trapped. She squatted down to pet the grizzled bulldog at Troy’s side. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Bull.”
She blinked. Was he calling her on her skittishness?
That impression increased as he cocked his head to one side. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No!” She gulped air. “I’m not afraid of you. Like I said when we texted, I’m here to apply for the job you advertised in the Tribune.”
He gestured toward one of the rockers. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about that. I’m curious about why you’re interested.”
Of course he was. And she’d spent much of last night sleepless, wondering how much she’d have to tell him to get the job she desperately needed, the job that would make things as good as they could be, at least for a while.
Once she sat down, he made his way back to his own rocker and sat, grimacing as he propped his leg on the low table in front of him.
She didn’t like the rush of sympathy she felt. “What happened?”
“Fell off a roof. My own stupid fault.”
That was new in him, the willingness to admit his own culpability. She wondered how far it went.
“That’s why I need an assistant with the dogs,” he explained. “Lou Ann helps me around the house, but she’s not strong enough to take care of the kennels. I can’t get everything done, and we’ve got a lot of dogs right now, so this is kind of urgent.”
His words were perfectly cordial, but questions and undercurrents rustled beneath them.
Angelica forced herself to stay in the present, in sales mode. “You saw my résumé online, right? I worked as a vet assistant back in Boston. And I’ve done hospital, um, volunteer work, and you know I grew up in the country. I’m strong, a lot stronger than I look.”
He nodded. “I’ve no doubt you could do the work if you wanted to,” he said, “but why would you want to?”
“Let’s just say I need a job.”
He studied her, his blue eyes troubled. “You haven’t shown your face in town for seven years. Even when you visit your grandfather, you hide out at the Senior Towers. If I’m giving you access to my dogs and my computer files and my whole business, especially if you’re able to live here on the grounds, I need to know a little more about what you’ve been up to.”
He hadn’t mentioned his main reason for mistrusting her, and she appreciated that. She pulled her mind out of the past and focused on the living arrangement, one of the main reasons this job was perfect for her. “I’m very interested in living in. Your ad said that’s part of the job?”
“That’s right, in the old bunkhouse.” He gestured toward a trim white building off to the east. “I figured the offer of housing might sweeten the deal, given that this is just a temporary job.”
“Is it big enough for two?”
“Ye-es,” He leaned back in the rocker and studied her, his eyes hooded. “Why? Are you married? I thought your name was still Camden.”
“I’m not married.” She swallowed. “But I do have a son.”
His eyebrows lifted. “How old is your son?”
“Is that important?” She really, really didn’t want to tell him.
“Yes, it’s important,” he said with a slight sigh. “I can’t have a baby or toddler here. It wouldn’t be safe, not with some of the dogs I care for.”
She drew in a breath. Now or never. “My son’s six, almost seven.” She reached a hand out to the bulldog, who’d settled between them, rubbed it along his wrinkled head, let him sloppily lick her fingers.
“Six! Then...”
She forced herself to look at Troy steadily while he did the math. Saw his eyes harden as he realized her son must have been conceived right around the time she’d left town.
Heat rose in her cheeks as the familiar feeling of shame twisted her insides. But she couldn’t let herself go there. “Xavier is a well-behaved kid.” At least most of the time. “He loves animals and he’s gentle with them.”
Troy was still frowning.
He was going to refuse her, angry about the way she’d left him, and then what would she do? How would she achieve the goal she’d set for herself, to fulfill as many of Xavier’s wishes as she could? This was such a perfect arrangement.
“I really need this job, Troy.” She hated to beg, but for Xavier, she’d do it.
He looked away, out at the fields, and she did, too. Sun on late-summer corn tassels, puffy clouds in a blue sky. Xavier would love it so.
“If you ever felt anything for me...” Her throat tightened and she had to force out the words. “If any of your memories about me are good, please give me the job.”
He turned back toward her, eyes narrowing. “Why do you need it so badly?”
She clenched her hands in her lap. “Because my son wants to be close to Gramps. And because he loves animals.”
“Most people don’t organize their careers around their kids’ hankerings.”
She drew in a breath. “Well, I do.”
His expression softened a little. “This job...it might not be what you want. It’s just until my leg heals. The doc says it could be three, four months before I’m fully back on my feet. Once that happens, I won’t need an assistant anymore.”
She swallowed and squeezed her hands together. Lord, I know I’m supposed to let You lead, but this seems so right. Not for me, but for Xavier, and that’s what matters. It is of You, isn’t it?
No answer from above, but the roar of a truck engine pierced the country quiet.
Oh no. Gramps was back too soon. He’d never gotten along with Troy, never trusted him on account of his conflicts with Troy’s dad. But she didn’t want the two men’s animosity to get in the way of what both she and her son wanted and needed.
The truck stopped again at the end of the driveway. Gramps got out, walked around to the passenger door.
She surged from her chair. “No, don’t!” she called, but the old man didn’t hear her. She started down the porch steps
Troy called her back. “It’s okay, they can come up. Regardless of what we decide about the job, maybe your son would like to see the dogs, look around the place.”
“There’s nothing he’d like better,” she said, “but I don’t want to get his hopes up if this isn’t going to work out.”
Troy’s forehead wrinkled as he stared out toward the truck, watching as Gramps helped Xavier climb out.
Angelica rarely
