Free Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) by Laura Bradford Page B

mental preparation necessary to abandon
all hope for her fifth and final childhood dream—of becoming a wife and mother.
She’d prepared herself for living alone. For finding things that would fulfill a
life shared by no one.
    But Mark Reynolds, and the way he looked at her as if she was
someone special, was throwing a monkey wrench in those plans.
    “You do know that, right?”
    She peered at him across the center console and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Mark. I think I may have missed what you just said.”
    “Is something wrong?” he asked.
    “No. But I zoned out there for a minute.” She slid the
gearshift to Drive and pulled the car from the curb, the motion a welcome
reprieve from the thoughts she was having at that moment. “So what is it I’m
supposed to know?”
    “That you look spectacular.”
    And just like that, the thoughts were back. Mark Reynolds hit
every single one of the must-haves she’d set for a mate. He was smart, funny,
motivated, outdoorsy—all of it. He was, essentially, a no-brainer, as Kate was
fond of saying about all sorts of things in life. But the problem wasn’t him. Or
even the notion of him. It was Emily.
    Sure, she wanted to believe there was hope that someone would
love her despite her condition. But the recurring nightmare she had three or
four times a week said otherwise. It didn’t matter how supportive her faceless
prince tried to be, because the part that woke her in a cold sweat was having
her prince slowly giving up his own wants and needs to be her caretaker.
    “I’m guessing by your silence that you don’t know that. So let
me be the one to tell you that you do. And as I always tell Seth, I’m a pretty
smart guy when it comes to the easy stuff in life.”
    She had to laugh. “Isn’t everyone smart when it comes to the easy stuff?”
    “You don’t get out much, do you?” Mark quipped. “Then again,
who am I to make a statement like that? I never get
out.”
    His comment hit her like a slap to the side of the head.
Tonight wasn’t about looking inward. It was about having fun.
    Mark needed that.
    And so, too, did she.
    Pulling her office keys from her purse, she climbed out of the
Jeep and gestured for Mark to follow. “C’mon, let’s go.”
    When they reached the main door of the barn, she unlocked it
and stepped inside, the motion-sensor light she’d mounted in the hallway
switching on instantaneously. “Why don’t you head downstairs, and I’ll join you
as soon as I get changed.”
    “Don’t take too long, okay?”
    “I won’t.” And she didn’t. Less than five minutes later she was
standing with him at the base of the climbing wall, with a harness for each of
them. Dropping one to the ground, she helped Mark into his and connected it to
his rope. “Take your time. This wall here—” she touched the one directly in
front of them “—is the beginner wall. Your hand- and footholds are closer
together on it. Once you’ve mastered this section, you can move on to the
intermediate wall, where the hand- and footholds are farther apart and the climb
is a bit more challenging.”
    “What about that wall?” Mark asked, pointing to the far side of
the room.
    “That’s the expert wall. We’ll save that for another day.”
    Mark snorted. “Or maybe another year.”
    She secured herself into her own harness and hooked herself in
as Mark’s belay. “No, another day . You’ll get this,
if you try. The folks who don’t are the ones who let fear slow them down. Then
the doubts take over and knock them the rest of the way out. I see it all the
time. But if you think about it, climbing a wall or scaling the side of a
mountain is really no different than wanting to write a novel or become a world
champion chess player. You just have to check your hang-ups at the door and do
what needs to be done to make it happen.
    “As for what you need to do here, keep your body close to the
wall. People tend to think their knees should be pointed inward, but