Honey placed a hand on Cole’s arm. Tension ran along his muscles.
His body reacted when she touched him with not quite a jerk, but more like—Well, she didn’t know.
She dropped her hand and motioned him toward the far end of the room, to her small home office set up with desk, chair, her computer and a printer.
She ran Honey’s Place from her office downstairs, but she’d designed this corner up here strictly for pleasure. Well...to be honest...to play her computer games.
Voice pitched low, she asked, “What happened to their parents?”
Stark vulnerability clouded his handsome face. His gaze flickered to Madeline.
“My sister—Her husband—” His voice broke. He hissed in a breath. “In their will, they left guardianship of the children to me.”
Before she could ask for more, he rushed on, “Can we leave it at that for now?” A pain-laden plea if she’d ever heard one.
She’d always wanted a sister.
“Was she your only sibling?” she asked.
He tightened his lips and nodded.
God. To have only one sister and to lose her so early in life, and then to have an instant family. How was he to deal with this?
And Evan and Madeline, poor children.
No! She would not use that awful, inadequate, destructive word poor.
From personal experience, starting with her father’s death when she was only six, she knew too well the damage a word like that could do to a child...and how dangerous pity was. She would not treat Madeline or Evan with that most useless of emotions, pity.
They should never think of themselves as poor.
How could she help them?
Perhaps by making the day as normal as possible.
“Before you use the phone to set up your interviews, I need to call Rachel to come over.”
“Go ahead and use your phone,” Cole said. “I’ll use my cell. Why Rachel?”
“We need to make the children comfortable. Rachel will bring Tori. If anyone can put them at ease it’s that little girl.”
The tension in Cole’s shoulders eased a fraction. “Yeah. Good idea.” He stretched his neck to one side and then to the other. Bones popped. “Who should I call in town?”
“To hire as a nanny?”
He nodded.
Honey tapped her lips with her forefinger. “Of the women who would suit, there are Ellen Clarkson, Tanya Mayhall and Maria Tripoli.”
“All older women. Why?”
“They’ve been stay-at-home moms, and their chicks have flown the nest. They’re helping to organize the teenagers for the food and beverage stands at the revival fair. They love children and are good with them.”
Cole nodded and collapsed into her office chair. “Sounds good.”
He pulled his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and stared at it as if it were alien to him.
Honey touched his hand, surprising him. He glanced up with wide blue eyes. Something odd touched their depths. Maybe hope? Or...what? Honey couldn’t identify what she saw, but again tension arced under her fingers.
She dropped her hand. “Do you need me to make the calls?”
A split second of temptation lit the darkness in his eyes, replaced at once by determination.
“My job. Just please take care of them this afternoon. Make them happy.”
“Cole, no one can do that right now.”
“You can, Honey. If anyone can, it’s you.”
Tightening her hold on Madeline, she huffed out a frustrated sigh. What a burden he was placing on her. She might be a favorite with the children of Rodeo, Montana, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.
His intensity, while understandable given the situation, unnerved her. He wasn’t thinking rationally.
“Oh, Cole.” Her voice eased out of her on a breath of soft air. “It’s too early. There’s nothing that will make them happy. All I can do is make them comfortable.”
“Do that? Please?” The rawness in his voice held her still.
How could she resist a plea so sweetly asked?
“Okay. You make the calls and get those women in here to interview. I’ll take care of the children.”
She squeezed his hand, meaning to move on quickly, but he turned his palm up and grasped her like he never meant to let go. His grip became painful.
He closed his eyes. Misery etched deeper those brackets of character on his face.
When he looked at her again, moisture shimmered on his pale lashes.
Tenderness welled inside Honey.
She did affection really well, especially with children and friends, but affection toward men? Not so much. She had her reasons, all balled up in an amalgam of passionate love and too much loss...as well as being a female bar owner.
She straightened and put distance between herself and that dangerous tenderness.
He dropped her hand.
All business, she offered, “Would you like coffee? Food?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to put you out.”
Used to dealing with recalcitrant drunks, she slammed her fist onto her unoccupied hip. “When did you last eat?”
He turned inward but couldn’t seem to come up with an answer. “I don’t remember.”
“And the children?”
“Breakfast this morning.”
“It’s two o’clock. I’ll put on the coffeepot and get food in here.” She pointed a finger at his face. “When the children sit down to eat, so will you.”
She snagged the phone and walked to her bedroom at the back of the apartment, hitching Madeline a little higher on her hip.
Rachel answered on the second ring. “Hi, Honey. What’s up?”
“Are you and the children available this afternoon?”
“Sure. Travis is out checking on the herd. What do you need?”
“Come over.”
“Now?
