Anna DeStefano - All-American Father

Leslie Cavenaugh was slouched in the same ugly chair as before, the waist of her too-short shorts ending way below the hem of her revealing halter top. Just looking at the kid’s platform sandals made Bailey’s feet hurt. And beside her sat a stunned, absolutely delicious-looking Derrick.

Bailey turned to beat a path back to her car.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Drayton griped. “I had a feeling you were behind this nonsense. You’re not dumping this in my lap, then hightailing it out of here. I’m not letting this girl work off her crime, unless you agree to be responsible for her hours.”

“Me?”

“If not, I’m pressing charges. I got no time to supervise the little thief. You either keep an eye on her, or there’s no deal. I don’t care how many free hours Mr. Cavenaugh says he’s willing to let her work.”

“Bailey’s not—” Derrick was on his feet.

“I’m not—” Bailey said over him, then stopped.

Please tell my boss this isn’t a good idea, she begged Derrick with her gaze.

Deciding to put in a good word for the kid was one thing. Agreeing to supervise Leslie’s time, when Bailey’s schedule was already stretched to the breaking point, wasn’t going to happen.

“This is my daughter’s mess,” Derrick argued. “Leslie needs to be the one to clean it up. There’s no reason to make more work for Bailey.”

“Well, the girl’s sure as hell not going to hang out here after school without someone keeping an eye on her. And Bailey’s the only employee I’d trust to do that.”

“After school?” Bailey said through the shock of receiving the first ass-backward compliment she’d ever received from the man.

“I get to come straight here when I get off the bus.” Leslie sounded as if she couldn’t be more bored. “Then call my dad from the pay phone outside, because my cell phone is now contraband. Then I get to work for nothing until he swings by whenever he can manage to make it home from work.”

“I’ll be here at six every afternoon until we have this cleared up.” Derrick had his daughter’s undivided attention for the first time. “If Mr. Drayton and Ms. Greenwood agree to this, you owe them another apology and a thank-you. And you’ll damn well show up where you’re supposed to be every afternoon, on time and ready to work. Ditch to hang out with your friends just once, and I’ll drive you down to the courthouse myself, and file the charges for Mr. Drayton.”

“Like you care where I go, as long as I’m out of your way.” Tears welled in Leslie’s heavily made-up eyes. “So you’re forced to spend time with me for a while. So what? I know you’d rather be in town kissing your boss’s butt.”

Bailey couldn’t breathe.

She’d fork over any number of body parts to have just one more afternoon with her father. The same kind of longing had filled Leslie’s outburst. Instead of a preteen gone wild, they were listening to a little girl who missed her daddy.

“I suppose I could come in a few hours each afternoon,” she heard herself promising, even though she’d hoped to snag more better-paying bistro hours instead.

Derrick’s relieved smile made taking her offer back impossible.

“You either work a full shift, or you’ll be doing it on your own time,” Drayton warned. Half shifts were a cardinal sin at the well-oiled machine that was the Stop Right. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’ll pay me, because I’ll spend the time straightening out the twisted mess you make of your books every quarter, instead of working unpaid overtime on the weekends.” It was uncomfortably easier to stiffen her spine and demand her due with a former college all-star standing beside her, frowning at Drayton on her behalf. “And there’s the matter of the management title you’ll be giving me, along with the raise I should have as the only employee you trust. But for now, do the right thing. Think of the good it will do your reputation in Langston. Show everyone you have a heart. Give a twelve-year-old a break.”

“A chance to learn from her mistakes,” Derrick added.

“Come on, Larry,” she reasoned. “You don’t really want this town to think you’re too much of a crank to lift a finger to help a kid who’s willing to pay for her mistake working for you for free.”

Drayton’s jaw dropped. She could see the silver fillings capping six back teeth.

She’d called him Larry.

She’d pushed back, rather than accepting his crappy attitude as part of a job she couldn’t afford to lose.

Derrick planted his hands on his hips, muscles hardening beneath the soft knit of his shirt. Leslie slid closer to the edge of her chair.

“Fine.” Drayton threw his arms in the air. “But I want the girl working. And if she doesn’t show for a single shift, I’m calling the police back and refiling charges. You’re getting off easy, little girl. Don’t make me regret it.”

The twelve-year-old who’d been sulking when Bailey arrived was too busy gawking at her dad to respond.

“Answer the man.” Derrick’s hand cupped his daughter’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” The kid leaned into her father’s touch as she faced Drayton. “I’ll be here.”

“Your daddy says your bus lets you off at your house at three-thirty, and that you can walk here,” Drayton said. “You and Bailey had better be here tomorrow by quarter ’til four.”

“I’ll be here at three.” Bailey turned away from the united front she and Derrick and his daughter had made. “We need to discuss my future here.”

Her future.

Her Grandmother’s future.

The raise she’d told herself she wasn’t leaving without.

The exhilaration of finally standing up to her tightwad boss wilted as she walked away from the office. She’d be lucky if she didn’t lose hours now, instead of increasing them.

“Bailey!” Derrick caught up with her in the narrow hallway that led into the store. “I don’t know what to say. I had no right this morning, asking you to get involved in my family’s problems. But if you hadn’t…if your boss hadn’t listened to you, my daughter would be on her way to court in a few weeks, instead of having a second chance.”

He stepped closer, until she could count the soft hair peaking above the V neck of his pullover. Smell the soap he’d showered with that morning. Wonder how he kept in such impressive shape, when he worked in a corporate office six or seven days a week.

A finger tipped her chin up until she was looking into warm gray eyes.

Good Lord.

Those eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “For showing my daughter how people stand up and do the right thing, instead of taking whatever path of least resistance is handy.”

He was talking about himself, she realized.

She should apologize for the horrible things she’d said that morning. But Derrick’s finger was still caressing the sensitive skin below her chin. He was too close. And yet, not close enough.

She edged away.

“I need to get going.”

“Bailey.” He stopped her that time with nothing more than the concern in his voice. “I don’t want working with Leslie to cause trouble for you here.”

“It’ll be fine.” Leslie wasn’t the problem. Bailey being in the same room as Derrick, and not completely losing sight of her own priorities, was the problem. “Your daughter will be here a week, maybe two. It won’t take long for her to learn that this is the kind of dead-end job she’d rather die than be working at in ten years.”

There was that half smile again. The one that said he didn’t quite understand.

Join the club.

He reached into the back pocket of his fitted-to-perfection jeans, withdrew his wallet and from it a business card, which he handed over.