“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