He deliberately stepped around her and went into Lucy’s room. But his daughter was already quiet again. Still sleeping, as if nothing had disturbed her at all.
He raked his fingers through his hair, pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. God, he was tired. Then he felt a light touch on his back and nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned, pulling Lucy’s door nearly closed again. “What?”
His harsh whisper sent Belle backward almost as surely as their collision had.
“Sorry.” Her voice was hushed. “I thought…” He felt her shrug more than saw it. “Nothing.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He could smell her, rainwater fresh. The sooner she went back to bed, the better. He wasn’t interested in what she thought. Or how she smelled. Or why she couldn’t keep still for five minutes straight in that old bed. “You thought what?” he asked wearily. He wished the moon were shining a little less brightly through the picture window in the living room, because with each passing second, he could see her even more clearly. Definitely not all skinny.
She tugged up the narrow strap of her pajama top and hugged her arms to herself. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Fine. Then go to bed.”
She laughed—little more than a breath. “You sound like my dad used to.”
He knew it was an innocent enough comment, aimed at the order he’d automatically given. Knowing it, though, didn’t keep him from reacting. Before he could say something that might send her straight for the decrepit Jeep she’d arrived in—and away from any possibility of helping his daughter—he stepped around her and headed upstairs.
“Cage—”
He didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. She’d said the magic word, sure to remind him just who she was, and to what lengths he’d been driven for his daughter’s sake.
Dad.
“Just go to bed, Belle,” he said, without looking back.
Chapter Three
Belle propped her hands on her hips and counted off a slow inhale and an even slower exhale. It was far too beautiful a morning, all promising with the golden sunrise, to let annoyance ruin it already. “Cage, I need to go over a few things with you about Lucy. I wanted to last night, but we never got to it.”
His long legs barely paused as he passed her in the kitchen and headed out the back door of the house. “I’ve got a water tank that needs fixing.” His tone was abrupt, as if he begrudged providing even that small bit of information.
Clearly, that somewhat approachable man she’d encountered in the middle of the night was banished again.
She hurried after him, letting the screen door slap shut noisily after her. She darted down the brick steps and jogged to keep up with him. She raised her voice. “Lucy told me yesterday that you haven’t worked with her on any of the exercises she’s supposed to do on her own.”
He stopped short. Tilted his head back for a moment, then slowly turned to face her. The shadow cast by his dark brown cowboy hat guarded the expression in his blue eyes, but even across the yards, she could feel the man’s impatience. “I can’t be in two places at once, Miss Day.”
She mentally stiffened her spine at his exaggerated patience. So much for his one slip of calling her Belle the night before. “I’m aware of that, Cage. But you hired me to help Lucy, and—”
“I didn’t hire you to lecture me on my ability to parent my own daughter.”
Her lips parted. “I wasn’t suggesting—”
His eyebrow rose, making him look even more sardonic than usual. “Weren’t you?”
“No!”
“You weren’t so reticent before Lucy’s accident when you accused me of being unreasonable where she’s concerned ’cause I wouldn’t let her go on that god-forsaken field trip to Chicago.”
She glanced back at the house where Lucy still slept. The truth was, she had thought he was being unreasonable. But that was half a year ago and there were more important things on the agenda than eliciting his approval for a simple school field trip. “Look, maybe we should just talk about…things.” She’d thought so all along, but hadn’t had the courage to do so. Hadn’t had much of an opportunity, either, given their brief conversations about Lucy where Cage had firmly kept control.
His expression hadn’t changed. “You’re here for one reason only, Miss Day. It’d be better all around if you’d remember it.”
Her jaw tightened uncomfortably. “I’m not the enemy, all right?”
His expression went from impatient to stony.
Her hands fell back to her sides. “I see. I am the enemy.” Of course. Resulting from long-past history neither could change.
“If you need something that strictly pertains to Lucy—whether it’s her therapy or her schoolwork—I have no doubt you’ll let me know. Other than that—”
“—stay out of your hair?” Her tone was acid.
“That’s one way to put it.” He slapped the leather gloves he held against his palm. “Excuse me.” He turned on his heel and strode away.
Belle stuck her tongue out at his back, and returned to the house. She yanked open the aging avocado-green refrigerator door. Maybe it was wrong of her, but she took great delight in making breakfast out of a leftover slice of pizza.
For Lucy, however, she set out an assortment of supplements on the counter, and then prepared a real breakfast. After peeking in the girl’s bedroom to see that she was still sleeping, Belle pushed her feet into her running shoes and went back outside.
Even though the sky was clear, the dawn air still felt moist from the previous day, as she set off in a slow jog. Well beyond the simple brick house stood the sizable barn, doors open. She didn’t want to wonder if Cage was in there. She wondered anyway, quickening her pace and then had to tell herself that she was being a ninny. The man ran a ranch. If he was in his barn, so what? Better there than in the house, bugging her and Lucy. Might present a problem when she and Lucy went to the barn to use the equipment, though.
She didn’t doubt that he wanted the best for Lucy, which she certainly couldn’t fault. Nevertheless, she’d never met a more antisocial man in her life. But, then, she’d been warned well enough before she took on this job, so complaining about it now was only so much wasted energy.
She figured she’d run a good hour by the time she returned to the house. She darted up the brick steps and went in through the front door, peeling out of her sweatshirt as she went. Surely the bathroom wouldn’t still hold the lingering scent of Cage’s soap by now.
The bathroom was no longer steamy, true. But she still took the fastest shower in her life before changing into fresh workout clothes. Then she went and woke Lucy. While the girl was dressing—something she didn’t need assistance for—Belle wandered around the cozy living room.
She peered again at the silver-framed black-and-white photos hanging above the fireplace mantel. Cage’s parents. And a young Cage. She sighed faintly as she studied the Buchanan family. She knew only too well that he’d been a teenager when he’d lost his father, and for all intents, his mother, as well. She ran her fingernail lightly over the image of the solemn-looking little boy. Were there any photos of him smiling?
Did Cage Buchanan ever smile? Ever laugh?
“Hey, Belle. I’m fixing waffles for breakfast. You know the fruity kind with whipped cream? Those frozen waffles are really good that way. Like dessert.”
Belle looked back to see Lucy rolling her chair into the kitchen. She headed after her, and hid a smile at Lucy’s disgruntled “Oh.” Obviously,