Page 20 of Puppy Christmas

At the mention of Helen and those empty coffee cups waiting to be returned, Lila’s entire body stilled. “I’m sure it’s none of my business,” she said.

“Are you?” He sighed. “I’m not. Not after I let Helen walk away without setting the record straight.”

Color mounted in her cheeks, but not by so much as a flutter of an eyelash did she show any other signs of discomposure. Which was probably for the best, now that he thought about it. At leastoneof them needed to have some dignity around here, and it obviously wasn’t going to be him.

It never was. For as long as Ford could remember, he’d been lacking all those skills that would set him apart as a man of the world. He wasn’t particularly driven. He had few ambitions outside of Emily’s well-being. And he hadn’t had a relationship—not arealone, anyway—in years.

It was why he was so good at the Helens of the world. The women in his life looked at him and saw not the shitty ex-husbands who’d left them to raise their children on their own, and not a man who had the potential to break their hearts, but someone who made them laugh. Someone safe. Agame.

In other words, he was Ford Ford: charming and fun, flirtatious and harmless, great to have at parties.

And never, under any circumstances, to be taken seriously.

“I was hoping it would be a few weeks before we got to this point, but we might as well have the truth out now.” He held out a hand to help Lila to her feet, but she only stared at his palm as though it might bite her. Since there seemed nothing else to do, he settled on the floor next to her instead.

He took up much more space than Emily did, which meant that by the time he found a comfortable spot between the coffee table and the wooden castle pushed up against one wall, his long legs extended in front of him, Lila was practically ensconced in his lap.

She didn’t shift, though. Not away from him, but not closer to him, either. He was starting to realize that the stillness of her bearing, the careful way she both spoke and moved, was as much a part of her as those dark, penetrating eyes.

He rested his head back on the seat of the couch and sighed. It was a nice change, this restful way of hers. A man could get used to it. Especially one as exhausted as him. Taking care of a puppy in the middle of the night was almost as much work as having an infant.

“You have a smudge of ink on your face,” she said by way of breaking the silence.

He grunted a noncommittal reply. Healwayshad ink on his face. Either that or finger paint or mashed potatoes or, for reasons he’d never been able to fathom, nail polish. No matter how hard he tried to keep it on Emily’s fingers and toes, it invariably ended up all over his person. Usually the carpet, too.

He was nothing if not classy.

Lila grew silent again, once more lulling him into a feeling of peacefulness. He tried to gather his thoughts, to marshal them into the easiest way to make Lila understand the unique position that he and Emily found themselves in, but they seemed a hazy, faraway thing. Just for a few minutes, he wanted to bask in the quiet, to enjoy the light scent of Lila’s peach perfume and the warmth of the heater kicking on behind them.

And bask in it, he did. Ripe peaches and soft, supple skin were the last two things he remembered before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Lila was having a difficult time deciding which was worse: being so uptight that Anya Askari feared she’d make small children cry, or being so boring that a man fell asleep within seconds of sitting down beside her.

“He could at least have had the decency to drool,” she muttered as she tiptoed down the hall to the closed door she assumed belonged to Emily. The yellow heart stickers plastered all over the bottom half were a good indication she was on the right track. “But, no. He looks just as good sleeping as he does awake.”

It was his long, dark lashes that did it, curving against his cheekbone like a delicate fall of black lace. Eyelashes that beautiful were so unfair on a man, especially when combined with those clear blue eyes and cheekbones like the metal frame of a skyscraper. No woman stood a chance.

Not Lila or, apparently, coffee-cup Helen.

Since they hadn’t had time to work on door alerts yet, she decided to head right in, turning the knob with a gentle snick. The girl didn’t look up right away, which Lila took to mean she hadn’t heard her come in, but Jeeves already knew his role and went to nudge Emily’s hand. His little black nose sought purchase against her palm and remained that way until Emily noticed and glanced up.

“Hey, Emily,” Lila said with what she hoped was a casual air. Turning her attention to the diligent cockapoo, she added, “Good boy, Jeeves. Good alert.”

Her pockets were always full of treats for a training session, so she handed one wordlessly to Emily. Like Jeeves, the girl was already learning her job well. She repeated Lila’s praise and held her hand out for the puppy to take the reward.

The lick on her palm made Emily giggle. That, in turn, lifted about eighty tons of weight off Lila’s shoulders. She didn’t know why the sight of that girl’s huge tear-filled eyes had caused such a pang, but they had. Especially since she was pretty sure it was something she’d said that had put them there.

“Your dad is taking a nap,” she said quietly, careful to face Emily so the girl could see her lips.

“I hate naps,” Emily supplied.

“Me too. They’re such a waste, aren’t they? When there are so many other things to do?”

Emily nodded, still too sober for Lila’s peace of mind. Admittedly, her knowledge of children was small, but they were supposed to be exuberant, hyper little things, weren’t they? Like untrained puppies, bouncing from one room to the next.

She remembered that Sophie and Dawn had always been that way. Technically, she was only two years older than Dawn and four more than Soph, but she’d always felt more mature than her age. Even as kids, her sisters had been the ones to chatter and play and make up games that lasted for hours at a time. All while Lila had watched, set apart, wondering what it was about her that turned every party into a wake.