A Sweetheart for the Single Dad. Victoria Pade

motioning to Lindie to bend so she could whisper in her ear.

      When Lindie did, the seven-year-old said, “Could I bring one home to my gramma? She likes chocolate but we couldn’t buy any at the store yesterday because she had to buy so much other stuff for us to eat. We had to put her candy bars back when we didn’t have enough money at the end.”

      And that was as much as it took to break Lindie’s heart.

      She had no idea what the center’s policy was on sending food home. She’d used all the graham crackers available to arrive at the number of portions Marie had said she should have, and she couldn’t risk that other kids there might go without if she wrapped even one up for Clara.

      But during the tour she’d been shown the employee’s lounge and where to put her purse. And she’d seen a vending machine there.

      So, ruled only by her need to send something chocolate home with that child, she said, “I think we only have enough crackers for the kids here. But if you don’t tell anyone, I know where I can get a candy bar for you to take home to your gramma.”

      Clara beamed with delight. “She likes the ones with nuts.”

      “It has to be just between you and me, though,” Lindie warned, worried that she was stepping over some kind of boundary. “Do you have a backpack or somewhere we can kind of hide it?”

      “A backpack, yeah,” the little blond girl confirmed.

      While the other sisters and more kids began to wander in to take the snacks, Lindie slipped away to the employee lounge, got money from her purse and went to the vending machine.

      Since she was alone in the lounge—and thinking that she couldn’t send Clara Murphy’s grandmother a candy bar without sending treats for the girls, too—she ended up putting five candy bars into her pockets before a voice from behind her said, “Are you having a blood sugar crisis?”

      She jumped.

      Unlike her first visit to the center, this time she recognized the voice.

      Sawyer.

      She’d been so intent on what she was doing she hadn’t heard him come in. Or step up to stand close behind her.

      She turned around to face him, still wondering if he’d arranged for her not to get near him today. And if he had, what was he doing there now?

      “Hi,” she said, taking in the sight of him in what she assumed was the remainder of his work suit—grayish-blue slacks and a light blue shirt he wore with the collar button unfastened and the long sleeves rolled to mid-forearms.

      Yep, still terrific-looking.

      If only that could be toned down some.

      “Is there a reason you’re stuffing candy bars in your pockets?” he reiterated.

      “The profits go to the center?” she said with a nod at the note taped to the machine.

      It was a lame answer and he saw through it. “Try again?”

      She told him what she was doing.

      “That’s not a good idea, Lindie,” he said when she had. “Kids will work you, if you let them. And even if the candy really is for Gramma, kids also talk and you’ll have this whole place wanting you to do the same thing for them. Plus once word gets out that you’re a soft touch or kids think you’re gullible you could be in line for—”

      She knew he was right. She’d been in this situation before too many times to count. And yet... “Clara is seven. She isn’t a mastermind manipulator. And all she wanted was one lousy chocolate-frosted graham cracker to take to her grandmother. My grandmother took me in—along with my brothers and sisters and cousins—when we didn’t have anywhere else to go, too. Granted, money wasn’t an issue, but I can’t imagine how awful I would have felt if she’d had to sacrifice something she wanted to feed us. I felt bad enough about other things, it would have been even worse to know that. It’s just a few stupid candy bars and I’ve already told Clara she can’t say anything about it. But even if she does and I end up having to buy them for the whole place, then fine. But today Clara needs to take her gramma a treat and I’m going to make sure she can. Shoot me.”

      He shook that handsome head of his. Just when she thought he was going to tell her there were rules against this or something along those lines, he sighed and said, “I know the Murphy girls. I know that they’re good kids and that none of them is diabetic or has allergies—because if you don’t know those things, you could be causing real problems with treats like this. But because I know that with these particular kids it’s probably okay... Come on, I’ll play lookout while you give them to her. This once!”

      The downside was just that it made her like him more, but Lindie only said, “Thanks,” and then took him up on his offer by leading him to the kitchen where Clara was watching for her.

      The little girl ran up to her expectantly and the three of them went to where the backpacks were kept. While Sawyer blocked them from view with his back to them, keeping an eye out for witnesses, Lindie passed the candy bars to the child to stash, wondering how this would look on a security camera if there had been one.

      But there was just no way she could have lived with herself if she’d refused the child.

      When the deed was done and Clara left them to return to the kitchen, Lindie again watched Sawyer shake his head at her. But what he said was “I have another game waiting for me. Try not to get yourself into more trouble, huh?”

      He left her standing there, still with no idea if he was trying to avoid her deliberately.

      And with nothing else to do but go on with her kitchen duties, Lindie went back to clean up and finish the afternoon.

      * * *

      At six o’clock the community center was turned over to adult education, art and fitness classes.

      Rather than shoving kids out the door at the stroke of six, one person from the daytime schedule remained with them in the lobby to keep an eye on the children waiting to be picked up.

      That night Sawyer was the person.

      While Lindie still wasn’t sure if he was open to it, his staying back finally gave her the chance to talk to him so she joined him.

      “Get into any more mischief?” he asked as she sat with him on a bench.

      “I don’t think so. I did talk to Clara about not even telling her sisters what I’d done, about just giving the loot over to her grandmother on the sly and letting her grandmother take it from there.”

      “I hope that happens and Clara doesn’t just down five candy bars herself—on the sly.”

      “I have faith in her,” Lindie said, knowing that too many times in the past she’d said that same thing only to discover that her faith in someone had been unfounded.

      But hopefully that wouldn’t be the case here.

      Sawyer nodded with a slow, we’ll-see kind of air to it as he kept those keen blue eyes on her for a lengthy moment.

      “Stuff will get to you here, Lindie. You have to be careful. There are a lot of hardships, a lot of need, a lot of sad things going on. But you can’t just step in with a quick fix or a pocketful of candy bars every time. That can end up a disaster.”

      “So you just ignore it?”

      “No. You ask questions. You try to find out if there might be a bigger problem that could have a better all-around solution or help that doesn’t depend on you hitting the vending machine.”

      Lindie shot him a mock frown. “I thought I was to blame for everything and was supposed to make things right.”

      “Not like today,” he said.

      “Instead I should have turned it over to the Candy Bar Outreach program?”

      “Instead