This last part was offered in a whoosh of entreaty, as if Lila was making a deep, dark confession about a crime she’d once committed. Or, at the very least, an admission about what she proposed to do with those tater tots.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, blinking down at her. “You’re fantastic with Emily.”

Her cheeks were still suffused with color, her discomfort clear, but he couldn’t understand why. True, she treated Emily more like an adult than a child, but that was part of what made her—what made all of this—so incredible. Lila didn’t pander to his daughter, didn’t belittle her by assuming she wasn’t capable of doing anything she set her mind to.

“That’s nice of you to say, but—”

“But nothing.” He spoke more forcefully than he intended. Lila’s eyes widened, and her hand halted in midair, but she didn’t move. He didn’t want to draw close again—there was still too much energy thrumming between them to make that a wise choice—but he did soften his voice as he added, “Your sisters are always welcome here, of course, but Emily and I don’t need them. Not when we have you.”

Lila opened her mouth and closed it again, teetering on the edge of response. Ford held himself perfectly still in hope that she’d decide to share whatever was on her mind, but to no avail.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen them at work before,” she said with an airiness that didn’t match her eyes. “Believe me when I say that a tea party with my sisters is something neither you nor Emily will soon forget.”

* * *

“Ho. Ly. Crap.”

Lila didn’t turn from her position at the kitchen counter, where she stood chopping up strawberries in a belated attempt to not go down in history as the dog trainer who sent a child into sugar shock.

“Ho. Ly. C—”

“Soph, you know they can probably hear you, right?”

Her sister snaked a pair of arms around Lila’s waist and bestowed a kiss on her cheek. The gesture was an affectionate one, but it was also calculated to place Sophie’s mouth right next to Lila’s ear. Quieter this time, but still with that breathy squeal underscoring her voice, she said, “Ho. Ly. Crap.”

Lila sighed. There was no way she was going to be able to live this one down now. Her sisters had seen Ford Ford in a tight, blue button-down shirt. They’d watched him hitch his even tighter slacks as he poured his daughter tea and discussed the merits of tulle versus satin for daywear. They’d been the recipients of his heavy-handed flirtation and long, fluttering eyelashes.

Life, as she knew it, was over.

“I love him. I want to marry him. I want to bear eighteen of his children and grow old watching him drink tea with every last one of them.”

Lila was forced into a chuckle. “I think your bodyguard out there might have something to say about that.”