cowboy than a politician, Julie thought, wearing jeans and old boots and a cotton shirt the color of his eyes.
Grinning, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing a pair of muscular forearms.
“Well,” he said, in that soft, slow drawl of his, “howdy all over again.”
Julie, oddly stricken, blinked. “Howdy,” she croaked, froglike.
Esperanza, about to set a platter of enchiladas on the table, chuckled.
“Where is el niño?” she asked, looking around for Calvin.
“I’ll get him,” Julie said, too quickly, dashing out of the room.
When she got back, Calvin in tow, Esperanza was at the table, in her usual place, while Garrett stood leaning against one of the counters, evidently waiting.
Only when Julie was seated, Calvin on the bench beside her, did Garrett pull back the chair at the head of the table and sit.
Everybody bowed their heads, and Esperanza offered thanks.
Calvin had probably been peeking at Garrett through his eyelashes throughout the brief prayer, though Julie could only speculate. Grace seemed particularly appropriate that night.
The Strivens family was having soup. And not enough of it, apparently.
“Aunt Libby had the news on when Audrey and Ava and I got home from school today,” Calvin told Garrett. “I saw you on TV!”
Garrett grinned at that, though Julie caught the briefest glimpse of weariness in his eyes. “All in a day’s work,” he replied easily.
Esperanza gave him a sympathetic glance.
“Tate says the senator ought to be lynched,” Calvin went on cheerfully, his chin and one cheek already smudged with enchilada sauce.
Julie handed him a paper napkin, watched as he bunched it into a wad, dabbed at his face and wiped away only part of the sauce.
Garrett’s grin slipped a little, Julie thought, and a glance at Esperanza revealed the other woman’s quiet concern.
“Is that right?” Garrett responded, very slowly. “Tate said that?”
Calvin nodded, thrilled to be carrying tales. “He didn’t know I heard what he said,” the little boy explained, “but when Aunt Libby poked him with her elbow, he almost choked on his coffee.” A pause. “That was funny.”
Garrett chuckled. “I suppose it was,” he agreed.
“What’s ‘lynched’?” Calvin persisted, gazing up at Julie. “Aunt Libby wouldn’t tell me when I asked her. She said I’d have to ask you, Mom.”
Thanks a lot, sis, Julie thought wryly. “Never mind,” she said. “We’re eating.”
“Is it something yucky, then?”
“Yes.”
“Will it give me bad dreams?”
“Maybe,” Julie said.
Again, Garrett chuckled. “How old are you, buddy?” he asked, watching the child.
“Almost five,” Calvin answered, proudly. “That’s how come they finally let me into kindergarten. Because I’m almost five.”
Garrett gave a low, exclamatory whistle. “I’d have sworn you were fifty-two,” he said, “and short for your age.”
Calvin laughed, delighted by the joke—and the masculine attention.
Julie felt a pang, barely resisted an urge to ruffle her son’s hair in a fit of unrestrained affection. He would have been embarrassed, she thought, and the pang struck again, deeper this time.
Eventually Calvin finished eating, and excused himself to feed Harry and then take him outside. Julie knew he’d ask about lynching again, but she hoped she could put him off until morning.
Esperanza began clearing the table, and waved Julie away when she moved to help.
Calvin and the dog came back inside.
“Time for your bath, big guy,” Julie said.
For once, Calvin didn’t argue. Maybe he wanted to look good in front of Garrett McKettrick; she couldn’t be sure.
Once the boy and his dog had vanished into the guest suite, and Esperanza had served the coffee, started the dishwasher and gone as well, Julie was alone with Garrett.
The realization was deliciously unsettling.
She cleared her throat diplomatically, but when she opened her mouth, intending to make some kind of pitch concerning the foundation’s funding the new computers in full, not a sound came out.
Garrett watched her, amusement flickering in his eyes. He could have thrown her a lifeline, tossed out some conversational tidbit to get things started, but he didn’t. He simply waited for her to make another attempt.
That was when Calvin reappeared, tugging at Julie’s shirtsleeve and startling her half out of her skin. “Do I have to take a bath tonight? I had one last night and I hardly even got dirty today.”
Garrett’s smile set Julie back on her figurative heels.
Flustered, she turned to her son. “Yes, Calvin,” she said firmly, “you do have to take your bath.”
“But Esperanza and I were going to watch TV,” Calvin protested, his usual sunny-sky nature clouding over. “Our favorite show is on, and somebody’s sure to get voted off and sent home.”
Julie turned back to Garrett. “Excuse me,” she said, rising.
Garrett merely nodded.
She took Calvin to their bathroom, where Esperanza was filling the tub. The older woman smiled at Julie—she’d already gotten out the little boy’s pajamas, and they were neatly folded and waiting on the lid of the clothes hamper.
Bless the woman, she went out of her way to be helpful.
Julie felt yet another rush of gratitude.
Harry sat on a hooked rug in the middle of the bathroom, panting and watching the proceedings.
“I’ll make sure young Mr. Calvin is bathed and in his pajamas in time to watch our program,” Esperanza said. Then she made a shooing motion with the backs of her fingers. “You go back to the kitchen.”
Was Esperanza playing matchmaker?
Julie made a little snorting sound as she left the bathroom. Herself and Garrett McKettrick?
Fat chance.
The man was a politician, for cripes’ sake.
Anyway, he had probably lit out for his part
