“This can’t be happening,” Tory said.
“Tell me that isn’t my supper.” Boots thumped on the floor as Josh walked into the kitchen.
Tory’s eyes slid closed. She should have known. The man had an uncanny sense of timing. She felt like bursting into tears.
Instead she forced herself to turn and face him. “I don’t know what happened. It’s been in there way less than an hour.”
She looked up at him, read his disappointment, and the tears she’d been fighting welled in her eyes. He was going to let her go. She’d be back on the road looking for work, looking for a safe haven for her and Ivy.
It was just too much. Her last hope had gone up in smoke, just like the chicken. A sob escaped. Then another.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Josh said. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s just a chicken.”
She wanted to sayit’s the end of my world. Or at least it felt that way. Another sob escaped. She tried to salvage her dignity. “It wasn’t my fault. It was your damnable—darnable oven.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek. “I set it at three twenty-five. It should have been perfect!” Then she covered her face and started crying. And she couldn’t seem to stop.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t!
A hard body stepped into her space and she felt the heat, felt Josh’s powerful arms go around her, ease her against his chest.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to leave. We’ll figure something out.”
The softly spoken words finally penetrated her anguish, his voice as soothing as a summer rain. She relaxed into his strength, for several seconds just held on to him. It was stupid. It was embarrassing. She felt like a fool.
With a shaky breath, she stepped away. “I’m sorry.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t cry. I mean, I’m not a crier. Not usually.”
“Only after you set a chicken on fire?”
She felt the faintest tug of a smile. “Yeah, only after that.” She was still looking at Josh when she glanced over at Ivy. The little girl crouched on the floor against the wall, completely drawn into herself, her eyes huge, her face as white as a sheet.
Tory ran to her, swept her up in her arms. “Oh, honey, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Everybody’s fine.”
“He . . . he hurt you. He . . . he made you cry.”
“No. Josh didn’t make me cry. It was the chicken. I was crying because I ruined his supper, but he wasn’t mad, sweetheart. He was being nice.”
The little girl looked over at Josh. Two pairs of blue eyes assessed each other.
“I wouldn’t hurt you or your mother,” Josh said softly. “I’d never do that. I promise you, Ivy.”
Ivy hid her face in Tory’s neck. She gave her little girl a fierce hug, then set her back down on her feet. “I’m going to finish making dinner for Josh, and then we’ll go home, okay? In the meantime, you can finish your coloring, all right?”
Ivy nodded. Turning, she took off for the living room, settled back down on the floor. Picking up a crayon, she went back to work as if nothing had happened.
Kids, God love ’em.
“We need to have that talk,” Josh said, regaining Tory’s attention. “Somewhere private. It’s warm outside. Now would be a good time.”
“What . . . what about supper? I can salvage the chicken. I’ll take off the skin and make some gravy. I’ve got a nice salad to go with it, some potatoes. You’ll like it, I swear.”
“After,” he said, then turned and walked outside.
Tory sighed. Damon had tried to beat her into submission, but Josh could make her jump through hoops with only a single word.
Tory didn’t like the notion.
But she walked out onto the porch.
