Craving a Hero: St. John Sibling Series, book 3 (22 page)

"Why would you say that?" Dane asked, stepping up beside him.

Frank shook his head. "St-stuboorn." He waved a weary hand at the snow-laden landscape beyond the point. "Stayed away. Too long."

It was then when Dane saw the tears in Frank's eyes as he looked out from Angel Point that he knew he'd done something right, even if it never got Kelly's attention.

But it did get her attention.

He was gathering wood from the shed when he heard her truck. He met her outside the cabin with an armload of firewood and a grin. But
she
wasn't smiling.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded through clenched teeth, "taking my father snowmobiling. Just the ride up to camp was enough to exhaust him."

His grin faded. "Your mother said the same thing. But she also thought getting out would do him some good."

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you even try to make him rest before going snowmobiling?"

"He wanted out in the woods on that sled and he wanted it as soon as he got here. I couldn't hold him back, Kel. You know your dad."

"He could have had another stroke. It could have killed him."

He frowned. "If there was a real danger of that happening, wouldn't your mother have warned me?"

She grimaced as though she couldn't argue with his reasoning, but her voice still held its reproachful edge. "You two have been gone for hours."

"I called the house a half hour ago. Told your mom we were back at camp—that he was fine and taking a nap. You must have been there."

#

She'd been there alright. She'd been there at the house freaking out about her father being alone the whole afternoon with Dane, her father who
hadn't
promised to keep her secret. That was the real reason she'd raced up to the camp.

How selfish could she be?

And, now, seeing the confusion in Dane's eyes, knowing her worst fear had not materialized she could add shame to her guilt.
Damn.

She pushed past Dane and went into the cabin. Her father was in his usual chair, the lone recliner in the camp, dozing. She pressed her fingertips to his wrist. His eyes fluttered open and he shook her off.

"What you doing, Girl?"

"Just checking on you, Daddy."

He shuddered. "C-creeps me out."

Dane dumped his armload of firewood in the wood box. Kelly glanced at him, caught the concern in the way he studied her. Her stomach churned. She didn't want his concern—couldn't afford his taking further interest in her. Not now, not when she was beginning to fear he could want custody of Angel…should he figure out he was her father…if he hadn't already.

Or maybe his concern was simply for her father's well-being. She had pretty much told him it would be his fault if her father had a stroke.

She rose from her father's side and met Dane's worried gaze. "He's fine," she said with as much normalcy to her voice as she could muster. "But I should get him home."

Her father stirred. "No—not yet."

Dane glanced from her to her father and then back, his eyes so much like Angel's they brought tears scratching at the backs of her eyes.

"If he wants to stay longer," Dane said, "I'll drive him home."

And the longer he's alone with you, the greater the chance he'll tell you about Angel.
She hated herself for her selfishness.

"Stay," her father said.

She rubbed his shoulder, glad to see him enthusiastic about the camp. He'd avoided it for too long. But, aside from her fears, all this activity really could be too much for him.

"I've got cocoa heating on the stove," Dane said. "The two of you could stay long enough for a cup at least."

"Beer," her father said, banging a fist on the arm of the chair.

"No beer," Dane said. "Beer doesn't mix with your meds, Frank."

Kelly eyed Dane. "Who told you that?"

He blinked at her. "Your mother. When your dad asked your mom for a couple of beers for us, she said alcohol didn't mix with his meds."

Confused, Kelly shook her head. "My mom's protective about him, but he can have a beer now and then."

Dane shrugged. Frank slapped the arm of the chair, demanding, "Beer."

"Sorry, Frank," Dane said. "I don't have any beer here."

She studied Dane, wondering if there was some truth to the gossip rags speculations that he had a drinking problem after all. He had said the isolation of the camp was just what
the doctor ordered.

Though she'd never seen any indication of a drinking problem back when they were sharing wine and a bed. If he'd developed a drinking problem, it was one more reason to keep him out of Angel's life—out of her life.

Dane motioned toward the kitchen end of the camp. "I might be able to scare up some red wine. I'm sure there's enough left in the bottle for a couple glasses."

Would an alcoholic leave a couple glasses worth of wine in a bottle?

She didn't think so; and the real reason her mother, fan of all things written about celebrities, had refused to serve her dad and Dane beer almost made Kelly laugh.

"What?" Dane asked, her expression apparently giving her away.

She smiled at him. "Thanks for everything you did for my dad today."

He blinked at her, looking bewildered as he answered, "It was my pleasure."

Frank grumbled something unintelligible.

"Dad clearly had a great time, too. But I think he's done enough for his first day out like this. A cup of that hot chocolate and we'll hit the road."

"Sure," Dane said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. She'd loved his boyish gestures. She'd loved a lot about Dane St. John. Still did. But, to be a father, he needed to be a man, not a boy.

#

The reaction he'd gotten when Kelly had come to camp to get Frank hadn't entirely been the one he'd been going for. But, by the time she'd bundled Frank off, it was close. She had at least expressed appreciation for what he'd done for her father.

So, here he was, two days later back at the Jackson house. Having noticed award plaques for decoy carvings on the living room wall, Frank had ushered him into his first floor bedroom where shelves lined the walls, most filled with wood-carved waterfowl.

"This used to be his office," Alma said, bringing in a tray of coffee and chocolate chip cookies.

"The workmanship is amazing," Dane said, perusing the shelves.

"Was," Frank said.

Dane squatted in front of a low shelf containing articulated fish carvings. "What are these?"

"Decoys."

Dane motioned to one of the fish decoys. "May I?"

Frank nodded.

Dane straightened with the articulated wood fish in hand and studied it. It didn't have the elaborate paint job the duck decoys had, but it interested him. "I didn't even know decoys were used to lure in fish?"

"Spearing," Frank said. "Through the ice."

Dane swam the decoy through the air.

"You should see it move through the water," said a familiar voice.

Dane turned toward the doorway, knowing who he'd find there. "Hi, Kelly."

She entered the small room and took another fish decoy from the shelf. "Dad won a big award for this one. Proud day for the whole family, huh, Dad?"

"One of the best," Frank said, his gaze intent on his daughter.

Kelly's eyes took on a watery sheen. She cleared her throat. "How about I fill the tub full of water and show him how they move?"

"No," Frank said. "Tub upstairs."

"And you want to be the one to show off your decoys, huh, Dad?"

"I'll take him spearing," Frank said.

"You don't even know if he wants to go spearing."

"I've never done spearing," Dane said. "I'd like to give it a try."

She looked at him, one hand on her hip. "It's cold. It's wet. You're out in the middle of a frozen lake."

He grinned at her. "And the downside is?"

She shook her head. "Of course. You're the guy who'll try anything that falls into his lap. I should have remembered."

Fact was, she had remembered. Another reason she couldn't chance Dane finding out about Angel's parentage. She wouldn't let her daughter be just another
thing
Dane St. John tried out.

"I better go change out of my work clothes," Kelly said, realizing she should have stuck to her usual routine of picking Angel up and nuzzling her first thing upon arriving home rather than let worry of what her father might be telling Dane draw her into his bedroom. Maybe if she hurried, she could scoop Angel up and flee up to her room where she could hide them both away from Dane.

But Dane followed her into the front room where Angel stretched her arms up for her usual motherly hug.

Kelly hesitated and Dane picked her up as he asked, "Do you think Frank can handle going out on the lake, spearing?"

Kelly stared at him cooing at Angel—his daughter—as he waited for her answer.

"What do you think, sweet Angel? Is your grampa up to some spearing through the ice?"

Angel smiled and patted Dane's chin. He sucked her fingers in between his lips, nibbling them playfully. She giggled, clearly connecting with Dane…as easily as Dane had connected with her. He was a natural with kids. She should tell him Angel was his. Give him his due.

Behind them, Carrie stepped into the room. Dane glanced at her then turned his attention back to Angel. "And here's your mama."

Kelly looked at Carrie, who stared back at her with a look of near-panic. Angel was beginning to put sounds together. So far, mama hadn't been one of them. Kelly uttered a silent prayer that now would not be the day Angel put that word together with her.

"Bet your mama's eager to say hello to you," Dane said, holding Angel out to Carrie.

Carrie took the child and murmured motherly sounds to her while all Kelly could do was stand there and watch, her heart aching. Was this what it would feel like if Dane found out Angel was his and took her away?

"So," he said. "Your dad? Spearing? You think he can do it?"

Thank goodness for Dane's penchant for trying all things new…and his boyish focus.

#

Kelly, Carrie, and Angel escaped to her bedroom where Carrie lectured her on confessing to Dane. As usual, she'd silenced her sister with her worst fear, that he'd take Angel away. When they went back downstairs, it was to find her father and Dane making spearing plans and her mother's announcement that Frank had invited Dane to stay for supper.

Kelly's stomach bottomed out. Snowmobiling, spearing, suppers with her family, and they weren't even halfway through his month-long stay. She needed to establish some boundaries for him.

Handing Angel off to Carrie, she said, "Dane, let's you and me run to the store for some wine."

He brightened. "Sure."

As she followed him to the mud room, her mother snagged her by the arm and mouthed
wine?

"Chill, Mom. It'll be okay," she murmured back and followed Dane out the back door.

"Your dad's real excited about getting back to spearing," he said as they pulled out of the driveway.

"He certainly seems more interested in the things he used to be passionate about," Kelly said, steering the truck toward the main street, but having second thoughts about her intent to establish boundaries for Dane with her family.

"Your mom said he gave up on life after he got shot."

"Dad lived and breathed being a CO. The forced retirement all but killed him."

And here she was planning to take away from her dad one of his best motivations. She winced.

"Yet he's interested now after a stroke that physically disabled him far more," Dane said, his tone pensive. "What happened?"

Angel. You.

Her instincts warning her to keep the focus off the granddaughter connection, she said, "Seems having another male figure around has renewed his interest in a lot of things. He's even working his strength-building weights again."

Dane grunted. "I don't know that I'm so much a motivation."

"That snowmobile ride you took him on perked him up big time."

"Sometimes it takes losing everything for a person to realize what they are
letting
slip away."

She glanced at Dane, his remark reminding her how much he'd experienced by being the kind of guy who'd try
anything that fell into his lap
, and that not all of it had been fun and games…like his Lithuanian friend who'd lost a leg fetching his soccer ball from a World War II mine field
.

"Stubbornness," she murmured, pondering her own actions of the past year and a half.

"When we were at camp," Dane said, "your dad looked out over the valley and called himself
stubborn.
You think that's what he was referring to, his not doing what he could when he was able?"