Fortune.”
It was a challenge that struck at the core of her beliefs. Pulling away from his touch, Jenny gave him a significant look and nodded. Then she glanced at Katrina. “Come here, sweetheart. I’d like to talk with you.”
“Are we going to play?”
“That’s what we are going to talk about.”
The older girls paddled toward the bank and Katrina stood and sloshed her way over to Jenny, who gestured for the child to sit in her lap.
“She’ll get you all wet,” warned Maribeth.
“I won’t melt. I’m not sugar.”
“I don’t know about that,” Trace observed in a wry tone.
Katrina plopped into Jenny’s lap and spoke around the thumb she stuck in her mouth. “I’m here, MissFortune.”
“Good. I want to ask you a question. Do your sisters ever try to trick you?”
She nodded. “Lots of times.”
“Are they sneaky when they do it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you like it when they trick you?”
Beneath her dark brown bangs her little brow furrowed. “No. It makes my lip go bloop.”
Jenny leaned away from the child, a confused smile on her face. “Makes your lip go bloop?”
Katrina demonstrated by sticking out her lower lip. “Bloop is what my daddy calls it.”
Biting the inside of her cheek to prevent the laugh that threatened, Jenny risked a sidelong glance at Trace. He winked and she felt it clear to her toes.
“I see. Well. Bloop it is then.” Jenny shifted Katrina’s weight and soon felt a wet chill seep through the layers of cloth dividing them. “So, here’s another question. Don’t you think that pretending to cry to get me to come play with you would be the same as tricking me? You tricking me is not a lot different than your sisters tricking you.”
Katrina’s eyes went wide. “Did I make your lip bloop, MissFortune?”
Jenny displayed a pout and nodded.
“I’m very sorry.”
“I accept your apology, Katrina. Just try not to act that way again, all right? Adults call it manipulation, and it’s not a nice way to treat others. Will you try to remember that?”
Katrina nodded. “I promise.”
Jenny smiled warmly and lifted the girl to her feet. “Good. Now, run play. Maybe you can find some frogs to chase.”
“Let’s do that,” Maribeth chimed in. “We could catch‘em and have races. We did that last spring, y’all remember?”
“Yuck.” Emma wrinkled her nose and splashed water at her sisters. They retaliated, and soon the air was filled with the sound of their squeals and laughter.
Trace turned to Jenny. “I have to hand it to you. You knew just what to say, Miss Fortune. I’m impressed.”
Jenny lifted her chin, accepting her due, as a part deep inside of her basked in the warmth of his approval.
“That never happens to me, you know,” he continued, idly reaching to pluck a straw from the grass. He stuck the end in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, never taking his gaze from his daughters who were now busily hunting frogs. “You were right the other day, carrying on so about my letting the girls run roughshod over me.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.” Jenny frowned, not liking the way he made her sound almost shrewish. She hadn’t carried on. Not really.
“Problem is, I don’t know what to do different.” In a graceful, fluid movement, he stood, the motion attracting Jenny’s gaze to the rugged flex of muscles beneath the white cotton shirt and dark trousers. He tossed away the straw he’d been chewing and added, “It’s a hard job for a man to parent all by himself.”
His words struck a sympathetic chord inside of Jenny. It hadn’t been easy for her father, either. How many times had Richard Fortune admitted to wishing Monique were around to help manage problems that arose between father and daughter?
Before she could frame a reply, Trace called out, “Hey, you little tadpoles, quit pestering those poor frogs.” After rolling the legs of his trousers even higher to just below the knees, he stepped into the