“A few times,” Maggie admitted. “Callie is an expert in the field and could probably help us, but your parents don’t want any part of it.”
Hart shook his head in wordless disapproval. “Tell me about it! Since they aren’t keeping up with the times, I tried to get them to sell the business and retire. But they refused. They wanted me to come in and take it over. They still do.”
“But you’re not interested,” Maggie allowed, trying without success to figure out why the notion that Hart did not want to return to his home state of Texas was so upsetting to her. Given the sparks they drew off each other, she ought to want him as far away as possible.
“I’m grateful for the upbringing I had here and the people skills I learned from working in such a chaotic business, but it’s not for me.”
Honestly, Maggie couldn’t see Hart managing the wedding business, either. A larger than life, big-picture guy like him would go crazy with the aesthetics and the minutiae. Sometimes, she felt like she might, too. “I understand. But that aside...” Aware she was loving holding the toddler a little too much, she handed Henry back to his dad. “You really can’t barge in when I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
Hart was instantly contrite. “I know—I’m sorry. I forgot to take the diaper bag with me and Henry’s toys were in there. And once Henry heard your voice...”
Maggie took a seat behind her desk and retorted, “You couldn’t have entertained him any other way?”
Smiling casually, Hart gave her a leisurely once-over. “Magnolia McCabe...are you accusing me of just wanting to commandeer your attention and spend time with you?”
Maggie flushed at his low, flirtatious tone.
With his smile widening and his son cradled tenderly against his chest, he inched closer. Maggie rocked back in her chair and tried to tamp down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to rise and join them both.
“Because it’s really not true,” Hart quipped. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. “It’s Henry here, who is completely and utterly crushing on you.” He indicated the winsome toddler. “Henry, whose heart you seemed to have captured.”
It was easy to see the staggering resemblance between Hart and his son. Both were incredibly handsome and engaging, in their own way. Maggie felt something catch in her heart. She knew her need for connection went soul-deep. But this was not the time or place to indulge that desire. Not when the child was so vulnerable.
She swallowed around the telltale tightness of her throat. “I know Henry likes me. I like him, too. But you can’t keep treating me like his nanny.”
For a moment, Hart looked like he’d had his fair share of disappointments, too. He gave her a steely-eyed glare. “I’m not asking you to take responsibility for my son.”
Maggie forced herself to keep her guard up, resisting the urge to become even more involved in what was, she knew, a very emotionally charged situation. And where was the child’s mother, anyway? Who was she?
As if sensing the tension between the two adults, Henry squirmed unhappily in Hart’s arms.
He awkwardly attempted to make his son comfortable. Failed. “But with my parents not here, and me not knowing the first thing about taking care of a baby... Look, I just need you to show me what to do,” Hart said, serious now. “Help me fix him something for dinner, get him ready for bed.”
And then what? Maggie wondered. The three of them would be under the same roof, since her quarters were in the main house, too.
Not to mention the fact that with his parents away and the rest of the staff on hiatus at the moment, they were completely alone. And though Henry might work as an effective chaperone some of the time, he wasn’t always going to be awake.
She ignored the fluttering in her middle. “You don’t ask a lot.”
“It’s not for me.” Hart set Henry down on the floor. Happily distracted, the toddler immediately walked off, exploring. “It’s for him.”
Maggie followed Henry into the hallway to the door. She watched as the little guy stood on tiptoe, trying to work the doorknob.
This child was definitely going to be a handful.
Turning back to Hart, she folded her arms across her chest. “Shouldn’t you already know how to do all this?”
He slung the diaper bag over his shoulder. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” Maggie opened the door for Henry. He toddled out, onto the long covered breezeway that connected the Double Knot Wedding Ranch offices to the sprawling cedar and stone ranch house. In the opposite direction, on the other side of the main house, the breezeway led to a four-car garage.
Ten acres away from that, on the other side of a beautifully landscaped flower garden and lawn, there was a train station built in the style of the Old West. There were covered platforms where guests sat as they waited to board the old-fashioned steam engine that would take them to Nature’s Cathedral at the top of Sanders Mountain, a huge party barn where receptions were held and a large parking lot where wedding guests could park.
Maggie opened the back door to the house. “I mean, do your parents even know they are grandparents?” Maggie was pretty sure the intensely family-oriented Fiona and Frank would have mentioned it if they had.
Hart lifted up his son, and carried him across the threshold, before setting the little boy down again. “I just found out myself three days ago.” Sorrow colored his low tone.
Shock rendered Maggie momentarily still. “Seriously?”
Hart set the diaper bag down on the hall table. “My ex-fiancée never told me she was pregnant.” He shrugged, shook his head. “I might not have known at all if Alicia hadn’t died in a car crash a month ago.”
A silence fraught with heartache fell.
Maggie caught up with Henry, who was headed for the back stairs. She grabbed the little boy’s hand and turned him back in the direction of the ranch-house kitchen. “Where’s Henry been since?” Together, the three of them entered the spacious room.
Maggie left Hart to keep track of his son, while she opened up the large, stainless steel fridge and got out the makings for the little boy’s dinner.
“Foster care in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Apparently, my name was on Henry’s Texas birth certificate, but between the bureaucracies of the two states, it took them a while to track me down.”
Maggie set a skillet on the six-burner Viking stove and turned the heat to medium. “Poor kid.” She buttered two pieces of bread and put a slice of American cheese between them.
Hart’s forehead creased. “He was well cared for. At least he seemed somewhat happy, if pretty confused, when I went to pick him up. I thought it would be easier to fly to San Antonio, and then rent a car for the remainder of the trip.” Hart scooped up his son before he could exit the kitchen at top speed.
