Engaged to the Single Mom Read online

  “That’s as may be, but blood runs true. Angie’s got other choices, and I don’t see why—”

  “That’s why, Grandpa.” Angelica pointed to Xavier. He’d knelt down beside the fence, letting the dogs lick him through it. On his face was an expression of the purest ecstasy Troy had ever seen.

  All three adults looked at each other. They were three people at odds. But in that moment, in complete silence, a pact arose between them: whatever it takes, we’ll put this child first and help him be happy.

  Chapter Two

  Angelica watched her son reach thin, bluish fingers in to touch the dogs. Listened to Troy lecture them all about the rules for safety: don’t enter the pens without a trained person there, don’t let the dogs out, don’t feed one dog in the presence of others. Her half-broken heart sang with gratitude.

  Thanks to God, and Troy, Xavier would have his heartfelt wish. He’d have dogs—multiple dogs—to spend his days with. He’d have a place to call home. He’d have everything she could provide for him to make his time on this earth happy.

  And if Xavier was happy, she could handle anything: Troy’s intensity, the questions in his eyes, the leap in her own heart that came from being near this too-handsome man who had never been far from her thoughts in all these years.

  “Do you want to see the inside of the barn?” Troy asked Xavier.

  “Sure!” He sounded livelier than he had in weeks.

  Troy led the way, his shoulders working the crutches. He was such a big man; he’d probably had to get the extra-tall size.

  Gramps patted her back, stopping her. “I don’t like it,” he said, “but I understand what you’re doing.”

  She draped an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  “Think I’ll wait in the truck, though,” he said. “Being around a Hinton sticks in my craw.”

  “Okay, sure.” Truthfully, she was glad to see Gramps go. She doubted that he and Troy could be civil much longer.

  She held Xavier’s hand as they walked into the barn and over to the dog pens. The place was pretty clean, considering. Troy must have been wearing himself out to keep it that way.

  As Xavier and Troy played with the dogs, she looked around, trying to get a clue into the man. She wandered over to a desk in the corner, obviously a place where he did the kennel business, or some of it.

  And there, among a jumble of nails and paper clips, was a leather-studded bracelet she hadn’t seen in seven years. She sucked in a breath as her heart dove down, down, down.

  She closed her eyes hard, trying to shut out the memories, but a slide show of them raced through her mind. First date, whirlwind courtship and the most romantic marriage proposal a girl from her background could have imagined. For a few months, she’d felt like a princess in a fairy tale.

  Back then, as an engaged couple, they’d helped with the youth group and had gotten the kids True Love Waits bracelets—leather and studs for the guys, more delicate chains for the girls. There had been a couple of extra ones, and one night when the waiting had been difficult, she and Troy had decided to each wear one as a reminder.

  Carefully, she picked up the leather band. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered stroking it on his arm, sometimes jokingly tugging at it when their kisses had gotten too passionate. Back in those innocent, happy days.

  She’d ripped hers off and thrown it away on the most awful night of her life. The night she’d turned twenty-one and stupidly gone out with a bunch of friends to celebrate. The night she’d had too much to drink, realized it and accepted the offer of an older acquaintance to walk her home.

  The night her purity and innocence and dreams of waiting for marriage had been torn forcibly away.

  The next day, when Troy had noticed her bracelet was missing, she’d lied to him, telling him it must have fallen off.

  But he’d continued to wear his, joking that he probably needed the reminder more than she did.

  “Hey.” He came up behind her now. When he noticed what she was holding, his eyebrows shot up and he took a step back.

  She dropped it as if it were made of hot metal. “I’m sorry. That’s not my business. I just happened to see it and...got carried away with the memories.”

  He nodded, pressed his lips together. Turned away.

  That set face had to be judging her, didn’t it? Feeling disgust at her lack of purity.

  She’d been right to leave him. He could never have accepted her after what happened, although knowing him, he’d have tried to pretend. He’d have felt obligated to marry her anyway.

  “Mom! Come see!” Xavier cried.

  “Xavier!” He’d gone into a section of the barn Troy had warned them was off-limits. “I’m sorry,” she said to Troy, and hurried over to her son. “You have to follow the rules! You could get hurt!”

  “But look, Mama!” He knelt in front of a small heap of puppies, mostly gray and white, all squirming around a mother who lay on her side. Her head was lifted, her teeth bared.

  “Careful of a mama dog,” Troy said behind her. “Pull him back a foot or two, will you, Angelica? These little guys are only two weeks old, and the mom’s still pretty protective.”

  She did, hating the crestfallen expression on Xavier’s face. This ideal situation might have its own risks.

  And then Troy reached down, patted the mother dog and carefully lifted a tiny, squirming puppy into Xavier’s lap.

  Xavier froze, then put his face down to nuzzle the puppy’s pink-and-white snout. It nudged and licked him back, and then two more puppies crawled into his lap, tumbling over each other. Yips and squeals came from the mass of warm puppy bodies.

  “Mom,” Xavier said reverently. “This is so cool.”

  Angelica’s heart did a funny little twist. She reached out and squeezed Troy’s arm before she could stop herself.

  “Do we really get to live here? Can we sleep in the barn with the puppies?”

  Troy laughed. “No, son. You’ll stay in a bunkhouse. Kind of like an Old West cowboy. Want to see?”

  “Sure!” His eyes were on Troy with something like hero worship, and worry pricked at Angelica’s chest. Was Xavier going to get too attached to Troy?

  Then again, if it would make him happy... Angelica swallowed hard and shut out thoughts of the future. “Let’s go!” she said with a voice that was only slightly shaky.

  When they reached the bunkhouse and walked inside, Angelica felt her face break out into a smile. “It’s wonderful, Troy! When did you do all this work on it?” She remembered the place as an old, run-down outbuilding, but now modern paneling and new windows made it bright with sunshine on wood. It needed curtains, maybe blue-and-white gingham. The rough-hewn pine furniture was sparse, but with a few throw pillows and afghans, the place would be downright homey.

  A home. She’d wanted one forever, and even more after she’d become a mom.

  Troy’s watchful eyes snapped her out of her happy fantasies. “You like it?”

  “It’s fantastic.” She realized he’d never answered her question about when he’d done the work.

  “You’re easy to please.” His voice was gruff.

  She smiled and squatted down beside Xavier. “We both are. Pretty near perfect, isn’t it, Zavey Davey?”

  “Yes. Sure, Mama.”

  Her ear was so attuned to his needs that she heard the slight hesitation in his voice. “What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice low to make the conversation private, just between her and her son. “Isn’t this everything you’ve always wanted?”

  “Yes. Except...” He wrinkled his freckled nose as though he was trying to decide something.

  “What? What is it, honey?”

  He pressed his lips together and then lost the battle with himself, shrugged and gri
nned winningly at her. “It’s the last thing on my list, Mama.”

  The last thing. Her heart twisted tight. “What? What do you need?”

  He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “A dad.”

  * * *

  When Angelica emerged from the bunkhouse the next Saturday, every nerve in Troy’s body snapped to attention. Was this the same woman who’d been working like a ranch hand this week, wearing jeans and T-shirts and boots, learning the ropes in the kennel?

  It was the first time he’d seen her in a top that wasn’t as loose as a sack. And was that makeup on her eyes, making them look even bigger?

  “What?” she asked as she walked up beside him. She seemed taller. He looked down and saw that she was wearing sandals with a little heel, too.

  Angelica had always been cute and appealing. But now she was model-thin, and with her hair braided back, her cheekbones stood out in a heart-shaped face set off by long silver earrings. A pale pink shirt edged with lace made her copper-colored skin glow. With depth and wisdom in her brown eyes, and a wry smile turning up the edges of her mouth, she was a knockout.

  And one he needed to steer clear of. Beauty didn’t equate to morality or good values, and one whirl with this little enchantress had just about done him in.

  Though to be fair, he didn’t know the rest of her story. And he shouldn’t judge. “Nothing. You look nice.”

  “Do you have the keys?”

  “What?”

  “Keys.” She held out her hand.

  He had to stop staring. The keys. He pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over.

  She wasn’t here for him. She was here because she needed something, and when she got it, she’d leave. He knew that from experience.

  “Bye, Mama!” Xavier’s voice was thin, reedy, but for all that, cheerful.

  When he turned, he saw Xavier and Lou Ann standing on the porch, waving.

  “You be good for Miss Lou Ann.” Angelica shook her finger at Xavier, giving him a mock-stern look.

  “I will, Mama.”

  Lou Ann put an arm around the boy. “We’ll have fun. He’s going to help me do some baking.”

  “Thank you!” Angelica shot a beaming smile toward the porch, and Troy’s heart melted a little more.

  With him, though, she was all business. “Let’s get going. If we’re to get there by nine, we don’t have time to stand around.”

  She walked toward the truck, and he couldn’t help noticing how well her jeans fit her slender frame.

  Then she opened the passenger door and held it for him.

  He gritted his teeth. Out of all the indignities of being injured, this had to be the worst. He liked to drive, liked to be in control, liked to open the door for a lady. Not have the door held for him. That was a man’s proper role, pounded into him from childhood. No weakness; no vulnerability. Men should be in charge.

  While his years in college and vet school, surrounded by capable and brilliant professional women, had knocked some feminist sense into his head, his alpha-male instincts were as strong as ever.

  “You need help getting in?” she asked.

  Grrrr. “I have a broken leg. I’m not paralyzed.” He swung himself into the truck, grunting with the awkward effort.

  “Sor-ry.” She shrugged and walked back around to the driver’s side.

  When they headed down the driveway, he said, “Take a right up there at the stop sign.”

  She did, rolling down her window at the same time. Hot, dusty July air blew tendrils of her hair loose, but she put her head back and breathed it in deeply, a tiny smile curving her full lips.

  He liked that she’d stayed a farm girl, not all prissy and citified. Maybe liked it a little too much. “Slow down, this is a blind curve. Then go left after that barn.”

  “Troy.” She shifted gears with complete competence. “I grew up here, remember? I know how to get to town.”

  Of course she did. She was a capable assistant...and no more. He needed to focus on his weekly vet clinic and how he was going to manage it on crutches. Forget about Angelica.

  Easier said than done.

  * * *

  Angelica turned down the lane that led into town, trying to pay attention to the country air blowing through the truck’s open windows rather than on the man beside her. He’d been staring at her nonstop since she came outside today. She already felt self-conscious, all dolled up, and Troy’s attitude made it worse. She wasn’t sure if he was judging her or...something else, but his gaze made her feel overheated, uncomfortable.

  Or maybe the problem was that she’d dressed up on purpose, with the notion of finding a dad—or a temporary stand-in for one—to fulfill Xavier’s wish. The thought of putting herself out there for men to approach made her feel slightly ill; dating was the last thing she wanted to do. And it wasn’t likely that anyone would want damaged goods like her, not likely she’d attract interest, but she had to try. She’d promised herself to make her son’s days happy, since she couldn’t be sure how many he had left, and she was going to do her best.

  Once they reached the residential area that surrounded Rescue River’s downtown, Angelica’s stomach knotted. Everyone in town knew about what she’d done to Troy, their beloved high school quarterback and brilliant veterinarian and all-around good guy. No doubt her own reputation was in the gutter.

  There was the town’s famous sign, dating back to Civil War years when the tiny farm community had been home to several safe houses on the Underground Railroad:

  Rescue River, Ohio.

  All Are Welcome, All Are Safe.

  Funny, she didn’t feel so safe now. She cruised past the bank and the feed store, and then thoughts of herself vanished when she saw the line of people snaking around the building that housed Troy’s veterinary practice. “Wow. Looks like your clinic is a success.”

  “Lots of people struggling these days.”

  “It’s free?”

  He nodded, pointed. “Park right in front. They always save me a place.”

  She noticed a few familiar faces turning toward their truck. Someone ran to take a lawn chair out of the single remaining parking spot and she pulled in, stopped and went around to see if Troy needed help getting out. But he’d already hopped down, so she grabbed his crutches out of the back and took them to him.

  “Here.” She handed him the crutches, and his large, calloused hand brushed hers.

  Something fluttered inside her chest. She yanked her hand back, dropping a crutch in the process.

  “Hey, that you, Angie? Little Angie?”

  She turned to see a tall, skinny man, his thin hair pulled back in a ponytail, his face stubbly. She cocked her head to one side. “Derek? Derek Moseley?”

  “It is you!” He flung an easy arm around her and she shrugged away, and then suddenly Troy was there, stepping between them. “Whoa, my friend,” he said. “Easy on my assistant.”

  “I’m fine!” She took another sidestep away.

  Derek lifted his hands like stop signs. “Just saying hi to my old buddy’s little sister, Doc.” He turned to Angelica. “Girl, I ain’t seen you in ages. How’s your brother?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see him much myself. He’s overseas, doing mission work.”

  “Carlo? A missionary?”

  “Well, something like that.” In reality, her brother, Carlo, was halfway between a missionary and a mercenary, taking the word of God to people in remote areas where he was as likely to be met with a machete as a welcome.

  “Carlo’s a great guy. Tell him I said hello.”

  “I will.” That evaluation was spot-on—her brother was a great guy. Carlo was the one who’d gone to Gramps and told him he had to take her in when their parents’ behavior had gone way out of control. He’d
been sixteen; she’d been nine. He’d gone out on his own then, had his dark and dangerous times, but now he’d found Jesus and reformed. He wrote often, sent money even though she told him not to, probably more than he could afford. But she didn’t see him enough and she wished he’d come home. Especially now, with Xavier’s health so bad.

  A shuffling sound broke into her consciousness. She looked around for Troy and saw him working his way toward the clinic on his crutches, large medical bag clutched awkwardly at his side.

  She hurried to him. “Here, let me carry that.”

  “I can get it.”

  Stepping in front of him, she took hold of the bag. “Probably, but not very well. This is what you’re paying me for.”

  He held on to the bag a second longer and then let it go. “Fine.”

  As they walked toward the clinic, people greeted Troy, thanked him for being there, asked about his leg. The line seemed endless. Most people held dogs on leads, but a few had cat carriers. One man sat on a bench beside an open-topped cardboard box holding a chicken.

  How would Troy ever take care of all these people? “The clinic’s only until noon, right? Do you have help?”

  “A vet tech, whenever he gets here. And I stay until I’ve seen everyone. We work hard. You up for this?”

  She was and they did work hard; he wasn’t lying. The morning flew by with pet after pet. She held leashes for Pomeranians and pit bulls, got scratched by a frightened tomcat with a ripped ear and comforted a twenty-something girl who cried when her two fluffy fur-ball puppies, one black and one white, had to get shots. She wrote down the particulars of rescue situations people told Troy about. Dogs needed rabies shots and ear medicine, X-rays and spaying. If it was something he couldn’t do right at the moment, he made a plan to do it later in the week.

  She asked once, “Can you even do surgery, with your leg?”

  “My leg doesn’t hurt as much as that guy’s hurting,” he said, scratching the droopy ears of a basset-beagle mix with a swollen stomach. The owner was pretty sure he’d swallowed a baby’s Binky. “Feed him canned pumpkin to help things along,” he told the owner. “If he doesn’t pass it within three days, or if he’s in more pain, call me.”