Page 7 of Puppy Christmas

The schoolmarm frown turned into a scowl. “Not anymore. The traitor.”

“Daddy does that, too.” Emily popped her thumb out of her mouth. It had been in there all morning, a sure sign that his daughter wasn’t feeling nearly as secure about the day ahead as he’d hoped. A new face was always intimidating for her—a new house doubly so. He’d been half afraid that Emily would take one look at the Vasquez domicile and refuse to cross the threshold, but she’d taken in the quaint spinster furnishings with something akin to pleasure.

It wasn’t a castle, she’d announced, but it was the next best thing. Ford was inclined to agree.

“He does what?” Lila asked.

“Pretends to answer the phone when he doesn’t want to talk to people. How come that lady didn’t want to talk? Doesn’t she like kids?”

Lila blinked. “I don’t know. I never asked her.”

“Don’tyoulike kids?”

“I don’t know. You’re the first one I’ve ever really met.”

Ford tensed, prepared for his daughter’s face to crumple in on itself and for the emotional retreat that usually followed interludes of this kind. The amount of rejection his daughter faced on a daily basis was staggering; even the kindest gestures had the potential to cut her down.

But Lila’s matter-of-fact response only caused her to giggle. “You’re funny. Do I get to pick a puppy now?”

Lila cast a helpless look in Ford’s direction, making him wish he had a pen and paper on hand. It was impossible to describe that look in words, but he could have captured it in a sketch easily enough. When she’d answered the door, he’d been surprised to find that the soft, floaty princess from the night of the ball had been replaced by a woman in what had to be the ugliest suit known to mankind. Ford was no connoisseur of female clothing—at least, not unless there was a rainbow unicorn emblazoned somewhere on it—but even he knew that something his mother might have worn in the eighties was hardly suitable for a statuesque woman with the most luminous eyes he’d ever seen.

Strangely enough, the outfit didn’t make her less attractive. If anything, it drew him to her even more. He liked incongruities. He liked knowing there were several different layers to peel off this woman.

And, no, that wasn’t a sexual innuendo. At least…not entirely.

“Don’t look at me.” He laughed and stepped back. “I’m new at all this. I was given an address and an order to place myself at your disposal. I’m not ashamed to admit how appealing I found the idea.”

Her lips pursed. “Listen, Mr. Ford.”

“Ford.”

“That’s what I said. Mr. Ford.”

“You can drop the ‘mister.’ Or the Ford, but that might start to sound strange after a while. I suppose you could also call me Daddy, which is what Emily prefers, but—”

“Ford!” The schoolmarm pulled up to her full height. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate request, given the circumstances.” As if just realizing that there was a child standing at her knee watching the exchange with rapt attention, Lila drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Emily.”

Without so much as a sign of wariness or hesitation, his daughter asked, “What for?”

It was wrong of him to take so much delight in the wash of expressions that moved over Lila’s stern face, but he couldn’t resist. She hadn’t been joking when she’d said Emily was one of the first kids she’d ever met. He’d never known anyone so obviously far out of her depth.

“Circumnavigation,” he said.

She blinked at him, those glorious eyes flashing. “What?”

“Perpetuity.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Antidisestablishmentarianism.”

She cast a quick look around. “Uh…”

“She’s six years old. Words with more than four syllables and double entendres tend to pass below the radar. I promise you’re safe with me.”

“Are you telling jokes again, Daddy?” Emily said. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Lila’s hand into her own. “Healwaystells jokes to ladies. They think he’s super funny.”

Lila cast him an arch look, although her face remained pointed at Emily’s. “They do, do they?”