over his mouth when several people turned around with curious looks. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay. This room is noisy anyway. Eat your salad, and when your dad gets back, we’ll order dessert.”
Cade managed four bites with some theatrical gagging, but when Bailey didn’t react, he finished it all. “Done,” he said triumphantly.
She high-fived him. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“I guess. But I’d rather have ice cream.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
They laughed together. She marveled at the connection she felt with this small, motherless child. On impulse, she leaned forward, lowering her voice, though it was doubtful she’d be overheard in the midst of the loud conversations all around them. Texas cowboys had a tendency to get heated when they discussed politics and religion and the price of feed. There was a lot of testosterone in this room.
“I want to tell you something, Cade.”
He looked up at her trustingly. “Okay.”
“I know you want a mother, but you are a very lucky little boy, because your dad loves you more than anything in the world. Do you know that?”
He seemed surprised she would ask. “Well, yeah. He tells me all the time.”
“Not all dads are like that.” Her throat closed up as unexpected emotion stung her eyes.
Cade stared at her, mute, as if sensing her struggle. “Are you talking about your daddy, Miss Bailey?”
She nodded, trying to swallow the lump. “My mom ran away and left us when I was about your age. And she never came back. So it was just me and my dad. But he wasn’t like your father. He was...” She trailed off, not sure what adjective to use that an almost-five-year-old would understand.
Elbows on table, chin in hand, Cade surveyed her solemnly. “He was mean?”
Out of the mouths of babes. “Well, he didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he didn’t care about me. Not like your dad cares about you. Be patient, Cade. One day your father will find a woman he loves and he’ll marry her and you’ll have that mother you want. But in the meantime, be a kid, okay? And not a matchmaker.”
* * *
Gil halted suddenly, shock rendering him immobile. Bailey Collins had just given his son the kind of advice Cade needed to hear. And she had done it lovingly and in a way he could understand at his young age. Gil was torn between gratitude for her interference and compassion for the personal pain she had revealed.
He backed up a step or two and approached the table again, this time more loudly. “You were right, Cade. I bet my lunch is cold. Sorry it took me so long. You ready for dessert?”
Bailey flushed from her throat to her hairline, her expression mortified. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
He kept his expression neutral. “I just walked across the room, Bailey. Why?”
“No reason,” she mumbled, taking a gulp from her water glass.
Gil noticed the exchange of glances between his son and Bailey, a conspiratorial look that was oddly unsettling. Gil was accustomed to being his son’s sounding board, his protector, his go-to guy. To see the boy so quickly accept and relate to Bailey made Gil worry. Perhaps he should keep the two of them apart.
When Bailey returned to Dallas, inevitably leaving a heartbroken Cade behind, Gil would have to pick up the pieces. On the other hand, would it be fair to deprive Cade of a relationship that provided him enjoyment in the meantime? Again, the frustration of being a single parent gave Gil heartburn. He was not the kind of man to unburden himself to anyone and everyone.
He had friends. Lots of them. But raising Cade couldn’t be left up to a committee vote. Gil had to decide what was best for his son.
Over ice cream and pound cake, Cade grilled his father. “Are you and Miss Bailey going to do this every day?”
Gil lifted an eyebrow, looking to Bailey to answer that one.
“A week...ten days. I’m working as fast as I can, but it’s slow