LITMIR.BIZ

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you haven’t made other arrangements, yet.”

      He looked at her. “Have you eaten? Of course you have,” he answered himself. He walked around Darby and pulled open the refrigerator door.

      She knew what he saw. She’d finally made arrangements with the nearby grocer to make a delivery that morning when it was obvious that Garrett wasn’t going to do so himself. The refrigerator and cupboards were now well stocked. With the tip she’d added on, the arrangement had only gouged into half of the cash Carmel had delivered to Darby just as Garrett had promised.

      Hiring someone to fix the air-conditioning had taken the other half of her pay. But her pay, or lack of it, wasn’t really an issue she cared to get into. Garrett was obviously not made of money—as evidenced by his modest living conditions—even though he’d been generous about her pay.

      He pulled out a can of cola and turned to face her as he popped the top and lifted it to his mouth. She looked away as he drank, his long, strong throat working.

      Then he finally lowered the can and sighed. “No. I haven’t made other arrangements.”

      “But we agreed that I would help you out for only this week.”

      “I didn’t say I haven’t tried to make other arrangements.” He finished off the soda and crumpled the can with one hand. “The same problems still exist that existed last week, Darby. You’re my only option. And even if you weren’t,” he added firmly, “you’re my best option. The children adore you. How can you walk away from them?”

      “How can you ignore them the way you have been?” The words escaped without thought and she pressed her lips together. She was only the hired help, she reminded herself. Temporary hired help. She’d grown up with “help” all around her, and she knew that there were times when her father considered their input acceptable and times when he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

      He pulled out a chair and sat down, legs stretching halfway across the cozy kitchen. “Don’t stand there like that,” he said. “You remind me of the nuns from my elementary school. Except you’re missing the ruler to rap over my knuckles.”

      She reluctantly pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. With one hand, he rolled one of the long tubes a few inches back and forth across the table. That dirty bandage of his was going to drive her nuts. “I don’t believe you ever went to parochial school,” she finally said stiffly.

      He shrugged. “You’ll hear the rumors sooner or later. I wasn’t exactly a teacher’s pet. I told you before, Darby. People aren’t jumping out of the woodwork to help me out. They’re too afraid of upsetting The Mighty Caldwell.”

      “Laura isn’t afraid,” Darby countered. “If she had been, she wouldn’t have listened to anything I had to say about Elise’s wishes. I think you may be exaggerating your—” she hesitated when his eyebrow peaked, then plunged on “—your difficulties somewhat. I’ve found this town very welcoming. And if you just give people a chance, instead of assuming the worst, you’ll be surprised. Nobody here is going to want you to fail with the children.”

      He watched her from beneath lazy lids. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and propped his arms on the table, cocking his head to the side. “Are you for real?”

      Darby swallowed and leaned back an inch—all that the ladder-back chair allowed. “I just think—”

      “You’ll see Wednesday at the hearing what kind of assumptions I’ve been making or not making,” he said blandly. “In fact, once Caldwell finds out that you’ve been helping me these last few days, you’re not going to be on his Christmas list anymore, either.”

      “I’m not afraid of your father.” What she did fear was walking into that courtroom on Wednesday. She just hadn’t figured a way of getting out of it.

      He lifted one hand. “Call him Mayor or Caldwell or Sir Snake,” he suggested. “But don’t call him my father.” His eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t called here, or been by, has he?”

      “No.” Which, when she thought about it, surprised her a little. The children were his grandchildren.

      “Good. You don’t need to be afraid of him, even if he does. I’ll protect you from him. Just continue taking care of the kids. I’ll make it worthwhile. Despite the looks of this place, I can afford whatever you ask.”

      She shook her head, wondering where the conversation had gone amiss. “You’re as bad as Dane,” she murmured wonderingly.

      “Who’s Dane?”

      Her lips parted. “I…nobody.” How could she be so careless? She brushed back her bangs and stood. “I can heat up some supper for you,” she offered. “We had fried chicken. There’s still some left.”

      Garrett caught her hand as she moved past him, nervous energy seeming to pour from her pores. He ran his thumb over the back of her smooth hand. It was slender and long-fingered. Elegant, he thought. “Nobody?”

      “Garrett, please.” She tugged at her hand, but he didn’t let go.

      “I know why I’m edgy,” he said. “And I can understand why you might be annoyed with me about not making other arrangements for the fearsome five, but you’re about ready to jump out of your skin. Who is Dane?”

      He didn’t know why he was making a big deal about it. If she had a secret or two, who was he to begrudge her of them? He had a whopper of one, himself. And because he did, his conscience needed to know that he was at least giving the kids a caretaker whom they actually liked. One who would stick around awhile. Not be lured off by some guy named Dane.

      Darby’s face was pale. “My brother,” she finally said stiffly.

      Surprised, Garrett let her go. She wrapped the hand he’d held in her other, rubbing it. He frowned. He hadn’t held her that tightly. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

      “I…we don’t get along,” Darby said, turning away. “Do you want that chicken or not?” She took a plate out of the cupboard, and Garrett saw that her hand was trembling.

      Hell.

      He rose and put his hands around her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. The sight of her glistening eyes grabbed his gut and twisted hard. He took the plate from her and set it aside. “Hey. I’m sorry. Don’t do that.”

      She blinked and averted her face.

      He caught her chin and gently lifted. “I know all about family feuds,” he murmured. She looked up at him with those sky-blue eyes, and he clamped down on the heat that suddenly churned inside him. That was the last damned thing they needed.

      Then she moistened her lips. Just a nervous, barely noticeable movement, and her soft lower lip glistened.

      Ah, hell.

      He drew his thumb over her chin. The hint of stubbornness in it saved her face from being perfectly oval. He could feel her pulse beating in her throat; rippling little beats that teased the heavy chug of his own pulse.

      “Garrett.” She pressed her palms flat against his shirt, and he could have sworn that he felt the distinct shape of each one of those long, elegant fingers.

      “Shh.” His thumb drifted over her lips and her eyes fluttered closed.

      Beneath his thumb he felt her lips move. “I don’t know which is worse,” she whispered. “When you’re all cold and distant or when you’re…not.”

      “I told you to shush,” he muttered. “Your voice. It’s—”

      “Rough,” she finished.

      “Husky,” he corrected. Like a brush of velvet over his nerve endings.

      She suddenly stepped back, looking anywhere but at him. Her fingertips touched her throat for a moment before she picked up the plate and

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