Synopses & Reviews
Gabe Reynolds paced the photo-lined hallway, back and forth past baby and childhood pictures of his daughter, past the door where that same daughter did whatever preteen girls did behind closed doors. Considering the amount of time he spent coaxing her out of there these days, he figured he'd wear a path in the finish of the hardwood floor by the time his only child was grown and gone--something he intended to delay as long as possible.
He finally stopped and banged on the bathroom door. Hurry up, Chels. You'll be late.
His dear, sweet daughter growled at him. Growled.
With a badge on his chest and weapon at his hip, he should be prepared to deal with anything. But give him a drunk or a thief any day over this soon-to-be-teenage-girl business.
He pounded the door again. I've gotta get back to the station. What are you doing in there?
For the thousandth time, I'm coming.
He knew without a doubt that she was in there rolling her eyes at him. What's taking so long?
A work of art takes time, she said in her best theatrical voice. Then she giggled, more like her normal, little girl self.
This switching from girl to young woman then back to girl
in the blink of an eye was making his head spin. You better not be putting on makeup.
I'm a teenager. All my friends wear makeup.
You're not thirteen yet. And if all your friends jumped off--
She yanked the door open so fast it banged into the wall. She glared at him. No. If all my friends jumped off a bridge, I would not jump, too. This is totally different and you know it.
Her cheeks glowed with a too-bright pink that matched her tinted lips. Her mascaraed eyelashes, clumped into several uneven spikes, seemed a mile longer than usual. She looked grown-up. Too grown-up--the kind that would attract the atte