Adventures In Parenthood. Dawn Atkins

to manage without ALT in the picture.

      And now she thought she could share custody?

      The truth finally cut through her muddy thoughts. She was fighting Dixon out of guilt and ego, not in the best interests of the girls.

      That was wrong.

      The girls trusted Dixon. He knew them better than she did. He knew their routines. Aubrey could learn, but in the meantime, she would disappoint them, and they’d had more disappointment today than anyone should have in a lifetime.

      “You’re right. You should be their guardian,” she said softly. “That’s best for the girls. I’ll stay as long as I can after the funeral.” She’d see if she could slow down things with ALT. Maybe they could use an adventure race later in the year to test the sponsorship. “Like you said, I’ll visit a lot. Take them on trips.” She would be a bright light, a shot of fun. She would open their eyes to the world.

      “I think it’s the right thing to do,” Dixon said, sympathy in his gaze.

      So why does it feel so wrong? She felt like she was letting everyone down—the girls, her sister, herself. Embarrassed by her emotions, she jumped up from the sofa. “I need water. You?”

      “No, thanks.”

      In the kitchen, she grabbed a water glass, then threw open the freezer door for ice. Spotting a bag, she tugged at it, which caused a casserole dish to fall out. Clumsy from exhaustion, she didn’t get out of the way in time and the corner slammed onto her foot. Her instep and toes shared the brunt of the blow. She yelped as pain shot through her, grabbing her foot.

      Dixon was there in a second. “What happened?”

      “A casserole attacked me,” she ground out.

      “Let me take a look.”

      She started to hobble toward the kitchen table, but Dixon swung her into his arms like he had that night in Mexico. For an instant, she felt the same thrill, her pain erased.

      Dixon carried her to the sofa and lowered her to the cushion. He sat and set her injured foot on his lap, then clicked on the high-intensity reading lamp on the side table. He touched her instep, which had puffed up and was turning purple.

      “Ouch.”

      “Can you flex your foot?”

      She did. “Ow. Damn. That hurts.”

      “Doesn’t seem broken,” Dixon said, then touched her big toe.

      “Ouch. Stop. You have no bedside manner.”

      “It’s hard to know with toes. I’ll tape it and get ice for the swelling.” He slid out from under her injured foot and went to the kitchen.

      While she waited, their time in Mexico filled her mind.

      It had been a cliché—the best man and maid of honor hooking up after the wedding, but he was hot and she was totally into it. He chased her along the beach until she turned for the water and ran in, gasping at the cold, totally exhilarated, high on the ocean, the moment, the man. They were both in their wedding clothes and she carried most of a bottle of good bubbly.

      Once they were chest-deep in the water, she wrapped her legs around him and kissed him. He had generous lips that tasted of champagne and cold saltwater.

      They kissed until she began to shake from excitement more than cold. “Let’s warm up,” he’d said in that sexy voice of his, but she had a better idea. She ran toward the cliff, taking the steep stone path to the rocky ledge where they’d watched skin divers perform the night before.

      It was scary as hell up there. The water seemed miles away, but she refused to be intimidated. She dared him to jump with her, never expecting him to do it. He was a serious guy, totally responsible, like his brother, except better-looking and with some sense of fun. She’d managed to captivate him, and that was a total rush.

      “We’re drunk and we don’t know the bottom,” he’d said. He didn’t even sound like a wimp saying that. He had guts, but wouldn’t be goaded into proving it. That was very, very sexy.

      When he winked at her, then jumped, she’d been so surprised, it took her a second to leap off, too. She pushed hard, running in the air to catch him, which was why she’d landed wrong, jamming her foot between two boulders near the bottom. She surfaced in agony, but hid it, proud she’d kept her thumb over the champagne bottle and hadn’t spilled a drop.

      Dixon saw through her smile to her pain, and carried her in his arms to her room, as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing.

      * * *

      DIXON RETURNED WITH scissors, tape, a stretch bandage and a Baggie of ice. He taped her big toe to the one beside it and wrapped the bandage around the ice bag on her instep. “Feel okay?”

      “It’s fine.”

      “It’s the same foot, isn’t it?”

      “Yeah.” The ankle had been weaker ever since Mexico, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

      “I warned you it was too rocky.”

      “Come on. You didn’t say I told you so then. Don’t ruin it now.”

      “It was my fault you got hurt.”

      “It was all me. I was trying to catch up with you.”

      “Again, my fault.” She liked his teasing tone. It reminded her of how he’d been that night. “Though hanging on to that bottle probably didn’t help you.”

      “I wasn’t about to waste expensive champagne.”

      “How did you manage that anyway?”

      “Sorry. That’s a trade secret.”

      He laughed.

      She grinned, happy she’d amused him.

      He examined her leg, which gave her a thrill, until she realized he was studying the scabs showing below her shorts. “What happened here?”

      “I was in a reindeer race.”

      “You rode a reindeer?” His eyebrows shot up. It was fun to surprise him.

      “You don’t ride reindeer. Well, maybe Norwegian cowboys do, but in a reindeer race you wear short skis and the reindeer yank you down an iced-over trail. It’s like a standing bobsled ride. Very intense. I’ve got the ice rash and bruises to prove it.” She shifted to one hip, unzipped her shorts and showed him the spot.

      “Ouch.” A complicated look came into his eyes—sympathy, amusement and a wisp of sexual interest.

      “The footage is on my blog if you want to see.”

      “Sounds dangerous.”

      “Scout would agree. She bailed on me a hundred yards in.”

      “Your cat was with you?”

      “We don’t call her Adventure Cat for nothing. She loves to move.”

      “And swim, right? Unusual for a cat.”

      “Scout is totally intrepid. I found her on a hike in Yosemite, not far from the highway. She was sick. Someone had dumped her. She was terrified, hissing at this goofy retriever who’d cornered her.”

      Dixon smiled.

      “I nursed her back to health, and she’s been glued to my side ever since. My readers love Scout stories.”

      “So what’s your blog like?” The amusement in his eyes made her wonder if Howard had mocked her career to him. Not that it mattered. She knew the value of her work.

      “There are tons of outdoor recreation blogs. My niche is women. My tag line is ordinary girl on an extraordinary journey. The idea is to show women they don’t need to limit themselves. I talk about the scary parts and the mistakes, as well as the thrills