Home on the Ranch. Allison Leigh

if you went into town. You could have a therapist of your choice work with Lucy at the Weaver hospital. I know the place isn’t entirely state of the art, but it’s so new and the basics are there—”

      “I’ll worry about the cost.” That faint smile of hers died at his interruption. “You’re supposed to be good at what you do. Are you?”

      Her expression tightened. “I’m going to help Lucy.”

      It wasn’t exactly an answer. But Cage cared about two things. Lucy and the Lazy-B. He was damned if he’d admit how close he was to losing both. Like it or not, he needed Belle Day.

      And he hoped his father wasn’t rolling over in his grave that this woman was temporarily living on the ranch that had been in the Buchanan family for generations.

      He stood, unable to stand sitting there for another minute. “Set whatever schedule you need. Your stuff is in the room upstairs at the end of the hall. Get yourself dry. I’ve got work to do.”

      He ignored her parted lips—as if she was about to speak—and strode out of the room.

      The sooner Belle did what he hired her for and went on her way, the better. They didn’t have to like each other. The only thing he cared about was that she help Lucy and prove that he could provide the best for his daughter.

      Once Belle Day had done that, she could take her skinny, sexy body and interfering ways and stay the hell out of his life.

      Chapter Two

      The rain continued the rest of the afternoon, finally slowing after dinner, which Belle and Lucy ate alone. Cage had shown his face briefly before then, but only to tell Lucy to heat up something from the fridge and not to wait on him. Belle had seen the shadow in Lucy’s eyes at that, though the girl didn’t give a hint to her father that she was disappointed. And it was that expression that kept haunting Belle later that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. Haunted her enough that she didn’t close herself up in the guest room to avoid any chance encounter with Cage.

      Instead, she hung around in the living room, knowing that sooner or later he would have to pass through the room in order to go upstairs. But, either she underestimated his intention to avoid her as much as possible, or he had enough bookkeeping to keep him busy for hours on end in his cramped little office beyond the stairs.

      When she realized her nose was in danger of hitting the pages of the mystery she’d borrowed from the hallway shelf, she finally gave up and went upstairs. Walked past the bedroom that Cage had traded with his daughter. The door was open and she halted, took a step back, looking through the doorway. There was only the soft light from the hall to go by, but it was enough to see that the room was pink.

      He hadn’t painted over the walls in Lucy’s original room as if she was never going to be able to return to it.

      She chose to take that as a good sign. All too many people entered physical therapy without really believing they’d come out on the other side.

      Though the room was pink, it still looked spare. All she could see from her vantage point was the bed with a dark-colored quilt tossed over the top, a dresser and a nightstand with a framed photograph sitting on it. The photo was angled toward the bed.

      “Something interesting in there?”

      She jerked and looked back to see Cage stepping up onto the landing. He looked as tired as she felt. “Pink,” she said, feeling foolish.

      His long fingers closed over the newel post at the head of the stairs. He had a ragged-looking bandage covering the tip of his index finger. She’d noticed it earlier. Had squelched the suggestion that she rewrap it for him, knowing it wouldn’t be welcomed.

      His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

      She gestured vaguely. “The walls. They’re pink. I was just noticing that, I mean.”

      “Luce likes pink.” His lashes hid his expression. “She’s a girl.”

      “My sister likes pink.” Belle winced inwardly. What an inane conversation.

      “And you?”

      “And I…what?” He probably thought she was an idiot.

      “Don’t like pink?”

      “No. No, pink is fine. But I’m more of a, um, a red girl.”

      His lips lifted humorlessly. “Pink before it’s diluted. You fixed pizza.”

      She blinked a little at the abrupt shift. “Veggie pizza. There’s some left in the refrigerator.”

      “I know. And I’m not paying you to play cook.”

      That derailed her for half a moment. But she rallied quickly. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see the Buchanans could use a helping hand. “I didn’t mind and Lucy—”

      “I mind.”

      She stiffened. Did he expect her to assure him it wouldn’t happen again? “The whole wheat pizza and fresh vegetables, the fact that Lucy didn’t want to eat that leftover roast beef you told her to eat, or the fact that I dared to use your kitchen? Any other rules I need to know about?”

      Apparently, he didn’t recognize that her facetious comment required no answer. “Stay away from the stables.”

      “Afraid a Day might hurt the horses? Why did you even bother talking me into taking this job?”

      “The horse that threw Lucy is in the stable. I don’t want her tempted to go there, and if you do, she’ll want to, as well. And the only thing my daughter needs from you is your expertise.”

      “Which, by your tone, it would seem you doubt I possess. Again, it makes me wonder why you came to me, not once but twice, to get me to take on Lucy’s case for the summer.” The hallway seemed to be shrinking. Or maybe it was her irritation taking up more space as it grew.

      “You have the right credentials.”

      “Just the wrong pedigree.” Her flat statement hovered in the air between them.

      Every angle of his sharp features tightened. “Is your room comfortable enough?”

      “It’s fine.” She eyed him and wondered how a man she barely knew could be so intertwined in her life. “Sooner or later we might as well talk about it.” His expression didn’t change and she exhaled. “Cage, what happened was tragic, but it was a long time ago.” She ought to know.

      Finally, some life entered his flinty features, and his expression was so abruptly, fiercely alive that she actually took a step back, earning a bump of her elbow against the wall behind her.

      “A long time ago?” His bronze hair seemed to ripple along with the coldness in his voice as he towered over her. “I’ll mention that to my mother next time I visit her. Of course, she probably won’t mind, since she barely remembers one day to the next.”

      Belle’s stomach clenched. Not with fear, but sympathy and guilt. And she knew he’d never in a million years accept those sentiments from her, if he even believed she was capable of experiencing it.

      She’d heard he was overbearing. But he believed she was the daughter of a devil.

      She folded her hands together. Well, she’d been warned, hadn’t she? “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here. You…you should bring Lucy into Weaver. I will work with her there.” She didn’t officially have hospital privileges, but she had a few connections who could help arrange it, namely her stepsister-in-law, Dr. Rebecca Clay. And it didn’t matter where Belle and Lucy did the tutoring.

      “I want you here. I’ve told you that.”

      Belle pushed her fingers through her hair, raking it back from her face. “But, Cage. It just doesn’t make any sense. Yes, I know it’s a long drive to make every few days into town, but—”

      His teeth