He looked up at P.J. “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he said reading the sympathy she knew was on her face. “I won’t.”
Emily sniffled again. “I’m extra sorry, mister.”
P.J. pulled her little girl more protectively against her. “I’ll see that the frame is replaced, Mr. McKendrick. ”
“Don’t worry about it. And I already told you the name is Cade,” he said, standing.
“I insist. As soon as—” She looked down when she felt a tug on her jeans pocket. “What is it, Emily?”
“Do ranches have bathrooms?”
Cade smiled for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. Once at her, once at Emily. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “double trouble.”
Great, she thought, already planning to apply for work at her local fast-food place. She would figure out some way to arrange child care.
When Emily tugged again, she said, “T’m sure there’s a powder room. Let’s ask Mr.—” she stopped when he slanted her a look. “Cade. He’ll tell you where it is.”
He pointed down the hall. “Go that way and it’ll be on your right.”
“Do you want me to go with you, Em?”
The girl shook her head, then looked uncertain. “But which side is right?”
“It’s the side you hold your pencil. Okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
They watched her until she’d found the right door, then P.J. turned to him. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you read my résumé?”
He rubbed his neck. “No.”
“Was mine the only one you received?”
He shook his head. “Got about six or seven.”
“If you didn’t read mine, how did you pick me?”
“Yours was on top.”
“Would I be wrong to assume that you didn’t check out my references either?”
“No.”
“If I were a cowboy, would you have done some checking on my background?”
“Yes, but—”
She shook her head. This was no way to run a youth program. Cavalier and slipshod at best. “We’re talking about children, not horses. This is irresponsible—”
“So I’ve been told,” he said, bitterness twisting his words.
“I can’t believe someone entrusted you with this program.”
“Me either. But someone did.”
“Who?”
“My father. It was his idea.”
“And he passed away before he could get it running,” she guessed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cade. But this could be a dynamite thing you’re doing. Channeling your energy into children will help you get over your grief—”
“That’s what you think this is about?” he asked.
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hardly knew him. We hadn’t spoken since I left home at eighteen. When he found out he was dying he sent for me. He ordered me to finish what he’d started.”
“Ordered? You didn’t want to?”
“Nope.”
“Then why are you?”
“If I don’t, I lose the ranch.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I don’t see this program through the summer, the ranch will be sold and the money donated to his favorite charity.” Cade watched her big brown eyes grow wider.
“You must have misunderstood—”
“His will was so clear I didn’t even need the lawyer to translate.” He shoved his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “He had already picked three kids from a local probation program. By the end of the summer, they’ll go back where they came from and the ranch will be mine, free and clear. I just have to get through the next couple months.”
Cade waited for her disapproving look. He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips tightened. Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw her nose wrinkle, drawing his attention to how freckle-splashed and turned-up-cute it was. A pale yellow cotton blouse tucked into her jeans showed off her slender curves. Shoulder-length brown hair curled in layers around her pretty face. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but clean-cut and appealing. Not his normal type, although under different circumstances he might have been tempted to put moves on her. But she had a kid. That was strike one. Strike two: he had a bad feeling P. J. Kirkland was a do-gooder who would give him what-for about his attitude.
When she took a deep breath, he braced himself. Sometimes he hated it when he was right.
“Get through?” she said, clearly offended. “That’s not good enough. These are children. They’re at risk. You have a unique opportunity. This is a chance to make a difference in their lives. And you just want to ‘get through’?”
“That’s about the size of it.” He didn’t care whether or not she approved. He just needed her until the end of August. “So you still want the job, or do I need to call the second résumé in the stack?”
She blinked. “You’re hiring me?”
The sound of footsteps kept her from saying more, and they both turned to see Emily coming toward them. The child stopped beside her and looked from PJ. to him. “Mister, if you have a broom, I’ll sweep up the glass. Mom always makes me clean up my messes.”
“I have a broom. You can sweep it into a pile, but don’t pick it up. I’ll do that so you don’t cut yourself.”
She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“It’s fine,” PJ. said.
“Good,” he answered pointing. “The kitchen is that way. Follow me.”
He started toward the back of the house when the little girl slipped her small hand into his. It was amazingly small, and wet from a recent washing. Surprised, he looked down at her and she smiled. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure PJ. was following.
“I’ve never seen a cowboy before,” she confided.
“I’ve never seen a little girl before.”
She stared up at him, doubt written all over her small oval face. “You’re fibbing, mister.”
“Call
