Hometown Valentine. Lissa Manley

around it in perfect precision, as if they’d been placed using a ruler. And the window above the gleaming stainless steel sink was so clear she would have sworn there was no glass in its panes.

      It was a spare, cleaned-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life space and held no personal touches or evidence that anyone had ever eaten—much less cooked or enjoyed—a meal within the walls of the room.

      In fact, the whole house smacked of a blank, antiseptic cleanliness that set her back a bit. She’d grown up in a messy, relaxed household, one where cleaning only happened when absolutely necessary. This place was so impersonal, so cold it made her sad.

      She slanted her gaze to Blake. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

      She swallowed a comment about the odd sterility of the place out of politeness. But the room spoke volumes about Blake and what was important to him.

      And she had a sneaking suspicion she’d just agreed to work for a control freak of major proportions.

      * * *

      At about 11:00 a.m., during a lull in business—okay, the whole morning had been one big lull—Blake left the front counter in Jonah’s care and headed into his office to catch up on paperwork.

      He was going to run an ad in the Moonlight Cove Gazette offering a two-for-one coffee deal on Tuesdays from noon to five as a way to drum up business. He couldn’t afford a graphic designer, so he was going to come up with something himself. He sat down behind his desk and booted up his computer, then went to the file he’d saved that contained the rough idea he’d come up with using a template he’d found on the internet. He put on his artist hat and tried to come up with something that was simple yet eye-catching.

      His mind turned to Peyton. Poor little thing. Though her temperature had been normal when he’d left home, he still worried. He’d done a bit of research on the internet this morning and had read that viruses in infants her age could quickly turn serious.

      Maybe he should check in with Lily again. Yeah, he would. He wouldn’t be able to focus on his work until he did. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and swiped it on. Then he went to Contacts and pressed the button for Lily he’d created while he’d been going over instructions with her this morning.

      He tapped his fingers on his desk while the phone rang on the other end. After five rings, Lily answered. “Hello?” No crying in the background. That was good.

      “Hi, it’s me,” he said, his shoulders tensing.

      “I know it’s you.”

      Right. Her phone would tell her that. He got to the heart of the matter. “How’s Peyton?”

      “She’s the same as she was when you called an hour ago.”

      Had it only been an hour? “Still sleeping?”

      “No, she’s awake now, and I’m making lunch.”

      “Any fever?” he asked, praying it was still down.

      “No, she feels cool to the touch.”

      Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Did you need to change her diaper?”

      A sigh echoed through the line. “Yes, I did need to, and I did.”

      He stood up. “The diaper disposer is in her closet—”

      “I know, you showed me where it was.”

      “Oh, yeah.” He rose and paused, the outside of his thigh propped against his desk. “What’s for lunch?”

      A moment of silence. “Blake, do you trust me?”

      “Yes,” he said immediately. “Of course.” Lily was levelheaded and smart, and had lots of experience with babies.

      “Then you need to quit calling every hour and let me take care of Peyton.”

      He grimaced. “I’m bothering you, aren’t I?”

      “You’re concerned, I get that. But what’s the point of having me here if you’re doing all the work remotely?”

      “I hadn’t thought of that.” She made a good point.

      “I have this handled. I’ve got nothing else to do but focus on Peyton. Let me do that, and I promise if anything changes or if I have a question, I’ll call.”

      He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m overcontrolling.”

      “A bit, yes. But with the best of intentions,” she said softly.

      “I’m glad you see it that way.” Some people wouldn’t be so gracious; his need for control wasn’t always received well. Amy had chided him for the trait endlessly.

      “Definitely. But you have to allow yourself some distance so you can take care of The Cabana. That’s why you hired me, right?”

      “Right.”

      “Then let me do my job, and I’ll be in touch if I need anything.”

      “Okay.” He needed to back off.

      “Would it make you feel better if I checked in every few hours?”

      “Yes, probably.”

      “Then that’s what I’ll do.” She paused. “Let’s see. It’s just after eleven. How about I check in at two?”

      “Um, well...” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “That seems like a long time.”

      “Okay, how about one-thirty?”

      “Sounds good.” Surely he could go two and a half hours without checking in.

      “I’ll talk to you then.” A moment passed. “Oh, and, Blake?”

      “Yes?”

      “Don’t worry. I’ve got this covered.”

      His tense shoulders eased down all the way. “I know you do,” he said truthfully. “You’re very capable. Peyton’s in excellent hands, I know that.” Lily was better with Peyton than he was.

      “Okay, then. Try to relax. Bye.”

      “Bye.”

      He pressed End and shoved his cell into his pants pocket. Boy, did he feel foolish. He’d been a pest this morning. In his defense, though, this was the first time he’d left an ill Peyton. He’d never imagined how hard it would be to turn over her care to someone else when she wasn’t feeling well. All of his protective instincts were on high alert.

      He sat back down behind his desk. He had to find a way to let go of Peyton during the workday or The Cabana would be toast. He trusted Lily implicitly. She’d really saved the day by agreeing to fill in for Mrs. Jones. And the last thing he wanted was for her to think he didn’t have faith in her. He had to quit bugging her and rest assured that she would call if Peyton took a turn for the worse.