Free That Touch of Pink by Teresa Southwick Page B

see, too. It was a pretty good scrape. Blood started oozing, then mixed with dirt and pebbles. It muststing like a son of a gun. Surprisingly, the child, so dramatic about being tired just moments before, was doing her darnedest not to let go of the tears that were gathered in her eyes.
    â€œI think basic training is over for today,” he said.
    â€œBut I didn’t go over the finish line,” she pointed out, sniffling. “And I’m not cryin’.”
    Close, he thought. But there were no actual tears, and he knew it hurt.
    He was proud of her. “How about we go back to the house and have a lesson in wound care. If The Bluebonnets don’t have a first aid badge, they should. It’s important to know how to properly take care of scrapes so they don’t get infected. Nothing can derail a mission faster than infections.”
    â€œRiley’s right, Kim. Taking care of your injury doesn’t mean you’re a quitter.”
    He lifted the child in his arms. “Definitely not.”
    One of the reasons he’d decided to complete the mission was because he didn’t want this little girl to embrace her father’s example of giving up and walking away. Watching her stoic effort to hold herself together showed him she was a miniature Abby—gutsy and strong. Like mother, like daughter.
    He wasn’t a quitter, but you couldn’t quit what you never started. And that was his goal. To not start something he had no intention of finishing with Abby Walsh. He’d committed to this assignment and he would go the distance. But even he had to admit, in all his years as a soldier, he’d never undertaken a mission quite like Operation Backpack Barbie and her single mom.
    If he was going to complete this one without an emotional ambush, he needed to focus on the finish line and keep his guard up.

Chapter Five
    â€œB ring her in here,” Abby said, leading the way to the family room. “Just put her on the sofa. I’ll get stuff to clean and disinfect her knee.”
    â€œCan I have a Band-Aid?” Kimmie asked as Riley followed directions and gently set her down.
    The words stopped Abby on her way out of the room and she smiled. Kimmie loved Band-Aids and frequently her request was vetoed when she wanted one for a boo-boo invisible to the naked eye. “Of course you can have a Band-Aid.”
    Riley met her gaze and, surprisingly, there was a twinkle in his eyes. Imagine that. “In the army,” he said, “it’s regulation to cover a wound to keep out dirt.”
    Smiling, Abby went into the downstairs bathroom where she kept the supplies, but she could hear muffled voices from the other room. Apparently his monosyllabic tendencies didn’t extend to children. The man wasa complete enigma. First, he categorically had refused to do what he had volunteered to do; then he had done a complete about-face and taken them camping. It wasn’t his fault the trip had been a dismal failure. He was in the clear. But instead of retreating, he had had another change of heart and decided to put in more time than originally donated so Kimmie could earn her badges. Abby just didn’t get him.
    She hurried back to the family room. When Riley moved and gave her the space to do the honors, Kimmie pulled her knee back. “I want Riley to fix my boo-boo. I want him to show me how he did it in the army.”
    â€œYou don’t have to,” Abby said to him.
    â€œI don’t mind.” He rubbed his neck and met her gaze. “I’m lying. I do mind. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done my share of first aid, but usually the limb in question was a lot bigger and—”
    â€œThe patients were soldiers?”
    â€œWell, yeah. But it has to be done and if she wants me to…”
    â€œPlease, Riley,” Kimmie pleaded.
    â€œOkay.” He looked around. “It would help if we prop her leg over the sink. I want to pour the