When Frankie wrinkled her nose, Regan’s heart sank. Guess she didn’t like to—

“Your father’s probably a good teacher for you, but Bull is huge, and the way he fights wouldn’t be right for you. He’s used to being a lot bigger and stronger than just about anyone.”

Grammy Lillian tapped a finger on her cheek. “You sound as if you’ve had some experience with fighting?”

“Some. I’ve taken aikido classes since I was Regan’s age.” Frankie grinned at Regan. “I like aikido because it lets me throw people around without having to punch them in the face. But that’s just me.”

Fun! Maybe Papá would let her learn aikido. Regan grinned back, then frowned. “No one teaches that aikido stuff here.”

“No, but I still practice. There are a couple of grassy areas in the town park, where I practice in the mornings. You’ll have to join me, and I’ll teach you a few moves.” Frankie smiled. “If I tried to practice kicks in my cabin, I’d break a window, and Dante would throw me out.”

Regan laughed. Dante was all proud of his rentals.

When Audrey asked Frankie how she liked the cabin, Regan sat back and considered. Frankie was really pretty when she smiled, and she wasn’t wearing a bunch of stuff on her face or rings and necklaces, and she just wore jeans and a blue sweater. Not all fancy. Uncle Bull wasn’t into fancy stuff.

And she liked to fight and cook.

Regan nodded.

If Uncle Bull was lonely, this Frankie might do.

Chapter Twelve

Watch their hands. Hands kill. (In God we trust. Everyone else, keep your hands where I can see them.) ~ Rules for a Gunfight

A graveled path from Frankie’s cabin ran alongside the lake, in and out of trees, straight to the city park. Carrying her aiki-jo, the four-foot aikido staff, she jogged slowly, grumbling with every step. Her legs felt more like brittle branches than flesh, and her body sure wasn’t what a person would call willing. She was still sore from her…adventure, the one where the bastardi shot her. But the wound was doing fine. She mustn’t let her body get out of shape, not when Kit and Aric’s lives might depend on her.

She wanted to work out anyway. Back in college, she’d stopped doing her aikido exercises, stopped jogging—and not only gained a bunch of weight, but also became winded from just walking up a flight of stairs. That had made her do a long hard study of what she wanted from life—to do stuff and eat stuff.