“What’s your name?” Tanner forced his gaze from the brunette’s lovely face to the girl in front of him. Mother and daughter shared translucent skin that seemed to bloom from within, but that’s where the resemblance between the cute mom and this blonde sweetheart ended.
“I’m Beth. I’m almost six.” When she grinned, dimples appeared in her apple cheeks.
“Pleased to meet you, Beth.” Tanner held out a hand. He suppressed a laugh when she shook it heartily, her face completely serious. Beth’s trusting gaze made him feel ten feet tall.
“Cowboys have horses, don’t they?” Beth scanned the parking lot with a frown.
“Yes.” Tanner choked down his mirth. “But today I left Samson at the ranch.”
Beth’s mother arrived breathless, studying him with a protective look flickering in her cocoa-toned eyes. Beauty certainly ran in this family.
“Hello. I’m Tanner Johns. Beth was just asking if I’d take her rabbits to my ranch.”
“Will you?” A desperation the harried mother couldn’t mask leached through her words before she huffed a laugh. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m Sophie Armstrong. This is my son, Davy—David.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Tanner took one look at the surly-faced boy and returned his attention to the easy-on-the-eyes mother.
“So can you take the rabbits?” The pleading in Sophie’s voice was hard enough to resist, but that sound—half hope, half desperation—that’s what got to Tanner. “I’d be very grateful.”
“I—uh—” You should have walked away, Tanner.
“Do we have to give them all away, Mama?” Beth’s gaze implored her mother to rethink her decision.
“I’m sorry but we do, honey. Mrs. Jones is very upset that the bunnies got out of their pen again and ate her flowers.” The gentleness of Sophie’s “mom” voice and the tender brush of her fingers against her daughter’s flaxen head didn’t need translation. She loved this child.
“Who cares about stupid old rabbits?” Davy scoffed. “Good riddance.”
The words were a bluff to hide his anger. Tanner knew that because as a kid he’d used that same tone when life had jabbed him with reality once too often. But when Beth’s blue eyes watered and her bottom lip wobbled, Tanner’s chest tightened.
“Davy, that’s mean,” his mother reproved. “Beth loves the rabbits.”
“She shouldn’t. We always have to let go of stuff we love.” The boy turned away to scuff his toe against a hump in the pavement, head bent, shoulders stiff.
Sophie’s face fell and her amazing smile dimmed. Though Tanner understood the pain behind the words, he wanted to ream out the kid for hurting his lovely mother and sister.
Whoa! You don’t do getting involved, Tanner, his brain scoffed. Never have, though Burt tried his best to teach you. Walk away.
But two pairs of eyes, one a rich Arizona sky blue and one dark as the dust trails on Mount Lemmon’s highest slopes, wouldn’t let him leave.
“I can’t—that is, uh, I don’t know anything about keeping rabbits.” Tanner gazed longingly at his truck, his way of escape. Why had he answered Beth’s call in the first place?
“Okay, thanks anyway.” Sophie smiled politely as her fingers squeezed Beth’s shoulder. “Come on, kids. Let’s get these guys loaded up. We’ll have to take them to the pet shelter. I don’t dare take them home again or Mrs. Jones will call the landlord.”
“Old bag,” Davy muttered almost under his breath.
“Manners, David,” his mother reproved. “Now let’s get moving. I’m working tonight, remember?”
“Again,” Davy complained in a grumpy tone.
“Yes, again. Because that’s how I pay for those new sneakers you’re wearing. So carry the cage, Davy, and let’s go.” Sophie Armstrong offered Tanner a distracted smile before urging the children forward.
As they walked away Tanner heard Beth protest.
“This morning you said the pet shelter can’t keep them,” she said. “What will happen to our bunnies, Mama?”
“God will take care of them.” Sophie paused long enough to glance Tanner’s way. He thought he glimpsed a hint of guilt in her brown eyes before she resumed her speed-walk to a red van. “After all, He cares for the sparrows and the lilies of the field, remember?”
Nice sentiment but her tone held no assurance.
It’s not your problem. That did nothing to lift the blanket of guilt weighing down Tanner’s shoulders. As he turned from watching Davy wrangle the cage into the van, his gaze slid past then returned to the logo printed on the side.
Sophie’s Kitchen—Home-Cooked Food Without the Hassle.
Home-cooked. Tanner studied the bag in his hand.
Doughnuts again? In his head he heard the other church ushers’ laughter. Is that all you ever eat, Tanner?
An idea sprang to life. He whirled around and saw Sophie, er, Mrs. Armstrong getting into her van. “Wait.”
She frowned at him but waited for his approach. “Is something wrong?”
“No, yes—” He pointed at the writing on her vehicle. “You make food? For people to eat?”
“That’s usually what they do with it.” Amusement laced her voice.
“Do you ever make desserts? Or treats for coffee time?” Tanner felt ridiculous. But the thought of serving the same old store-bought doughnuts he always provided, the thought of overhearing the same snarky comments made him wait, albeit impatiently, for her response.
“Cakes, tarts, that kind of thing? Sure.” She noticed Beth licking her lips and winked. Eyes dancing, Sophie looked young and carefree, not at all motherly.
What would it be like to be loved by a mom like her?
She frowned. “Look, I’m in a hurry—”
Tanner took a leap of faith. “I’ll take the rabbits and make a home for them on the ranch in exchange for something.”
“What?” Suspicion darkened her brown eyes.
“You making me some kind of dessert for tonight.” Sophie’s face said she wasn’t sold on the trade. Hoping to sweeten the deal, Tanner glanced at Beth. “You could bring your kids to see the rabbits in their new home if you want, to make sure they’re okay.”
Sophie’s eyebrows drew together. “What kind of dessert?”
“I don’t care.” He glanced down at the bag he still clutched. “As long as it’s not doughnuts.” He knew from the furrow on her forehead that she was considering his offer.
“You haven’t given me much notice,” she complained.
“Can’t help it. That’s the deal.” Tanner tipped back on the heels of his boots, Stetson in hand, and waited while she deliberated. “There will be twelve of us.”
“All men?” Sophie asked.
“Yes. Does that matter?” She nodded. “Why?” he asked curiously.
“Well, for one thing, women often appreciate different desserts from men, say something like cheesecake over pie,” Sophie explained.
“Pie?” Tanner’s stomach tap-danced in anticipation. “You could make pies for twelve people for tonight?”