Free That Touch of Pink by Teresa Southwick Page A

then flexed her fingers. “But—”
    â€œWe’re going to walk around the track and work on endurance,” he interrupted, not wanting to rehash the past.
    â€œI better intercept Kimmie. If she gets to the swings, you can forget about doing laps.”
    After she caught up with her daughter, Riley picked a starting point and set a slow but steady pace. Kimmie made it halfway around the track before her attention wandered and she slowed to pick up rocks, leaves and twigs. On the second lap, she decided to walk backward, do cartwheels and skip.
    When they started a third, she said, “I’m tired.”
    He decided to explain pacing herself another time. “If you push yourself a little bit farther now,” he said, “next time you won’t get tired as soon.”
    â€œMaybe we should take a rest,” Abby suggested.
    â€œIf your survival depended on it, would you take a rest?”
    â€œUnder certain circumstances. Isn’t it advantageous to preserve one’s strength?” she asked.
    â€œSometimes. But here’s the thing. There have been stories on the news lately about accidents in remote areas. Cars going off the road in desolate places. It can happen, and survival depends on skill and knowledge.”
    â€œI’ve heard.” She looked at her daughter, who was dragging herself along as if she were on her last legs. “So you’re saying The Bluebonnets is more than the social lark I thought when she joined?”
    â€œI hadn’t thought about it that way. But, yeah. Kimmie might have done it because of her friend. But now that she’s involved, there are practical reasons for learning these skills. Knowledge builds self-confidence.”
    â€œYou have enough to build a skyscraper with nothing but toothpicks and chewing gum,” Abby said, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up at him.
    He couldn’t help it. He laughed. Out loud. “Very funny.”
    Instead of agreeing, she looked startled. “Wow.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m not sure I’ve seen you do that before.”
    â€œWhat?” he asked again.
    â€œLaugh.” She studied him. “There have been a few smiles and a couple of grins, but no laughter. You should do it more often. Looks good on you.”
    Was laughter so rare for him? Maybe. Riley wasn’t sure. But he realized that being around Abby made the impulse natural. She was quick-witted, funny and prettyas a picture with her pink cheeks and strands of brown silky hair fluttering around her face. And always those dimples lying in wait to ambush him.
    â€œI’m too tired,” Kimmie said, stopping in front of him.
    Riley was grateful for the interruption. That particular train of thought was like walking through a minefield. “We just have a little bit more to go.”
    â€œI can’t walk any more.” The little girl bent at the waist and let her upper body go limp, then swung her arms from side to side.
    He looked down at her. “What have we here? Rebellion in the ranks?”
    â€œSounds more like whining to me,” Abby commented.
    He glanced at her, then down at her daughter. “Listen up. There’s no whining in basic training.”
    â€œBut—”
    He held up a finger, and the child huffed out a breath before turning away. “We’re going to finish a mile.”
    She stomped ahead, proving she still had some juice left. When she got close to the starting point that marked a mile around the track, she started to run. One minute she was fine, the next she’d gone down in the dirt.
    â€œKimmie,” Abby said, running toward the little girl.
    Riley kicked it into high gear, too, and with his long stride, he reached the little girl just moments before her mother. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.
    She nodded even as she cradled her leg. “Mommy, I hurt myself.”
    â€œYeah, sweetie, I see that.”
    He could