Last Chance Family Part 3

The woman continued to inspect him from head to toe. "I just came over to get a look at you, is all. I guess the little girl's in bed, huh?"

Mike finally reached his limit. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but I have trash to take out and I don't even know you."

"Oh, Lord have mercy, I'm so sorry. I'm Elsie Campbell. I'm the chair of the First Methodist Altar Guild. You can imagine how interested we all are in you and the little girl."

"Oh. Uh. No, not really."

"Of course we are, especially if the little girl is our pastor's niece. And you know-"

Just then, a car arrived in the parking lot and pulled into the spot reserved for the apartment next door. Elsie turned around. "Well, look who's here. It's your next-door neighbor." Elsie waved. "Hey, Charlene, how did the AARC meeting go?"

The pretty, dark-haired vet who had mouthed off at him this afternoon climbed out of her Ford F-150 truck. Wow! He didn't remember her having a rack like that. She'd been hiding a killer figure behind her white lab coat and cool hostility. And the truck was pretty nice, too.

"Oh, it went as well as can be expected. Did you hear that we're having trouble-" The vet stopped midsentence and glared at Mike. "What are you doing here?" He hadn't noticed before, but she was kind of hot.

He gave her one of his careful smiles. "I live here. For the moment."

"You do not. That's Martha Spalding's apartment. She's in Tampa. How did you get-"

"Timmy acted as a rental agent for me. I'm subleasing for a while."

Dr. Polk came up the stairs to the landing where the stairway divided. His sublease stood to the left, and evidently her apartment to the right. So they were neighbors.

"Subleasing?" she said.

"That means I'm making Martha's payments and living here for a while. Hopefully just a short while, because I want to partic.i.p.ate in the World Series of Poker coming up in mid-June. But Timmy has convinced me that I should stay until Rainbow gets to know him. And we'll probably have to find a new home for Tigger, because Timmy is really allergic. Maybe you can help with that."

"Tigger?" Elsie asked.

"That would be Rainbow's cat," Mike said.

Elsie squinted at him for a moment. "You know, you kind of look a little bit like Pastor Tim. Around the eyes. Even if you have redder hair and more freckles."

"Yes, well, dear old Mom was a strawberry blonde." Exhaustion weighed Mike down. He wanted to escape. Talking about Mom had always been a complete downer.

"Where's the little girl?" Dr. Polk asked.

"She's asleep. It's been a long day. And I've dosed the cat and fed them both."

The vet's gaze landed on the flimsy trash bag in his hands. "On microwave pizza?" Her tone was accusatory.

Anger sparked, and he snapped a reply. "Back off. The kid won't eat anything but pizza. I looked up every pizza place within sixty miles, and I would have had to drive all the way to Barnwell to find a Pizza Hut. I figured getting her and the cat settled was more important than going out to eat. So the microwave stuff had to do for tonight."

"A child can't live on pizza alone." The vet crossed her arms over her b.o.o.bs, blocking the spectacular view. She wasn't intimidated by him in the least, was she?

"You think I don't know that? But it's what she'll eat. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have trash to take out." He edged his way past the two busybodies and headed toward the Dumpster.

Apparently Last Chance, South Carolina, was the place everyone meant when they talked about that mythological village that raised children. Every darn female he'd met today had given him child-rearing advice.

This ought to have pleased him. But it didn't.

"He's not very friendly, is he?" Elsie said as she watched Mike Taggart stride toward the Dumpster. "But at least he's good about taking out the trash. It means he's almost civilized. I still have trouble getting Buck to take out the trash."

Elsie turned and looked up at Charlene. "So how'd the AARC meeting go?"

"I don't know, Elsie. This idea to have a bachelor auction doesn't seem to be working very well. We're having trouble signing up bachelors."

"Who's signed up so far?"

"I think we've got a couple of guys from the nursing home. And Roy Burdett, now that he's separated from his wife."

"Oooh. Not good."

"I've been deputized to twist some arms."

"If you want my opinion," Elsie said, "you should try to get Pastor Tim to partic.i.p.ate. Every single female in town thinks he's a dreamboat."

"I'm going to work on Cousin Drew and the Canaday twins first. And Dr. Dave."

"Dr. Dave?" Elsie seemed surprised.

"He's the main vet in town, and he's not married. Of course I'm going to sign him up."

"If you say so," Elsie said in a skeptical tone of voice. "Well, I better get going. I've done my reconnaissance mission on Mike Taggart. All the gals are waiting for my report. We're scheduled for a Skype session at ten o'clock." Elsie watched Mike as he tossed his garbage. "Y'all might think about asking Mr. Taggart to be one of your bachelors. He's nice looking, isn't he? Maybe not as handsome as Pastor Tim, but still he's kind of rugged and boyish, isn't he?"

Yeah. Bad boyish. Charlene could imagine him wearing a pair of black leather riding pants sitting astride a Harley. He would be gorgeous. But she knew better than to get all hot and bothered by that fantasy. Been there, done that.

Mike had "jerk" written all over his beautiful body. He couldn't have been less like the caring and kind Dr. Dave. She needed to remember that.

"No one in town is going to be interested in buying that guy. He's from out of town and he's" Charlene ran out of words.

"I think the word you're looking for is hot, honey. That man is hot, and dangerous like a dog on the prowl. I have no doubt that someone would want to buy him. But maybe not for dinner."

"He's probably not going to be here all that long, anyway. So it's idle speculation."

"Probably, but if you're looking for bachelors, I suggest you add him to your list. He'd probably get you top dollar. You take care, hon. I have a Skype call to make. The gals are going to be talking about this for weeks." Elsie headed down the stairs, and Charlene turned toward her apartment door.

She had just slipped the key into the lock when Mike's footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her. For some reason, her heart kicked into overdrive. And in her haste to get through the door, she managed to jam the lock, which had been malfunctioning for about a month. She was simultaneously wiggling the key and pulling on the door when Mike Taggart spoke to her back, making her jump a little.

"I'm not a criminal, you know." His voice sounded as deep as the ocean, his accent definitely from somewhere else.

She turned, her hands suddenly sweaty. He stood on the landing. The exterior spotlight lit up his hair like a flame and cast shadows across the sharp hollows and planes of his face.

She straightened her shoulders. "I never said you were a criminal."

"No, I guess not. You judged me from the beginning, didn't you?"

Her whole body flushed. She had judged him. And she'd been worried about the little girl.

"I didn't think it was appropriate for Rainbow to hear how you plan to abandon her." Why did Charlene's voice wobble like that? The idea of the child being abandoned ripped her heart apart. "And with a person who doesn't even know her."

The corners of Mike's mouth tipped with a self-a.s.sured grin that folded two sets of laugh lines along his cheeks. His deep-set eyes crinkled at the corners. "She doesn't know me all that well, either," he said. "I've seen her twice in her life, and she's been in my custody for only a few days. So it's not exactly like she's formed any kind of attachment to me. And besides, I'm not here to abandon her. I'm here to find her a family." He leaned back against the banister and shoved his hands into his pockets. He had an att.i.tude a mile wide and a big, fat chip on his shoulder. He also had a sharp blue stare that unsettled Charlene.

Unlike Dr. Dave, he definitely noticed her new sweater, and he seemed to be appreciating her narrower waistline, too.

"Good night, Mr. Taggart," she said, turning back to the stubborn lock that refused to budge.

Mr. Taggart bounded up the stairs behind her. He cast a dark shadow over the door and radiated heat up her backside. "Here, let me," he said, his breath feathering against her ear. Her insides went all squishy.

He batted her hands away from the lock and with a forceful twist he had it opened in a matter of seconds. "It's all in the wrist," he said, backing up, taking his heat with him.

"Thank you," she said in a near whisper and hurried through her door, oddly annoyed that she'd let a person like Mike Taggart get under her skin.

CHAPTER.

5.

Wednesday didn't get off to a stellar start.

Mike awakened Rainbow at eight-thirty a.m. and fed her a slice of cold pizza. Then he dressed her in a threadbare pair of blue jeans and a faded Chicago White Sox T-shirt that had the name "Nathan" printed in indelible marker on the inside neck. A quick check of Rainbow's wardrobe revealed numerous and varied boys' names on the necks and waistbands of her jeans and shirts. The kid didn't own a dress or anything in pink.

Had Angie intentionally dressed Rainbow like a boy? The thought disquieted him. He knew all about the dangers of living in subsidized housing. Predators preyed on women and girls in those places. It broke his heart to think about what Rainbow had already been through.

But things were different now. They weren't in Chicago anymore. They were in a podunk town that looked like something from the cover of Southern Living. Rainbow needed to be a whole lot cuter. And that called for new clothes.

During breakfast, he made it clear at least five times that they were going shopping and that the cat had to stay home. But the moment breakfast ended, Rainbow disappeared. Mike spent a frantic few minutes searching for her until he found her curled up in a bedroom closet with a death grip on the cat.

The cat looked up at him with one of those big-eyed adorable looks. Tigger sure knew how to be cute when she wanted to. Why didn't the kid?

"We're going, now."

Apparently not. It took him a good five minutes to separate the girl from the cat. And by the time they hit the front door, Mike had hoisted Rainbow over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She kicked and cried, and for the first time in days, she made some noise. A lot of it, actually.

And, wouldn't you know it, the moment he opened the door, there stood his busybody neighbor looking lovely and judgmental in a tight red sweater, a pair of pants that showed off every one of her bodacious curves, and a frown on her beautiful face.

"It's not what it looks like," he said defensively. He paused to let Dr. Polk precede him down the stairs.

Rainbow let out a high-pitched wail that echoed around the apartment complex and probably wakened all the rest of his busybody neighbors.

"And what exactly is it?" Dr. Polk asked over the kid's screams. They had reached the sidewalk.

"We're going shopping."

The vet blinked. Obviously the idea of a little girl pitching a temper tantrum over a shopping trip threw her for a loop. It was a new one for Mike, too. Which probably explained why Dr. Polk wrinkled her brow and said, "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

"Yes, I do. She's a different kind of kid. And she's mostly annoyed because I made her leave the cat behind."

"Oh?" The skepticism practically dripped from her voice.

The woman seriously ticked him off. He steadied the howling child on his shoulder. "b.u.t.t out, Dr. Polk. You don't understand what's going on here. I stupidly lost Rainbow's cuddle toy in the airport, and she has transferred her dependence to the cat. But, obviously, she can't drag a cat around with her like a stuffed animal, can she?"

Dr. Polk's dark eyes warmed, and he could almost feel her att.i.tude unfreezing. "Poor child."

That did it. He didn't want Dr. Polk's pity, either. So he let her have it. "Yeah. It sucks to lose a parent." He turned away and strode off to his car, annoyed at himself for letting anger get the best of him. He shouldn't give a flying fart what she thought about him. But for some reason he did.

He fought Rainbow into the booster seat he'd bought before embarking on this odyssey. But did the good doctor even notice that he was buckling the kid into an age-appropriate safety seat?

No. Dr. Polk continued to level a judgmental stare at him that practically burned a hole into his backside. She stood there, arms folded, watching his every move until he got behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot. He hated the fact that his neighbor had made him feel so guilty for doing something that he knew was right.

Rainbow needed new clothes.

He expected Rainbow to give up her stubbornness once they got to the mall in Orangeburg, but the kid proved him wrong. She certainly had staying power, he'd give her that.

He had to fight her out of the booster seat, and then she loudly refused to try on clothes, especially the cute pink ones he picked out. She didn't like dresses; she didn't want new shoes. He couldn't even talk her into a replacement stuffed elephant or a McDonald's Happy Meal with a h.e.l.lo Kitty toy inside.

He failed on every level.

By the time he got back to the apartment, he wanted a good stiff drink. But it was only two o'clock in the afternoon. He collapsed in front of the television and watched CNBC, while Rainbow retreated into her room with the cat.

He sucked at this. The sooner Timmy took over, the better all the way around.

His frustration mounted an hour later when his cell phone rang. He checked the number-Paul Kozlowski, his agent. He punched the talk b.u.t.ton.

"Hey, Paul, what's up?"

"When are you getting back?"

"I don't know. There's been a little snag."

"A snag?"

"Yeah, but I'm working on it. What's happening?"

"Look, Mike, you need to get your a.s.s back here. I've got interest from Jimmy Huang of Dragon Casinos, and I think, if you could play a few preliminary rounds in the World Series of Poker next week, we could score a sponsorship for the main event, with maybe something longer term."

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been waiting for a call like this for at least three years, ever since the U.S. government shut down online poker. Murphy's Law had struck again. "I don't know if I can get back by next week."