style="font-size:15px;"> Five years ago, shortly after Kayla’s birth, the pediatrician’s diagnosis had rattled Sharon. Maggie had offered as much long-distance counseling as she could, before referring her friend to national support groups and online resources.
Extending a hand to Sharon’s daughter, Maggie smiled warmly. “I’m glad to meet you, Kayla.”
The little girl accepted the greeting, but continued to peruse the adult she’d been introduced to.
Such a solemn expression for a pretty little girl. Maggie wanted to put the child at ease. “Kayla, you look a lot like your mother.”
Mentioning Sharon worked. The little girl smiled. “Thank you. Did you know my mommy?”
“I sure did. We were friends when we were kids.”
“Kayla,” Jake said. “This is Dr. Templeton. She’s the one I was telling you about.”
The girl, a pink crayon held in one hand like a scepter, furrowed an auburn brow. “You’re a doctor?”
Maggie, who’d worked hard to earn the distinguished title, didn’t expect friends to refer to her as such. “Why don’t you just call me Maggie?”
“Do you give shots?” Crayon still raised and brow still furrowed, the little girl nibbled on her bottom lip while awaiting Maggie’s reply.
“Only when absolutely necessary, but remember, I came to visit as a friend, not as a doctor.”
“Maggie’s going to help us until Rosa gets better,” Jake explained.
The task suddenly looked a bit overwhelming, and Maggie couldn’t help but scan the room again. Hadn’t he been cleaning up after each meal?
Her eyes settled on the chocolate-covered toddler in the high chair. She’d always encouraged parents to let children feed themselves, but she now wondered whether chocolate ice cream should be an exception.
Jake leaned against the counter, next to the sinkful of dirty dishes, and crossed his arms. He looked windblown, tussled. And too damn sexy for his own good. Her heart did a little flip-flop, and she had to remind herself of her resolve to keep things on a platonic keel.
“Boy, am I glad you came,” he said.
“I’ll bet you are. You definitely need reinforcements.” Maggie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and surveyed the kitchen again. “Should we draw straws to decide who’s going to tackle the cleanup?”
“We don’t have to decide that yet. I’ve still got some dishes left in the cupboard.” He laughed, then blew out a deep breath and nodded toward Sam. “I’m more concerned about cleaning up the little piglet. Would you mind helping?”
The poor kid was covered from the tips of his downy fine hair to the mismatched socks he wore. Apparently, Uncle Jake hadn’t taken time to put on his shoes. Or maybe they’d been lost in the clutter.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t arrived?” she asked.
He shot her one of those bad-boy grins. “Taken him out back and hosed him off, I guess.”
Maggie lifted a brow and scrutinized her handsome cowboy friend. “Are you kidding? You haven’t been hosing him down in the yard, have you?”
“No.” He laughed again. “I was joking, Maggie. Actually, I’ve been filling the tub with warm, soapy water and swishing him around.”
Uncle Jake was undoubtedly out of his element. The past few days must have been comical, and Maggie wished she could have witnessed them firsthand.
“Doctor,” Kayla said, her voice far more serious than that of her uncle. “Do you read stories to kids?”
Maggie smiled at the girl. “I haven’t had too many opportunities, but if you have some storybooks, I’d be happy to read to you.”
“Goodie,” Kayla said. “Because uncles don’t like to read.” Kayla shot an exasperated look at Jake, and Maggie realized it had been a bone of contention between the two.
She could certainly understand Kayla’s frustration. Kids loved to listen to stories. Parents who didn’t read to their children did them a huge disservice. Maybe she would have to work on Jake. Some people didn’t believe an old dog could learn new tricks, but she disagreed.
“I’ll just have to talk your uncle into reading you a story once in a while.” She slid him a sly smile.
And Jake did his damnedest to return a grin, even though he wanted to scoff and stomp outside. Kayla was always grumpy when he refused to read aloud.
“Reading to children is good for them,” Maggie added. “It helps them develop learning skills, not to mention a love of books.”
Jake didn’t doubt that for a minute. Heck, he felt like a real jerk whenever he told Kayla he didn’t have time to read or just plain didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was illiterate. He read just fine—quietly and to himself. But he still remembered the humiliation of stuttering over simple words when forced to perform in front of an audience: the snickers of kids who could read better than him, the way Mrs. Bridger cleared her throat and told him to start all over at the beginning of the passage.
His refusal to speak out loud in class served his pride well, but it also resulted in regular visits to the principal and hours of detention.
“Guess what,” Kayla said to Maggie. “I already know my letters and sounds. And I’m not even in kindergarten yet.”
His niece was smart; that was for darn sure. Rosa had tried to talk Jake into letting her start kindergarten this year, but he’d said no.
He’d told Rosa that Kayla needed time to get used to the other changes in her life, which was true. But he worried about sending her off to school, especially with her disability, and wanted to protect her for as long as he could. Next year, when she was six, would be soon enough.
“After I get your brother cleaned up and the kitchen scrubbed down,” Maggie said, “we can take time for a story or two.”
Kayla clapped her hands. “I’m glad you came to help us.”
Maggie slid Jake another teasing smile, one that suggested she intended to prod him until he took Sam and Kayla on his lap and read them a story each night before bedtime.
Before he could come up with a retort or change the subject, a shrill voice called from the entry.
“Yoo-hoo!”
Victoria Winston. Jake blew out a heavy breath. Not her. Not now.
“Jake, are you in the kitchen?” Victoria called.
Maggie raised her brows, asking, it seemed, for some kind of explanation, if not an introduction. But she’d figure it out soon enough.
“Yeah, Vickie. I’m in here.”
Maggie watched, as an attractive woman dressed in designer Western wear sauntered into the kitchen, filling the room with
