He caught the little foot in his big hand, admiring the shine of the black patent leather. 'Wow, that's so shiny I can see my face in it.' He pretended to inspect his teeth, which set her to giggling.
Zane rose to his feet. 'We'll put the boys down for their naps while you have her occupied.'
Keeping Nick occupied wasn't a problem; she was never at a loss for something to say or do. He curled one silky black strand of her hair around his finger while she chattered about her new shoes, Grampa's new horses, and what Daddy had said when he hit his thumb with a hammer. She cheerfully repeated exactly what Daddy had said, making Chance choke.
'But I'm not 'posed to say dat,' she said, giving him a solemn look. 'Dat's a weally, weally bad word.'
'Yeah,' he said, his voice strained. 'It is.'
'I'm not 'posed to say'damn,' or 'hell,' or 'ass,' or—'
'Then you shouldn't be saying them now.' He managed to inject a note of firmness in his tone, though it was a struggle to keep from laughing.
She looked perplexed. 'Den how can I tell you what dey are?'
'Does Daddy know what the bad words are?'
The little head nodded emphatically. 'He knows dem
.'
'I'll ask him to tell me, so I'll know which words not to say.'
'Otay.' She sighed. 'But don't hit him too hard.'
'Hit him?'
'Dat's de only time he says
'Aunt Mawis is goin' to have a baby,' Nick said, scrambling up to stand in his lap, her feet braced on his thighs. Chance put both hands around her to steady her, though his aid probably wasn't needed; Nick had the balance of an acrobat.
'I know. Your daddy told me.'
Nick scowled at not being the first to impart the news. 'She's goin' to foal in de spwing,' she announced.
He couldn't hold back the laughter this time. He gathered the little darling close to him and stood, whirling her around and making her shriek with laughter as she clung to his neck. He laughed until his eyes were wet. God, he loved this child, who in the three short years of her life had taught them all to be on their toes at all times, because there was no telling what she was going to do or say. It took the entire Mackenzie family to ride herd on her.
Suddenly she heaved a sigh. 'When's de spwing? Is it a wong, wong time away?'
'Very long,' he said gravely. Seven months was an eternity to a three-year-old.
'Will I be old?'
He put on a sympathetic face and nodded. 'You'll be four.'
She looked both horrified and resigned. 'Four,' she said mournfully. 'Whodadunkit?'
When he stopped laughing this time, he wiped his eyes and asked, 'Who taught you to say
'John,' she said promptly.
'Did he teach you anything else?'
She nodded.
'What? Can you remember it?'
She nodded.
'Will you tell me what they are?'
She rolled her eyes up and studied the ceiling for a moment, then gave him a narrow-eyed look. 'Will you wet me wide your moborcycle?'
Damn, she was bargaining! He trembled with fear at the thought of what she would be like when she was sixteen. 'No,' he said firmly. 'If you got hurt, your mommy and daddy would cry, Grampa and Gamma would cry,
would cry, Aunt Maris would cry, Mac would cry, Unca Mike would cry—'
She looked impressed at this litany of crying and interrupted before he could name everyone in the family. 'I can wide a horse, Unca Dance, so why can't I wide your moborcycle?'
God, she was relentless. Where in the hell were Zane and Barrie? They'd had plenty of time to put the twins down for their naps. If he knew Zane, his brother was taking advantage of having a baby-sitter for Nick to get in some sexy time with his wife; Zane was always prepared to use a fluid situation to his advantage.
It was another ten minutes before Zane strolled back into the office, his eyes slightly heavy-lidded and his hard face subtly relaxed. Chance scowled at his brother. He'd spent the ten minutes trying to talk Nick into telling him what John had taught her, but she wasn't budging from her initial negotiation. 'It's about time,' he groused.
'Hey, I hurried,' Zane protested mildly.
'Yeah, right.'
'As much as possible,' he added, smiling. He smoothed his big hand over his daughter's shining black hair. 'Have you kept Uncle Chance entertained?'
She nodded. 'I told him de weally, weally bad word you said when you hit your dumb.'