“Goldie’s?”
“Of course. Is there another?”
“No!” A grin split Mindy’s face.
Slade kissed his daughter, then slipped from the back seat. When he settled behind the steering wheel and started the engine, he threw Tory a glance that caused her heart to flip over. Sadness mixed with a look of appeal for understanding. She slid her hand across the console, almost touching Slade in reassurance. At the last second she pulled back and smiled at him instead.
“I love Goldie’s hamburgers and onion rings,” Tory said to Mindy, trying to ignore the heat of a blush she felt creep up her face at Slade’s intense regard.
“Me, too.” Mindy clapped, her left hand curled so that her palms didn’t meet.
“With everything on it, even onions.”
Tory caught Slade’s look. The smile that glinted in his eyes warmed her. Her blush deepened. Aware his gaze was still riveted to her, she shifted in the leather seat, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. Uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, she searched for something to say. Silence dominated the small confines of the car. Nothing she thought seemed appropriate so she let the quiet reign.
Fifteen minutes later Slade drove into the parking lot next to Goldie’s. After he assisted Mindy from the back seat, they all headed into the restaurant, decorated in homespun décor, reminiscent of a farmhouse, with the scent of baking bread and coffee saturating the air.
Tory sat across from Mindy and Slade in the booth along the large front window that overlooked a pond. Geese and ducks swam in the water, which drew the little girl’s attention.
“Look—” Mindy frowned, her brow wrinkled in thought “—bab-ies.”
The fluency of the little girl’s speech had improved over the months since Tory had known her, but still the child labored to put her words together, to find the correct word to say. Tory wanted to hug her for her perseverance.
“The last time Mindy and I were here, the geese were sitting on their nests. They’re three couples and it looks like they have all had their babies. Now she’ll want to come back every week to keep track of them.”
“I have a pond, Mindy, on my property. We’ll have to ride there one day and have a picnic.”
“Dad-dy, too?”
Tory’s gaze slid to Slade’s. “Do you ride?”
He laughed. “Sort of.”
Tory arched one brow in question.
“The last time was in high school, so it’s been years since I’ve been on a horse. Is it like riding a bicycle?”
“Sort of.” Tory downed a large swallow of ice water, her throat suddenly parched.
“Well, then, yes, I do ride—or let’s just say I know how to fall gracefully when the horse bolts.”
“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. What happened the last time you rode?”
“I had leaned over to open the gate into the pasture when my horse got spooked by a rabbit darting in front of him. He decided to take off, leaving me dangling from the gate.”
Mindy giggled. “Oh, Dad-dy.”
“I’ve fallen a few times, too, and I can’t always say they were graceful falls.” Tory took another long sip of her water, relishing the cool liquid.
Slade started to say something when the waitress approached to take their orders. After she left, he grinned. “When I fell, I landed in a mud puddle and was covered from head to toe. It was a big mud puddle.”
“When can—we—do it?” Mindy asked, eagerness giving her face a radiant glow.
“How about this weekend? I’m free after church on Sunday.” Tory glanced from the little girl to Slade.
“Only if you allow me to bring the picnic.”
“This is my treat. I invited you.”
“Then let me bring the dessert.” Determination marked his expression.
Tory shrugged. “Fine.”
“What do you like?”
“Oh, just about anything with chocolate. Surprise me.”
“I’ve gotten the impression you weren’t someone who liked to be surprised.”
“Not usually.” Tory clasped her hands in her lap to still their trembling. Control and order were so important in her life, the threads that held it together. “I don’t like to take risks, either, but I think I’ll be safe with you bringing the dessert.”
“Isn’t your Bright Star Stables a financial risk?”
“Yes, but then some things are important enough to risk. I saw a need and wanted to do something about it.”
“And this parent is grateful. If I can help you with anything, please let me know.”
Tory thought about her low bank account, but pride kept her from saying anything. For many years she had done everything on her own. She was used to that and would somehow make the therapeutic riding program a success. When her aunt’s inheritance had allowed her to fulfill a dream, she’d known in her heart this was what God had wanted her to do with her life. God would provide the means to keep Bright Star Stables going.
Slade’s gaze bore into her as if he could reach into her mind and read it. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it.”
“Look—Dad-dy.” Mindy jostled her father’s arm, then pointed out the window at the baby geese swimming in a line behind one of their parents with the other bringing up the rear.
If it wouldn’t have raised more questions at Mindy’s timely interruption, Tory would have gladly hugged and kissed the child. The conversation was getting too personal for her. Keeping people at a distance had become such a habit for her that any probing into her feelings or past proved highly uncomfortable. She swiped the film of perspiration from her upper lip, then finished off her cold water.
After watching the geese with his daughter for a few minutes, Slade returned his attention to Tory. “I’ll drop the subject for now, but it’s in my best interest to see Bright Star Stables continue.”
Mindy swung her gaze to her father, a deep line across her forehead. “What’s—wrong?”
With his regard trained on Tory, Slade answered, “Nothing, sweetheart. I just wanted Tory to know how much we both appreciate the work she does.”
Mindy bounced up and down. “Yeah!”
Heat scorched her cheeks. She noticed a few patrons looking their way. Breaking eye contact with Slade, she studied her place mat. “Thank you,” she whispered, relieved that the waitress brought them their food, taking the focus off her. She preferred being in the background, having had more than her share of the limelight in the past—something she never wanted to relive again.
Tory bit into her thick, juicy hamburger and sighed. “I’d forgotten how great this tasted.” She popped a small onion ring into her mouth. “And this. Of course, this will go straight to my hips.”
“I don’t think that’ll hurt you.” Slade dumped several sugar packets into his iced tea.
“It will if I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. About all I can afford is a flour sack.” The second she’d said it, she regretted the reference to her financial state.
Slade’s eyes gleamed, but his lips remained pressed together.
Tory blew out a breath of air, thankful he wasn’t going to pursue the