quickly. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see the Buchanans could use a helping hand. “I didn’t mind and Lucy—”
“I mind.”
She stiffened. Did he expect her to assure him it wouldn’t happen again? “The whole wheat pizza and fresh vegetables, the fact that Lucy didn’t want to eat that leftover roast beef you told her to eat, or the fact that I dared to use your kitchen? Any other rules I need to know about?”
Apparently, he didn’t recognize that her facetious comment required no answer. “Stay away from the stables.”
“Afraid a Day might hurt the horses? Why did you even bother talking me into taking this job?”
“The horse that threw Lucy is in the stable. I don’t want her tempted to go there, and if you do, she’ll want to, as well. And the only thing my daughter needs from you is your expertise.”
“Which, by your tone, it would seem you doubt I possess. Again, it makes me wonder why you came to me, not once but twice, to get me to take on Lucy’s case for the summer.” The hallway seemed to be shrinking. Or maybe it was her irritation taking up more space as it grew.
“You have the right credentials.”
“Just the wrong pedigree.” Her flat statement hovered in the air between them.
Every angle of his sharp features tightened. “Is your room comfortable enough?”
“It’s fine.” She eyed him and wondered how a man she barely knew could be so intertwined in her life. “Sooner or later we might as well talk about it.” His expression didn’t change and she exhaled. “Cage, what happened was tragic, but it was a long time ago.” She ought to know.
Finally, some life entered his flinty features, and his expression was so abruptly, fiercely alive that she actually took a step back, earning a bump of her elbow against the wall behind her.
“A long time ago?” His bronze hair seemed to ripple along with the coldness in his voice as he towered over her. “I’ll mention that to my mother next time I visit her. Of course, she probably won’t mind, since she barely remembers one day to the next.”
Belle’s stomach clenched. Not with fear, but sympathy and guilt. And she knew he’d never in a million years accept those sentiments from her, if he even believed she was capable of experiencing it.
She’d heard he was overbearing. But he believed she was the daughter of a devil.
She folded her hands together. Well, she’d been warned, hadn’t she? “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here. You…you should bring Lucy into Weaver. I will work with her there.” She didn’t officially have hospital privileges, but she had a few connections who could help arrange it, namely her stepsister-in-law, Dr. Rebecca Clay. And it didn’t matter where Belle and Lucy did the tutoring.
“I want you here. I’ve told you that.”
Belle pushed her fingers through her hair, raking it back from her face. “But, Cage. It just doesn’t make any sense. Yes, I know it’s a long drive to make every few days into town, but—”
His teeth flashed in a barely controlled grimace. “My daughter will have the best care there is. If that seems extravagant to you, I don’t care. Now, are we going to have this—” he barely hesitated “—discussion every time we turn around? Because I’d prefer to see something more productive out of your presence here. God knows I’m paying you enough.”
She sank her teeth into her tongue to keep from telling him what he could do with that particular compensation. Compensation they both knew was considerably less than she could have charged. “I’d like my time to be productive, too,” she said honestly. “I have no desire to spend unnecessary time under your roof.”
“Well, there’s something we agree on, then.”
Her fingers were curled so tightly against her palms that even her short nails were causing pain. “And here’s something else we’d better agree on.” She kept her voice low, in deference to Lucy sleeping downstairs. “Lucy doesn’t need the added stress of knowing you detest me, so maybe you could work on summoning a little…well, friendliness is probably asking too much. But if Lucy senses that you don’t trust me to do my best with her, then she’s not going to, either, no matter how well she and I got along when she was in my P.E. class.”
“I don’t need you telling me what my daughter needs. I’ve been her only parent since she was born.”
“And it’s amazing that she’s turned out as well as she has.” She winced at the unkind words. “I’m sorry. That was—”
“True enough.” He didn’t look particularly offended. “She is amazing.”
Belle nibbled the inside of her lip as thick silence settled over them. Should she have listened to her mother’s warning that she was getting in over her head? Not because of the skill she would require to work with Lucy—as her therapist as well as a tutor—but because of who Lucy was?
Probably.
She sighed a little and pressed her palms together. “Lucy is a great kid, Cage. And I really do want to help her.” That was the whole point of all this.
Mostly.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and his gaze slid sideways, as if he was trying to see the bedroom downstairs where his daughter slept. “If I believed you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
Which, apparently, was as much a concession as she was likely to get out of the man. For now, anyway. Fortunately, somewhere in her life she’d learned that a retreat didn’t always signify defeat.
“Well. I guess I’ll hit the sack.” She was twenty-seven years old, but she still felt her face heat at the words. As if the man didn’t know she’d be climbing into bed under his roof. She was such a head case. Better to focus on the job. The last time he’d come to her house—after she’d already refused Lucy’s case once—he’d admitted that he’d fired Annette Barrone because of her overactive hormones. Belle had assured him that he had no worries from her on that score.
As if.
“I went over and checked out the barn earlier,” she said evenly when neither one of them moved. “The setup is remarkable.” And another indication of his devotion to his daughter. Every piece of equipment that she could have wished for had been there, and then some. The hospital in town should only be so lucky. “I rearranged things a little. If that’s all right.”
Now, his hooded gaze slid back over her face. And she refused to acknowledge that the shiver creeping up her spine had anything to do with his intensely blue gaze.
“Use your judgment.”
She nodded. “Okay, then.” The door to her bedroom was within arm’s reach. Not at all at opposite ends of the hall from his. “Good night.” She wished he would turn into his own bedroom. But he just stood there. And feeling idiotic, she unplastered her back from the wall behind her and went through the door, quickly shutting it behind her.
A moment later, she heard the squeak of a floorboard, and the close of another door.
Relief
