FATHER IN TRAINING Read Online Free PDF

said. "But your mom really needs your help. This is hard for her, too. Moving to a strange town, and all."
    "No one asked her to drag us to this dumpy place." Lindsay's brown eyes snapped with anger. Her posing was forgotten as she drew her eyebrows together and glared. "There's nothing to do. There are no kids around here, no beach, nothing. I hate it. I don't care if the house never gets finished."
    "Glenwood isn't so bad," he said. "There's a mall on the other side of town."
    "Wow," Lindsay said sarcastically. "A mall. Gee, now I love it here."
    Nichole skipped over the hose and motioned for him to bend over. "Lindsay's being a brat," she whispered loudly. "Mommy says it's just a stage."
    He crouched down and smiled at the child. She had curly red hair, but her mother's beautiful green eyes. "You're a pretty little girl."
    Nichole dimpled. "I know. Mommy told me."
    Kyle grinned.
    "There you are," a voice said. "I'd wondered where you'd run off to. I told you not to bother Mr. Haynes." Sandy stood at the end of his driveway. Like her children she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Unlike his noncommittal response to their clothes, he found her outfit intriguing. Her red shorts exposed long tanned legs. Her round hips drew his eye toward her waist, then up to her breasts. She wasn't overly curvy, she was … just right.
    He stood up slowly. "I'd rather they call me Kyle, and they weren't bothering me. I heard about the truck."
    She wouldn't—or couldn't—meet his gaze. "Yes, well, I just got off the phone with the moving company. The truck will be here Monday for sure."
    "But it's Friday," he said. "What will you do until then?"
    "Stay at the motel where we've been staying. The kids don't mind. It has a pool."
    "By the time we get back there, we're too tired to go swimming," Lindsay grumbled.
    Her mother shot her a warning look. "The extra time will give us a chance to finish the house."
    Lindsay groaned.
    "How's that coming?"
    She stared at his car, then at the ground, finally her gaze landed on his knees and settled there. Kyle wanted to believe she was having trouble looking at him because he was wearing cutoffs and nothing else. He wanted to believe the sight of his bare chest and legs left her speechless. He wanted to believe he would one day win the
California
lottery. Right now they seemed equally likely.
    "Fine," Sandy said shortly. "Just fine. We're cleaning and soon we'll start painting."
    "We're never going to finish," Lindsay said.
    "Nonsense. I've come up with a new plan. It will allow us to work more efficiently."
    "Mo-om." Lindsay planted her hands on her hips. At that moment, she looked exactly like her mother. "We're kids, not slaves."
    "And just an hour ago, you were trying to convince me you're all grown up. You'll have to pick one, Lindsay, you can't have it both ways."
    Kyle opened his mouth to offer his help, then thought better of it. He didn't want to give Sandy another chance to shoot him down.
    Sandy glanced at his car, then at him. "We'd better let you get back to work. Have fun. Come along, children."
    She took Nichole's hand and started down the driveway. Lindsay followed slowly. Only Blake hesitated. He stared at the car for a moment.
    "Do you like Camaros?" Kyle asked, suddenly curious about the quietest member of the Walker family.
    Blake nodded. "Does it go fast?"
    "Pretty fast." He grinned. "I'm a deputy in town, so it's not right for me to break the law. I keep her at fifty-five."
    "Blake, come on, honey," Sandy called.
    "Maybe you and I could go for a drive someday," Kyle offered.
    Blake stared up at him, nodded, then ran off to join his mother.
    As Kyle picked up the chamois, he watched Sandy and her kids enter the big house. He remembered how dirty it had been. Yesterday, the exterminator had come by to drop off his traps, so the mouse problem was being handled. Still, there was the whole upstairs that Lindsay said they hadn't even started on. And painting. How would they get that