close at hand and just call her if I need anything. In a way, I feel like a surrogate parent.”
Nash knew he should get information about Cassie from Cassie herself, but he also realized he could learn facts from other people, too. “Aren’t Cassie’s parents around here?”
“It’s such a shame, but Cassie’s parents died in a car crash.”
So Cassie had lost her parents. He felt for her. The compassion he’d seen in her was true. Apparently she knew what it was like to lose the people you loved.
He thought again about Sara and her refusal to marry him. She’d hurt his pride as well as broken his heart. Although he didn’t intend to compare Sara and Cassie, he found himself doing it. Cassie seemed so bright and sparkling compared to Sara. Was it even fair to judge?
Cassie’s neighbor broke into Nash’s thoughts. “How long will you be staying at the Bluebonnet?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” he told her. “More than a week and less than a month.”
“I see. You know, you really should make a commitment. It would help Cassie figure out what bills she could pay and which ones she can’t. She finagles her budget until it all works out. That’s hard to do these days for me, too.”
“I think we all have to adjust our budgets each month these days.” He took off his sports jacket and laid it over his arm and then loosened his bolo tie. He couldn’t wait to get into his T-shirt and jeans. “It was good to meet you, Renata.”
“It was good meeting you, too. You tell Cassie I said hello.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
As he descended the porch steps, he didn’t know if he’d be seeing Cassie tonight. In some ways, it would be safer if he didn’t. No temptation, no consequences. Maybe he’d change and go out again, grab some tacos and go over his notes. It would be a safe evening with nothing more on his mind than work.
* * *
The following day Cassie wished she could make a breakthrough with her eleven-year-old art student Danny. Art often could help children express themselves. She knew Danny could draw. That was one of the reasons his mother was paying for art lessons. But he wouldn’t draw anything he really cared about.
The late afternoon was quiet on the porch as Cassie watched Danny paint the big sturdy tree, a realistic portrayal of one right outside the screened-in room. The only sound was the brush of Danny’s strokes on the canvas and the sound of birds in the tree branches as they called to each other.
The almost-silence was the reason Cassie heard the front door open and then close. When she leaned back to peek through the rooms, she spotted Nash walking toward her. She hadn’t seen him much for the last twenty-four hours. He hadn’t eaten supper last night or breakfast this morning. He was dressed up again and he looked tired. Had he had meetings all day?
When he stopped at the door to the screened-in porch, Cassie motioned him inside. Maybe Danny would respond to another male.
“Danny, this is Nash. He’s a guest at the bed-and-breakfast, and he understands paintings.”
Danny gave her a quick glance and then turned back to his canvas.
“I really do,” Nash said, obviously perceptive about what Cassie wanted him to do. “And Cassie’s paintings are great. Have you seen any of them?”
Danny nodded but wouldn’t turn and meet Nash’s gaze. Nash lifted one eyebrow as if to ask Cassie what was going on. But she wouldn’t talk about Danny with the boy there. Nash must have sensed that so he backed off, which was thoughtful of him.
He asked, “Is it okay if I make some coffee?”
She motioned to the sideboard in the dining area. “I brewed a pot about an hour ago. It should still be good. I made chocolate chip cookies, too. Danny had two before we started.”
“What did you think of them?” Nash asked the boy.
“They were good,” Danny answered, still keeping his eyes on the canvas.
But Nash didn’t completely give up. “You know your tree is as good as any one of Cassie’s.”
Danny inclined his head as if he’d heard. He gave a little shrug, but he didn’t respond. Nash’s gaze locked with Cassie’s, and he just pointed toward the dining room as if telling her he’d wait in there to talk with her.
A short time later, Danny’s mother came in the door. Dorie Lindstrom always seemed to be in a rush. Now she came barreling toward the sunporch. Danny had his mom’s blond hair and blue eyes, and when he saw her, he smiled. He always smiled around his mom.
As usual, she seemed to stop rushing when she was in the presence of her son. She stood behind him and stared at his painting. “That’s a terrific tree. What are you going to put with it?”
“Maybe a playhouse on the grass,” he said.
“You’re good at painting buildings. I think that will fit well there, don’t you think, Cassie?”
“Danny has an instinct for knowing what to fit together. I’m sure a playhouse will be just right.”
Dorie handed Cassie a check. “Same time on Monday?”
“That works for me.” As Danny rose to his feet, Cassie said, “I’ll put your painting somewhere safe. It will be ready for you when you’re ready for it.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Good job.”
He gave her a smile like he’d given his mom. Then the two of them left.
Cassie carefully propped the painting on one of the chairs, then collapsed the easel. By then Nash had come into the porch, coffee mug in hand. He’d removed his jacket and loosened his bolo tie. With the top button of his shirt opened, he looked too sexy for words. She swallowed hard and told herself again he was just a guest.
“So what’s going on with your art student?” he asked. “Or can’t you tell me?”
“Some things are confidential but it might help me to talk to you about it. I know you’re not going to spread any gossip because you’re not from here.”
“That’s right. No gossip passes my lips.”
At the word lips, she stared at him...and them. That was a big mistake. She forced herself to concentrate on the subject they were talking about—Danny. “Danny’s parents are going through a divorce.”
“I see. Is he mad at his father? Is that why he wouldn’t make eye contact with me? All males are taboo?”
How perceptive, Cassie thought. But she supposed Nash had learned to read his clients well. “That could be part of the reason. But even more than that, his father doesn’t approve of Danny’s interest in art. Danny’s embarrassed about it himself because he’s gotten teased at school. I’m trying to build his confidence along with teaching him about acclaimed male painters. I want him to know his talent is something to be proud of.”
“You’re right, it is. What kind of person is his father?”
