Apple Blossom Bride

“Okay, Daddy.”

He’d have to get a fence up around the yard, fast.

“That’s not enough. I told you not to go outside by yourself.”

She kept staring at him. Michael reached down, grasped the handle of her wagon, praying she’d move, that he wouldn’t have to physically force her to comply. He wasn’t good at the battle of wills she occasionally set him.

“Come on, now. We have to go home. And next time you may not come here unless you ask me first.”

He hated bawling her out but many more disappearances and he’d be grayer than the oldest man in Serenity Bay.

“I’m not finished playing.” Her chin butted out in that determined way that told him she was ready for a battle.

Michael’s heart sank but he knew he couldn’t give in.

“Yes, honey. You are finished. We’re going home. Now.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t move he gently lifted her off the wagon, turned it right side up and stacked her leaves in it. “Climb in. I’ll pull you back.”

Tati shook her head, curls flying. She began picking at her doll, tugging off the tiny socks. Before he could react she’d headed for the brook—and it wasn’t a trickle there.

“Princess wants to wash her feet in the water.”

“Stop!” He gasped as he fought to control his breathing. “Tatiana, you may not ever go in that water without me. Do you understand?” Panic assailed him in a wave that sent his hand out to grasp her shoulder. “Never. Come on. We’re leaving. Now.”

“No!” She jerked away from him, her dark eyes blazing with temper. “I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry about that but we have to. Get into the wagon, Tati. I’ll give you a ride home.” Before she could argue any further he wrapped his arms around her forearms and lifted her off the ground.

“No!” she bellowed, her face a rich angry red. “I won’t. Leave me alone.”

She struggled against him, her shoes making painful contact with his midsection while her elbows dug into his chest.

“I don’t want to go with you. Let me go!”

“Stop this right now. You’re coming with me if I have to force you—”

“Put her down!”

The fury in that voice commanded his attention. Michael glanced around, saw a tall, slim woman with a cascade of silver-gilt hair glaring at him. She stood a few feet beyond his reach, her stance alert as if she might race away any moment. Or attack him.

“Excuse me?” Michael frowned, noted the way her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“I said put her down. And I meant it. Do it now. Otherwise I’m calling the police.” A cell phone appeared in her fingers, flipped open.

Tati had gone completely still. Michael took one look into his daughter’s curious face and knew he had to get this settled, fast. Before the little girl found a new way to create chaos in his once-normal world.

“Look, Miss Whoever You Are. You have no idea—”

“My name is Ashley Adams, if that matters.” She stepped an inch closer, touched Tati’s hand with a gentle brush. Her eyes rested on his child, softened for a moment, then returned to him.

The softness dissipated. Now her eyes glittered like rocks. Her other hand slid into her purse. She looked like a city girl, which meant she was probably carrying some kind of protection. He prayed it wasn’t a gun.

“You’re the one with no idea, buddy. Put that child down on the ground and do it fast. Then get out of here. I don’t care how you leave, but you’ll only take her with you over my dead body.”

She was serious. So was the can of Mace in her fingers.

Michael took a step backward, opened his mouth to explain. Tati struggled against him. Deciding it might be wisest to argue his case without clutching her wiggling body, he set her gently down on the ground but clung to one tiny hand. After a moment, as if to emphasize her power, Tati dragged that hand out of his.

He would have held on, but the woman’s stern glare warned him to let go. A puff of angry frustration boiled over.

“Look, er, Ashley. This isn’t what you—”

She ignored him, crouched down to look into Tati’s eyes.

“Hi, honey. Are you all right?”

Playing the part of the maligned child to the hilt, Tati nodded, thrusting one knuckle into her mouth in a way that always aroused sympathy in the grocery store. What chance did a mere man have against those wiles? Her thick dark lashes fluttered against her chubby cheek as if she was ready to burst into tears.

Michael almost groaned. Consummate actress. Just like her mother.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Tati—Tatiana.”

“Why don’t you come with me, Tatiana? We’ll go get the police to help us find your mom. Okay?”

Tati frowned, shook her head. “We can’t.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“’Cause Daddy said Mommy’s in heaven. Didn’t you, Daddy?” Tati’s hand slid back inside his as if she’d accepted that he was her main protector now.

“Daddy?” The woman’s almond-shaped eyes opened wide. “You’re her father?”

Michael nodded.

“Guilty,” he admitted, amused by the look on her aristocratic face. Half belligerence, half embarrassment. Served her right.

“Well, for goodness’ sakes, why didn’t you say so?” Her sharp high cheekbones bore dots of bright red.

“You didn’t actually give me a chance to explain.” He squatted down, grasped Tati’s chin. “Grab Princess and get into the wagon,” he said clearly. “We have to go home. Now.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she sang agreeably, as if there had never been any other option. “Can I have one of the chocolate cookies Granny made?”

“After disobeying?” He gave her an arch look. His daughter had the grace to look ashamed. “Get in the wagon, Tati,” he ordered quietly.

“Look, obviously I misjudged the situation. I’m really sorry.” The woman followed his stare to her hand, shoved the Mace and her phone back into the peacock leather purse that hung from her narrow shoulder.

“No problem. I guess I should be relieved that you didn’t call the police. I’m Michael Masters, by the way. You’ve already met my daughter.” He thrust out one hand, shook hers, noticing the faint white line on the ring finger of her left hand where it clutched her bag.