Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(40)

Sean rolled his eyes. Her attention span was either extraordinary or terrible, he wasn’t sure which. “You can go inside when it’s parked on the ground if I’m with you. We can do that sometime, if you want to. Come on.”

So they went back to the bedroom. Sean did more picking up of toys than Rosie did, but none of the traumatic questions he worried about came. He asked the names of stuffed animals and dolls, they read a couple of books together, made up the bed, did a little pretend cooking, got things generally shaped up and talked. He told her that his mother would be her grandma, too, and that she also had red hair and green eyes like Rosie, except she was much older. He said he had brothers who would be her uncles. She seemed to accept this news without getting excited. So he asked her about school, which was of course preschool, and the names of her friends. He found that in her closet she had several princess dresses, all of them pretty much the worse for wear, and a bunch of play high-heeled shoes.

“I taked them to school for my friends to wear—Marisa and Jason.”

“No kidding?” He laughed. “Jason takes to those shoes?”

“Huh?”

“You know what, Rose? You’re a kick.”

“Don’t kick,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t neber be mean.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Sean lost all track of time. The room was sort of tidied: they had a remarkable conversation about everything and nothing, and Sean began to feel the high tension roll out of him. This wasn’t that bad. He hadn’t wanted to do it without Franci in the next room, but he thought he was getting along pretty well, for a guy who knew nothing.

He asked her if she took a nap and she informed him she didn’t want a nap. So he suggested reading a couple of books while lying on her small, child-size bed. She went for that reluctantly, but he was thrilled. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept much the night before and the morning had been filled with internal stress. So he got a couple of good-size picture books, propped himself against the headboard of the little bed so he could fit, invited her to sit beside him and began to read.

He didn’t last long.

Franci was scrubbing out the shower in the master bath when she heard her cell phone twittering. She wiped off her hands, dug the cell out of her purse and looked at the number. T.J.

“Hi, there,” she said.

“What’s up?”

“Not much. Just some housecleaning. You?”

“Wondering if that whole drama with Rosie’s father has been tackled yet.”

“Gee,” she said, sitting on her bed. “I have a start on it. I told him this morning. He’s not happy with me—he needs time to adjust to the idea, and he’s with her now, playing with her, talking to her.”

“And you?” he asked.

“Me? I’m cleaning my bathroom while they play and talk.”

He chuckled, but there wasn’t a cheerful note to it. “Francine, did you tell him he has to clarify his visiting terms with you and then hit the road? Like we agreed?”

She frowned, not answering at once. “Is that what we agreed to? He just found out, T.J. I don’t think he even knows what he wants.”

“Did you tell him that—”

“Frankly, I haven’t talked to him since he arrived a couple of hours ago and asked if he could spend some time with Rosie, which he has done since he got here. They’re on their own for now.”

“Is that wise? Leaving him alone with her? You don’t really know him that well.”

Sudden anger rose up in her, which she put a lid on for the moment. “Yes, I know him very well, T.J. In fact, I know him better than I know you. Now—”

“Did you tell him you’re committed elsewhere and he has no chance of resuming the old relationship?”

She sighed into the phone. “I told him I’d been seeing someone. That isn’t one of the issues we have to work out.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re making much progress on this.”

“Oh, but I am,” she said. And she thought, When did I allow this man to think he had such control over my actions? “I’m working things out just fine, but apparently not quickly enough to suit you. So, I suggest you let me have a little time to work through it all and I’ll let you know how it goes. Hm? How’s that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Absolutely!” she said. “You can refuse to be patient and look for someone who enjoys having her dinner ordered for her! Maybe someone with long hair!”

“You’re being childish,” he accused.

“You’re being controlling,” she countered.

“Try to be intelligent in this matter,” he said. “Just use your head.”

If there was something Franci found even more repellant than being told she was a dud in bed, it was the inference that she wasn’t smart. “I will absolutely try to be intelligent, T.J.,” she said. “It could be a struggle for me, but I will definitely try. I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon.”

And she clicked off.

And she thought, Wow! She hadn’t had quite this much attention from T.J. since they’d started dating. He must feel completely threatened.

She wasn’t sure if that amused her or worried her. But she turned off her phone just in case T.J. decided he had something more to say.