“Oh, hell no—” Dawn made a motion to get up out of her seat, but Lila stilled her with one raised, shaking hand. It suddenly seemed very important that Patrick be allowed to finish.

He continued, unabated and unabashed. “Of course, that was before I heard about the way you wooed Emily Ford by dressing up as a princess.”

Lila didn’t bother correcting him. At this point, she was almost willing to pretend that had been her intention all along, provided everyone stopped talking about it. Instead, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. She knew that was one of the things Patrick disliked about her—the way she was slow to speak and careful to act—but it was better than releasing the hysteria building up in her chest.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she eventually said. “You told Anya Askari that I shouldn’t be around children?”

He winced apologetically. “Not in so many words, no. But the subject of service dogs came up when we were discussing Emily’s case a few weeks ago, and I felt it prudent to mention that you aren’t exactly an…affectionate woman.”

Lila’s hand clenched under his as Anya’s words rang loud in her ears. I did have my doubts about you, especially after meeting with Emily’s medical team. The truth is, I was rather hoping you’d have Sophie or Dawn handle the juvenile cases.

“That was you? You’re on Emily’s medical team? You’re one of her doctors?” The full weight of his confession sank in. “You tried to get this job taken away from me?”

“Come on, Lil,” he said softly. “It’s not like you can deny it. All that warm, fuzzy stuff is hardly your style.”

Unlike the last time he’d leveled that insult at her, he spoke without malice or rancor, his smile striking that perfect balance between condescension and kindness. Seeing it—how calm he was, how sincere—Lila felt as though she’d been sucker punched from inside her rib cage.

Technically, everything he said was true. She wasn’t warm or fuzzy. She wasn’t the soft, maternal type. She was the last woman anyone would turn to for a comforting embrace.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have feelings. It didn’t mean she couldn’t love.

Her sisters must have realized how close she was to losing it, because they intervened before she could make the mistake of saying any of this out loud.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Sophie said with an obvious look at her wrist. “If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late.” As she wasn’t wearing a watch, not even Patrick Yarmouth at his most obtuse could fail to pick up the meaning.