"Mommy has friends?"
Dixie made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.
"She does now." I held out my hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Daisy."
She studied my hand with the gravity of a judge examining evidence. Then, very carefully, she reached out and shook it.
"Nice to meet you," she echoed. Then, without warning: "Do you like dinosaurs?"
"Love them. T-Rex is my favorite."
"T-Rex is boring. Triceratops is better. They have THREE horns."
"That's a solid point. I stand corrected."
She gave a satisfied nod, pleased I'd accepted her superior dinosaur knowledge. Then she picked up the well-loved rabbit and held it out to me.
"This is Mr. Bun-Bun. He's my best friend. You can hold him if you're careful."
I took the stuffed animal like it was made of spun glass. "I'll be very careful."
Daisy smiled — a huge, gap-toothed smile that made my chest ache in a way I'd never felt before.
This. This was what I'd been missing.
Not success or respect or my family's approval. Not the next deal or the next party or the next woman who'd look past my surface and see nothing but dollar signs.
This little girl, with her wild curls and her dinosaur opinions and her complete willingness to trust a stranger with her most prized possession — she was a gift. The kind of gift I'd spent my whole life taking for granted because I'd been too busy feeling sorry for myself to see what was right in front of me.
I'd had a loving family all along. Opportunities most people would kill for. Everything except the wisdom to be grateful for any of it.
And now here was this little child offering me her rabbit and her trust, and I understood — really understood — that being worthy of that trust was going to require becoming the man I'd always wanted to be.
Not someday. Right now.
I turned to Dixie. She was watching me with hope and terror warring on her face. At the edge of the hallway, Della had her arms crossed, taking my measure with the quiet intensity of a woman who'd seen too many men disappoint her daughter.
"Mrs. Lane," I said, standing up with Mr. Bun-Bun still in my hands. "I know this is sudden. I know you have every reason to be suspicious of some guy your daughter met four days ago. But I want you to know — I'm not going anywhere."
Della's eyebrows rose. "That so?"
"Yes ma'am." I handed the rabbit back to Daisy, who immediately began introducing him to another stuffed animal. "I don't have the best track record. I've spent most of my life avoiding responsibility and pretending I was fine being the family screw-up. But your daughter—" I glanced at Dixie. "Your daughter makes me want to be better. And your granddaughter—" I watched Daisy staging an elaborate tea party on the rug. "She deserves someone who's going to show up. Every time. No excuses."
Della was silent for a long moment. Then she uncrossed her arms.
"Dixie's been hurt before," she said. "Badly. I won't watch that happen again."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Her eyes were sharp. "Because if you break her heart, Hunter Massey, your family's money won't protect you from me."
"Mama—" Dixie started.
"I mean it." But Della's voice had softened slightly. She considered me for another long moment, then sighed. "You seem decent enough. And Daisy likes you, which counts for a lot — she's got good instincts." A pause. "Don't make me regret giving you a chance."
"I won't."
Della gave a single nod. "Good. Now — you staying for dinner? I've got a pot roast in the oven and enough mashed potatoes to feed half the county."
