Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (8 page)

She scowled and set her chin.

He jerked his head toward where he wanted her to go, back inside the house. What’d she think he was going to do? Throw Addie over his shoulder, climb the fence, and kidnap her?

Celia didn’t budge.

Ty met Celia’s gaze, full force, letting her read his determination.

After a brief staring contest, Celia moved indoors. Instead of closing the glass slider, however, she simply closed the screen before walking into the kitchen.

Ty had spent the last few days examining his emotions about this whole thing. He was upset with Celia. But over the years he’d learned to treat even the angriest and most annoying women in a friendly manner. From Sacramento to New York City and back, year after year, he’d perfected the art of getting along well with women. He’d assumed he’d be able to handle Celia tonight.

Wrong. He’d been around her for sixty seconds, and he already wanted to throttle her. And also provoke her. And also, for some reason, kiss the side of her neck . . . which was a problem.

He sat on the step next to Addie. Not too close; didn’t want to freak her out. “This is for you.” He passed over the box.

“Thank you.” She looked unsure what to do with it.

“You can open it.”

Carefully, slowly, she tore off the paper and set it aside, then lifted the lid. “Oooh.”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. Should I, um, save them or put them on?”

She spoke so quietly, she tested his hearing. “Whichever you want.”

Addie tugged off her slippers. Thanks to the tights, her feet slid right into the pair of pink cowgirl boots he’d bought her. The boots had black soles, pointed toes, and three flowers stitched onto their sides with red thread.

He motioned toward them. “They’re supposed to light up.”

Sure enough, as soon as she rocked some of her weight forward onto them, the star in the center of the middle flower flashed.

Seeing her in pink cowgirl boots caused something inside Ty to soften almost painfully. His own boots were planted on the ground just inches from her much smaller ones.

She looked up at him sideways. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

She smiled back, her mouth curving gently.

There were two things in life he knew. Bull riding and females. Addie was, although miniature, a female. Good Lord willing, he hoped that in time he could win her heart. “If you decide later you don’t like them or want another style or something, you can return them, okay? It won’t hurt my feelings.”

“No.” Her green eyes were earnest behind her glasses. “I like them.”

“Where I’m from, in Texas, a lot of us wear boots. Even kids. I grew up wearing them.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty comfortable. And they’re good for walking through a field or riding horses.”

“I’d like to ride horses.”

“Now that you’ve got boots, you’re all set. Back home in Holley, I have some horses you can ride.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe . . . maybe my mom and I can move to Holley? And then I could ride your horses all the time.”

“I’d like that.” He found it was true. “I’ll talk to your mom about it.”

“She’d love to live in Holley.”

He almost laughed because he knew Celia would be dead set against the idea.

“Mommy’s nice. And she’s real, real pretty.” She searched his face hopefully. “Don’t you think?”

Ah. A matchmaker. “Yep.”

“She said you ride bulls.”

“Yeah. Funny job, isn’t it?”

She studied him with curiosity, nodded.

“I’m going to be riding tomorrow night in Colorado. It’ll be on TV if you want to watch it.”

“Okay.” Her eyebrows lowered. “Does that mean you’re leaving?”

“I wish I could stay longer, but months ago I told the people I work for that I’d be in Colorado. And after that, Idaho. And after that, Montana. But if you don’t mind, I’ll call you on the phone every night while I’m gone.”

“I don’t mind.”

“They have this thing on the computer that lets you look at the person you’re talking to on the screen. We could talk like that sometimes.”

“’Kay.”

He took her in from head to toe, trying to believe that the child sitting beside him was his daughter. Scientific lab tests had proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt. One night in Vegas had done it. “Did your mom tell you about me? Who I am?”

She dipped her chin.

“I’m real glad that I’m your dad.”

Her attention darted to the space next to his elbow again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know about you sooner, Addie.”

“Mommy told me that she didn’t tell you ’cause it was hard to share. She’s sorry about that now. She thinks she made a big mistake.”

Interesting. He didn’t know if Celia had actually said those things or if, like Addie’s statement that Celia would love to live in Holley, Addie had just invented the reality she wanted. “I wish I’d known you when you were a baby,” he said. “When you were littler.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t do much then anyway.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I’d like to get to know you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I’d also like to help you if I can. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?” He wasn’t above buying her toys, and lots of them. Like maybe one of those kid-size electric jeeps? Except where was she going to ride it? Celia’s backyard was flowery—it reminded him of a field trip he’d taken as a kid to the Dallas Arboretum—but it was no bigger than a sneeze. Sitting here was like sitting inside a green fuzzy closet.

“There is one thing,” Addie said, “that I kind of need.”

“Yes?”

“A car. Ours broke down.”

He’d been thinking of a child’s car just now, but he suspected Addie was talking about the real thing. “I saw your mom driving a car with wood paneling on the side last weekend.”

“That’s Uncle Danny’s car. Our car was white and” —she wrinkled her nose— “really old.”

“I see.”

“When it broke, Uncle Danny told Mommy that we could drive his car. I told her we should, but she said no because it wouldn’t be nice to take Uncle Danny’s car away.”

“Is your white car in the shop getting fixed?”

“I don’t think so. I think it costs too much money to fix it, so now we have to take the bus.”

He frowned. Even though he had some issues with Celia, it brought him no pleasure to learn that she couldn’t afford to fix her car. And one thing was as certain as the grave: He did not want his child or his child’s mother having to take the bus. “You need a car.”

Her gaze asked him to prove that she could trust him. “Yes.”

He’d just learned two important things about Addie. One, the way to her heart was through her mother. Two, it looked like the kid had inherited something from him after all. Like him, she wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted. “I’ll have a car here for you and your mom by tomorrow afternoon.”

Hope lifted her expression.

“I promise you.” He extended a hand. “Shake on it?”

She put her hand in his, and they shook. Ty grinned at her, and Addie grinned back, a dimple in one of her cheeks.

As if a heavy weight had been lifted from her, Addie popped to her feet and motioned for him to follow. Slowly, she took him around the garden, introducing him to one flower after another as if they were people. He listened, asked a few questions, cracked a few jokes.

Just like when he’d thought about his future kids and pictured boys, when he’d thought about himself as a future dad, he’d imagined that he’d be like his own father. Practical, patient, stern when the situation called for it. Instead, it looked like he was going to be a real pushover. He’d just agreed to buy Addie a car. If she turned that sunray of a smile on him again and asked him to buy her a boat or a pony or a swimming pool, he’d probably buy those, too.

Celia might not like it.

Once Addie had finished the garden tour, she led him on a tour of the apartment. Celia watched them like a grumpy hawk from her post at the kitchen counter.

Addie saved her own room for last. It was tidy: the twin bed made, the majority of the kid stuff organized in a tall bookshelf.
Celia had decorated the room in baby colors: pale yellow walls, light blue curtains, and a watery scene of a nursery rhyme he couldn’t remember the name of on the bedspread. But judging by the dolls and doll clothes that Addie had been playing with on the floor, the girl herself liked hot pink.

She lowered onto the carpet in the middle of the dolls and crossed her legs. Ty sat nearby, his back against her plastic toy kitchen, one leg stretched long, the other knee bent up. Addie picked out a doll, and in her serious way, started talking. For the next hour straight, she hardly stopped. It turned out that the dolls were princesses. She told him each princess’s story, what they liked to wear, and how they did their hair.

Celia came in and out a couple of times. Clearly, she wanted him to leave. He ignored her hints.

Ty didn’t know squat about the Disney princesses. He’d never even heard the names of most of them. Jasmine? Belle? Tiana? Fairy tales weren’t his thing, and he sure as shootin’ didn’t care how the princesses dressed or did their hair.

But the man who’d grown jaded couldn’t remember when he’d spent a better evening. Addie fascinated him. Enchanted him. Wrapped him around her pinkie. It entertained him just to listen to her voice.

He expected that it would take him a good while to win her heart. But it hadn’t taken her long at all to win his.

This father-daughter bonding session was taking forever. Celia checked the time and decided to put an end to it. She’d already attempted to get Ty to leave twice via subtle comments, but he was either too obtuse or too ornery to react to subtlety. She neared Addie’s bedroom.

“. . . and Rapunzel had long magical hair.” Addie held up her Rapunzel doll for Ty’s examination. “When her mom—the evil one not the good one—would comb it and sing, then it would glow.”

“That’s cool,” Ty said.

Celia made her way into the room. “Addie, it’s time to start getting ready for bed.”

“Already?”

“Yep.”

“Well, crud.” Ty glanced at Celia. “I haven’t finished learning about Rapunzel.”

“Mommy, I haven’t even gotten to the part where Flynn—”

“Addie,” Celia warned.

Addie gave a long-suffering sigh. Both she and Ty pushed to their feet.

“I’d like to talk to you for a minute before I leave, Celia, if you don’t mind.”

“Um. . . .” She did mind. “Sure. Let me get Addie in the bath, and I’ll be right back.”

It only took Celia a minute to start the water running, add a squirt of liquid bath soap, and oversee Addie’s entry into the water. She returned to where Ty waited and gestured for him to follow her into her bedroom—a space she loved and had filled with twenty shades of blue, ten shades of white, five patterns, and too many throw pillows to count. She shut the door, closing them in.

Ty looked to the bed, then slowly back to her. He lifted one eyebrow. “Isn’t this a little forward?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I mean, we’re married and all, but I’m not exactly ready for romance.”

“As I’m sure you know, I brought you in here for
privacy’s
sake. I don’t want Addie to overhear.”

“Overhear . . . what?”

A blush burned her cheeks and forehead. She planted her fists on her hips. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”

He had the bad taste to laugh.

“Well?” she demanded, livid.

He laughed harder. “You really don’t like me, do you, Celia?”

“What was your first clue, Ty?”

“You used to like me.”

“That was before I married you.”

He gave her an unrepentant grin. He wore his usual uniform—a well-fitting T-shirt and jeans. He looked like living, breathing temptation, like a red-blooded male who drove a truck, had a strong appreciation for women, and drank testosterone for breakfast.

Her apartment had minimal privacy options. Even so, Celia realized she’d been wrong to invite him here. As he’d been crass enough to note, standing inside her bedroom with him brought to mind the personal things that happened on beds. She hadn’t anticipated this truth because she hadn’t had a man in here before.

“What don’t you like about me?” he asked.

“You know what.”

“Is it my personality?”

“Flaky.”

“My career?”

“Preposterous.”

“My looks?”

She pondered him for a moment. “Slightly effeminate.”

“What?” He glanced down at himself. Humor and challenge glowed in his eyes. “Now that’s just mean, not to mention untrue.”

Mean? Yes. Untrue? A
hundred
times
yes. Ty Porter was the antonym of effeminate. “I’m surprised to learn that you know what effeminate means. I didn’t think you understood words longer than two syllables.”

“Well, I do. I’m many things—”

“—that’s for sure—”

“But I am
not
effeminate.” A glint of purpose in the set of his jaw, he extended his fingers toward her forehead.

She hissed and swatted his hand away. “No touching.”

“I was just going to put a curl back in place.”