The Millionaire and the Mechanic

Single mom Angelica Camden’s determined to fulfill her sick son’s every wish. At the top of the list is moving back to her hometown to be near family. His second request? Lots of dogs! Gathering her courage, Angelica asks her former fiancé, a veterinarian with a dog rescue farm, for a job. Though they’re growing close again, Angelica can’t bear to tell handsome, honorable Troy Hinton the painful truth about why she fled town and broke his heart. Yet when he discovers her son’s biggest wish is for a father, Troy’s shocking suggestion of marriage may just make all their dreams come true.

“You still haven’t answered my question—about marrying me,” Troy said quietly.

Angelica glanced away.

“Have you thought about it?”

She shut her eyes for a moment. “I’ve hardly thought of anything else.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “But is there anything I could do to help you decide?”

She gave him a narrow-eyed look, and for a moment, he thought she was going to scold him. “Yes,” she said finally. “You could tell me why you want to do it.”

Should he tell her how much he’d started caring for her, or would that make her shy away?

Knowing her, it would. “That’s easy. I want to do it because your son wants a dad. And because I like helping you.”

Her mouth got a pinched look. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she felt hurt. “Those aren’t…those aren’t the reasons people get married.”

“Are they bad reasons, though?”

She shook her head, staring at the ground. “They’re not bad, no. They’re fine. Kind. Good.”

“Then what’s standing in the way?”

She shrugged, looked away.

But he saw that there was a fine film of tears over her eyes.

LEE TOBIN McCLAIN read Gone with the Wind in the third grade and has been a hopeless romantic ever since. When she’s not writing angst-filled love stories with happy endings, she’s getting inspiration from her church singles group, her gymnastics-obsessed teenage daughter and her rescue dog and cat. In her day job, Lee gets to encourage aspiring romance writers in Seton Hill University’s low-residency MFA program. Visit her at leetobinmcclain.com.

Engaged to the Single Mom

Lee Tobin McClain

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28

I owe much appreciation to my Wednesday-morning critique group—Sally Alexander, Jonathan Auxier, Kathy Ayres, Colleen McKenna and Jackie Robb—for being patient through genre shifts while gently insisting on excellence. Thanks also to my colleagues at Seton Hill University, especially Michael Arnzen, Nicole Peeler and Albert Wendland, whose support and encouragement keep me happily writing. Ben Wernsman helped me brainstorm story ideas, and Carrie Turansky read an early draft of the proposal and critiqued it most helpfully. I’m grateful to be working with my agent, Karen Solem, and my editor, Shana Asaro—dog lovers both—who saw the potential of the story and helped me make it better. Most of all, thanks belong to my daughter, Grace, for being patient with her creative mom’s absentmindedness and for offering inspiration, recreation and eye-rolling, teenage-style love every step of the way.

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“You can let me off here.” Angelica Camden practically shouted the words over the roar of her grandfather’s mufflerless truck. The hot July air, blowing in through the pickup’s open windows, did nothing to dispel the sweat that dampened her neck and face.

She rubbed her hands down the legs of the full-length jeans she preferred to wear despite the heat, took a deep breath and blew it out yoga-style between pursed lips. She could do this. Had to do it.

Gramps raised bushy white eyebrows as he braked at the top of a long driveway. “I’m taking you right up to that arrogant something-or-other’s door. You’re a lady and should be treated as one.”

No chance of that. Angelica’s stomach churned at the thought of the man she was about to face. She’d fight lions for her kid, had done the equivalent plenty of times, but this particular lion terrified her, brought back feelings of longing and shame and sadness that made her feel about two inches tall.

This particular lion had every right to eat her alive. Her heart fluttered hard against her ribs, and when she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, the truck’s exhaust fumes made her feel light-headed.

I can’t do this, Lord.

Immediately the verse from this morning’s devotional, read hastily while she’d stirred oatmeal on Gramps’s old gas stove, swam before her eyes: I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.

She believed it. She’d recited it to herself many times in the past couple of difficult years. She could do all things through Christ.

But this, Lord? Are you sure?

She knew Gramps would gladly go on the warpath for her, but using an eighty-year-old man to fight her battles wasn’t an option. The problem was hers. She’d brought it on herself, mostly, and she was the one who had to solve it. “I’d rather do it my own way, Gramps. Please.”

Ignoring her—of course—he started to turn into the driveway.

She yanked the handle, shoved the truck door open and put a booted foot on the running board, ready to jump.

“Hey, careful!” Gramps screeched to a stop just in front of a wooden sign: A Dog’s Last Chance: No-Cage Canine Rescue. Troy Hinton, DVM, Proprietor. “DVM, eh? Well, he’s still a—”

“Shhh.” She swung back around to face him, hands braced on the door guards, and nodded sideways toward the focus of her entire life.

Gramps grunted and, thankfully, lapsed into silence.

“Mama, can I go in with you?” Xavier shot her a pleading look—one he’d perfected and used at will, the rascal—from the truck’s backseat. “I want to see the dogs.”

If she played this right, he’d be able to do more than just see the dogs during a short visit. He’d fulfill a dream, and right now Angelica’s life pretty much revolved around helping Xavier fulfill his dreams.

“It’s a job interview, honey. You go for a little drive with Gramps.” At his disappointed expression, she reached back to pat his too-skinny leg. “Maybe you can see the dogs later, if I get the job.”

“You’ll get it, Mama.”

His brilliant smile and total confidence warmed her heart at the same time that tension attacked her stomach. She shot a glance at Gramps and clung harder to the truck, which suddenly felt like security in a storm.

He must have read her expression, because his gnarled hands gripped the steering wheel hard. “You don’t have to do this. We can try to get by for another couple of weeks at the Towers.”

Seeing the concern in his eyes took Angelica out of herself and her fears. Gramps wasn’t as healthy as he used to be, and he didn’t need any extra stress on account of her. Two weeks at the Senior Towers was the maximum visit from relatives with kids, and even though she’d tried to keep Xavier quiet and neat, he’d bumped into a resident who used a walker, spilled red punch in the hallway and generally made too much noise. In other words, he was a kid. And the Senior Towers was no place to raise a kid.

They’d already outstayed their welcome, and she knew Gramps was concerned about it. She leaned back in to rub his shoulder. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”

But once the truck pulled away, bearing with it the only two males in North America she trusted, Angelica’s strength failed her. She put a hand on one of the wooden fence posts and closed her eyes, shooting up a desperate prayer for courage.

As the truck sounds faded, the Ohio farmland came to life around her. A tiny creek rippled its way along the driveway. Two fence posts down, a red-winged blackbird landed, trilling the oka-oka-LEE she hadn’t heard in years. She inhaled the pungent scent of new-mown hay.

This was where she’d come from. Surely the Lord had a reason for bringing her home.

Taking another deep breath, she straightened her spine. She was of farm stock. She could do this. She reached into her pocket, clutched the key chain holding a cross and a photo of her son in better days, and headed toward the faint sound of barking dogs. Toward the home of the man who had every reason to hate her.

* * *

As the sound of the pickup faded, Troy Hinton used his arms to lift himself halfway out of the porch rocker. In front of him, his cast-clad leg rested on a wicker table, stiff and useless.

“A real man plays ball, even if he’s hurt. Get back up and into the game, son.” His dad’s words echoed in his head, even though his logical side knew he couldn’t risk worsening his compound fracture just so he could stride down the porch steps and impress the raven-haired beauty slowly approaching his home.

Not that he had any chance of impressing Angelica Camden. Nor any interest in doing so. She was one mistake he wouldn’t make again.

His dog, Bull, scrabbled against the floorboards beside him, trying to stand despite his arthritic hips. Troy sank back down and put a hand on the dog’s back. “It’s okay, boy. Relax.”

He watched Angelica’s slow, reluctant walk toward his house. Why she’d applied to be his assistant, he didn’t know. And why he’d agreed to talk to her was an even bigger puzzle.

She’d avoided him for the past seven years, ever since she’d jilted him with a handwritten letter and disappeared not only from his life, but from the state. A surge of the old bitterness rose in him, and he clenched his fists. Humiliation. Embarrassment. And worse, a broken heart and shattered faith that had never fully recovered.

She’d arrived in her grandfather’s truck, but the old man had no use for him or any of his family, so why had he brought her out here for her interview? And why wasn’t he standing guard with a shotgun? In fact, given the old man’s reputation for thrift, he’d probably use the very same shotgun with which he’d ordered Troy off his hardscrabble farm seven years ago.

Troy had come looking for explanations about why Angelica had left town. Where she was. What her letter had meant. How she was surviving; whether she was okay.

The old man had raved at him, gone back into the past feud between their families over the miserable acre of land he called a farm. That acre had rapidly gone to seed, as had Angelica’s grandfather, and a short while later he’d moved into the Senior Towers.

In a way, the old man had been abandoned, too, by the granddaughter he’d helped to raise. Fair warning. No matter how sweet she seemed, no matter what promises she made, she was a runner. Disloyal. Not to be counted on.

As Angelica approached, Troy studied her. She was way thinner than the curvy little thing she’d been at twenty-one. Her black hair, once shiny and flowing down her back in waves, was now captured in a careless bun. She wore baggy jeans and a loose, dusty-red T-shirt.

But with her full lips and almond-shaped eyes and coppery bronze skin, she still glowed like an exotic flower in the middle of a plain midwestern cornfield. And doggone it if his heart didn’t leap out of his chest to see her.

“Down, boy,” Troy ordered Bull—or maybe himself—as he pushed up into a standing position and hopped over to get his crutches.

His movements must have caught the attention of Lou Ann Miller, and now she hobbled out the front screen door.

She pointed a spatula at him. “You get back in that chair.”

“You get back in that kitchen.” He narrowed his eyes at the woman who’d practically raised him. “This is something I have to do alone. And standing up.”

“If you fall down those steps, you’ll have to hire yet another helper, and you’ve barely got the charm to keep me.” She put her hands on bony hips. “I expect you to treat that girl decent. What I hear, she’s been through a lot.”

Curiosity tugged at him. People in town were too kind to tell him the latest gossip about Angelica. They danced around the subject, sparing his ego and his feelings.

What had Angelica been through? How had it affected her?

The idea that she’d suffered or been hurt plucked at the chords of his heart, remnants of a time he’d have moved mountains to protect her and care for her. She’d had such a hard time growing up, and it had made him feel ten feet tall that she’d chosen him to help her escape her rough past.

Women weren’t the only ones who liked stories of knights in shining armor. Lots of men wanted to be heroes as well, and Angelica was the kind of woman who could bring out the heroic side of a guy.

At least for a while. He swallowed down his questions and the bad taste in his mouth and forced a lightness he didn’t feel into his tone. “Who says I won’t treat her well? She’s the only person who’s applied for the job. I’d better.” Looking at his cast, he could only shake his head. What an idiot he’d been to try to fix the barn roof by himself, all because he didn’t want to ask anyone for help.

“I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll know if you raise your voice,” Lou Ann warned, pointing the spatula at him again.

He hopped to the door and held it for her. Partly to urge her inside, and partly to catch her if she stumbled. She was seventy-five if she was a day, and despite her high energy and general bossiness, he felt protective.

Not that he’d be much help if she fell, with this broken leg.

She rolled her eyes and walked inside, shaking her head.

When he turned back, Angelica was about ten feet away from the front porch. She’d stopped and was watching him. Eyes huge, wide, wary. From here, he could see the dark circles under them.

Unwanted concern nudged at him. She looked as though she hadn’t slept, hadn’t been eating right. Her clothes were worn, suggesting poverty. And the flirty sparkle in her eyes, the one that had kept all the farm boys buying gallons of lemonade from her concession stand at the county fair...that was completely gone.

She looked defeated. At the end of her rope.

What had happened to her?

Their mutual sizing-up stare-fest lasted way too long, and then he beckoned her forward. “Come on up. I’m afraid I can’t greet you properly with this bum leg.”

She trotted up the stairs, belying his impression that she was beaten down. “Was that Lou Ann Miller?”

“It was.” He felt an illogical urge to step closer to her, which he ascribed to the fact that he didn’t get out much and didn’t meet many women. “She runs my life.”

“Miss Lou Ann!” Angelica called through the screen door, seemingly determined to ignore Troy. “Haven’t seen you in ages!”

Lou Ann, who must have been directly inside, hurried back out.

Angelica’s face broke into a smile as she pulled the older woman into a gentle hug. “It’s so nice to see you! How’s Caleb?”

Troy drummed his fingers on the handle of his crutch. Caleb was Lou Ann’s grandson, who’d been in Angelica’s grade in school, and whom Angelica had dated before the two of them had gotten together. He was just one of the many members of Angelica’s fan club back then, and Troy, with his young-guy pride and testosterone, had been crazy jealous of all of them.

Maybe with good reason.

“He’s fine, fine. Got two young boys.” Lou Ann held Angelica’s shoulders and studied her. “You’re way too thin. I’ll bring out some cookies.” She glared at Troy. “They’re not for you, so don’t you go eating all of them.”

And then she was gone and it was just the two of them.

* * *

Angelica studied the man she’d been so madly in love with seven years ago.

He was as handsome as ever, despite the cast on his leg and the two-day ragged beard on his chin. His shoulders were still impossibly broad, but now there were tiny wrinkles beside his eyes, and his short haircut didn’t conceal the fact that his hairline was a little higher than it used to be. The hand he held out to her was huge.

Angelica’s stomach knotted, but she forced herself to reach out and put her hand into his.

The hard-calloused palm engulfed hers and she yanked her hand back, feeling trapped. She squatted down to pet the grizzled bulldog at Troy’s side. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Bull.”

She blinked. Was he calling her on her skittishness?

That impression increased as he cocked his head to one side. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No!” She gulped air. “I’m not afraid of you. Like I said when we texted, I’m here to apply for the job you advertised in the Tribune.”

He gestured toward one of the rockers. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about that. I’m curious about why you’re interested.”

Of course he was. And she’d spent much of last night sleepless, wondering how much she’d have to tell him to get the job she desperately needed, the job that would make things as good as they could be, at least for a while.

Once she sat down, he made his way back to his own rocker and sat, grimacing as he propped his leg on the low table in front of him.

She didn’t like the rush of sympathy she felt. “What happened?”

“Fell off a roof. My own stupid fault.”

That was new in him, the willingness to admit his own culpability. She wondered how far it went.

“That’s why I need an assistant with the dogs,” he explained. “Lou Ann helps me around the house, but she’s not strong enough to take care of the kennels. I can’t get everything done, and we’ve got a lot of dogs right now, so this is kind of urgent.”

His words were perfectly cordial, but questions and undercurrents rustled beneath them.

Angelica forced herself to stay in the present, in sales mode. “You saw my résumé online, right? I worked as a vet assistant back in Boston. And I’ve done hospital, um, volunteer work, and you know I grew up in the country. I’m strong, a lot stronger than I look.”

He nodded. “I’ve no doubt you could do the work if you wanted to,” he said, “but why would you want to?”

“Let’s just say I need a job.”

He studied her, his blue eyes troubled. “You haven’t shown your face in town for seven years. Even when you visit your grandfather, you hide out at the Senior Towers. If I’m giving you access to my dogs and my computer files and my whole business, especially if you’re able to live here on the grounds, I need to know a little more about what you’ve been up to.”

He hadn’t mentioned his main reason for mistrusting her, and she appreciated that. She pulled her mind out of the past and focused on the living arrangement, one of the main reasons this job was perfect for her. “I’m very interested in living in. Your ad said that’s part of the job?”

“That’s right, in the old bunkhouse.” He gestured toward a trim white building off to the east. “I figured the offer of housing might sweeten the deal, given that this is just a temporary job.”

“Is it big enough for two?”

“Ye-es,” He leaned back in the rocker and studied her, his eyes hooded. “Why? Are you married? I thought your name was still Camden.”

“I’m not married.” She swallowed. “But I do have a son.”

His eyebrows lifted. “How old is your son?”

“Is that important?” She really, really didn’t want to tell him.

“Yes, it’s important,” he said with a slight sigh. “I can’t have a baby or toddler here. It wouldn’t be safe, not with some of the dogs I care for.”

She drew in a breath. Now or never. “My son’s six, almost seven.” She reached a hand out to the bulldog, who’d settled between them, rubbed it along his wrinkled head, let him sloppily lick her fingers.

“Six! Then...”

She forced herself to look at Troy steadily while he did the math. Saw his eyes harden as he realized her son must have been conceived right around the time she’d left town.

Heat rose in her cheeks as the familiar feeling of shame twisted her insides. But she couldn’t let herself go there. “Xavier is a well-behaved kid.” At least most of the time. “He loves animals and he’s gentle with them.”

Troy was still frowning.

He was going to refuse her, angry about the way she’d left him, and then what would she do? How would she achieve the goal she’d set for herself, to fulfill as many of Xavier’s wishes as she could? This was such a perfect arrangement.

“I really need this job, Troy.” She hated to beg, but for Xavier, she’d do it.

He looked away, out at the fields, and she did, too. Sun on late-summer corn tassels, puffy clouds in a blue sky. Xavier would love it so.

“If you ever felt anything for me...” Her throat tightened and she had to force out the words. “If any of your memories about me are good, please give me the job.”

He turned back toward her, eyes narrowing. “Why do you need it so badly?”

She clenched her hands in her lap. “Because my son wants to be close to Gramps. And because he loves animals.”

“Most people don’t organize their careers around their kids’ hankerings.”

She drew in a breath. “Well, I do.”

His expression softened a little. “This job...it might not be what you want. It’s just until my leg heals. The doc says it could be three, four months before I’m fully back on my feet. Once that happens, I won’t need an assistant anymore.”

She swallowed and squeezed her hands together. Lord, I know I’m supposed to let You lead, but this seems so right. Not for me, but for Xavier, and that’s what matters. It is of You, isn’t it?

No answer from above, but the roar of a truck engine pierced the country quiet.

Oh no. Gramps was back too soon. He’d never gotten along with Troy, never trusted him on account of his conflicts with Troy’s dad. But she didn’t want the two men’s animosity to get in the way of what both she and her son wanted and needed.

The truck stopped again at the end of the driveway. Gramps got out, walked around to the passenger door.

She surged from her chair. “No, don’t!” she called, but the old man didn’t hear her. She started down the porch steps

Troy called her back. “It’s okay, they can come up. Regardless of what we decide about the job, maybe your son would like to see the dogs, look around the place.”

“There’s nothing he’d like better,” she said, “but I don’t want to get his hopes up if this isn’t going to work out.”

Troy’s forehead wrinkled as he stared out toward the truck, watching as Gramps helped Xavier climb out.

Angelica rarely saw her son from this distance, and now, watching Gramps steady him, her hand rose to her throat. He looked as thin as a scarecrow. His baseball cap couldn’t conceal the fact that he had almost no hair.

Her eyes stung and her breathing quickened as if she were hyperventilating. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, hard, and pressed her lips together.

Gramps held Xavier’s arm as they made slow progress down the driveway. The older supporting the younger, opposite of how it should be.

Troy cleared his throat. “Like I said, the job won’t be long-term. I...it looks like you and your son have some...issues. You might want to find something more permanent.”

His kind tone made her want to curl up and cry for a couple of weeks, but she couldn’t go there. She clenched her fists. “I know the job is short-term.” Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, she added, “That’s okay with us. We take things a day at a time.”

“Why’s that?” His gaze remained on the pair making their slow way up the driveway.

He was going to make her say it. She took a shuddering breath and forced out the words. “Because the doctors aren’t sure how long his remission will last.”

* * *

Troy stared at Xavier, forgetting to breathe. Remission? “Remission from what?”

Angelica cleared her throat. “Leukemia. He has...a kind that’s hard to beat.”

Every parent’s nightmare. Instinctively he reached out to pat her shoulder, the way he’d done so many times with pet owners worried about seriously ill pets.

She flinched and sidled away.

Fine! Anger flared up at the rejection and he gripped the porch railing and tamped it down. Her response was crystal clear. She didn’t want any physical contact between them.

But no matter his own feelings, no matter what Angelica had done to him, the past was the past. This pain, the pain of a mother who might lose her child, was in the present, and Angelica’s worn-down appearance suddenly made sense.

And no matter whose kid Xavier was...no matter who she’d cheated on him with...the boy was an innocent, and the thought of a child seriously, maybe terminally, ill made Troy’s heart hurt.

Again he suppressed his emotions as his medical instincts went into overdrive. “What kind of doctors has he seen? Have you gotten good treatments, second opinions?”

She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t begin to tell you how many doctors and opinions.”

“But are they the best ones? Have you tried the Cleveland—”

“Troy!” She blew out a jagged breath. “Look, I don’t need medical interference right now. I need a job.”

“But—”

“Don’t you think I’ve done everything in my power to help him?” She turned away and walked down the steps toward her son. Her back was stiff, her shoulders rigid.

He lifted a hand to stop her and then let it fall. Way to go, Hinton. Great social skills.

He’d find out more, would try to do something to help. Obviously Angelica hadn’t done well financially since she left him and left town. Xavier’s father must have bolted. And without financial resources, getting good medical care wasn’t easy.

“Mom! Did you get the job?”

Angelica shot Troy a quick glance. “It’s still being decided.”

The boy’s face fell. Then he nodded and bit his lip. “It’s okay, Mama. But can we at least see the dogs?”

“Absolutely,” Troy answered before Angelica could deny the boy. Then he hobbled down the porch stairs and sank onto the bottom one, putting him on a level with the six-year-old. “I’m Troy,” he said, and reached out to shake the boy’s hand.

The boy smiled—wow, what a smile—and reached out to grasp Troy’s hand, looking up at his mother for reassurance.

She nodded at him. “You know what to say.”

Frowning with thought, the boy shook his head.

“Pleased to...” Angelica prompted.

The smile broke out again like sunshine. “Oh yeah. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Xavier.” He dropped Troy’s hand and waved an arm upward, grinning. “And this is my grandpa. My great-grandpa.”

“I’ve already had the pleasure.” Troy looked up and met the old man’s hostile eyes.

Camden glared down at him, not speaking.

Oh man. Out of the gazillion reasons not to hire Angelica, here was a major one. Obviously her grandfather was an important part of her life, one of her only living relatives. If she and Xavier came to live here, Troy would see a lot of Homer Camden, something they’d managed to avoid for the years Angelica was out of town.

Of course, he’d been working like crazy himself. Setting up his private practice, opening the rescue, paying off debt from vet school, which was astronomical even though his family had helped.

Troy pushed himself to his feet and got his crutches underneath him. “Dogs are out this way, if you’d like to see them.” He nodded toward the barn.

“Yes!” Xavier pumped his arm. “I asked God to get me a bunch of dogs.”

“Zavey Davey...” Angelica’s voice was uneasy. “Remember, I don’t have the job yet. And God doesn’t always—”

“I know.” Xavier sighed, his smile fading a little. “He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to.”

Ouch. Kids were supposed to be all about Jesus Loves Me and complete confidence in God’s—and their parents’—ability to fix anything. But from the looks of things, young Xavier had already run up against some of life’s hard truths.

“Come on, Gramps.” When the old man didn’t move, Xavier tugged at his arm. “You promised you’d be nice. Please?”

The old man’s face reddened. After a slight pause that gave Troy and Angelica the chance to glance at each other, he turned in the direction Troy had indicated and started walking, slowly, with Xavier.

Angelica touched Troy’s arm, more like hit him, actually. “Don’t let him go back there if you don’t want to give me the job,” she growled.

Even angry, her voice brushed at his nerve endings like rich, soft velvet. Her rough touch plucked at some wildness in him he’d never given way to.

Troy looked off over the cornfields, thinking, trying to get control of himself. He didn’t trust Angelica, but that sweet-eyed kid...how could he disappoint a sick kid?

Homer Camden and the boy were making tracks toward the barn, and Troy started after them. He didn’t want them to reach the dogs before he’d had a chance to lay some ground rules about safety. He turned to make sure Angelica was following.

She wasn’t. “Well?” Her arms were crossed, eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side.

“You expect me to make an instant decision?”

“Since my kid’s feelings are on the line...yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Their eyes locked. Some kind of stormy electrical current ran between them.

This was bad. Working with her would be difficult enough, since feelings he thought he’d resolved years ago were resurfacing. He’d thought he was over her dumping him, but the knowledge that she’d conceived a child with someone else after seeming so sincere about their decision to wait until marriage... His neck felt as tight as granite. Yeah. It was going to take a while to process that.

Having her live here on the grounds with that very child, someone else’s child, the product of her unfaithfulness...he clenched his jaw against all the things he wanted to say to her.

Fools vent their anger, but the wise hold it back. It was a proverb he’d recently taught the boys in his Kennel Kids group, little dreaming how soon and how badly he’d need it himself.

“Mom! Come on! I wanna see the dogs!” Xavier was tugging at his grandfather’s arm, jumping around like a kid who wasn’t at all sick, but Troy knew that was deceptive. Even terminally ill animals went through energetic periods.

Could he deprive Xavier of being with dogs and of having a decent home to live in? Even if having Angelica here on the farm was going to be difficult?

When he met her eyes again, he saw that hers shone with unshed tears.

“Okay,” he said around a sigh. “You’re hired.”

Her face broke into a sunshiny smile that reminded him of the girl she’d been. “Thank you, Troy,” she said softly. She walked toward him, and for a minute he thought she was going to hug him, as she’d been so quick to do in the past.

But she walked right by him to catch up with her son and grandfather. She bent over, embraced Xavier from behind and spoke into his ear.

The boy let out a cheer. “Way to go, Mama! Come on!”

They hurried ahead, leaving Troy to hop along on his crutches, matching Angelica’s grandfather’s slower pace.

“Guess you hired her,” the old man said.

“I did.”

“Now you listen here.” Camden stopped walking, narrowed his eyes, and pointed a finger at Troy. “If you do anything to hurt that girl, you’ll have me to contend with.”

Troy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was doing this family a favor, but he couldn’t expect gratitude, not with the history that stood between them. “I have no plans to hurt her. Hoping she’ll be a help to me until I’m back on my feet.” He glanced down. “Foot.”

“Humph.” Camden turned and started making his way toward the barn again. “Heard you fell off a roof. Fool thing to do.”

Troy gritted his teeth and swung into step beside Camden. “According to my brother and dad, you’ve done a few fool things in your day.” This was a man who’d repeatedly refused a massive financial package that would have turned his family’s lives around, all in favor of keeping his single-acre farm that stood in the middle of the Hinton holdings.

Not that Troy blamed the old man, particularly. Troy’s father was an arrogant, unstable man with plenty of enemies. Including Troy himself, most of the time.

Even after Homer Camden’s health had declined, forcing him to move into the Senior Towers, he clung stubbornly to the land. Rumor had it that his house had fallen into disrepair and the surrounding fields were nothing but weeds.

Not wanting to say something he’d regret, Troy motored ahead on his crutches until he reached Xavier and Angelica, who’d stopped at the gate.

“If you wait there,” he said to them, “I’ll let the dogs out into the runs.” The breeze kicked up just as he passed Angelica, and the strawberry scent of her hair took him back seven years, to a time when that smell and her gentle, affectionate kisses had made him light-headed on a regular basis.

“Wait. Mr. Hinton.” Xavier was breathing hard. “Thank you...for giving Mama...the job.” He smiled up at Troy.

Troy’s throat constricted. “Thank you for talking her into doing it,” he managed to say, and then swung toward the barn.

He was going to do everything in his power to make that boy well.

Inside, joyful barks and slobbery kisses grounded him. His dogs ranged in age and size but tended toward the large, dark-coated bully breeds. The dogs no one else wanted to take a risk with: pit bulls, aggressive Dobermans and Rotties, large mutts. They were mixed in with older, sicker dogs whose owners couldn’t or wouldn’t pay the vet bills to treat them.

He moved among them, grateful that he’d found his calling in life.

Yes, he was lonely. Yes, he regretted not having a family around him, people to love. But he had his work, and it would always be there. Unlike people, dogs were loyal and trustworthy. They wouldn’t let you down.

He opened the kennel doors to let them run free.

When he got back outside, he heard the end of Homer Camden’s speech. “There’s a job might open up at the café,” he was saying, “And Jeannette Haroldson needs a caregiver.”

For some reason that went beyond his own need for a temporary assistant, Troy didn’t want the old man to talk her out of working for him. “Look, I know you’ve got a beef with the Hintons. But it’s my dad and my brother who manage the land holdings. My sister’s not involved, and I just run my rescue.”

“That’s as may be, but blood runs true. Angie’s got other choices, and I don’t see why—”

“That’s why, Grandpa.” Angelica pointed to Xavier. He’d knelt down beside the fence, letting the dogs lick him through it. On his face was an expression of the purest ecstasy Troy had ever seen.

All three adults looked at each other. They were three people at odds. But in that moment, in complete silence, a pact arose between them: whatever it takes, we’ll put this child first and help him be happy.

Chapter Two

Angelica watched her son reach thin, bluish fingers in to touch the dogs. Listened to Troy lecture them all about the rules for safety: don’t enter the pens without a trained person there, don’t let the dogs out, don’t feed one dog in the presence of others. Her half-broken heart sang with gratitude.

Thanks to God, and Troy, Xavier would have his heartfelt wish. He’d have dogs—multiple dogs—to spend his days with. He’d have a place to call home. He’d have everything she could provide for him to make his time on this earth happy.

And if Xavier was happy, she could handle anything: Troy’s intensity, the questions in his eyes, the leap in her own heart that came from being near this too-handsome man who had never been far from her thoughts in all these years.

“Do you want to see the inside of the barn?” Troy asked Xavier.

“Sure!” He sounded livelier than he had in weeks.

Troy led the way, his shoulders working the crutches. He was such a big man; he’d probably had to get the extra-tall size.

Gramps patted her back, stopping her. “I don’t like it,” he said, “but I understand what you’re doing.”

She draped an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Think I’ll wait in the truck, though,” he said. “Being around a Hinton sticks in my craw.”

“Okay, sure.” Truthfully, she was glad to see Gramps go. She doubted that he and Troy could be civil much longer.

She held Xavier’s hand as they walked into the barn and over to the dog pens. The place was pretty clean, considering. Troy must have been wearing himself out to keep it that way.

As Xavier and Troy played with the dogs, she looked around, trying to get a clue into the man. She wandered over to a desk in the corner, obviously a place where he did the kennel business, or some of it.

And there, among a jumble of nails and paper clips, was a leather-studded bracelet she hadn’t seen in seven years. She sucked in a breath as her heart dove down, down, down.

She closed her eyes hard, trying to shut out the memories, but a slide show of them raced through her mind. First date, whirlwind courtship and the most romantic marriage proposal a girl from her background could have imagined. For a few months, she’d felt like a princess in a fairy tale.

Back then, as an engaged couple, they’d helped with the youth group and had gotten the kids True Love Waits bracelets—leather and studs for the guys, more delicate chains for the girls. There had been a couple of extra ones, and one night when the waiting had been difficult, she and Troy had decided to each wear one as a reminder.

Carefully, she picked up the leather band. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered stroking it on his arm, sometimes jokingly tugging at it when their kisses had gotten too passionate. Back in those innocent, happy days.

She’d ripped hers off and thrown it away on the most awful night of her life. The night she’d turned twenty-one and stupidly gone out with a bunch of friends to celebrate. The night she’d had too much to drink, realized it and accepted the offer of an older acquaintance to walk her home.

The night her purity and innocence and dreams of waiting for marriage had been torn forcibly away.

The next day, when Troy had noticed her bracelet was missing, she’d lied to him, telling him it must have fallen off.

But he’d continued to wear his, joking that he probably needed the reminder more than she did.

“Hey.” He came up behind her now. When he noticed what she was holding, his eyebrows shot up and he took a step back.

She dropped it as if it were made of hot metal. “I’m sorry. That’s not my business. I just happened to see it and...got carried away with the memories.”

He nodded, pressed his lips together. Turned away.

That set face had to be judging her, didn’t it? Feeling disgust at her lack of purity.

She’d been right to leave him. He could never have accepted her after what happened, although knowing him, he’d have tried to pretend. He’d have felt obligated to marry her anyway.

“Mom! Come see!” Xavier cried.

“Xavier!” He’d gone into a section of the barn Troy had warned them was off-limits. “I’m sorry,” she said to Troy, and hurried over to her son. “You have to follow the rules! You could get hurt!”

“But look, Mama!” He knelt in front of a small heap of puppies, mostly gray and white, all squirming around a mother who lay on her side. Her head was lifted, her teeth bared.

“Careful of a mama dog,” Troy said behind her. “Pull him back a foot or two, will you, Angelica? These little guys are only two weeks old, and the mom’s still pretty protective.”

She did, hating the crestfallen expression on Xavier’s face. This ideal situation might have its own risks.

And then Troy reached down, patted the mother dog and carefully lifted a tiny, squirming puppy into Xavier’s lap.

Xavier froze, then put his face down to nuzzle the puppy’s pink-and-white snout. It nudged and licked him back, and then two more puppies crawled into his lap, tumbling over each other. Yips and squeals came from the mass of warm puppy bodies.

“Mom,” Xavier said reverently. “This is so cool.”

Angelica’s heart did a funny little twist. She reached out and squeezed Troy’s arm before she could stop herself.

“Do we really get to live here? Can we sleep in the barn with the puppies?”

Troy laughed. “No, son. You’ll stay in a bunkhouse. Kind of like an Old West cowboy. Want to see?”

“Sure!” His eyes were on Troy with something like hero worship, and worry pricked at Angelica’s chest. Was Xavier going to get too attached to Troy?

Then again, if it would make him happy... Angelica swallowed hard and shut out thoughts of the future. “Let’s go!” she said with a voice that was only slightly shaky.

When they reached the bunkhouse and walked inside, Angelica felt her face break out into a smile. “It’s wonderful, Troy! When did you do all this work on it?” She remembered the place as an old, run-down outbuilding, but now modern paneling and new windows made it bright with sunshine on wood. It needed curtains, maybe blue-and-white gingham. The rough-hewn pine furniture was sparse, but with a few throw pillows and afghans, the place would be downright homey.

A home. She’d wanted one forever, and even more after she’d become a mom.

Troy’s watchful eyes snapped her out of her happy fantasies. “You like it?”

“It’s fantastic.” She realized he’d never answered her question about when he’d done the work.

“You’re easy to please.” His voice was gruff.

She smiled and squatted down beside Xavier. “We both are. Pretty near perfect, isn’t it, Zavey Davey?”

“Yes. Sure, Mama.”

Her ear was so attuned to his needs that she heard the slight hesitation in his voice. “What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice low to make the conversation private, just between her and her son. “Isn’t this everything you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes. Except...” He wrinkled his freckled nose as though he was trying to decide something.

“What? What is it, honey?”

He pressed his lips together and then lost the battle with himself, shrugged and grinned winningly at her. “It’s the last thing on my list, Mama.”

The last thing. Her heart twisted tight. “What? What do you need?”

He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “A dad.”

* * *

When Angelica emerged from the bunkhouse the next Saturday, every nerve in Troy’s body snapped to attention. Was this the same woman who’d been working like a ranch hand this week, wearing jeans and T-shirts and boots, learning the ropes in the kennel?

It was the first time he’d seen her in a top that wasn’t as loose as a sack. And was that makeup on her eyes, making them look even bigger?

“What?” she asked as she walked up beside him. She seemed taller. He looked down and saw that she was wearing sandals with a little heel, too.

Angelica had always been cute and appealing. But now she was model-thin, and with her hair braided back, her cheekbones stood out in a heart-shaped face set off by long silver earrings. A pale pink shirt edged with lace made her copper-colored skin glow. With depth and wisdom in her brown eyes, and a wry smile turning up the edges of her mouth, she was a knockout.

And one he needed to steer clear of. Beauty didn’t equate to morality or good values, and one whirl with this little enchantress had just about done him in.

Though to be fair, he didn’t know the rest of her story. And he shouldn’t judge. “Nothing. You look nice.”

“Do you have the keys?”

“What?”

“Keys.” She held out her hand.

He had to stop staring. The keys. He pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over.

She wasn’t here for him. She was here because she needed something, and when she got it, she’d leave. He knew that from experience.

“Bye, Mama!” Xavier’s voice was thin, reedy, but for all that, cheerful.

When he turned, he saw Xavier and Lou Ann standing on the porch, waving.

“You be good for Miss Lou Ann.” Angelica shook her finger at Xavier, giving him a mock-stern look.

“I will, Mama.”

Lou Ann put an arm around the boy. “We’ll have fun. He’s going to help me do some baking.”

“Thank you!” Angelica shot a beaming smile toward the porch, and Troy’s heart melted a little more.

With him, though, she was all business. “Let’s get going. If we’re to get there by nine, we don’t have time to stand around.”

She walked toward the truck, and he couldn’t help noticing how well her jeans fit her slender frame.

Then she opened the passenger door and held it for him.

He gritted his teeth. Out of all the indignities of being injured, this had to be the worst. He liked to drive, liked to be in control, liked to open the door for a lady. Not have the door held for him. That was a man’s proper role, pounded into him from childhood. No weakness; no vulnerability. Men should be in charge.

While his years in college and vet school, surrounded by capable and brilliant professional women, had knocked some feminist sense into his head, his alpha-male instincts were as strong as ever.

“You need help getting in?” she asked.

Grrrr. “I have a broken leg. I’m not paralyzed.” He swung himself into the truck, grunting with the awkward effort.

“Sor-ry.” She shrugged and walked back around to the driver’s side.

When they headed down the driveway, he said, “Take a right up there at the stop sign.”

She did, rolling down her window at the same time. Hot, dusty July air blew tendrils of her hair loose, but she put her head back and breathed it in deeply, a tiny smile curving her full lips.

He liked that she’d stayed a farm girl, not all prissy and citified. Maybe liked it a little too much. “Slow down, this is a blind curve. Then go left after that barn.”

“Troy.” She shifted gears with complete competence. “I grew up here, remember? I know how to get to town.”

Of course she did. She was a capable assistant...and no more. He needed to focus on his weekly vet clinic and how he was going to manage it on crutches. Forget about Angelica.

Easier said than done.

* * *

Angelica turned down the lane that led into town, trying to pay attention to the country air blowing through the truck’s open windows rather than on the man beside her. He’d been staring at her nonstop since she came outside today. She already felt self-conscious, all dolled up, and Troy’s attitude made it worse. She wasn’t sure if he was judging her or...something else, but his gaze made her feel overheated, uncomfortable.

Or maybe the problem was that she’d dressed up on purpose, with the notion of finding a dad—or a temporary stand-in for one—to fulfill Xavier’s wish. The thought of putting herself out there for men to approach made her feel slightly ill; dating was the last thing she wanted to do. And it wasn’t likely that anyone would want damaged goods like her, not likely she’d attract interest, but she had to try. She’d promised herself to make her son’s days happy, since she couldn’t be sure how many he had left, and she was going to do her best.

Once they reached the residential area that surrounded Rescue River’s downtown, Angelica’s stomach knotted. Everyone in town knew about what she’d done to Troy, their beloved high school quarterback and brilliant veterinarian and all-around good guy. No doubt her own reputation was in the gutter.

There was the town’s famous sign, dating back to Civil War years when the tiny farm community had been home to several safe houses on the Underground Railroad:

Rescue River, Ohio.

All Are Welcome, All Are Safe.

Funny, she didn’t feel so safe now. She cruised past the bank and the feed store, and then thoughts of herself vanished when she saw the line of people snaking around the building that housed Troy’s veterinary practice. “Wow. Looks like your clinic is a success.”

“Lots of people struggling these days.”

“It’s free?”

He nodded, pointed. “Park right in front. They always save me a place.”

She noticed a few familiar faces turning toward their truck. Someone ran to take a lawn chair out of the single remaining parking spot and she pulled in, stopped and went around to see if Troy needed help getting out. But he’d already hopped down, so she grabbed his crutches out of the back and took them to him.

“Here.” She handed him the crutches, and his large, calloused hand brushed hers.

Something fluttered inside her chest. She yanked her hand back, dropping a crutch in the process.

“Hey, that you, Angie? Little Angie?”

She turned to see a tall, skinny man, his thin hair pulled back in a ponytail, his face stubbly. She cocked her head to one side. “Derek? Derek Moseley?”

“It is you!” He flung an easy arm around her and she shrugged away, and then suddenly Troy was there, stepping between them. “Whoa, my friend,” he said. “Easy on my assistant.”

“I’m fine!” She took another sidestep away.

Derek lifted his hands like stop signs. “Just saying hi to my old buddy’s little sister, Doc.” He turned to Angelica. “Girl, I ain’t seen you in ages. How’s your brother?”

She shook her head. “I don’t see him much myself. He’s overseas, doing mission work.”

“Carlo? A missionary?”

“Well, something like that.” In reality, her brother, Carlo, was halfway between a missionary and a mercenary, taking the word of God to people in remote areas where he was as likely to be met with a machete as a welcome.

“Carlo’s a great guy. Tell him I said hello.”

“I will.” That evaluation was spot-on—her brother was a great guy. Carlo was the one who’d gone to Gramps and told him he had to take her in when their parents’ behavior had gone way out of control. He’d been sixteen; she’d been nine. He’d gone out on his own then, had his dark and dangerous times, but now he’d found Jesus and reformed. He wrote often, sent money even though she told him not to, probably more than he could afford. But she didn’t see him enough and she wished he’d come home. Especially now, with Xavier’s health so bad.

A shuffling sound broke into her consciousness. She looked around for Troy and saw him working his way toward the clinic on his crutches, large medical bag clutched awkwardly at his side.

She hurried to him. “Here, let me carry that.”

“I can get it.”

Stepping in front of him, she took hold of the bag. “Probably, but not very well. This is what you’re paying me for.”

He held on to the bag a second longer and then let it go. “Fine.”

As they walked toward the clinic, people greeted Troy, thanked him for being there, asked about his leg. The line seemed endless. Most people held dogs on leads, but a few had cat carriers. One man sat on a bench beside an open-topped cardboard box holding a chicken.

How would Troy ever take care of all these people? “The clinic’s only until noon, right? Do you have help?”

“A vet tech, whenever he gets here. And I stay until I’ve seen everyone. We work hard. You up for this?”

She was and they did work hard; he wasn’t lying. The morning flew by with pet after pet. She held leashes for Pomeranians and pit bulls, got scratched by a frightened tomcat with a ripped ear and comforted a twenty-something girl who cried when her two fluffy fur-ball puppies, one black and one white, had to get shots. She wrote down the particulars of rescue situations people told Troy about. Dogs needed rabies shots and ear medicine, X-rays and spaying. If it was something he couldn’t do right at the moment, he made a plan to do it later in the week.

She asked once, “Can you even do surgery, with your leg?”

“My leg doesn’t hurt as much as that guy’s hurting,” he said, scratching the droopy ears of a basset-beagle mix with a swollen stomach. The owner was pretty sure he’d swallowed a baby’s Binky. “Feed him canned pumpkin to help things along,” he told the owner. “If he doesn’t pass it within three days, or if he’s in more pain, call me.”

A fiftysomething lady came in with a small, scruffy white dog wrapped in a towel. “Afraid he’s got to be put to sleep, Doc.” Her voice broke as she lifted the skinny animal to the metal exam table.

Angelica moved closer and patted the woman’s back, feeling completely ineffectual. She wanted to help, but sometimes there wasn’t anything you could do.

“Let’s not jump to that conclusion.” Troy picked up the whimpering little creature, ignoring its feeble effort to bite at him. He felt carefully around the dog’s abdomen and examined its eyes and ears. “I’m guessing pancreatitis,” he said finally, “but we’ll need to do some blood work to be sure.”

“What’s that mean, Doc?” the woman asked. “I don’t have much extra money...and I don’t want him to suffer.” She buried her face in her hands.

Angelica’s throat ached. She could identify. She found a box of tissues and brought it over.

“Hey.” Troy put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Let’s give treatment a try. If you can’t afford the medicine, we’ll work something out.”

“Is he even likely to live?”

“Fifty-fifty,” Troy admitted. “But I’m not a quitter. We can bring the dog to the farm if you don’t have time to do the treatments. Aren’t you a night waitress out at the truck stop?”

She nodded. “That’s the other thing. I can’t stick around home to care for him. I gotta work to pay my rent.”

“Let me take him to the farm, then,” Troy said. “It’s worth it. He may have years of running around left. Don’t you want me to try?”

“You’d really do that for him?” Hope lit the woman’s face as she carefully picked up the little dog and cradled him to her chest. When she looked up, her eyes shone. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Doc. He’s been with me through two divorces and losing my day job and a bout with cancer. I want to be able to give back to him. I’ll donate all my tips when I get them.”

“Give what you can. That’s all I ask.” He told Angelica what to do next and took the dog away.

A man in jeans and a scrub top strode into the clinic then, and Angelica studied him as he greeted Troy. He must be the vet tech they’d been waiting for.

“Buck,” Troy said. “How goes it?”

Buck. So that was why he looked so familiar—he was an old classmate, one of the nicer boys. “Hey,” she greeted him. “Remember me?”

“Is that you, Angie?” A smile lit his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in forever. How’s your grandpa?”

They chatted for a few minutes while Troy entered data into a computer, preparing for the next appointment. Buck kept smiling and stepped a little closer, and Angelica recognized what was happening: he like liked her, as her girlfriends back in Boston would say. She took a step away.

And then it dawned on her: Buck would be a perfect guy to help fulfill Xavier’s dream. Oh, not to marry, she couldn’t go that far, but if she could find a nice, harmless man to hang out with some in the evenings, watch some family shows with, play board games with...that didn’t sound half-bad. Xavier would be thrilled.

Come on, flirt with the man. You used to be good at it.

But she barely remembered how to talk to a man that way. And anyway, it felt like lying. How could she pretend to have an interest in a nice guy like Buck just to make her son happy? Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all.

When Troy came back, ready for the next patient, Buck cocked his head to one side. “Are you two together? I remember you used to—”

“No!” they both said at the same time.

“Whoa, okay! I just thought you were engaged, back in the day.”

Angelica felt her face heat. “I’m just his assistant while he gets back on his feet,” she explained as the next patient came in.

“Glad to hear you’ve come to your senses about him,” Buck joked.

Troy’s lips tightened and he turned away, limping over to greet a couple with a cat carrier who’d just walked in.

“You back in town for a while?” Buck looked at Angelica with sharpened interest.

“Yes. For a...a little while.”

“Long enough to have dinner with an old friend?”

He was asking her out. To dinner, and really, what would be the harm? This was what she wanted.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll have dinner with you.”

“Saturday night? Where are you staying?” He touched her shoulder to usher her over to the side of the exam area, and she forced herself not to pull away.

They agreed on a time and exchanged phones to punch in numbers.

When she looked up, Troy was watching them, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

She shook her hair back. There was no reason for him to feel possessive. What had been between them was long gone.

So why did she feel so guilty?

Chapter Three

By the time they’d gotten back to the farm, it was suppertime and Troy’s blood was boiling as hot as the pot of pasta on the stove.

Did Angelica have to make her date plans right in front of him? And with Buck Armstrong?

But it wasn’t his business, and he had no reason to care. He just needed some time to himself.

Which apparently he wasn’t going to get, because the minute they set down their things, Xavier was pulling at his hand. “Mr. Troy, Mr. Troy, we’re all going to have dinner together!”

Great. He smiled down at the boy. How was he going to get out of this?

“Xavier, honey.” Angelica knelt down beside her son. “We’ll have dinner at the bunkhouse. We can’t impose.”

She tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair, and the shiny locks flowed down her back. Her hand kneaded Xavier’s shoulder. She was all loving mother.

And all woman.

“But, Mama! Wait till you see what Miss Lou Ann and me cooked!”

Lou Ann rubbed Xavier’s bald head. “I’m sorry, Angelica. I told him we could probably all eat together. We picked zucchini and tomatoes from the garden and cooked up some of that ratatouille.”

“And we made a meat loaf, and I got to mix it up with my hands!”

The boy sounded so happy. Troy’s throat tightened as he thought about how Angelica must feel, cherishing every moment with him and wondering at the same time whether he’d ever make meat loaf again, whether this was the last chance for this particular activity.

Angelica glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe we’ll get together another time. Mr. Troy’s been working all day and he’s tired. Let’s let him rest.”

What was he supposed to do now, squash down all of this joy? And he had to admit that the thought of having company for dinner in the farmhouse kitchen didn’t sound half-bad, except that the pretty woman opposite him was hankering after another man.

At the thought of Angelica dating Buck Armstrong, something dark twisted his insides. With everything he knew about Buck, he should warn her off, and yet it would serve her right to go out with him and find out what he was really like.

“Can we stay, Mr. Troy?”

He looked at the boy’s hopeful eyes. “Of course.” His words sounded so grudging that he added, “Sounds like a good meal you fixed.”

“It is good, and wait till you see dessert!”

By the time Xavier helped Lou Ann serve dessert—sliced pound cake, topped with berries and whipped cream—he looked beat. But his smile was joyous. “I had so much fun this afternoon, Mama!”

Troy praised the food, which was really good, thanks he was sure to Lou Ann’s guidance. But his stomach was turning, wouldn’t let him really enjoy it.

Angelica looked beautiful at the other end of the table, her black hair tumbling down past her shoulders and her cheeks pink as apples. And now, with Xavier so happy, she didn’t seem as worried as usual; the little line that tended to live between her eyebrows was gone, and her smile flashed frequently as Xavier described all that he and Lou Ann had done that day.

Troy had always wanted this. He wanted a warm, beautiful woman and cute, enthusiastic children at his table, wanted to be the man of the family. And this sweet, feisty pair seemed to fit right into his home and his heart. But he had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t his and it wouldn’t last.

Looking at Xavier, he couldn’t believe the child had been so sick and might relapse at any moment. Yeah, he was drooping, getting tired, but he was so full of life that it made no sense that God might take him away.

Any more than it made sense that God would put him and his siblings in a loveless family, let alone give Angelica all the heartaches she’d endured growing up, but that was God for you—making sense wasn’t what He was about. That was why Troy had stopped trusting Him, starting taking most things into his own hands. He believed, sure; he just didn’t trust. And he sure didn’t want to join the men’s Bible study his friend Dion was always bugging him about.

“This little one needs to get to bed,” Lou Ann said. “Troy, I know you can’t carry much with those crutches, but why don’t you at least help her with the doors and such?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Angelica stood, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “We’ve already taken too much of your time. We can make it.”

But Troy moved to intercept her protest. “Come on, pal. Let’s get you out to bed.”

Angelica started gathering Xavier’s pills and toys and snacks together, stuffing them into a Spider-Man backpack. Before she could bend to pick Xavier up, Troy leaned on one crutch, steadied himself with a hip against the table and picked up the boy himself. He was amazingly light. He nestled right against Troy’s chest and Troy felt his heart break a little. He glanced over at Angelica and saw that she had tears in her eyes. “Ready?” he asked. Then, gently, he put her son in her arms, taking the boy’s backpack to carry himself.

She bit her lip, turned and headed off, and he grabbed his crutches and followed her. They walked out to the bunkhouse together and Troy helped Angelica lay Xavier in his bed, noticing the homey touches Angelica had put around—a teddy bear, a poster of a baseball player, a hand-knitted afghan in shades of blue and brown. It was a boy’s room, and it should be filling up with trophies from Little League games. They said every kid got a trophy these days, and wasn’t that awful? But not Xavier. This kid hadn’t had the opportunity to play baseball.

Not yet.

Angelica knelt beside the bed. “Let’s thank God for today.”

“Thank You, God, for letting me cook dinner. And for Lou Ann. And the dogs.”

Angelica was holding Xavier’s hand. “Thank You for giving us food and love and each other.”

“Bless all the people who don’t have so much,” they said together.

“And, God, please get me a daddy before...” Xavier trailed off, turned over.

Whoa. Troy’s throat tightened.

“Night, sweetie, sleep tight.” Angelica’s voice sounded choked.

“Don’t let the bedbugs... Love you, Mama.” The words were fading off and the boy was asleep.

They both stood looking down at him, Troy on one side of the bed and Angelica on the other.

“Did he say he wants a...dad?” Troy ventured finally.

Angelica nodded.

“Does his dad ever spend time with him?”

She looked up at him. “No. Never.”

“Does he even know him?”

Her lips tightened. “I... Look, Troy, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Sure.” But he’d like to strangle the guy who’d loved and left her, and not just because he remembered how difficult it had been to keep his hands off Angelica back when they were engaged. He took a deep breath and loosened his tightly clasped fists. She’d gotten pregnant with Xavier right around the time she left town, so was Xavier’s dad—the jerk—from here or from elsewhere? She hadn’t married him, apparently, but... “If the guy knew Xavier, knew what he was like and what he’s facing, surely he’d be willing—”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just...no, okay?” She stood and stalked out to the living room, and Troy wondered whether he’d ever stop putting his plaster-covered foot in his mouth around her.

* * *

The next Saturday, Angelica touched up her hair with a curling wand and applied blush and mascara. And tried not to throw up.

She didn’t want to go out on a date. But there was no other way to get Xavier off her case.

In fact, he was beside her now, hugging her leg. “You never had a date before, Mama.”

She laughed. “Yes, I did. Back in the day. Before you.”

“Did you go on dates with my dad?”

All Xavier knew was that his father had died. He hadn’t ever asked whether Angelica and his father had been married, and Angelica hoped he didn’t go there any time soon. For now, she would stick as close to the truth as possible. “No, not with him, but with a few other guys.” She tried to deflect his attention. “Just like I’m doing now. Do I look all right?”

“You’re beautiful, Mama.”

She hugged him. “Thanks, Zavey Davey. You’re kinda cute yourself.”

“Do I get to meet him? Because I want to see, you know, if he’s the right kind of guy for us.”

“My little protector. You can meet him sometime, but not now. Miss Lou Ann is going to come over and play with you. And I think I hear her now.”

Sure enough, there was a knock on the bunkhouse door. Xavier ran over to get it while Angelica fussed with herself a little more. She’d much rather just stay home with Xavier tonight. What if Buck tried something? She knew him to be a nice guy, but still...

“Well, how’s my little friend for the evening?” Lou Ann asked, pinching Xavier’s cheek. “You set up for a Candy Land marathon, or are we building a fort out of sheets and chairs?”

“You’ll build a fort with me?” Xavier’s eyes turned worshipful. “Mom always says it’s too messy.”

“It’s only too messy if we don’t clean up later. And we will, right?”

“Right. I’ll get the extra sheets.”

As soon as he was out of the room, Lou Ann turned to Angelica. “You look pretty,” she said. “Somebody’s already cranky, and when he sees you looking like that...” She smacked her lips. “Sparks are gonna fly.”

That was the last thing she needed. Her face heated and she changed the subject. “Xavier can stay up until eight-thirty. He gets his meds and a snack half an hour before bed.” She showed Lou Ann the pills and the basket of approved snacks.

“That’s easy. Don’t worry about us.” Lou Ann leaned back and looked out the window. “I think your friend just pulled in.”

“I wanna see him!” Xavier rushed toward the window, dropping the stack of sheets he’d been carrying.

“Well,” Lou Ann said, “that’s just fine, because I want to claim the best spot in the fort.”

Xavier spun back to Lou Ann. “I’m king of the fort!”

“You’d better get over here and help me, then.”

Thank you, Angelica mouthed to Lou Ann, and slipped out the door.

Buck emerged from his black pickup, looking good from his long jean-clad legs to his slightly shaggy brown curls. Any girl would feel fortunate to be dating such a cute guy, Angelica told herself, trying to lighten the lead weight in her stomach.

He’s a nice guy. And it’s for Xavier. “Hi there!”

“Well, don’t you look pretty!” He walked toward her, loose limbed.

To her right, the front door of the main house opened. Troy. He came out on the porch and stood, arms crossed. For all the world as if he were her father.

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to ignore his rougher style of handsome, the way his broad shoulders, leaning on his crutches, strained the seams of his shirt. She was through with Troy Hinton, and he was most certainly through with her, wouldn’t want anything to do with her if he knew the truth.

She deliberately returned her attention to Buck. He reached her and opened his arms.

Really? Was a big hug normal on a first date? It had been so long...and she’d been so young... She took a deep breath and allowed him to hug her, at the same time wrinkling her nose. Something was wrong...

“Baby, it’s great to see you. Man, feels good to hug a woman.” Buck’s words were slurred. And yes, that smell was alcohol, covered with a whole lot of peppermint.

She tried to pull back, but he didn’t let go.

Panic rose in her. She stepped hard onto his foot. “Let go,” she said, loud, right in his ear.

From the corner of her eye, the sight of Troy made her feel secure.

“Sorry!” Buck stepped back. “I didn’t mean...I was just glad...oh man, you look so good.” He moved as though he was going to hug her again.

She sidestepped. “Buck. How much have you had to drink?”

“What?” He put an arm around her and started guiding her toward his truck. “I had a drink before I came over. One drink. Don’t get uptight.”

Could that be true? Without a doubt, she was uptight around men. But this felt wrong in a different way. “Wait a minute. I...I think we should talk a little bit before we go.”

“Sure!” He shifted direction, guiding her toward a bench and plopping down too hard, knocking into her so that she sat down hard, too.

She drew in a breath and let it out in a sigh. He was drunk, all right. It wasn’t just her being paranoid. But now, how did she get rid of him?

“I really like you, Angelica,” he said, putting an arm around her. He pulled her closer.

She scooted away. “Look, Buck, I can’t...I don’t think I can go out with you. You’ve had too much to drink.”

“One drink!” He sounded irritated.

Angelica stood and backed away. Couldn’t something, just once, be easy? “Sorry, friend, but I can’t get in the truck with you. And you shouldn’t be driving, either.”

There was a sound of booted feet, and then Troy was beside her. “She’s right, Buck.”

“What you doing here, Hinton?”

“I live here, as you very well know.”

“Well, I’m taking this little lady out for a meal, once—”

“You’re not going anywhere except home. As soon as your sister gets here to pick you up.”

“Oh man, you didn’t call Lacey!” Buck staggered to his feet, his hand going to his pocket. He pulled out truck keys. “This has been a bust.”

Angelica glanced at Troy, willing him to let her handle it. She had plenty of experience with drunk people, starting with her own parents. “Can I see the car keys a minute?”

He held them out, hope lighting up his face. “You gonna come after all? I’ll let you drive.”

She took the keys. “I’m not going, and sorry, but you’re not fit to drive yourself, either.”

He lunged to get them back and Troy stuck out a crutch to trip him. “You’re not welcome on this property until you’re sober.”

Angelica kept backing off while, in the distance, a Jeep made clouds on the dusty road. That must be Buck’s sister.

So she could go home now. Back inside. Face Xavier and tell him the date was off.

Except she couldn’t, because tears were filling her eyes and blurring her vision. She blinked hard and backed up as far as the porch steps while Troy greeted the woman who’d squealed up in the Jeep.

The woman pushed past Troy, poked a finger in Buck’s chest and proceeded to chew him out. Then she and Troy helped him into the passenger seat. They stood beside the Jeep for a minute, talking.

When Angelica turned away, she realized that Xavier could see her here if he looked out the window. Hopefully he was too deep into fort-building to notice, but she wasn’t ready to see him and she couldn’t take the risk. She headed out to the kennels at a jog. Grabbed one of the pit bulls she’d been working with, a black-and-white beauty named Sheena, attached a leash to her and started walking down the field road as unwanted, annoying tears came faster and faster.

She sank to her knees beside a wooden fence post, willing the tears to stop, hugging the dog that licked her cheek with canine concern.

“Get yourself together, girlie. Nobody said life’s a tea party.”

Gramps’ words, harsh but kindly meant, had guided her through the storms of adolescence and often echoed in her mind.

Today, for some reason, they didn’t help. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pray, but the tears kept coming.

After long moments, one of the verses she’d memorized during Xavier’s treatment came into her mind.

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

Slowly, peace, or at least resignation, started to return. But every time she thought about Xavier and how disappointed he’d be, the tears overflowed again.

A hand gripped her shoulder, making her start violently. “You that upset about Buck?” Troy asked.

She shook her head, fighting for control. It wasn’t about Buck, not really. He was a small disappointment in the midst of a lot of big ones, but it was enough to push her over the edge. She couldn’t handle the possibility of losing Xavier, the only good thing in her life, and yet she had to handle it. And she had to stay strong and positive for him.

It was pretty much her mantra. She breathed in, breathed out. Stay strong, she told herself. Stay strong.

A couple of minutes later she was able to accept Troy’s outstretched hand and climb to her feet. He took the dog leash from her and handed her an ancient-looking, soft bandanna. “It’s not pretty, but it’s clean.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes and nose and came back into herself enough to be embarrassed at how she must look. She wasn’t one of those pretty, leak-a-few-tears criers; she knew her eyes must be red and puffy, and she honked when she blew her nose. “Sorry,” she said to him.

“For what?”

She shook her head, and by unspoken agreement they started walking. “Sorry to break down.”

“You’re entitled.”

The sun was setting now, sending pink streaks across the sky, and a slight breeze cooled the air. Crickets harmonized with bullfrogs in a gentle rise and fall. Angelica breathed in air so pungent with hay and summer flowers that she could almost taste it, and slowly the familiar landscape brought her calm.

“You know,” Troy ventured after a few minutes, “Buck Armstrong’s not really worth all that emotion. Not these days. If I’d known you were this into dating him, I might have warned you he has a drinking problem.”

She laughed, and that made her cry a little more, and she wiped her eyes. “It’s not really about Buck.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“I’ve got a plan, is what I’ve got,” she said, “and I was hoping Buck could be a part of it.” Briefly, she explained her intention of finding a stand-in dad for Xavier.

Troy shook his head. “That’s not going to work.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a smart kid. He’ll know. You can’t just pretend you’re dating someone so that he’ll think he’s getting a dad.”

“I can if I want to.” They came to a crossroads and she glanced around. “I’m not ready to go back home and admit defeat yet, and I don’t want him looking out the window and seeing me cry.”

“Come the back way, by the kennel.”

Sheena, the dog she’d brought with her, jumped at a squirrel, and Troy let her off the lead to chase it. She romped happily, ears flopping.

“So you think getting a dad will make Xavier happy? Even if it’s a fake dad?”

“It’s not fake! Or, well, it is, but for a good reason.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture she always carried, Xavier in happier times. “Look at that face! For all I know, he’ll never be really healthy again.” She cleared her throat. “If I can make his life happy, I’m going to do it.”

He studied the picture. “He played Little League?”

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “T-ball. He’d just started when he was diagnosed. He had one season.”

“He started young.”

She nodded. “They let him start a few weeks before his birthday, even though officially they aren’t supposed to start until they turn four.”

“Because he was sick?”

She shook her head. “Because he was so good. He loved it.” Tears rushed to her eyes again and she put her hands to her face.

“Hey.” He took the sloppy bandanna from her hand, wiped her eyes and nose as if she were a child, and pulled her to his chest. And for just a minute, after a reflexive flinch, Angelica let herself enjoy the feeling. His chest was broad and strong, and she heard the slow beating of his heart. She aligned her breath with his and it steadied her, calmed her.

In just a minute, she’d back away. Because this was dangerous and it wasn’t going anywhere. Troy wouldn’t want a woman like Angelica, not really, so letting an attraction build between them was a huge mistake.

* * *

Troy patted Angelica’s back and breathed in the strawberry scent of her hair, trying to remind himself why he needed to be careful.

He wanted to help Angelica and Xavier in the worst way. His heart was all in with this little family. But that heart was broken, wounded, not whole.

He felt her stiffen in his arms, as though she was just realizing how close he was. For the thousandth time since he’d reencountered her, he wondered about her skittishness around men. Or was it just around him? No, he’d seen her tense up when Armstrong had hugged her, too.

Carefully, he held her upper arms and stepped away. Her face was blotched and wet, but she still looked beautiful. Her Western-style shirt was unbuttoned down to a modest V, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. Her jeans clung to her slim figure. Intricate silver earrings hung from her ears, sparkling against her wavy black hair.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, “let’s go in the house. We’ll get you something to drink.”

“Okay.” She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her.

Don’t go there, fool.

They walked back along the country road as the last bit of sun set in a golden haze. A few dogs barked out their farewell to the day. At the kennel, they put Sheena back inside, and then he led Angelica up to the house.

He loved his farm, his dogs, his life. He had so much. But what right did he have to be happy when Angelica’s problems were so big?

How could he help her?

An idea slammed into him, almost an audible voice.

You could marry her.

Immediately he squelched the notion. Ridiculous. No way. He wouldn’t go down that path. Not again, not after what she’d done to him.

And even outside of the way she’d dumped him, he’d never seen a good marriage. He didn’t know how to be married; didn’t know how to relate to people that way; didn’t know how to keep a woman happy or make it last. He didn’t want to be like his dad, the person who failed his wife. He didn’t want to let Xavier down.

But the point was, he thought as he held the door for her, Xavier might not have the time to be let down. Xavier needed and wanted a dad now, and Troy already knew the boy liked him.

As they walked into the kitchen, he remembered proposing to Angelica the last time. Then he’d been all about wanting to impress her, to sweep her away. He’d hired Samantha Weston, who usually used her small plane for crop dusting, to sky-write his proposal at sunset during an all-town Memorial Day picnic. Angelica had laughed, and cried, and joyously accepted. Her friends had clustered around them, and he’d presented her with a diamond way too big for a new vet with school loans to pay off.

He still had that ring, come to think of it. He’d stuffed it in his sock drawer when she mailed it back to him, and he’d never looked at it again.

It was upstairs right now. He could go and get it. Help her handle this massive challenge life had given her. And Xavier... Boy, did he want to help that kid!

Angelica perched on a kitchen stool and rested her chin in her hands. “I guess the idea of Buck as a pretend husband does seem kinda crazy, when I think about it,” she admitted. “Anyway, enough about me. How long has Buck had a drinking problem?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.