“I guess we can both ask around—and in the meantime, I’ll see if Mariam will feed him while she’s here.”
Not ideal, since Toby and the two girls were a handful without the addition of a helpless kitten—but what other choice did he have if Jeannette didn’t volunteer?
She focused on the task of feeding the abandoned kitty for a few silent seconds before she spoke. “It’s not fair to dump this on you. I’m the one who hauled him home.”
“I would have done the same if I’d found him.”
“But you didn’t. And I have more flexibility in my schedule—along with fewer care-and-feeding responsibilities.” She sighed. “I’ll take him.”
“Can I come see him?” Molly edged closer to Jeannette.
A few beats ticked by. “Um . . . he’ll probably sleep most of the day.”
Her message was clear—to him anyway.
She didn’t want to commit to regular visits. She’d done him a favor yesterday and today, but she was more than ready to retreat to her solitary world.
Somehow he managed to resist the temptation to let Molly exploit the soft spot Jeannette had for her. “He has to get bigger before we bother him too much, sweetie. Baby kittens that young are too little to play with.”
“I could just look at him.”
“Let’s see how he does for a few days. Why don’t you go put on your pajamas and brush your teeth?”
“Do I have to?”
“Yep. It’s bedtime. Toby can keep you company as soon as Thomma is finished with him.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the back door.
Logan rose, crossed the room, and twisted the knob.
Thomma handed him Toby’s leash. “He learn.”
“Good.” The sooner he could relinquish his walk-the-dog duties, the better. “Thank you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Thomma nodded at Jeannette and retreated down the porch steps.
Logan closed the door, unclicked the leash—and the pup dashed over to Jeannette to inspect the bundle on her lap.
“Keep your distance, buddy, or you’ll freak out our friend here.” She twisted away from the curious dog.
“Molly, take Toby with you while you change into your pjs.” Logan grasped the beagle’s collar and tugged him back.
“Come on, Toby.” Molly headed toward the hall.
The pup swiveled his head both directions, as if debating whether to follow, but in the end he trotted after her.
“He’s better behaved than he used to be.” Jeannette checked on the kitten’s progress with the formula.
“Thanks to Thomma. He’s also getting the hang of the fence. The installer said training should take about two weeks, and we seem to be tracking to that schedule.” Logan tapped the bottle. “He’s about done, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” She removed the nipple.
“You can burp him by patting him on the back right where he is.”
“You must have done some research while I was gone—or is that your medical knowledge speaking?”
“Nope. We didn’t cover cats in med school.”
Her lips flexed up. “Thanks for running out to get the supplies too.”
“No problem. If you want me to take a rotation on night duty, I’m willing.”
“That’s okay. Unlike you, I can sleep late if necessary.” She continued to pat the kitty, lowering her voice as a door closed down the hall. “I had an enlightening conversation with Molly today. I can fill you in if we relocate to the porch once our friend here is done digesting his dinner.”
“Sure. Give me ten minutes to tuck her in, and I’ll join you out there. Would you like some coffee?”
“No thanks. I won’t be staying long.”
Too bad. Spending a few extra minutes in his neighbor’s company would be a pleasant way to end this day.
He rose and moved toward the hall, glancing back as he reached the doorway.
Jeannette was watching him.
But she yanked her gaze back to the kitten immediately, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.
Telling.
The lady might be determined to keep her distance, but it wasn’t due to lack of interest.
She liked him.
As much as he liked her, unless his instincts were failing him.
So why was she holding back?
There wasn’t much chance he’d get an answer to that question tonight—but he wasn’t giving up.
No one had ever called Logan West a quitter.
After getting Molly settled as fast as he could and dispensing with her usual bedtime story, he found Jeannette waiting for him on the front porch, as she’d promised—the mesh folding chairs once again pushed farther apart than usual.
He sat, letting the furniture rearrangement pass, as he had during their last tête-à-tête in this spot.
“Is she down for the night?” Jeannette crossed her legs.
He tried not to be distracted by their nice line, shown off to perfection by her snug black leggings.
“For now.” He leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach, transferring his attention to two gulls soaring overhead. “But it may not last. Sometimes I hear her crying later through the wall between our rooms.” He swallowed. “Those nights are hard.”
“I can imagine.” Sympathy softened her sable irises. “What do you do?”
“The first few times it happened, I went in and tried to talk to her, but she shut me out. Last round, I said I was lonesome and asked if I could stay with her.”
“Ah. That must have been what she was referring to today. She said you told her once you were lonely. Not a bad strategy to build rapport.”
“That’s what I thought—and I hoped it would be a turning point. She did let me stay . . . but the next day we were back to the status quo. No matter what I try, I can’t break through the barrier she’s erected between us.”
“I may have an insight about the source of that.”
He hitched up one side of his mouth. “I’m not surprised she confided in you. In case you haven’t realized it, she likes you.”
“It’s mutual.” She folded her hands. “I want to phrase this diplomatically, because I can see how hard you’re trying to win her over.”
“Don’t worry about diplomacy. Just give it to me straight.” He braced. “Did she tell you she hates me?”
Her eyebrows peaked. “No. Nothing like that. Why would she hate you?”
“Because I took the place of her Nana? Because I made her leave the only home she remembers? Because I don’t have a clue how to raise a little girl?” He blew out a breath. “There could be a dozen reasons.”
“She doesn’t hate you. But she doesn’t think you want her.”
“What?” He stared at her. “Why would she think that? I’ve done everything I can to make her feel wanted and loved.”
“She overheard a phone conversation that wasn’t meant for her ears.”
Logan listened as Jeannette relayed the story Molly had shared with her about the night he’d been beside himself trying to figure out how to deal with a five-year-old bed-wetting child who was lost and grieving and uncommunicative.