He saw her shoulders droop. Saw Fester clop down the fence line to nicker at her.
“No, of course. We’ll make it work. I’ll book the first flight out tomorrow. Give them kisses for me, Clara.” She hung up the phone, leaning her head against Fester’s broad nose without thought.
“There a problem?” he asked, bracing himself. He’d do whatever he could to make her stay. He needed her help.
“No.” She collected herself, her posture stiffening and her voice deadpan once more. “No problem at all. I do, however, need to get to the Lodge. I have some personal business to attend to.”
Archer nodded. “Nothing that will interfere with your work, I hope?” If he sounded callous, it wasn’t intentional.
She shook her head, not bothering to make eye contact as she brushed past him. “Not at all.”
He sighed, relief washing over him. She was staying, and he would be ready to convince Mr. Monroe that his continued support of the refuge was essential for expansion. “I’ll take you to the Lodge,” he said, the weight of his deadline easing for the first time since he’d received Monroe’s letter.
Chapter Three
Eden finished scanning the invoices for the first quarter and set to work color-coding the tabs on the spreadsheet she was creating. She liked having everything in one place, no back and forth, riffling through things for backup or verification. After tossing and turning in her bed all night, she appreciated the distraction her work was giving her. If she didn’t have something to do, she was likely to call Clark and rip into him for what he’d done.
Did Ivy understand her father had broken his word—again? No. She was too young to know. Eden hoped. But Eden knew. This wasn’t the first time Clark had been sent on some
“emergency” trip that conveniently fell on the week he’d demanded for his visitation. This wasn’t the first time Clark had promised Ivy all sorts of adventures and fun and time only to take off before any of his promises were fulfilled. This wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to adjust her schedule even after she’d been assured that he had everything under control and that she should relax.
Thank God for Clara.
Clara, Ivy and baby Lily would be here soon. The suite at the Lodge would work, putting them all in one large room for the remainder of her stay. The rental car company had upgraded her sedan to a minivan so Clara and the girls weren’t stuck in the Lodge all day. As pissed as she was at Clark, she was equally delighted that the girls were coming. She hated being parted from them. Lily was still so small, just seven months old. The thought of missing out on a milestone—rolling over, laughs, funny faces—was too much for her. And Ivy, her wide-eyed ray of light, made her look forward to coming home all day, every day.
“Coffee?” Archer placed a large cup of black coffee on the corner of the table.
Eden glanced at the cup, then the man she’d decided to avoid as much as possible.
It wasn’t just that she’d had a surprisingly intimate dream about him. But even awake, she had to accept that she was attracted to him. And while Archer Boone seemed clueless to pretty much everything that wasn’t horse-related, she’d be mortified if he caught her ogling his angular jaw or intense eyes or firm thighs. And his butt. Nicely showcased in his well-worn, work-faded jeans.
“No?” he asked, reaching for the cup.
He was standing right there. Stop thinking about his body. “Thank you.” She was so startled that she grabbed the handle and took a sip, scalding the roof of her mouth in the process.
“It’s hot,” he said.
She nodded, setting the cup down to cover her mouth. “Yes, it sure is,” she mumbled, her words garbled.
“I came to get you this morning, but you were already gone.” There was a hint of accusation.
“The airline delivered my bags to the Lodge while I was working yesterday.” She pointed at the tennis shoes sitting side by side against the wall. “I walked.”
“Just make sure there’s no scorpions in them before you put them on.” He sipped his coffee, his gaze fixed on hers. “They tend to climb all the way inside to rest.”
“Good to know.” She glanced at her tennis shoes and wondered if they were already inhabited.
“Miss Caraway, do you have an assignment after this one?”
She was no longer thinking about scorpions. “What do you have in mind?”
“I could use a bookkeeper.” He nodded at the box on the table and the two still waiting for her attention on the floor at her feet.
“You could,” she agreed. “But—”
“There would be more to it,” he cut her off. “I’d like you to work with Fester.”
She gripped the mug in her hands, slowly turning it in a circle. “I have no experience with horses, Dr. Boone.”