Claiming the Doctor's Heart

Chapter Four

Standing beside Ethan in the parking lot, Connor watched Olivia zip away in a sporty red BMW. The car was a perfect fit for the woman she’d become—sophisticated, chic, with an unexpected kick under the hood. The cheery wave she tossed through the open sunroof made him smile.

Thinking of her with his girls felt good. It felt right.

For an alarming moment, he teetered between past and present, wondering if he’d made a mistake hiring Olivia.

Ethan clapped him on the back. “Your daughters will love my sister. She’s a natural with kids.”

Connor remembered the way she’d interacted with the girls in the park yesterday, how easy she’d been with them and how quickly she’d been able to tell them apart.

Olivia seemed the perfect solution to his childcare problems, and a good fit with his daughters. Still, Connor couldn’t rid himself of the notion that he’d just made his life more complicated rather than less. “Hard to think of your sister as a high-powered banker rescuing companies from financial ruin.”

“Surprised all three of us when she chose a business career instead of pursuing medicine.” Ethan slipped his hands into his pockets, stared out over the parking lot as if lost in thought. “The Scotts have been doctors for three generations.”

The Mitchells had been in the profession nearly as long, with one glaring exception. The first doctor in Connor’s family had been a woman. The rest of his cousins were ranchers, an even longer family tradition than medicine.

“With Olivia’s love of kids, I thought she’d go into pediatrics.”

“And with your trauma experience I thought you’d join Ryder in the E.R. when you left the military.”

Although his shrug was casual, Ethan’s face went blank, like a switch turning off.

Connor didn’t press. He never did. But he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to his friend on that last tour of duty in Afghanistan.

“Doesn’t matter why,” he said aloud. “You’re stuck with me now, treating nothing more complicated than runny noses, an occasional spider bite and a broken bone or two. Riveting stuff.”

Ethan laughed, as Connor knew he would. They saw worse, sometimes much worse, but nothing compared to what his friend had encountered in a war zone.

“Speaking of broken bones.” Ethan shook his head. “Robbie Anderson is in Exam Room 2.”

Again? “Which one this time?”

“Left tibial shaft. The kid was lucky, though. It’s a stable fracture and the fibula wasn’t damaged at all.”

“I suppose that’s something.”

As they reentered the building, Ethan added, “There’s considerable swelling, so I’ll have to splint the leg first, see about a cast later. Tasha’s prepping him now.”

Good. A former search and rescue coordinator, the nurse knew her way around broken bones.

“You take 1.” Ethan jerked his chin at the closed door farther down the hallway. “The patient specifically requested you.”

Not quite sure what he saw in the other man’s eyes, Connor reached for the chart in the door holder.

Chuckling softly, Ethan disappeared into Exam Room 2.

Alone in the hallway, Connor gave the chart in his hand a cursory glance. He groaned softly. The patient behind door Number 1 was Lacy Hargrove, Village Green’s self-proclaimed most eligible bachelorette. No denying the young divorcée was beautiful, in an over-the-top, plastic sort of way. She was also on the prowl for husband number three.

Connor groaned again.

The woman made him uneasy. She made most men in town uneasy, even the stalwart, battle-toughened, Ethan Scott. No wonder the coward had pawned her off on Connor.

Hitting his cue perfectly, Ethan stuck his head out of Exam Room 2. “Tag, buddy, you’re it.”

Connor snarled. “Anyone ever mention you have a mean streak?”

“Only every other person who meets me.”

* * *

Following the GPS voice commands on her phone, Olivia swung her car onto Aspen Way. Anticipation building, she inched along, verifying addresses as she went. Each block she covered brought her closer to the edge of town. At the last house on the street, she slammed on the brakes.

Her mouth dropped open and waves of delight washed over her. Connor had bought Charity House.

The sprawling old home had once been an orphanage in the 1800s. Or rather, a baby farm, which was really just a fancy name for a place where prostitutes in the Old West sent their illegitimate children for a solid Christian upbringing.

Both the Scotts and the Mitchells had ancestors directly connected to the place. Some of the stories were legendary, others so far-fetched Olivia hadn’t believed them for a moment.

Members of both families had worked at the orphanage, while others had married someone closely connected. All had lived out their faith, showing God’s grace to abandoned children and their prostitute mothers.

Smiling, Olivia swung her car onto the gravel road leading to the grand old mansion.

A sense of rightness filled her. This temporary nanny position came at a perfect time in her life. During the day, she would concentrate on taking care of Connor’s daughters. Maybe even teach them how to cook while testing out new recipes. At night, she would work on her business plan, perfecting it until she was ready to present her idea to a bank or potential investor.

Win-win.

As long as she kept her heart firmly guarded and remembered her place in Connor’s home.

The three-story house was undergoing renovations, as evidenced by the scaffolding. Even in its unfinished state, the home was something straight out of a fairy tale—whimsical in design, the sharp angles of the roof were softened by clinging wisteria, rounded windows and wrought-iron balconies.

Head full of damsels in distress and happily-ever-afters, Olivia parked her car at the end of the drive and climbed out. She’d barely commandeered the steps leading onto a lovely wraparound porch when the front door flew open. Out spilled a wild-eyed, frazzled young woman Olivia immediately recognized.

“Good morning, Avery.”

“What’s good about it?”

The poor girl looked so overwhelmed, so flustered that Olivia found herself wanting to lighten the mood as quickly as possible. “That’s some kind of greeting after all these years.”

Avery’s face fell. “Oh, Olivia. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Cheeks bright pink, her golden eyes round with remorse, she clasped Olivia’s hands. “It’s been a bit hectic this morning.”

Aside from her flushed face, several blond locks had slipped out of her ponytail and now fluttered over her eyes.

“Are the girls giving you trouble?”

“Not even a little. They’re wonderful. But that dog of theirs?” Avery executed an impressive eye-roll. “He’s a walking nuisance on four pudgy legs.”

Samson’s latest victim. Unlike Carlotta’s experience with the puppy, at least Avery only suffered a large case of frustration.

“Let’s try this again.” Avery blew a strand of hair off her face. Her smile came quicker now, fuller. “It’s really great to see you. You look amazing.”

“I was thinking the same about you.” She squeezed her old friend’s hand. “And the good news is—”

A loud crash from inside the house cut off the rest of her words.

“Samson, no.” A panicked squeal followed the command. Then came the cringe-worthy statement “Not on the floor.”

“Here we go again.” Avery took off in a dead run.

Trailing after her, Olivia only had time for impressions as she rushed toward the back of the house. She noticed the décor and concluded that, much like the exterior, the interior was still a work in progress.

She caught up with Avery in the kitchen. She was on her hands and knees attacking Samson’s latest magnum opus with quiet fervor and a handful of paper towels.

The culprit was nowhere in sight. Nor, Olivia noted, were the twins.

“Megan and Molly hustled the puppy outside, probably to keep me from killing him. I wouldn’t have, you know.” Avery tossed the soiled towels in the trash, then went to wash her hands in the sink. “I’d never hurt the little guy.”

“Of course not.” Olivia patted her hand in commiseration.

“He’s just so full of...” Avery moved her shoulders as if trying to dislodge a heavy weight. “Energy.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Well, I have good news. I have nothing pressing on my calendar today. I can stick around and observe or help or whatever for as long as you need me.”

Avery leaned in close, nearly pressing her nose to Olivia’s. “How long are you suggesting?”

“All day, if necessary.”

“Woot!” Pumping her palms in the air, Avery wiggled her hips, twirled in a circle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. To use Avery’s words, the girls were wonderful. And, yes, Samson was a nuisance. At least he was a cute nuisance, and easy enough to manage, once Olivia taught the stubborn little guy who was in charge. That had only taken three exhausting hours.

By midafternoon, Avery started making noise about needing to reread her anatomy and physiology notes before starting work in Connor’s office. After checking with Connor, Olivia told Avery to go on home.

She was out the door in a flash.

Now, a few minutes shy of six, the girls were busy setting the table in the kitchen’s breakfast nook while Olivia checked on the casserole she’d popped in the oven earlier. Satisfied it was cooking nicely, she carefully shut the oven door and looked around.

This must have been one of the first rooms Connor had renovated. Aside from the usual appliances, all top-of-the-line, there was an enormous refrigerator and a massive center island with a built-in grill.

She could do a lot of creating in a kitchen like this.

Sighing over the possibilities, she dragged her fingertip along the granite countertop, scooting around a slumbering Samson as she went. The puppy slept as hard as he played.

Smiling at him, she reached down to rub his upturned belly. The sound of a key turning in a lock had him leaping to his feet and bolting out of the kitchen.

“Daddy’s home,” Molly declared, chasing after the dog.

Megan joined the welcome-home party a half step later.

Olivia remained in the kitchen. She smoothed a hand over her hair, straightened the hem of her shirt, then checked her white jeans for stains and unwanted wrinkles.

Jeans don’t wrinkle, she reminded herself. Feeling oddly out of sorts, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

What was wrong with her? She was usually so in control. Stubborn CEOs determined to drive their companies into financial ruin often required firm handling.

From the foyer, Connor’s rumbling laugh mixed with his daughters’ higher-pitched giggles. Olivia couldn’t help smiling and her nerves instantly disappeared. It was just Connor out there in the hallway, laughing with his daughters.

By the time he joined her in the kitchen, her heartbeat had almost leveled out. Then he aimed those startling amber eyes in her direction and she nearly forgot to breathe.

“You didn’t have to cut Avery loose.”

“Actually—” she shot a meaningful look at Samson trotting in the room behind him “—I did.”

Following the direction of her gaze, Connor winced. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Frowning, he picked up the puppy and tucked him under his arm. Olivia couldn’t fault the move, definitely a safer place for the animal than on the floor.

“Smells good in here.”

“It’s chicken divan casserole. My own secret recipe.”

The frown lines cut deeper across his forehead. “Cooking wasn’t part of our deal.”

Something in his tone put her on guard. “We don’t actually have a deal yet, remember? And I like cooking, so no problem.”

“I’d planned to order takeout tonight.” His tone never varied, his eyes never left her face, but the stiff way he held his shoulders told its own story. He didn’t like that she’d cooked for him and his family.

She had no idea why, but didn’t think it was her place to ask. “I can put the casserole in the freezer. That way you and the girls can enjoy it another time.”

An odd tension collected in the air between them, broken only when the twins entered the kitchen.

“Daddy, Daddy.” Molly tugged on her father’s arm. “Did Olivia tell you we helped make dinner?”

The smile Connor dropped on his daughter was full of affection, and much less forced than the one he’d given Olivia. “Sounds like fun.”

“It was superfun.” Megan pushed past her sister and came to stand next to Olivia. “We learned how to grate cheese and mix up biscuit dough from scratch and set the table properly.”

“That’s...” Connor shifted the puppy in his arms. “Nice.”

The poor man looked shell-shocked. Again, she wondered why. “Connor?” Olivia angled her head at him. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, great.” He seemed to visibly get hold of himself. Finally, he flashed a genuine smile at her. “And, no, you don’t have to freeze the casserole. We’ll eat it tonight.”

He sounded sincere.

Yet something had upset him. A dozen possibilities came to mind, none of them good, all of them caused by her, which made little sense. He’d hired her to take care of his daughters; surely that included making meals. Why the concern?

Perhaps if she explained that she’d only been trying to make the evening easier for him by cooking dinner, he’d feel less agitated. Of course, that wasn’t a conversation to be conducted in front of the girls.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She smiled down at Molly. “Why don’t you and Megan take Samson out in the yard before we eat?”

“I guess we can do that.” She took the puppy from her father, glanced over at her sister. “Come on, Megan, let’s get this over with.”

The other girl stayed firmly rooted to Olivia’s side.

“Go on, sweetie.” Olivia gave her a gentle push toward the back door. “You can put ice in the glasses when you get back.”

“Okay.” She dragged her feet all the way across the floor.

Olivia waited until the door shut behind the twins before addressing Connor again. “Did I cross a line?”

“No.”

That was succinct. Straight to the point. And told her absolutely nothing. She pressed for more. “Would you rather I not teach the girls how to cook?”

“On the contrary.” He let out a breath that sounded as weary as he looked. “I think it’s a good idea. It’s just...”

His words trailed off and he rubbed a hand over his face, but not before Olivia saw the inner conflict he couldn’t quite hide. “What’s wrong, Connor?”

He stared straight ahead, his expression closed. He appeared deep in thought, visibly debating something within himself. “You and I haven’t discussed your specific job duties.”

No, they hadn’t. But that wasn’t what had him looking as if she’d punched him in the chest. “I assumed my filling in for Carlotta would include meals, light housekeeping and—”

“You don’t have to clean my house.”

She jumped at his abrupt tone.

“I’ll hire a service for that,” he added more softly, almost apologetically.

“Connor, what is this really about?”

He flicked a glance toward the back door. The gesture gave him a hunted look, as if he didn’t want to be alone with her.

“I have a few more things to do before dinner’s ready.” She kept her voice light. Easygoing. Nothing to worry about here. Still, she couldn’t escape a vague sense of rejection. “Why don’t you go hang out with your daughters while I get everything ready in here?”

His chin jerked, very faintly, but she caught the gesture. And the hesitation. He had something more to say.

Whatever it was, Olivia didn’t want to hear it right now.

“It’s a beautiful evening.” She subtly motioned toward the door, making sure to do so calmly, with very little fanfare. “It’d be a shame not to take advantage of the fresh air.”

He nodded. Slowly. Then deliberately stepped around her, careful not to touch her as he passed by. Mildly hurt, she barely restrained herself from informing him she was up to date on all her cootie shots.

At the door, he stopped abruptly, turned around and moved back to her side. “Olivia?”

“Yes?”

He clasped both her hands in his. “I appreciate you making dinner tonight. You went above the call of duty. I...” He smiled into her eyes. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Olivia thought her knees might give out. Desperate for some perspective, she lowered her head. And immediately connected her gaze with their joined hands.

Why did hers look so right wrapped inside his?

And why—why—did she have to notice something so small and inconsequential?

“Oh, Connor.” She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “You’re so very welcome.”

Chapter Five

While the twins played with their puppy in the backyard, Connor sat alone on the stoop and breathed in the clean, pine-scented air. The lawn needed cutting and the hedges could use a good trim. He’d get to both eventually. But not tonight.

Maybe over the weekend.

“Never enough time,” he muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples. The gesture did nothing to relieve the pounding behind his eyes.

On a tight breath, he dropped his hands and focused on his daughters. Their unrestrained laughter soothed the ache in his heart, and slowed down his raging pulse. Unfortunately, his rambling thoughts didn’t fall into line as easily.

Arriving home at night in time for dinner was one of the things he’d promised Sheila on her deathbed. The juggling necessary to follow through on that promise wasn’t always easy, but always worth the effort.

Family first, family always, that had been Sheila’s motto.

Connor’s, too.

Or, at least, it was now. He had no regrets. His life was richer, fuller, for keeping his priorities straight.

But seeing how well Olivia fit in his home, how comfortable she’d looked in his kitchen, had been like a punch in the gut. And a stab to his heart. He couldn’t explain why.

The dull drumming behind his eyes took on a mean edge.

Connor wanted his daughters to have a woman’s influence in their lives, a mother figure even. But Olivia Scott?

He’d never thought of her that way.

Well, except that one time he’d forced himself to forget, because there had been nothing to remember.

Or so he’d told himself.

But, now, looking back, he wondered...

He’d been in his senior year at University of Colorado, home for a short visit before final exams. Sheila had just given him an ultimatum: Propose or let her go.

She’d been the love of his life, the only girl he’d ever dated. He’d never intended anything other than marrying her. But his plan had been to finish medical school before settling down.

Sheila hadn’t wanted to wait.

Confused and angry at being pushed into a decision before he was ready, Connor had stopped by the Scott home to speak with Ethan. He’d needed his friend’s perspective.

Ethan hadn’t been home.

Olivia had. She’d been sixteen at the time, maybe seventeen, still a girl. But there’d been a moment when Connor had seen the promise of the woman she would become. It hadn’t been attraction, not exactly, but it hadn’t been indifference, either.

More like a...hmmm.

He’d felt the same shocked wonder again just now in the kitchen.

How did he reconcile the shift from mild curiosity to—

Samson scrambled into his lap, sufficiently averting his attention. The animal’s paws were covered in wet, sticky mud, as now were Connor’s khakis. He picked up the squirming bundle of tawny fur. The puppy’s legs pumped hard.

Connor tightened his grip.

“Sorry, Daddy.” Megan frowned at the dog. “He sort of fell in a mud puddle.”

Connor gave a soft, humorless sigh. Samson sort of fell into a lot of mishaps. The dog was a walking, yipping disaster magnet.

Straining against Connor’s hold, the mutt leaned forward and licked Connor’s face. “Not cool.”

Samson gave him another lick, followed by a big puppy grin.

“Really not cool.”

Olivia slipped her head out the back door, saving the dog from a good scolding. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Be right there.” Connor set the puppy on the ground, held him steady with a hand on his back. “Can one of you toss me a towel from the mudroom?”

“On it,” Molly announced, shuffling past him.

“I’ll get Samson’s dinner ready,” Megan offered.

“That’d be great.”

The door slammed behind the girls. Then swung back open a second later. “Here you go, Daddy.”

A rag sailed through the air. Connor caught it with one hand and immediately went to work wiping the mutt’s paws.

Once Samson’s feet were dry, and Connor’s pants were relatively mud free, he brought the puppy in the house and set him in front of his dish.

He dove in snout-first, all but inhaling the food.

Shaking his head at the little glutton, Connor went to wash his hands, then stopped as he caught sight of the table off to his left. “I only count three place settings.”

“That’s right.” Hands full with a bubbling casserole, Olivia glanced over her shoulder. “One for each family member.”

“Aren’t you eating with us?”

Setting the dish down on a hot pad, she turned to face him directly. “Does Carlotta eat with you?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not eating with you, either.”

Probably for the best. Yet her response didn’t sit well with him. She’d worked hard making dinner for him and the girls, without being asked. The gesture had been a kind one, a thoughtful one. She should enjoy the spoils of her efforts. “Carlotta doesn’t eat with us because she prefers to dine with her husband in the evenings.”

“I see.”

Did she?

Apparently not.

He was going to have to be more specific. “Join us for dinner, Olivia.”

He waited for her response. When she simply stared at him, he wondered if she had another commitment. His shoulders bunched at the thought, but again, he couldn’t explain the odd reaction. “Unless you have other plans?”

“No.” She gave a short laugh. “No plans.”

The knot forming between his shoulder blades released. “Then it’s settled.”

They smiled at each other, neither moving, neither speaking. For a single heartbeat, Connor allowed himself to stare at her, to see her as a woman separate from his friend’s kid sister. Strangely drawn to her, he reached out, but then dropped his hand as old loyalties tugged and twisted inside him.

The air between them grew thick with tension, and something else, something that went beyond words. A silent promise of things Connor had long ago forgotten to hope for?

Stunned by the direction of his thoughts, he transferred his weight from one foot to the other.

Olivia shifted to her left.

They broke eye contact simultaneously.

“I’ll put the drinks on the table,” she said, hurrying around him.

The odd moment was gone. Nothing but a memory now, and Connor couldn’t have been more relieved.

* * *

Dinner turned out to be far more relaxed than Olivia had expected, especially given the earlier strain between her and Connor. The awkwardness between them made an odd sort of sense. Although they shared a history and their families had been friends for generations, they were veritable strangers.

Determined to keep the mood light, Olivia told stories about her life in Florida. She skimmed over the part about her job loss and breakup with her boyfriend. Instead, she focused on what she did when she had a rare day off.

“I lived in Atlantic Beach, a small town just east of Jacksonville. My house was one block from the beach, so I spent a lot of time there.”

“We’ve never seen the ocean,” Megan said on a sigh. Molly agreed with a solemn head bob, then asked, “Can you surf?”

Olivia laughed. “Very poorly, but I can boogie-board.”

“What’s that?” the girls asked at the same time.

“A much simpler way to catch a wave. You lie flat on a short, foam slab and ride along on your belly. It’s sort of like...” she searched for a Colorado equivalent. “...sledding.”

“Fun.”

“Very.”

“All right, girls, that’s enough questions for one night.” Picking up the near-empty casserole dish, Connor stood. “Time to clear the table and load the dishwasher.”

Olivia hopped to her feet and reached for the dish in Connor’s hand. “Allow me.”

“Absolutely not.” Connor held up a hand to ward off an argument. “You cooked. We clean.”

“That’s the rule in the Mitchell household,” Molly told her, sounding very grown up.

“Well, then, I guess that means I’m through for the day.”

There was an awkward moment when everyone looked at everyone else.

Then Megan hustled over to Olivia’s side. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

She smoothed a hand over the girl’s hair, affection swirling in her heart. “Not to worry, sweetie. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

“But you can’t go yet. It’s Wednesday.”

“What’s so special about Wednesday?” She aimed the question at Connor.

“Movie night,” he explained, heading toward the sink, his hands full of more dirty dishes.

“It’s my turn to pick the movie,” Molly declared. “And Daddy’s turn to make the snacks. He always goes with microwave popcorn. It’s a tradition.”

Tradition. What a lovely word, one that told Olivia a lot about the man stacking dishes in the sink. She knew the kind of hours he worked, knew the challenges of his schedule even on a “slow” day. Yet he managed a weekly movie night with his daughters.

Could Connor Mitchell get any more likable?

“Well?” Molly demanded. “Are you watching the movie with us or not?”

Tempting. But Olivia didn’t want to interject herself into valuable family time. “Maybe next week.”

“Olivia.” Connor came back to the table, gathered up a handful of silverware. “You’re welcome to stay.”

She studied his face, noted the sincerity in his eyes. “I don’t want to intrude—”

“Stay,” he repeated. “Watch the movie with us. Afterward we can discuss your job duties.”

They could do that now, before he settled in with the girls, but Olivia didn’t point that out. She actually wanted to spend more time with this family, wanted to get to know them on a deeper level.

Dangerous territory.

Or was it? How could she know how best to serve the girls beyond the day-to-day basics if she didn’t spend quality time with them?

“All right.” She laughed when the girls cheered. “But you have to let me help with the snacks.”

“Not going to happen.” Connor pointed her toward the family room. “It’s my job tonight.”

Molly chose a full-length cartoon about a Scottish warrior princess. The snack was, as predicted, microwave popcorn.

Sharing a bowl with Connor, Olivia realized she missed the simply enjoyment of a movie night with people she cared about. She hadn’t had a relaxing evening like this since...the night before she broke things off with Warner.

He’d accused her of not wanting a traditional lifestyle. Olivia hadn’t disagreed with his accusation. Not because he was right. On the contrary, she desperately wanted marriage and a family of her own. What she didn’t want was marriage to a man who considered her a perfect match for his rigid requirements of a wife.

Warner hadn’t loved Olivia. He hadn’t even wanted her in his life, not really. He’d only wanted a woman who would take care of his daughter on his court-ordered visitation weekends, a woman who had a career worthy of his respect and who, according to him, also looked good on his arm.

Olivia had measured up, supposedly, but she knew any number of women would have taken her place in a heartbeat.

Never again would she be a convenient addition to a man’s life. If she married, it would be to a man who loved her for her, not because she exemplified his ideal of the perfect wife.

Hence her desire to focus on her own future and to switch careers before it was too late. Before she woke up and found herself staring down forty instead of thirty, with nothing to show for her life but a VP position at some bank.

And that was enough deep thinking for one night.

“You know what would make this movie even better?” she whispered to Connor, popping a very plain, very bland piece of popcorn into her mouth.

Angling closer, his eyes still on the screen, he lowered his voice to match hers. “What’s that?”

“Chocolate.”

Chuckling softly, he turned to look at her. His expression was relaxed, approachable, the man behind the successful doctor and stressed-out single dad. “I’ve always argued that the FDA missed two important food groups.”

Smiling like that, almost playfully, made Olivia think of the days when he’d been more boy than man and the center of a few teenage dreams. He’d grown more attractive through the years. He was so good-looking now, so masculine, so close. “Wha—what did they miss?”

“Chocolate and coffee. Both deserve their own category. For obvious reasons.”

“I like the way you think, Dr. Mitchell.”

He chuckled. “And I like—”

“Shhhhhh,” Molly ordered. “Here comes the best part.”

The best part consisted of an archery tournament where the female heroine outshone all the men. The kid had excellent taste.

After the movie, Connor sent the girls off to brush their teeth and get ready for bed while Olivia gathered up the empty bowls.

“Can you hang around until I get the twins in bed?”

She lifted a questioning gaze. “Because?”

“We need to discuss your hours, job duties and payment.”

“Sure, I can stay a little longer. Why don’t I take the puppy for a walk and you can join us outside when you’re done getting the girls settled in for the night?”

“It’s a plan.” With a final smile in her direction, he followed after his daughters.

When Olivia snapped the leash on Samson’s collar, he only struggled a little. Vast improvement.

Outside, she breathed in the fresh Colorado air. The scent of pine was heavy tonight. The light breeze lifting the hair off her face carried a slight chill. A refreshing change from the Florida heat and oppressive humidity.