Montana Skies (You, Me and the Kids) (Harlequin Superromance, No 1395) (11 page)

“I'll do better! My grades only dropped a little—”

“I found the F, Caro. And the C. They were on your desk.”

Her cheeks paled, the red splotches all the more noticeable. “I wasn't hiding them, I left them out to show them to you,” she said defensively. “Honest. Dad, the subjects are harder since I started the advanced program, but my
bad
grades are better than their
good
grades. Just ask the teacher.”

“All I want is for you to do the best you can. You know that, sweetheart, but lately it seems to me like you're more interested in makeovers and clothes and hanging out on the computer. That isn't doing your best.”

“That's because…”

Her lashes lifted and Jonas found himself staring into beautiful eyes that were so filled with pain and upset and confusion, his stomach clenched into a hard knot of unease.

“Dad…I'm… The other girls are dating and stuff and—”

“You're not old enough to date.”

“They have boyfriends—”

“They're too young.”

“They go to dances, and do cool stuff.” She bit her lip and sniffled. “I'm just trying to fit in and if I make the highest grade each time—”

“Do not tell me you're dumbing yourself down because of the other kids,” he commanded darkly, incredulous. “
Are
you?”

“They don't like it when I do better than they do,” she hurried to explain, “and…the end of year dance at the high school is coming up. All the eighth graders are
invited since they'll be freshmen. Everyone is going and a lot of the boys are asking girls, and I thought maybe if I didn't make them feel bad…”

Someone would ask her?
He shook his head, unable to take it all in. “Let me get this straight. You want me to reward your sneaking out and spending time with a girl you were specifically told to avoid by letting you go to this dance if a boy asks you—
because
you've pretended to be less intelligent? No, Caro. Absolutely not.”

She stared down at the half-empty malt. “I knew you'd say that. You always say that.”

“With good reason. Now, about your grandmother's request that you spend the sum—”

“Dad, please, I'm sorry I snuck out and I promise I'll do better in school. I'll turn in all the extra credit assignments and bring my grades up. There's still time! And—and I'll do more around the house. I'll do whatever you want, but,
please,
don't send me away.”

Her choked plea tore his heart in two. What was the right decision? His hands trembled and Jonas clasped them together, swallowing, forcing himself to forge ahead.

“This isn't only about grades and Skylar. And you do plenty around the house now. Honey, what about this makeover thing? Your grandmother made a good point tonight when she said you need a woman's touch with stuff like that. She can give it to you.”

Her expression went from heartbroken to bright in a split second. “Rissa can help me. She—she helped me in The Blooming Rose and she'll do it again, I know she will.”

“No, absolutely not.
No
,” he repeated when his daughter opened her mouth to argue. “Honey, Rissa Mathews has her own—”
problems
“—life. She doesn't
know us, and probably doesn't want to considering I asked her daughter to stay away from you.”

“But she likes me. I
know
Rissa would help, Dad. Please?”

Jonas wanted to groan when Rissa's head turned in their direction. She'd heard Caroline say her name, and now she walked their way.

“Do you need something, Carly?”

She'd gotten the name thing, too?

“Yes, I want a—”

“Caro.”

“Makeover, and since Dad doesn't know
any
thing about women—”

He winced at the truth of her statement, conscious of Rissa's amused glance.

“He wants Grandma to help me, but I want you. Will you? Please?”

“Oh.” Rissa shifted uncomfortably. “Um… Well…” She glanced at him.

“Caroline,
drop it
.”

“Please say you'll help me, Rissa.”

Rissa took an instinctive step back, staring dazedly between Jonas and his daughter. Carly's expectant, hopeful expression broke her heart. Then her gaze fastened on Jonas's much more reserved one, making her wish she'd never walked over to their table.

The man looked carved from stone, angry and upset that his daughter wouldn't listen to his warnings to hush. He wanted her to say no.
She
wanted to say no, but just when she was about to, she made the mistake of glancing at Carly again and couldn't form the words.

“Caro, I've already told you. Rissa has her own life. She works here and at the ranch, and her daughter—”

Jonas broke off and Rissa waited, dared him to voice his true thoughts where Skylar was concerned. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat, not making eye contact. “Skylar obviously needs any time Rissa has left over,” he told Carly. “Besides I haven't decided yet if you'll even
get
a makeover for your birthday. Not after this stunt. It just proved to me that you're too young.”

In other words, he didn't want his daughter to resemble hers?

Rissa smirked. Jonas was probably beside himself right now, picturing his daughter's gorgeous red-gold hair dyed black. He was fighting a losing battle whether he knew it or not.

“She's old enough for a little makeup,” she heard herself blurt. So much for giving it time and thought. She ignored Jonas's put-out glare. “Lip gloss, mascara, a little blush. What's the harm? She's beautiful the way she is, but what woman doesn't want to look her best?”

“She's not a woman.”

“Dad!”
Carly looked at Rissa, her intelligent gaze full of hope. “See?” Her head swung back toward her father. “Not that long ago
women
my age were preparing for marriage.”

“And they lived to the ripe old age of twenty-five. Drop it, Caroline. We're not doing this here.”

“Dad—”

“Carly, hon, why don't you and Skylar go grab the dishes from that table over there. The tray is on the counter, and you can put them in the sink in back, okay? I'd like to talk to your dad alone for a sec.”

“That's not—”

“Okay!”

Jonas's daughter scrambled out of the booth and
Rissa took her place, well aware the last thing he wanted to do was talk to her.

“Rissa, I know you're trying to help, but right now I'd appreciate it if you'd—”

“What? Your plan—or should I say
demand
—for them to stay away from each other isn't working. The fact she came here to find Skylar proves they're still talking at school.” She dropped her voice to a convincing pitch. “Come on, Jonas, short of locking her up in your jail cell, what are you going to do? And why? They just want to be friends.”

The muscles in Jonas's jaw worked while he contemplated her words. The poor man wouldn't have any teeth left if he kept at it.

“Look, I understand why you want Carly to stay away from Skylar. I'm not blind nor do I have my head in the ground when it comes to my daughter's behavior or appearance.
But,
Carly sees something in Skylar she likes, something she trusts, and it's the same something I was very afraid was lost forever after the accident. I've already told you we won't be here long. North Star is a transition for us, Jonas. I'm looking for a job and don't know where we'll end up, but until then, why can't they hang out?”

“She snuck out tonight,” he grumbled, “to see
your
daughter. Skylar probably put her up to it.”

“Sky's been here all night and not talked to a single soul until Carly showed up, and I'm
grateful
she did. Otherwise I wouldn't have seen that deep down Skylar still exists.”

His gaze shifted to focus on a spot over her shoulder and Rissa glanced back at the counter and saw the girls whispering, trying to appear nonchalant even though they repeatedly looked toward the booth where she and Jonas sat.

She turned back to him and chose her words carefully. “When Carly came in here tonight,
she
went to Skylar. Skylar listened to her and calmed her down
despite
Carly crying her heart out.”

“I could tell she'd been crying hard,” he admitted, color creeping up his neck into his face, “but a few tears do not change the facts.”

“Jonas, come on. They're friends. You're worried about what you overheard on the phone, and I don't know what they discussed, but I think you're wrong. Skylar took care of her, was kind and compassionate and you
can't
take that away from them or me,” she snapped, unable to suppress her anger any longer. “Not when I've waited a year and gone through
hell
watching my daughter distance herself from everyone. I've already made too many mistakes where Skylar is concerned, but I won't knowingly make another. Not about this. So long as they stay out of trouble, what could it hurt for them to spend time together? Hopefully it'll only be a matter of months, weeks if you're lucky.”

Jonas was quiet a long moment, frowning unhappily at his clasped hands. “The makeover—”

She laughed softly, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “You might as well give up because it's going to happen whether you're ready or not. She's right, too.” When he raised his head and his gaze met hers, she shrugged. “Sorry, but she is. Most girls
are
already wearing a bit of makeup by now. Would you rather she snuck it to school and loaded it on there because she doesn't know how to apply it, or show her the right way from the beginning?”

Jonas went back to studying his callused hands. “Skylar isn't… She's—”

“Not the ideal friend. I get it. So does Carly, I think. But I didn't hear her say she wanted to look like Skylar, just that she simply wants the chance to do something other girls her age are doing.”

“Does this mean you'll help?”

Rissa stomped down a surge of premature joy. “With some conditions, sure.”

“Do I need to guess?” he mumbled, blatantly irritated.

“Letting them be friends is non-negotiable.”

Jonas swore softly, his expression torn. “How can you two be so different?” He didn't give her a chance to answer. “Will she stay out of trouble?”

“There's only one way to find out, but nobody ever said peer pressure couldn't be positive.” She tilted her head to the side, trying to smile in spite of the fear running through her that he'd still say no. “What do you say? You help me, I help you?”

Jonas stared at her, then slowly nodded. “Deal.”

Rissa grinned and held out her hand. His much bigger palm swallowed hers. “To friends helping friends and…single parents surviving teenagers.”

Her words brought a smile to his lips. Rissa fought the urge to free her hand so she could smooth her fingers over them. Her gaze met his and time stilled. Neither of them moved, and it took Porter banging his pots in the kitchen to snap her out of Jonas's hypnotic pull. Blinking, she tore her hand away and straightened. Handsome or not, she wasn't interested. She didn't have time to be interested.

“Um…girls?” Not making eye contact, she got out of the booth and stood beside the table while the girls slid in opposite Jonas. Carly couldn't hide her enthusiasm, whereas Skylar appeared battle-ready.

“Rissa and I have come to an agreement of sorts.”

“About the makeover?” Carly swung her head back and forth between them, her gaze searching for clues.

“Rissa's agreed to help us out—”

“Rissa,
thank you!
”

“But,” Jonas added firmly, “there are conditions.”

“Here we go,” Skylar drawled sarcastically, slouching in the seat. “We have to stay away from each other, right?”

“Wrong,” he countered without a blink. “But as far as catches go, we don't consider this unreasonable or—”

“Just say it already.”

“Skylar.”

Her daughter shut her mouth and slumped again, doom and gloom in her expression while she glared at Jonas.

“The catch is that
you
, Skylar, have to stay out of trouble.”

Fear swamped Rissa when she watched Carly glance at Skylar in trepidation. Didn't she think Skylar could do it?

“But…Dad, Skylar—”

“No
buts
. Either she stays out of trouble, or Rissa and I will go to the school and insist on their help in keeping you two apart. No classes together, different lunch schedules, the works.”

Rissa smothered her instinctive protest. They hadn't discussed
that
.

“You want to be friends, fine—but it means you
both
put your schoolwork first, and you behave in a responsible, respectable way. No more fighting, no more detention—no exceptions.”

Neither girl said anything for a long moment. Carly bit her lip nervously and peeked at Skylar from beneath her lashes, but Skylar simply sat there and glared at
Jonas, her expression full of anger and hatred that he was handing down yet more demands.

“Sky…what do you say?”

“Come on, Skylar, please? Say yes. We can do this together.”

The sneer reappeared and while it was obvious Skylar didn't like Jonas's terms, she shrugged. “Whatever. So long as Mandy stays out of my face, fine.”

Jonas leaned forward over the table, his expression grim. “That's not good enough.”

Rissa glared at him. What did he want? For her to sign it in blood? “Jonas, I think—”

“After what I heard the other day at the library, I realize Mandy Blake is no angel, but I think your mom will agree that part of growing up and becoming an adult is being able to handle yourself in tough situations. Doing the right thing sometimes means
walking away
from a fight and ignoring the insults being slung at you.”