Wife by Design. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      CHAPTER SIX

      “DADDY GIVED ME this and I named him Sammy and then Daddy taked me to see el’phants but he spit and I got scared and Daddy picked me up and then he sucked water up his nooosse....” Kara’s sweet little voice erupted in giggles. It was the following Saturday afternoon, almost a week since Darin and Grant Bishop had descended on The Lemonade Stand with their charm and kindness. A long week.

      Brandon’s gaze met Lynn’s as she took the teddy bear her daughter handed her and stood back to let the two inside the bungalow Kara and Lynn shared. She looked away first. Quickly.

      She’d just gotten off the phone with her folks, who lived in Denver to be close to Katie and her kids. Her mom didn’t blame Brandon for his sexual preferences but didn’t understand why he’d chosen to leave his family rather than ignore his gay tendencies. She’d been after Lynn to start dating again.

      It was a continuous go-nowhere conversation.

      “I took her to the zoo,” Brandon said.

      “You said you were going to the beach. She was dressed for the beach and had flip-flops instead of tennis shoes.”

      “Can I take Sammy to show him our room?” The lispy voice piped up between them.

      “Of course you can.” Lynn smiled at her daughter and, bending down, added, “as soon as you give Mama a hug. I missed you, squirt.”

      “I miss you, too, Mama,” Kara said, her pudgy little mouth pouty for a second as she leaned forward to give Lynn a wet kiss. Then, grabbing Sammy from Lynn’s fingers, she tripped over her feet as she ran through the little living area toward her bedroom, stopping before she left them. “Bye, Daddy, see you soon I love you,” she said, the words slurring together in a rush of baby talk that was their rote goodbye phrase, and was gone.

      Lynn stood and took the day bag she’d packed that morning from Brandon’s outstretched hand, avoiding eye contact. “You said you were taking her to the beach.”

      She sounded petulant. And hated that.

      “Lynnie.” Brandon took hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I’m sorry,” he said when, by rights, he could have been telling her to mind her own damned business. While she had full custody and he paid child support, Brandon also had full visiting privileges and didn’t have to tell her anything about his time with Kara. Just like she didn’t have to report to him every time she did something with her daughter.

      He also didn’t have to travel to Santa Raquel for every visit. He would be well within his rights to take the child to San Francisco where he’d moved after the divorce.

      “I should have called.”

      She nodded. “Where’s Douglas?”

      “He had to work and couldn’t make it down with me, which is why we didn’t go to the beach. I couldn’t prepare the picnic and keep an eagle eye on her by the water at the same time.”

      “I take her to the beach by myself.”

      “And you live with her, too. You know every move she’s going to make practically before she makes it. I don’t. I have to rely on my eyes and ears and I’m not going to risk her life on the chance that they’d fail me.”

      She was making a big deal out of nothing. And...

      “It’s just...her life is so unusual,” she said. “It’s not a bad thing, but because she doesn’t have a traditional home I think it’s important that she is at least able to rely on us to do what we say we’re going to do.”

      “I know.” His hand was on her arm again. Rubbing gently. Like he’d done countless times in the past. The touch used to remind her of the physical bond they shared.

      Now it just offered support.

      She covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Thank you,” she said, glancing up at him. “I know I’m being an idiot. You couldn’t help your change of plans, and obviously you told Kara about them.”

      “You’re not an idiot, my dear. Anything but. And as soon as I knew that plans had changed I should have called you and let you know. If anything had happened to us, you wouldn’t have known where to tell people to start looking.”

      Their gazes met and she relaxed. Again. With a smile she asked, “So you had a good time?”

      She invited Brandon to stay for dinner, but he had to get to the airport to catch his flight back to San Francisco. He and Douglas had tickets to a jazz festival the next afternoon.

      And Lynn had a couple of women to see. One who’d checked in the day before with a concussion, and a twenty-seven weeks pregnant woman, Missy, who’d been spotting earlier in the week.

      Knowing that Maddie was due over to feed Kara as soon as Maddie finished her afternoon therapy session, Lynn said goodbye to her ex-husband―but still best friend―and went in to spend a few minutes of quality time with her little girl.

      * * *

      BY FIVE-THIRTY MONDAY EVENING, Darin’s therapy was done for the day. Grant’s job wasn’t. Finishing up a weeklong venture of trimming, shaping and adjusting irrigation spray heads, he still had piles to load into the trailer hitched to the back of his truck.

      “I can’t do my job,” Darin’s little-boy voice came from just behind him. “Not until four more weeks.”

      “That’s right.” Grunting, Grant lifted a rake full of thorn-filled branches and, with thick-gloved hands, carried it over to the already heaping trailer.

      “No lifting and bending,” Darin said, following at his heels. “I told Angelica, but she already knew.”

      “She’s in touch with Dr. Zimmer,” Grant reminded him. “That’s how she knows how to help you.”

      “Yeah...” Darin’s voice trailed off. And then he said, “I’d like to go for a little walk, Grant. Not far, just over to the park area. I won’t disturb any of the women, I promise.”

      “I’ll bet one or two of them’ll notice your good looks, though, bro,” Grant said, standing to grin at his big brother. “You could’ve shared a little of that charisma with me, you know.”

      “Right.” Hands in his pockets, Darin gave him a teasing smirk. “I almost missed my physics final my senior year in college because I was busy rescuing you from a bunch of beauties.”

      Darin was teasing. And there was truth in his words, too. Grant, an orphan at seventeen, had given his brother some rough nights.

      “Anyway, can I go for a walk?”

      Grant studied the other man, thrilled, and a bit cautious, too. Darin almost never left his sight—by choice. If being in therapy, being at the Stand, was going to have this kind of effect on him, the grueling hours were worth every single minute.

      Reaching for another pile of brush, he scooped it up between his hands and stood. “Show me which direction you want to go.”

      “Over there.” Darin pointed.

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