Healing Trace by Debra Kayn Page B

the
corner of her mouth, then licked the chocolate off his thumb.
    She
licked her lips and gazed away from him, not liking how her body betrayed her
when she wasn't sure if she should be mad at him or not. "I'm
starving."
    Trace
indulged in a bite of his own donut, swallowed, and then frowned. "I
should have had you stop on the way to the reservation, and we could've grabbed
a proper lunch. I'm sorry. All I was thinking about during the ride was how far
behind I'm getting with work, and I need to figure out how to make up all the
time I've wasted being laid up."
    "You
needed to do whatever it is you do." She set her treat down and sighed.
"Can I ask you something?"
    He
nodded once.
    "This
is probably none of my business, but why don't you let your little girl live at
the ranch with you." She shuddered, remembering how pathetic the house was
that they visited.
    Trace's
brows rose. "She has a house."
    "Yes,
but you have to see how bad the living conditions were there. Wouldn't she have
more opportunities if she could live where it's safe and warm? It must be
terrible in the wintertime. You can practically see through cracks in the
outside walls." She leaned back in her chair.
    It
bothered her that he wouldn't take care of his child, and want to give her the
best possible childhood. Throwing some extra money at the girl only went so
far. Nothing could be better than a father's love. She knew that personally.
She'd give anything to have her own father back, and she was a grown adult.
    If
she had money, nothing would keep her from bringing Katie home. For her to
struggle with her own failure over not finding a job and not doing better for
Katie, she thought Trace's lack of doing something better for his daughter as
irresponsible.
    Most
of all, Trace disappointed her. She thought better of him and learning
differently made her mad.
     "You
don't know what you're talking about." Trace polished off the rest of the
éclair.
    "Oh,
but I do." She stood up. "Every child should have a father, a family.
To deny her that is un…it sucks, Trace."
    Her
appetite gone, she tossed her napkin on the table and left the donut shop.
Pacing the sidewalk, she grew angrier. If he expected a child to live through
hardships, maybe it would do a world of good if she stopped babying Trace. She
turned around, spotted Trace coming out of the store, and approached him.
    "I
can't believe you. All this time, and you really had me fooled." She
clamped her lips together and muffled her scream of frustration. "Oh,
never mind. I quit. I can't do this anymore. You can find someone else to fight
with you every time your therapy is due or you want to sneak outside. I give
up."

Chapter Thirteen
    "Get
in the truck." Trace held out her paper bag she'd forgotten in the donut
shop.
    "No."
Joan snapped her sack out of his hands and crossed her arms. "I can't take
this anymore. One minute you're nice and I think you're the perfect guy and the
next, you're mean and well, you're coldhearted. You're not the only one in the
world with problems, Trace. That girl is…she's a baby still."
    "Joan,
get in the truck." He softened his voice. "Please."
    If
it weren't for the fact that she needed this job, the money, she would have
left him there standing on the sidewalk. She opened his door and waited for him
to climb in. She was probably making the biggest mistake of her life, but when
it came to Trace she found it hard to refuse him anything.
    The
silence inside of the truck thickened, threatening to choke Joan. Pity for the
man who'd shied away from her at the pool mixed with the gentleness Trace
displayed with the little girl. Her anger simmered below the surface for the
injustices of the world, where fathers were always around, and kids were safe
and loved. Why some people ruined another person's life would always remain a
mystery.
    "Savannah
is not my daughter." Trace's confession came softly.
    "The
little girl? Her name is Savannah?" She glanced at him. "Whose child
is she