Adventures In Parenthood. Dawn Atkins

      Giving in, Dixon sat on the wet floor, drenching his backside, too. The steamy air smelled like the cherry of the girls’ soap mixed with the spice of Aubrey’s perfume.

      He found himself studying Aubrey. She was as strikingly pretty as when he’d met her at the wedding, with an expressive face, full mouth and remarkable eyes. Arresting. That was the old-fashioned word for her brilliant blue gaze, which stopped you in your tracks, made you want to raise your hands in surrender.

      Arresting? Jesus.

      His gaze shifted to her body, shapely and athletic. Her deep tan and sun-streaked hair were evidence of hours spent outdoors. Damn. A sigh escaped his lips.

      The sound made Aubrey look his way, catching him still staring.

      Luckily, Ginger broke the spell. “Scout picked up a block from the bottom of the tub, Uncle Dixon. Can we show him?” The question was for Aubrey.

      “I think Scout’s done for the night,” Aubrey said. The cat sat on the padded toilet seat wrapped in a towel, fur fluffy, eyes closed in an expression of serenity. “So are we, right?”

      Dixon held out a towel for each girl, then took two more from the shelf, handing one to Aubrey before he kneeled to sop up water from the floor. She did the same and their hands met in the middle of the room.

      Dixon met her gaze, and received a sexual jolt.

      Aubrey’s eyes lit up, as if she’d gotten the same charge. “We crashed, girls,” she said, clearly covering for the high-voltage moment.

      He remembered her as a very physical person. She touched you when she talked, as if to ground herself, fingers brushing your hand, squeezing your upper arm, patting your back. That was how they’d ended up dancing at the wedding. She’d kept touching him, coaxing him, until the next thing he knew he was on the dance floor. And he hated dancing.

      Earlier tonight, when she’d stopped him with a hand so she could glop goo on the girls’ ice cream, her touch had somehow steadied him for the task of telling the girls the terrible news. At least that was non-sexual. There was no place for sex here. Not in their situation, and certainly not around the girls.

      Now Aubrey launched into a camp song about a frog that required her to bug out her eyes, stick out her tongue and make a gulping gargling sound during the chorus.

      The girls were transfixed. The woman knew how to have fun, for sure. He’d seen that in Mexico.

      Eventually, they herded the girls to their room, and Aubrey challenged them to see who could get into their pajamas first.

      Afterward, tops mis-buttoned, bottoms inside out, the girls argued about who’d won.

      “I’d say it was a tie, wouldn’t you, Dixon?” Aubrey said.

      “I won,” Sienna insisted. “You just don’t want Ginger to cry.”

      “It was a tie,” Ginger said, tears the size of jelly beans shivering in her brown eyes.

      “You’re such a baby,” Sienna said.

      “No, I’m not. Daddy says you can’t be mean to me.”

      “Daddy’s gone.”

      “Stop saying that!” Ginger burst into serious tears this time and Dixon felt his own eyes burn.

      “Please don’t cry,” Aubrey said. “We were having fun and laughing, remember?” She shot Dixon a look. What do we do now?

      He had no idea.

      “I can’t help it,” Ginger sobbed. “I forgot what happened. I think they’ll be here soon to kiss us good-night.”

      “But they won’t be,” Sienna said angrily. “Stop thinking that.” She climbed up the ladder, got under the covers and turned her face to the wall.

      Ginger cried quietly.

      Dixon racked his brain for something to talk about.

      “Is this your bedtime book?” Aubrey picked up Ramona the Pest from the nightstand.

      How had he forgotten? “Yeah,” he said, taking the book. “Time to read.”

      “Can Auntie Aubba do it?” Ginger asked.

      “If she wants to.” He looked at her.

      “I’d love to.” She smiled hesitantly.

      “That’s the reading chair right there.” Dixon motioned at the tiny chair a foot from the bunk beds.

      “You’re kidding.”

      “Trust me. It’s the rule.”

      She sat in the low chair, set the book on her knees, which jutted up to her chin, and opened it to the marked page.

      She’d barely finished a paragraph before Sienna gave a strangled cry. “You have to stop. Make her stop, Uncle Dixon.”

      “What’s wrong?” Aubrey closed the book on her thumb, bright red blotches on her cheeks.

      “That’s not nice, Sienna,” Dixon said. She was upset, but that was no excuse to be mean.

      “She’s trying to sound like our mommy,” Sienna said. “You’re not her,” she said to Aubrey. “Don’t pretend you are.”

      “Your mom’s my sister. We sound alike, I guess.”

      “Now my stomach feels sicker,” Ginger said.

      “That’s probably all the junk food I let you eat,” Dixon said to ease the moment.

      “I’ll let you finish.” Aubrey handed him the book, ducking his gaze, clearly mortified. “Night, girls,” she muttered, almost running out the door. She pulled it shut.

      “No! Leave it open!” Ginger called. “We need the line of light!”

      The door cracked. “Sorry,” Aubrey called from the hallway.

      “You girls need to be kinder to your aunt,” Dixon said. “She lost her sister, and she’s sad, too. In the morning, I want you to say you’re sorry.”

      Sienna didn’t respond, and he didn’t feel like pushing it.

      “Now get some sleep,” he said. Sleep would help. But from the doorway, he saw both sets of eyes staring at him, wide-awake.

      Please let them sleep, he silently prayed. It’s their only escape.

      Their wide eyes still haunting him, Dixon headed for the living room to talk to Aubrey, uncertain how emotional she would be. He’d been startled when she’d fallen against him on the porch. She’d always had such a sexy swagger. She was more fragile than she let on.

      They all were. He felt raw, like the skin beneath a blister, sensitive to the air. And the girls were on the brink of hysteria every minute. They would all have to be careful with each other. That was all there was to it.

      * * *

      HER VOICE HAD made the girls cry. The sting of that shame threatened to level Aubrey, but she forced herself to forget it, to stay busy. She wasn’t ready to sink into the sorrow that awaited her. She grabbed her roller bag to get settled in the guest room.

      Except there she saw Dixon’s suitcase open on the floor beside the computer desk, and smelled his cologne. Of course he’d be here. He’d been staying with the girls.

      “You can have this room.” His voice floated from the doorway, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb.

      “No, no. I’ll use the other bedroom.” She started to pass him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “But that’s Howard and Brianna’s room. It might be difficult for you.” He held her gaze. She’d forgotten how intense his dark eyes were, how they pulled you in, turned everything else into a blur. At the wedding, it had been the way he’d looked at her that