had. Fact is, I’d rather do back-to-back hip replacements than stare into my daughters’ big green eyes and tell them no.”
He had a point. Children could be ruthless with their miniature bodies and precious faces, and the thought of big Dane Hendricks being defeated by his daughters made her grin.
“Don’t get me wrong. I love my girls. And it’s my responsibility to be their dad. But do I love being a father? I’ll be honest with you. No.”
“Well, I love kids. Someday I hope to have a whole houseful of them.”
“You may change your tune once you’ve had a couple.” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and chomped vigorously.
“I’m a foster-parent. I’ve hosted half a dozen kids already, and right now I’m caring for a four-year-old orphan named Brenden Pascual. It’s been tough, but very rewarding to know that I’m giving him stability when his whole world has been turned upside down.”
“That’s commendable. You seem to be a very caring person.”
“Nah. It’s just my way of giving back.”
“May I ask you a practical question? What about child care? How do you manage that? I’ve had nothing but trouble with nanny after flaky nanny. And my mother can only handle the girls for so long.”
“Why haven’t you tried Mercy’s child care? It’s open for all employees. That’s the reason I transferred over from St. Michael’s.”
He tilted his head. “You know, you’ve got a point. Maybe I will try it out. Thanks.”
She sat a littler straighter. “Glad to be of service. And for your information, caring for foster-kids hasn’t put me off kids at all. I still want several kids of my own one day.”
“That’s also very commendable. But as for me, I know my limits. I’ve met my quota. No more kids.”
Despite their differences on views of family size, the rest of the meal was pleasant enough. They chuckled over their favorite scenes in movies, and realized they both liked to hike. Rikki discovered Sheila was right—Dane did a flawless imitation of Mercy Hospital’s administrator.
The absurdity of him clowning around and his spot-on imitation set her off giggling until she realized people were staring. She used her napkin to cover her mouth and quieted down. Dane kept taunting her by whispering more Hank Caruthers-isms. He obviously enjoyed watching her squirm and snort.
After the meal they both agreed that pie was the only true dessert and decided to share. She didn’t let on it was her birthday, and cake would be more appropriate. But she had to admit so far it had been a fairly decent date.
So why was she still feeling so uncomfortable with Dane?
After one large bite of mixed berry pie, a couple brushed past their table, and a familiar face from Mercy Hospital stopped.
Exquisite Dr. Hannah Young, sleek, statuesque, dressed to knock out whoever her date was in a tight little black designer dress, paused to rest her hand on Dane’s shoulder. “Greetings. Fancy meeting you here,” she said, as though it was some sort of inside comment about the restaurant being their favorite hangout.
Dane stood up quickly, dropping the napkin from his lap. “Hey, Hannah.” They smiled warmly at each other and shook hands. She cast a cool dismissive gaze in Rikki’s direction. “You know Rikki Johansen from Orthopedics,” he said, and gestured toward her while he bent down to retrieve his napkin. Rikki had never seen him flustered before.
The doctor raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in Rikki’s direction. Her message came through loud and clear. What are you doing here with this gorgeous man? There must be only one reason. Hmm. She made a quick calculated head-to-table glance, and her perfectly shaped brows twitched in disapproval. “Good to see you.”
Rikki forced a smile, nodded and said a curt “You too.”
“Well, I’d better get back to my date. See you Monday at the admin meeting, Dane. I hear Hank has another groundbreaking announcement.”
“I’ll be there.” He passed Rikki a mischievous sideways glance as though on the verge of another imitation. “Hey, great seeing you, Hannah.” Dane sat back down with new color in his cheeks. Was he embarrassed being caught in public with someone like her?
All the insecurities she’d tried to suppress for the night came charging through her shaky defenses. As always, she didn’t measure up. Everything had been a mistake. How could she—an abandoned kid from foster-care—ever feel on an equal footing with Dane?
“Why can’t you be like those other girls, Rachel Johansen?” her least favorite foster-mom had chided her when she’d begun expressing herself by dressing differently than her peers. “You ain’t got no class and you never will.”
She stopped in mid-bite of the last of the dessert as a wave of anxiety took hold, and pushed back her chair. “I need to find the ladies’ room. Will you excuse me?”
He looked surprised, the way he’d looked when he’d first spotted her waiting in the restaurant entryway.
She didn’t give him a chance to say anything. When she reached the full-length mirror in the restroom, she scanned herself head to toe. No perfect little black dress for her. No. How had she possibly thought she looked nice with her own rendition of urban fairy? All she needed was a laurel crown. What had she been thinking? She should have known better than to venture out of her safe little antisocial cave. But wasn’t this how she’d always thumbed her nose at society? Dress weird, be an individualist, show them you don’t give a damn what they think. You don’t want to fit in. Maybe they’ll believe you. And while you’re at it, maybe you’ll convince yourself.
But she did want to fit in with Dane.
Part of the dinner had been great fun, but at other times she’d sat stiff and self-conscious. Old habits never died. In each new foster-home she’d had to make a quick study of the family dynamics in order to survive. Her overall position anywhere she’d lived had boiled down to one thing—she had been a misfit. The families had either felt sorry for her, doted too much, making her withdraw, or had chided her for her mother’s problems, expecting the worst. And when they had, she’d taken their challenge by messing up in school and dressing weird.
Rikki had quit intentionally failing in her studies once she’d been on her own, but the defiant style of dress had stuck even when she’d pulled it together and got the education she needed to become a nurse. It had become who she was—different.
If she was being honest, she’d admit that Dane had gone out of his way to try to make her comfortable. Hadn’t he stuck up for her to the snooty wine steward and made her laugh with corny imitations?
Confused, she rubbed the line between her brows and paced. What should she do?
Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. It was Meghan, her babysitter. “Brenden’s throwing a fit,” she said. “He keeps yelling, ‘I want my mommy.’ I can’t calm him down.”
Rikki took a deep breath. “He does that sometimes. I’m leaving right now. I’ll be home within the hour.” So much for trying to work anything out with Dane tonight. She’d go back to their table, explain the situation and hope for a reprieve.
