Maybe she’d been hanging around children too long and absorbed their tendency to be too honest, she thought.
If he was about to say anything else, it was put on hold by his two other daughters, both of whom were determined not to remain on the sidelines for a second longer than necessary.
“I’m Bethany,” one announced.
“And I’m Stephany,” the other told her.
Dutifully Brooke shook first one hand, then the other. “Pleased to meet you, Bethany and Stephany. I’m Brooke.”
“And he’s Daddy,” Bethany nodded behind her at her father.
Brooke raised her eyes to his face. Amused by the introduction, she couldn’t help asking, “Does Daddy have a name?”
Was it her imagination, or had he hesitated before putting his hand out? “Tyler Breckinridge,” he told her after a beat.
He sounded so formal she wondered if the name was supposed to mean something to her. Was he known for anything? This was Southern California and you were as likely to run into someone famous as not. She’d once eaten dinner one table over from a movie star who’d won her young heart years ago. Out of makeup, it had been hard to recognize him.
She looked at Breckinridge closely, then decided he was merely being formal.
“Brooke Carmichael.”
She slipped her hand into his and shook it firmly. She saw a flicker of mild surprise in his eyes. He was probably accustomed to softer women who barely touched hands. Her father had always believed that a firm handshake was the mark of character, and she, he’d told her, had character to spare.
Brooke nodded in the general direction of her bookstore. “I own Tell Me a Story. I found Tiffany taking inventory of my books.” She smiled at the little girl. “Please feel free to drop by anytime with the girls.” Her smile broadened. “Tiffany can show you the way.”
Tiffany needed no more encouragement than that. “How about now, Daddy?”
Two more voices joined in, turning the entreaty into a choruslike refrain. “Yes, please, Daddy?”
“Please, Daddy?”
Tiffany turned up her face toward her father, triumph written all over it. “Three against one, Daddy.”
“I already told you, Tiff, this isn’t a democracy.” He looked at the other two. They had joined ranks with their sister. “It’s a dictatorship.”
If he meant that to be a no, he was going to have to be clearer than that, Brooke observed. Tiffany had already caught hold of her father’s hand and was pulling him toward the store.
“C’mon, Daddy, please?”
Breckinridge never stood a chance, Brooke thought. One look at his face told her that. The girls obviously held him in the palms of their hands. Just as she and Heather had held their father in theirs.
Idly, she couldn’t help wondering if the same was true of the girls’ mother.
Chapter Two
“Sorry about the bars.”
Brooke inserted her key into the lock and the green wrought-iron vines began to climb to the ceiling before they disappeared into the opening, leaving the entrance accessible.
“I’m a little shorthanded this morning, and while I’d like to believe in the goodness of my fellow man, I’d rather not leave temptation standing blatantly in front of him, either.”
Remaining where she was, Brooke pocketed the key. She knew enough to stand out of the way. Three could be a formidable number at times.
Like the first fireflies of summer, the three little girls scattered in different directions the moment they entered the store, guided in their selections by the murals that graced the walls. Bethany went to the learning section, Stephany gravitated to the area that abounded with fairies and elves, while Tiffany decided to explore the section that had a bevy of cartoon characters beckoning in welcome.
Watching them, Brooke smiled half to herself, half at the girls’ father. “I guess they all have their own personalities, even at this age.” She turned to him. “They’re what—five?”
“Six,” he corrected. “They’re small for their age. And as for their personalities—” he laughed softly to himself, thinking back for a moment, though in general he tried not to do too much of that “—they’re distinct, all right. They never mimic one another except when they try to put one over on me.” Even then, he was getting pretty good at telling them apart. At first glance they were absolutely identical. But there were small subtle differences. He’d learned to look for them. “I think they were their own persons from the moment they first opened their eyes in the delivery room.”
For a few seconds he allowed himself just to enjoy seeing them pore over the different books the store had to offer. They’d gotten their love of books from him. It was one of the things he could give them, besides his unconditional love.
Rousing himself, he turned to look at the woman beside him. He owed her, he thought. A lot. “I want to thank you again for finding Tiffany for me.”
She warmed to the sincerity in his voice. “You’re very welcome, but actually I’d say it was more a case of her finding me.”
Brooke paused, wondering if she should say anything further, then decided he should know. It was always best for a parent to have some clue about what was going on in his or her child’s mind.
“She told me she was looking for a book on how to find a mommy.”
“Oh.”
There was something in his voice she couldn’t identify. Surprise? Amusement? She couldn’t tell, and it was obvious she wasn’t about to get any further clues from him. Tyler Breckinridge didn’t strike her as exactly the gregarious type.
Nothing wrong with a man who wasn’t glad-handing everyone, she thought. Marc had been gregarious, and look where that had led.
Having done her duty, Brooke glanced around. She supposed she could busy herself with the shipment statement until his daughters made their selections, but she found herself wanting to remain right where she was, standing beside the tall, dark handsome stranger.
“Are you from around here?” she asked. He looked at her so sharply that she almost didn’t continue. It took her a second to retrieve her train of thought. “The reason I ask is that my bookstore has been open for a while now and I’ve never seen the girls in here before today.”
“No,” he replied quietly. “We’re not from around here. We just moved to Bedford recently.”
And, he thought, he was still trying to get comfortable amid all the new belongings he suddenly found himself with. Some highly paid, overly degreed bureaucrat’s notion of what suited him, Tyler supposed. But at least the girls were having fun, burrowing into this new life they found themselves facing. The resilience of youth never ceased to amaze him.
Brooke nodded. She could see why
