Название: In a Cowboy's Arms
Автор: Lissa Manley
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn:
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After fifty or so pretend meals, she took Ava and Morgan out into the backyard to play on the plastic play structure Ty had put there, making sure she kept close to both girls at all times, especially when they climbed the ladder to the small slide. She only hoped the gorgeous early summer day would settle her nerves.
A half hour later, Sam called them in for dinner. She took each girl by the hand and led them into the house. After washing her and the girls’ hands, she checked Morgan’s blood-sugar level, noted the acceptable reading in the logbook and gave her the appropriate injection of insulin. She then settled both girls into their matching booster seats at the kitchen table.
Just about the time she felt like she had her jumpy nerves under control, Ty sauntered into the kitchen.
He looked better than any man had a right to look, freshly showered, his light-blond hair still damp, his jaw slightly darkened by his late-day stubble. She noted that his angular, handsome face was not the least marred by the butterfly closures covering one eyebrow. His tall, well-muscled body looked positively wonderful in a faded pair of Levi’s, scuffed cowboy boots, and a softly worn denim shirt he’d rolled up at the sleeves, exposing well-muscled, lightly haired, tanned forearms.
He smiled at Jenny, rubbing his hands together, his blue eyes glinting. “I’m starved. I hear we’re having my favorite—meat-loaf sandwiches.” He looked to his dad. “I hope you made a lot, Dad. I could eat a house right about now.”
He then proceeded to kiss not only Morgan’s cheek, but Ava’s, too. A warm little fire began to glow inside of Jenny.
“Look at these two darling little gals,” he said, his big hands on each of them. “What are you two having for dinner?”
“Macky and cheese,” Morgan proclaimed, waving her hand in the air. “Yummy!”
Ava clapped her hands. “Yay! Macky and cheese!”
“They love that stuff, don’t they?” Ty gently scruffed both girls’ heads, then turned his attention to Jenny, moving to his place at the table, which, unfortunately, was next to Jenny. “Do you manage to get them to eat anything else?”
As Ty moved closer, Jenny could detect the scent of clean man in the air. She cleared her throat again, avoiding his blue, blue gaze, absolutely determined to ignore how he managed to fill the entire kitchen with his presence. “Um, well, sometimes. Ava likes fruits and bread a lot, and Morgan’s partial to cheese and crackers. And anything with peanut butter on it.”
Ty nodded. “I love peanut butter, too.” Then, to Jenny’s surprise, he moved over and pulled her chair out for her. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to the chair, his voice low and husky.
Jenny sat, her legs almost giving out before her rear hit the chair. “Thank you,” she said, impressed and touched by his gentlemanly manners, even if they did make her shaky and way too warm.
Ty helped Sam bring the food to the table, which included not only the makings for meat-loaf sandwiches, but what Jenny had learned was Sam’s attempt to control his weight and high cholesterol—low-fat tortilla chips, salsa and a fruit plate that made Jenny’s mouth water.
Jenny sneaked a peak at Ty as he sat down, interested in his reaction to what most physically active guys would consider rabbit food. To her surprise, he seemed perfectly content with the mostly low-fat, healthy meal.
Everyone served themselves, then Ty turned to Jenny. “How were Morgan’s blood-sugar levels today?”
Jenny finished off a salsa-laden tortilla chip, relieved that the conversation was headed toward an acceptable subject—her job. “Just fine. Nothing lower than ninety, nothing over 150.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Thankfully, they’ve been pretty stable lately.” He reached out and stroked Morgan’s macaroni-and-cheese-covered cheek, a look of pure love and devotion shining from his eyes. “I don’t want to go through another low-blood-sugar episode any time soon.”
Jenny gave him a sympathetic smile, ignoring how his concern about his child clogged the breath in her throat, determined to keep her reactions on a professional level only. “I can understand why. But keep in mind that we have the glucagon injection on hand if we need to counteract a low, and over the long run, the lows aren’t nearly as damaging physically as the highs.”
“I know,” he replied after chewing a bite of sandwich. “But I’d still like to avoid the lows if we can, even though it’s difficult with an active toddler like Morgan.”
“I do, too,” Jenny said. It was easy to see that the low-blood-sugar episode Morgan had had three weeks ago, which had required a long, agonizing wait for the paramedics in Baker City, had really scared him. She graphically understood his need to keep his daughter safe and healthy. “As long as we stick to the regimen prescribed by the pediatric endocrinologist, we’ll be fine.”
The girls finished their meal quickly, then both started squirming to get out. Sam graciously offered to take them into the family room to watch a Disney DVD before Jenny gave them their baths and put them to bed.
Soon, Jenny was alone in the kitchen with Ty, feeling like a tongue-tied teenager on a first date. Her appetite suddenly gone, she fidgeted on her chair, then suppressed a snort of disgust. She was sitting next to her employer, not a date, thank the Lord; the thought of dating, of opening herself up to be hurt again, struck absolute terror in her heart.
Pushing her half-eaten sandwich aside, she reiterated in her mind that Ty was nothing more than her boss. She would be pleasant and talkative enough to establish a cordial working relationship while keeping their conversation superficial. On the plus side, she might be able to ask Ty what had happened to Morgan’s mom, a detail she told herself she only needed to know for Morgan’s sake.
An awkward silence passed while she kept quiet and Ty built his third sandwich, which was piled high with meat loaf and cheese.
She raised a brow. “How many of those are you going to eat?”
“This’ll probably be it,” he said, holding up the fat sandwich. He nodded toward the tortilla chips. “I’ll fill up on those, too, then probably sneak down for a midnight snack.” He gave her a crooked grin, then leaned in close and whispered, “My dad still buys me the full-fat, very high cholesterol ice cream.”
Jenny had to smile, even though her stomach was doing flips from his sudden nearness. “This,” she said, gesturing to the food on the table, “isn’t enough for you, is it?”
Ty scooped up some salsa with a chip. “Nope, especially not after a hard day working outside.” He lifted a thick shoulder, then popped the chip into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he said, “But I wouldn’t dream of telling my dad that. He works too hard at providing healthy meals to hurt his feelings with complaints.” His eyes softened and he kicked one side of his mouth up. “I just eat what he prepares and then fill in later.”
Jenny’s heart turned over. “You’re very considerate,” she murmured, toying with a piece of cantaloupe with her fork, wishing he wasn’t so darn appealing in every way, wishing it was easier to keep him in the “employer” box she’d made for him.
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