The Daughter He Wanted. Kristina Knight

Mother. I’m sorry.” She motioned Alex to follow her inside. “I’m sorry.” She whispered the words as soon as they were inside.

      “For what?”

      “I—” Paige wasn’t sure what to say first. Sorry for not knowing what to call him? Sorry for that silly argument with her mother? Sorry she’d invited him here altogether? All of the above seemed like a good bet at this point.

      “We all have crazy people in our families,” he said and bumped his shoulder against hers. The tingle returned with a vengeance. “Your craziness is just a little closer than most.”

      Paige twisted her mouth to the side. She pulled a washcloth from a drawer and wet it in the sink. Alison and Tuck returned to the room, faces slightly red. “Where have you been?”

      “I, um—”

      “Alison needed some help in the, ah, basement,” Tuck said helpfully.

      “Alison doesn’t have a basement.” Paige wrung out the cloth before focusing on her friend. “You’re the troubleshooter, remember? You keep me from saying stupid things to my parents and in return I buy you wine.”

      “She didn’t take Kaylie’s Flying Wallendas act well, did she?”

      Paige shook her head and then shot Alison a wicked smile. “On the other hand she thinks you’re dating Joe here, so there’s plenty of fun dinner conversation in store for you. With the added benefit of her calling your mother once they’re home.”

      “You didn’t!” Alison’s eyes widened to quarter size.

      “Nope, she totally inferred it.”

      “You let her.” Alison put her hands on her hips. “And after I cooked your favorite chicken for lunch.”

      “I couldn’t let her think I was dating Alex, could I?”

      “Uh, ladies, we kind of like being talked about, but not when we’re actually in the room.” Tuck spoke up from the kitchen counter. “And if we’re dating, Alison, you should probably know my name isn’t Joe. It’s Tucker.”

      Alison blushed a bright red that clashed completely with her auburn hair. Tuck grinned at her and wrapped a strand around his finger.

      “But you can call me Tuck.”

      “Back to the issue at hand.” Alex spoke up from the doorway, where his gaze shot from the people on the porch to the little girl in the yard. “What do we tell them about me?”

      “Nothing,” Paige finally said after weighing her words. “You’re a friend here for a barbecue. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

      * * *

      THE PANICKED LOOK on Paige’s face made Alex want to march out onto the deck to order Hank and Dot to stop treating their daughter as if she were five, or an unwanted annoyance. But that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d never gotten to fix the strained relationship he’d had with his parents because they’d died in a car accident when he was in college. Then Deanna had come along with her boisterous family and a home filled with love and encouragement. Knowing her family helped him make peace about his own.

      Alex had no idea how to give the same peace to Paige and that made his stomach clench in a weird way.

      Why did he want to tell them anything? Part of him wanted to scream from the rooftop that he was Kaylie’s father. Watching her in the backyard had been a treat and after only an hour, she had already wound her way into his cold heart. But part of him wanted to keep his relationship with Kaylie a secret. Let it grow naturally without any preconceived notions or ideas. He had a feeling that if Hank and Dot knew he was Kaylie’s father, Kaylie would also know before the day was out. He didn’t have to have read a million parenting books to know this was not the way to spring a new relationship on a kid. Although he had read one. A long one Dee had picked out before she got sick; the author insisted children needed structure, unconditional love and encouragement. Mostly structure and authority, though. Nowhere did the book say a child’s sperm donor should swoop into her life acting like Daddy Dearest within a thirty-minute time span.

      “So we’re just friends, for now, and leave the dating to Joe and Alison over there,” he finally said. “Works for me.”

      Alex was tasked with carrying the additional place settings to the table while Tuck was given chicken duty. Paige and Alison filled glasses while Hank and Dot ignored the goings-on entirely. He might not have a romantic relationship with Paige, but he wanted to kick her parents in the shins to make them straighten up.

      From what he could see Paige was the perfect daughter. He’d done some checking and learned she volunteered making receiving blankets for a charity hospital in St. Louis. She was a teacher and she was raising an amazing kid! How could her parents not see all the wonderful things about her?

      She brushed against him as she took the last of the glasses to the table and a hot zing of pleasure rocketed from the light contact at his shoulder to his groin.

      Eventually his body would get the message that his brain already knew: Paige was the mother of his child. She might become his friend. She was not going to be his girlfriend.

      The table was quiet as they passed plates of food around.

      “My friend at the gallery wants to know when you might have another piece for him,” Dot said, her gaze intent on Paige. “There is a big show for local artists coming up at the end of the month, you know.”

      Paige took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly. “I’m focused on school during the year, you know that. My students need all of my attention.”

      “Paige, these offers aren’t made lightly, dear, and they won’t be made for long if you keep turning them all down.”

      “Is the painting in your living room for school?” Alex interrupted, sensing Dot was about to go on a tangent. “The white daisy?”

      She shook her head. “That one is for Kaylie, actually. She wanted something pretty in her room. Didn’t you?”

      Kaylie nodded, her wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders. “I wanted something warm so when the snow comes after Christmas my room won’t be so cold.”

      “The painting was beautiful. I don’t know a lot about art, but I liked it.” He had. It wasn’t finished and he’d only caught a glimpse but the pretty garden in the painting reminded him of Paige. Her home. Herself. Pretty and interesting.

      “Thank you.” She mouthed the words across the table and Alex lifted his shoulder. Paige grinned and finished her salad.

      “So you are painting, then?” Dot was like a dog with a bone and Paige rolled her shoulders, as if relieving tension. He could only imagine how her mother’s nagging affected her but ordered himself to focus on the chicken, not the woman. “You have the chance to really make something of yourself, Paige. Teaching painting to uneducated children who don’t understand Impressionism much less the Renaissance isn’t using the talents you were blessed with—”

      * * *

      “I LIKE MY JOB, MOTHER,” Paige interrupted before her mother could really get going. This was the same argument they’d been having since before Kaylie was born, and unlike when she was a child, Paige didn’t need her parent telling her she was wasting her talents. As much as she liked painting she was no van Gogh. Besides, she liked teaching, and she had told her mother so. For the millionth time. “I like educating the children about art history, and I can see how their work changes with that knowledge throughout the year. Some of them are really good.”

      “But, sweetheart—”

      “Mommy’s paintings are the best in the school. I seen them in the library.” Kaylie enunciated the last word. She had barbecue sauce all over her face and she turned a megawatt smile to Paige. Dot shot an annoyed look at Kaylie.

      Alison scraped her chair back. “Who wants dessert? I know I’d