“Are my kids with you?” he called out.
The father, Ella guessed. Cord Walsh. She hadn’t met him, either, preferring to keep to herself.
“They’re in the house,” she said as he strode toward her.
He was taller than she had expected. Lean, his face shadowed by stubble, his eyes a piercing aqua and right now they were like lasers. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists, swinging in time with his determined stride.
The children must have heard him because they came to stand beside her.
“Where is Adana?” he asked the kids, snatching Ollie up in his arms, cuddling him close. “Why did she leave you guys here?” His ice-blue eyes ticked over the kids and then landed on Ella as if it was her fault they were there.
“She said she got a real job,” Paul said in a matter-of-fact tone, seemingly unfazed by his father’s harsh voice, his narrowed eyes. “And we were going to visit with Miss Ella and she has this cool dog.”
Cord drew Ollie closer as the little boy, sensing his father’s anger, started crying in earnest, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, sobs spilling from his mouth.
“It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you.” Cord’s voice melted immediately, turning soft and tender. He tucked the little head into his neck, pressing his cheek against the little boy’s.
The gesture and the soothing sound of his voice weaseled their way into Ella’s lonely soul. That a man could speak so gently to a child so soon after being seemingly consumed by anger surprised her.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off him or the child he held. And each created opposite emotions. Appeal and withdrawal.
She was about to look away when those eerily green eyes connected with hers. And for a moment something indefinable sparked between them.
She shook it off. Being married to Darren had taught her hard lessons about trust.
Then she stole another glimpse at the child in his arms, an even starker reminder of why she had to keep her distance. The churning in her stomach eased away any attraction he might hold. He had kids and there was no way she could travel down that road, her own grief snapping at her heels.
“Paul. Suzy. We should get back to the house,” Cord said to his children. “You have homework to do.”
“But, Dad, she has a cool dog,” Paul protested, then looked over at Ella. “Please? Can we stay and play with Pablo?” He grabbed her hand, looking up at her with pleading eyes.
Then before she could stop herself, she pulled her hand back from his. As soon as she saw the hurt look on his face she felt horrible. But her action was instinctive.
“I’m sure Miss Langton has her own work to do,” Cord said, coming unwittingly to her rescue, the narrowing of his eyes showing Ella that he had caught her retreat from his son.
She wanted to explain, but why bother? She would talk to Boyce. Ask him to please make sure the children didn’t come there again.
Cord rested a hand on Paul’s shoulder, easing him toward their house. “Thanks for watching them,” he said, his voice holding the faintest edge.
You don’t understand, she wanted to say, wishing she wasn’t so concerned about his opinion.
Instead Ella clasped her hands together and took a step back, giving him a tight nod.
Finally Cord left, holding Ollie in his arms, Paul and Suzy trailing along behind, looking back over their shoulders at Pablo.
“Let’s go, Pablo,” Ella said, holding the door open for him to come back into the house.
But he was whining softly, watching the children leave, his tail waving slowly as if telegraphing his regret.
Then before she could stop him, he bounded down the stairs after the kids.
“Pablo, come back here,” she called out, hurrying down the steps after him.
He hesitated but then Paul squealed his pleasure and ran toward the dog just as Pablo ran to meet him.
They collided and Paul went down. Pablo barked, straddling the boy, licking his face.
Cord spun around just at that moment and, from the look of horror on his face, Ella sensed what he was thinking and realized how it might look to him.
“Pablo, heel,” she called out.
Cord quickly set Ollie down and he wailed his protest as Cord hurried to where Paul and Pablo were wrestling. Paul was laughing and Suzy joined in.
“Kids. Get away from that dog,” Cord shouted as he reached out to catch Pablo’s collar.
“Don’t,” Ella yelled. “Don’t grab him.”
Cord listened just as Pablo jumped back and barked again. But he was facing Cord now and his bark held a tone of warning.
Please, Lord, let him listen, Ella prayed.
“Pablo, heel,” she called again as her dog faced down Cord. “Heel.”
Finally he heard her and returned to her side.
She grabbed him by the collar and turned his head to look at her, establishing her dominance over him. “Down. Now.”
He sat down, looking at her, awaiting further instructions.
“I can’t say I like this situation,” Cord said, his tone angry as he picked up Ollie, who was now sobbing his little heart out.
Ella knew anything she would have to say would be a waste of breath. Instead she turned back to the house, pulling Pablo along with her.
She was relieved that he behaved himself as she led him inside and closed the door, heaving out a sigh.
As first impressions went, that one was not good.
* * *
“I love that dog,” Paul said as Cord ushered his kids into his house, disappointed at how shaky he still felt. “I wish we could have a dog.”
“You need to stay away from Miss Langton’s house,” Cord said, frustrated at the harsh tone that edged his voice.
Cord’s own heart was still thundering in his chest at the memory of that huge dog straddling his son. Ollie must have sensed his fear because as soon as he picked up the little guy again, Ollie cried even louder.
Trouble was, his heart was pounding for another reason that he was loathe to acknowledge. Though he had heard about Ella from his grandfather, he had imagined someone a whole lot different. Someone artsy looking—and older.
Not a young woman with large, expressive brown eyes and auburn hair that seemed to glow.
He knew he’d been a jerk. Seeing her had created a confusing mix of emotions he knew he couldn’t indulge in. It was easier to make it sound like he was more worried about the dog than her.
He brushed aside the clothes his kids had draped over the couch and sat down. Cuddling his sobbing son, the reality of his situation drowned out any thoughts he might have of their attractive neighbor.
Adana had called at the worst possible time. Cord was hassling with the mayor, trying to get the wording of their grant application right. His uncle George was being difficult and wrangling with Helen, the group’s secretary, who was trying not to snap back at either of them. The meeting was falling apart and he could see the entire project going south.
And that couldn’t happen.
After Adana’s call he had tried to get hold of his father, but Boyce wasn’t answering his cell phone. Or he had left it behind, as he was prone to do. So Cord