got more to deal with than your fancy new career. But my advice is to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You always were smarter than any of your crowd gave you credit for. Find a way to solve your own problems.”