She wanted to dump a bucket of cold water over her head. Instead, she gave him a dismissive wave and headed for the dirt track that led to the house. “I’m walking back. I need to be alone so I can have a long, hard talk with myself about being so insensitive.”

“Good idea. I need to be alone so I can picture you naked.”

She flushed and picked up her pace. Fortunately, the farm was less than a mile away. Behind her, the Vanquish roared to life. She heard him back up and turn around. Before long, the car drew up next to her, and the driver’s window slid down. “Hey, Bluebell…I forgot something.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

He slipped on his sunglasses and smiled. “I forgot to thank you for defending Riley against the old lady.”

And then he was gone.

Riley barely touched the dinner Blue fixed that evening. “It’ll probably be Frankie who comes to get me,” she said, pushing aside a fig Blue had added to the chicken and dumplings. “He’s my dad’s favorite bodyguard.”

April reached across the table and pressed her hand over Riley’s. “I’m sorry I had to tell them you were here.”

Riley ducked her head. One more disappointment in her young life. Earlier, Blue had tried to distract her with an invitation to bake brownies, but that had gone sour when Dean had come in and brusquely refused Riley’s eager plea to look at her scrapbook. He thought he was doing the right thing, but Riley was his flesh and blood, and Blue wished he’d spare a small corner of his life for her. She knew what he’d say if she pressed him. He’d say Riley wanted more than a small corner, and he’d be right.

It was just as well he’d driven off. Now she had space to get her equilibrium back and straighten out her priorities. Her life was complicated enough right now without putting herself at more of a disadvantage by becoming another of Dean Robillard’s easy conquests.

Riley reached for the plate of brownies Blue had ended up baking alone, then stopped herself. “That woman was right,” she said softly. “I am fat.”

April set down her fork with a clink. “People need to concentrate on what’s right about themselves. If you only think about what’s wrong, or about all the mistakes you’ve made, you get paralyzed. Are you going to fill up your head with garbage—everything you don’t like about yourself—or are you going to be proud of who you are?”

April’s intensity made Riley’s lip tremble. “I’m only eleven,” she said in a tiny voice.