I appreciate all your hard work.”
“And I appreciate having a boss who understands and respects family obligations. Being able to leave at five o’clock every day to pick up Lily from day care is really important to me.”
“I was informed in no uncertain terms that the office was closed.” Caleb looked at the clock on the wall that said it was half past six. “All evidence points to a boss who’s a slave driver.”
“Mallory graciously offered to stay,” his father defended.
“It was an emergency,” she said. “Besides, Lily isn’t in school right now and Cecelia Clifton was watching her and offered to drop her off here.”
Caleb began to doubt that Mallory was married because it sounded as if there wasn’t a husband to pick up the slack. But that was not his problem and none of his business. “So, you ready to go, Dad?”
“Just let me shut down the office. I’ll be back in a minute. Mallory, go home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Caleb watched Lily close her book and climb down from the big chair to stand by her aunt. The way the little girl tucked her hand into Mallory’s tugged at something a little empty inside him.
“I’m glad we finally met,” he said. “And your niece shows a lot of promise as a sentry. No one gets past her. You’ve done a great job with her.”
“And she did it all by herself. She doesn’t have a husband,” Lily volunteered cheerfully. “But I think maybe she’d like one. Maybe a cowboy.”
Mallory looked horrified. “Lily—”
“Okay, son. Let’s go get that beer. Will you lock up, Mallory?” His father rounded the corner like the cavalry coming to the rescue.
Caleb wasn’t about to ignore a diplomatic exit strategy when he saw it. He put his hat on, touched the brim respectfully toward the two ladies, then followed his father out the door.
He’d done his fair share of dating and then some. He’d gone out with blondes, brunettes, redheads and women whose hair was every shade in between. Ladies with blue eyes, green, black and brown had flirted and cozied up to him.
His brothers would laugh him off the ranch if he said it out loud to them, but meeting Mallory Franklin had felt like a lightning strike. No woman had ever had that effect on him before and he didn’t much care for the fact that this one did. He could deal when there was a ghost of a chance that she was married, but now he knew for sure she wasn’t and it was a problem. Not only was there no husband, she was looking for one.
Then again, soon enough someone in Rust Creek Falls would clue her in that Caleb Dalton wasn’t marriage material.
* * *
Mallory wished she could get the look of panic on Caleb Dalton’s face out of her mind. Clearly, escaping from her as quickly as possible had been his top priority. That was several hours ago; she and Lily had come home to their three-bedroom house on the southeast corner of South Broomtail Road and Commercial Street. It was after dinner, so the two of them were in the middle of the bedtime routine. Still, every time she remembered this child telling him she’d like a husband, Mallory wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
She looked at the little girl, blow-drying her thick, straight black hair after her shower. This child had been placed in her care by a cruel twist of fate, making Mallory a mother. Lily hadn’t come with a set of instructions or a how-to manual. There needed to be a discussion about what she had said, but Mallory didn’t want to make her think she’d done something wrong or stifle her natural enthusiasm and spontaneity.
She just needed Lily to understand that she couldn’t go around telling virtual strangers, not even cowboys, that her aunt was looking for a husband. But how did one approach that?
Mallory had no model from her childhood to fall back on. Her own parents would have oozed disapproval, then given her the silent treatment. She’d decided when Lily came to live with her that when there was an issue, she would do the exact opposite of what her mother and father had. So far Mallory had managed to handle every situation fairly easily, but now was definitely the time for a talk.
When the little girl turned off the blow-dryer, Mallory said, “Lily, how did you like spending time at the office today?”
“It was okay. A little boring.”
Not from where Mallory had been standing. She squeezed toothpaste onto a princess toothbrush and handed it over. “Oh?”
“I like reading, but it would have been more fun at Amelia’s house.”
Her new best friend. “I’m sorry that didn’t work out. But sometimes—”
“Things don’t go the way we want and we all have to do things we don’t like,” she parroted.
“Right.” That was good, no? Finishing the sentence proved that she listened and filed it away. “You did a very good job at the receptionist desk.”
Lily stuck the toothbrush into her mouth and talked around it. “Do you think Mr. Dalton will pay me?”
Mallory laughed. “I think that was pro bono. That means you did it at no charge.”
“That’s what I figured.” She brushed her teeth, then rinsed and wiped her mouth on the green hand towel sitting beside the sink.
Mallory was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and stood. “Are you ready for bed?”
“Do I have to be?”
“It’s time,” she answered, firm but kind.
The token pushback was part of the established nighttime ritual. After Mallory’s sister and brother-in-law died together in a car accident, she’d become Lily’s guardian and the two of them had gone to grief counseling. She’d learned that routine would provide security and stability, a safe environment to put one foot in front of the other and get on with the business of living. It seemed to be working.
Lily turned off the light as she left the bathroom and Mallory followed her down the hall. The child’s room had lavender walls with white baseboards and doors. A canopy bed was centered on one wall with a princess spread over it that matched the lamp and curtains. Her niece had picked out everything because Mallory felt it was important for her to feel as if she had some control over her life. Even if control was an illusion, a fact hammered home after the trauma of losing her mother and father at the same time.
Lily hopped on the bed and grabbed her favorite stuffed animal, a pink elephant. “I like Mr. Dalton’s son.”
“Caleb.” Mallory cringed just thinking about him, then sat on the bed.
“I think he’s very handsome. Like a prince. Can a cowboy be a prince?”
Mallory thought he was handsome, too. Brown hair, blue eyes, muscular. The white cotton snap-front shirt he wore fit him like a second skin and highlighted the contours of his broad chest and flat stomach. Worn jeans hugged strong thighs that no doubt kept him from falling off his horse while
