Falling for Mr. Wrong(41)
“Hi, Dad.”
Please be in a good mood. Please…
She should have known he would be here. Though he usually came in the afternoon, he was spending more hours now, in the final push before they left for Nepal.
“Is this one of those kids you were babysitting?” He didn’t sound mad. When she darted a quick look, she saw that he was holding a disposable coffee cup, which was a good sign. When he was in one of his really bad moods he refused to talk to anyone, including baristas.
Still, he couldn’t be happy to find her here with the kids. He’d complained enough when he heard she was taking care of them last week. With only a few weeks to go, he wasn’t happy with anything that took her attention from her training.
“Yes,” she said lightly. “His name’s Luke.”
“How long has he been climbing?” he asked.
“First time.”
He grunted with apparent approval of Luke’s native climbing ability. “That’s good,” he called to the boy. “Reach up with the left hand…the left hand… No, your other left.” He rolled his eyes when Luke paused to switch hands. “He’s as bad with right and left as you were.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Kelsey felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. She allowed herself a tiny smile. “Since you were my teacher, though, don’t you only have yourself to blame?”
“Suppose you’re right about that one.” He took a sip of coffee, wincing as Luke tried for a handhold and missed, tumbling to the mat in a tangle of knees and elbows. “Just pick yourself up and start again,” he advised the boy. “Nothing wrong with falling.”
Luke paused for a moment before he rolled to his feet. “Thanks,” he said, before bouncing back onto the first level of the climb.
Her father nodded, and Kelsey closed her eyes with relief. At fifty-eight, Mick Hanson was in the kind of shape twenty-year-olds emulated. His torso was corded with muscles sculpted from wire and grit, and his resting pulse rate was so low he set off heart rate monitors on the rare occasions he visited the doctor. He scoffed at Kelsey’s marathons, preferring the hundred-mile ultramarathons he did once or twice a year. But the deep lines around his mouth and bleak set to his eyes revealed that the years had not always been kind. Extreme fitness was no substitute for the optimism of youth.
When he was in a good mood, he could be an incredible teacher. Kelsey knew that from years of personal experience. When things didn’t go his way, on the other hand, he could be moody and downright mean.
“The kid looks like a natural,” Mick said, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Luke’s form. “You sure this is his first time?”
“Not many climbing walls in New York City,” she replied, feeling a strangely maternal surge of pride at the praise. “At least, I assume there aren’t. Can’t say I really know for sure.”
At that moment, Julia appeared and tugged on Kelsey’s pants. “Kelsey, I want to try. Can I try now?”
Kelsey gave a gentle tug to one of Julia’s braids. “Of course.” She looked around for the rest of their group. “Where is Matt?”
“He doesn’t want to do it. He’s still watching. But I want to try.”
Kelsey craned her neck around, searching the gym, and caught a glimpse of Matt’s red shirt on the other side of the room. Once she had Luke and Julia going, she’d find Matt and coax him up onto the wall. But for now, she thrilled at having the chance to protect Luke’s success from competition with his younger brother.
“Great. Let’s go to that one.” She pointed to a spot a few feet down from Luke.
Julia clapped her hands, her body a combination of fear and excitement. She waited for Kelsey’s nod of approval before she crossed the tape and touched the wall. Kelsey moved to position herself behind the girl, keeping her hands close to the girl’s body to help her feel protected, though the wall was low and the floor padded enough that there was little threat of real injury.
Mick followed them. “What’s the schedule this week?”
“I’m biking tomorrow, hiking Wednesday, and running Thursday,” Kelsey replied. She kept her attention on Julia. “Great move, honey,” she said, when the girl pulled herself a few feet up the wall.
“Did you see the e-mail from Artisan?” Mick asked. “They need to reschedule our final photo shoot.”
Artisan was one of their corporate sponsors. The company made high-end climbing gear and loved the father-daughter hook of the expedition to Annapurna. Kelsey knew the fact that she was climbing with her father had helped close the deal with another sponsor as well, this one a manufacturer of tents and sleeping bags. They’d been working with both companies since their first trip to Annapurna, three years ago. When the storm had forced them off the mountain, the sponsors had been disappointed, but willing to give it a second try. Chances were, they wouldn’t give a third.