you can. That’s what this place is all about.”
Jade scooted across the seat to the passenger-side door so fast Jesse had no time to think. She opened the door, jumped down and bounded around the pickup. Her scream ripped the morning peace like a five-alarm fire.
With a sharp sense of responsibility and a healthy dose of anxiety, Jesse shot out of the truck and ran to her, yanking her shaking body up into his arms. “Hush, Jade. It’s okay. The dog won’t hurt you.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Lindsey Mitchell was all sympathy and compassion. “I am so very sorry. I didn’t know Sushi would frighten her like that.”
“It’s my fault. I’d forgotten about the dog. Jade is terrified of them.”
“Sushi would never hurt anyone.”
“We were told the same thing by the owner of the rottweiler that mauled her when she was four.” Jade’s sobs grew louder at the reminder.
“How horrible. Was she badly hurt?”
“Yes,” he said tersely, wanting to drop the subject while he calmed Jade. The child clung to his neck, sobbing and trembling enough to break his heart.
“Why don’t you bring her inside. I’ll leave Sushi out here for now.”
Grateful, Jesse followed the woman across the long front porch and into the farmhouse. Once inside the living room, she motioned with one hand.
“Sit down. Please. Do you think a drink of water or maybe a cool cloth on her forehead would help?”
“Yes to both.” He sank onto a large brown couch that had seen better days, but someone’s artistic hand had crocheted a blue-and-yellow afghan as a cover to brighten the faded upholstery. Jade plastered her face against his chest, her tears spotting his chambray shirt a dark blue.
Lindsey returned almost immediately, placed the water glass on a wooden coffee table and, going down on one knee in front of the couch, took the liberty of smoothing the damp cloth over Jade’s tear-soaked face. The woman was impossibly near. The clean scent of her hair and skin blended with the sweaty heat of his daughter’s tears. He swallowed hard, forcing back the unwelcome rush of yearning for the world to be normal again. Life was not normal, would never be normal, and he could not be distracted by Lindsey Mitchell’s kind nature and sweet face.
“Shh,” Lindsey whispered to Jade, her warm, smoky voice raising gooseflesh on his arms. “It’s okay, sugar. The dog is gone. You’re okay.”
The sweet motherly actions set off another torrent of reactions inside Jesse. Resentment. Delight. Anger. Gratitude. And finally relief because his child began to settle down as her sobs dwindled to quivering hiccups.
“There now.” Adding to Jesse’s relief, Lindsey handed him the cloth and stood, moving back a pace or two. She motioned toward the water glass. “Would you like a drink?”
Jade, her cheek still pressed hard against Jesse’s chest, shook her head in refusal.
“She’ll be all right now,” Jesse said, pushing a few stray strands of damp hair away from the child’s face. “Won’t you, Butterbean?”
Like the trooper she was, Jade sat up, sniffed a couple of times for good measure, and nodded. “I need a tissue.”
“Tissue coming right up.” Red plaid jacket flapping open, Lindsey whipped across the room to an end table and returned with the tissue. “How about some juice instead of that water?”
Jade’s green eyes looked to Jesse for permission.
He nodded. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Lindsey started toward a country-kitchen area opening off one end of the living room. At the doorway, she turned. “How about you? Coffee?”
The woman behaved as if he were a guest instead of a total stranger looking for work. The notion made him uncomfortable as all get out, especially considering why he was here. He didn’t want her to be nice. He couldn’t afford to like her.
Fortunately, he’d never developed a taste for coffee, not even the fancy kind that Erin enjoyed. “No thanks.”
“I have some Cokes if you’d rather.”
He sighed in defeat. He’d give a ten-dollar bill this morning for a sharp jolt of cold carbonated caffeine.
“A Coke sounds good.” He shifted Jade onto the couch. Her hair was a mess and he realized he’d been in such a hurry to get here this morning, he hadn’t even noticed. Normally, a headband was the best he could do, but today he’d even forgotten that. So much for first impressions. Using his fingers, he smoothed the dark locks as much as possible. Jade aimed a wobbly grin at him and shrugged. She’d grown accustomed to his awkward attempts to make her look like a little girl.
He glanced toward the kitchen, saw that Lindsey’s back was turned. With one hand holding his daughter’s, he took the few moments when Lindsey wasn’t in sight to let his gaze drift around the house. It had changed—either that or his perception was different. Eighteen years was a long time.
The wood floors, polished to a rich, honeyed glow, looked the same. And the house still bore the warm, inviting feel of a country farmhouse. But now, the rooms seemed lighter, brighter. Where he remembered a certain dreariness brought on by his mother’s illness, someone—Lindsey Mitchell, he supposed—had drenched the rooms in light and color—warm colors of polished oak and yellow-flowered curtains.
The house looked simple, uncluttered and sparkling clean—a lot like Lindsey Mitchell herself.
“Here we go.” Lindsey’s smoky voice yanked him around. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his intense interest. No point in raising her suspicions. He had no intention of letting her know the real reason he was here until he had the proof in his hands.
“Yum, Juicy Juice.” Jade came alive at the sight of a cartoon-decorated box of apple juice. “Thank you.”
Lindsey favored her with another of those smiles that set Jesse’s stomach churning. “I have some gummy fruits in there too if you’d like some—the kind with smiley faces.”
Jade paused in the process of stabbing the straw into the top of her juice carton. “Do you have a little girl?”
Jesse was wondering the same thing, though the townspeople claimed she lived alone up here. Why would a single woman keep kid foods on hand?
If he hadn’t been watching her closely to hear the answer to Jade’s questions, he’d have missed the cloud that passed briefly over Lindsey’s face. But he had seen it and wondered.
“No.” She handed him a drippy can of Coke wrapped in a paper towel. “No little girls of my own, but I teach a Sunday-school class, and the kids like to come out here pretty often.”
Great. A Sunday-school teacher. Just what he didn’t need—a Bible-thumping church lady who raised Christmas trees.
“What do they come to your house for?” Jade asked with interest. “Do you gots toys?”
“Better
