Button had calmed down when they’d entered the town, almost as if she knew something monumental was about to happen to her life, and Lucy had sealed herself in the back with Squid. As Nealy began to unfasten the baby from the car seat, she noticed the old food stains on her romper, a small hole in the sleeve, and the fact that her hair could use a fluffing. “Maybe we should fix Button up a little before she meets her grandmother. For all we know, this might be the first time she’s ever seen her.”

“Good idea. I’ll get her out of this. See if you can find something decent for her to wear.” Then he remembered who he was talking to. “If you don’t mind.”

“I’m the one who suggested it,” she snapped.

Lucy lay stretched out on the bed with the dog curled against her, dirt and all. She pretended to be reading her book, but Nealy wasn’t fooled, and she squeezed her ankle. “It’s going to be all right, Lucy. This is a great place.”

Lucy pulled the book closer to her face and didn’t answer.

Nealy chose the little peach denim jumper she’d bought at Baby Gap. It had a row of tiny blue flowers embroidered across the yoke and a matching knit top with puffy sleeves. As she emerged with it, she saw that Mat had stripped Button down to a diaper and was giving her a pregame pep talk.

“I want you on your best behavior, Demon. No b.s. And not too loud, okay? No yelling. No hurling. Just be a regular baby, for a change.” He frowned at her as he fastened the tabs on a fresh diaper, and she cooed back at him. “Yeah, yeah . . . save the goo-goo eyes for Grannie.”

Nealy handed him the outfit, and he had the baby dressed in less than a minute. “You’re so good at that. It takes me forever to get her into her clothes.”

“You’re too tentative. With babies, you have to take charge or they’ll walk all over you. Just like with women.”

“Oh, yeah?” This was more like it, and she shot him a challenging grin, only to see the mischief fade from his eyes.

“You want to see if you can find her shoes?”

She turned away without a word. She wasn’t going to beg for his affection. Not that she wanted his affection, exactly. She wanted his . . . well, she wanted his body, no need to lie to herself about that. But she also wanted his friendship, his irreverence, even his annoying male chauvinism.

The words to an old Sheryl Crow pop song skittered through her head. Was he strong enough to be her man? Had she really thought he might be?

She was skirting dangerously close to self-pity, and she pulled herself together. “Lucy doesn’t seem to want to come out.”