Lila grimaced. On the contrary, she’d never been such an eyesore in her life. Everyone knew she wasn’t a woman who sparkled. Ford Ford needed to see her in her natural element, that was all. Then he wouldn’t laugh at her with those dancing blue eyes. Then he wouldn’t reduce her to an incoherent, blubbering, mortified mess.

“Just pretend I’m the most dignified person you know, okay?” Lila glanced at the clock on her bedside table. “Oh dear. They’ll be here any minute. What time is Sophie getting in?”

“She’s not. She’s working on-site with that peanut allergy terrier all week.”

“Drat.” Lila had been looking forward to their youngest sister joining them for the day. If anyone was like a princess, it was Sophie. Cute, petite, friendly-to-a-fault Sophie was exactly what this situation called for. “I was hoping she could be here to help with Emily. She’s good with kids. Kids love her.”

“Kids love cotton candy and fart jokes. They’re not complicated.”

That bit of advice didn’t help nearly as much as it should have. Lila couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched cotton candy, let alone eaten it, and the only joke she knew was the one about the chicken and the road. And even then, she didn’t think she told it right.

A knock sounded on the front door. Before she could help herself, Lila shot out a hand and grabbed Dawn by the wrist. “You won’t leave me alone with them, will you? Promise you won’t leave me alone with them.”

Dawn laughed and made an X over her chest with her free hand. “Are you kidding? I’m dying to see what it is about this man that has you so flustered. At this point, wild elephants couldn’t keep me away.”

* * *

“Your sister took off in an awful hurry.” Ford stood back and watched as the woman dashed out of the living room with her phone pressed to her ear. “I hope it wasn’t bad news.”

“I do. I hope it was terrible news. I hope it was news so bleak she won’t be able to lift her head from her pillow for a week.”

He turned back to Lila with his eyebrows raised, struggling to suppress a smile. No woman had ever uttered an oath with so much vehemence—and with such a strangely charming schoolmarmish air.

“Uh-oh. You two don’t get along?”

The schoolmarm frown turned into a scowl. “Not anymore. The traitor.”