else?”
As Ty moved closer, Jenny could detect the scent of clean man in the air. She cleared her throat again, avoiding his blue, blue gaze, absolutely determined to ignore how he managed to fill the entire kitchen with his presence. “Um, well, sometimes. Ava likes fruits and bread a lot, and Morgan’s partial to cheese and crackers. And anything with peanut butter on it.”
Ty nodded. “I love peanut butter, too.” Then, to Jenny’s surprise, he moved over and pulled her chair out for her. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to the chair, his voice low and husky.
Jenny sat, her legs almost giving out before her rear hit the chair. “Thank you,” she said, impressed and touched by his gentlemanly manners, even if they did make her shaky and way too warm.
Ty helped Sam bring the food to the table, which included not only the makings for meat-loaf sandwiches, but what Jenny had learned was Sam’s attempt to control his weight and high cholesterol—low-fat tortilla chips, salsa and a fruit plate that made Jenny’s mouth water.
Jenny sneaked a peak at Ty as he sat down, interested in his reaction to what most physically active guys would consider rabbit food. To her surprise, he seemed perfectly content with the mostly low-fat, healthy meal.
Everyone served themselves, then Ty turned to Jenny. “How were Morgan’s blood-sugar levels today?”
Jenny finished off a salsa-laden tortilla chip, relieved that the conversation was headed toward an acceptable subject—her job. “Just fine. Nothing lower than ninety, nothing over 150.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Thankfully, they’ve been pretty stable lately.” He reached out and stroked Morgan’s macaroni-and-cheese-covered cheek, a look of pure love and devotion shining from his eyes. “I don’t want to go through another low-blood-sugar episode any time soon.”
Jenny gave him a sympathetic smile, ignoring how his concern about his child clogged the breath in her throat, determined to keep her reactions on a professional level only. “I can understand why. But keep in mind that we have the glucagon injection on hand if we need to counteract a low, and over the long run, the lows aren’t nearly as damaging physically as the highs.”
“I know,” he replied after chewing a bite of sandwich. “But I’d still like to avoid the lows if we can, even though it’s difficult with an active toddler like Morgan.”
“I do, too,” Jenny said. It was easy to see that the low-blood-sugar episode Morgan had had three weeks ago, which had required a long, agonizing wait for the paramedics in Baker City, had really scared him. She graphically understood his need to keep his daughter safe and healthy. “As long as we stick to the regimen prescribed by the pediatric endocrinologist, we’ll be fine.”
The girls finished their meal quickly, then both started squirming to get out. Sam graciously offered to take them into the family room to watch a Disney DVD before Jenny gave them their baths and put them to bed.
Soon, Jenny was alone in the kitchen with Ty, feeling like a tongue-tied teenager on a first date. Her appetite suddenly gone, she fidgeted on her chair, then suppressed a snort of disgust. She was sitting next to her employer, not a date, thank the Lord; the thought of dating, of opening herself up to be hurt again, struck absolute terror in her heart.
Pushing her half-eaten sandwich aside, she reiterated in her mind that Ty was nothing more than her boss. She would be pleasant and talkative enough to establish a cordial working relationship while keeping their conversation superficial. On the plus side, she might be able to ask Ty what had happened to Morgan’s mom, a detail she told herself she only needed to know for Morgan’s sake.
An awkward silence passed while she kept quiet and Ty built his third sandwich, which was piled high with meat loaf and cheese.
She raised a brow. “How many of those are you going to eat?”
“This’ll probably be it,” he said, holding up the fat sandwich. He nodded toward the tortilla chips. “I’ll fill up on those, too, then probably sneak down for a midnight snack.” He gave her a crooked grin, then leaned in close and whispered, “My dad still buys me the full-fat, very high cholesterol ice cream.”
Jenny had to smile, even though her stomach was doing flips from his sudden nearness. “This,” she said, gesturing to the food on the table, “isn’t enough for you, is it?”
Ty scooped up some salsa with a chip. “Nope, especially not after a hard day working outside.” He lifted a thick shoulder, then popped the chip into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he said, “But I wouldn’t dream of telling my dad that. He works too hard at providing healthy meals to hurt his feelings with complaints.” His eyes softened and he kicked one side of his mouth up. “I just eat what he prepares and then fill in later.”
Jenny’s heart turned over. “You’re very considerate,” she murmured, toying with a piece of cantaloupe with her fork, wishing he wasn’t so darn appealing in every way, wishing it was easier to keep him in the “employer” box she’d made for him.
Swallowing heavily, she deliberately kept her attention off of him, focusing her gaze instead on her half-empty plate.
After a long silence, Ty asked, “So, how are things going with the girls?”
“Just fine,” she said, happy to talk business. “They get along great, and both are used to the same kind of nap routine.” She’d been a little surprised that Morgan was on a set schedule, and had mentally given Ty kudos for doing such a good job as a single father trying to raise a child while working more than full-time hours.
“Good. They both seem happy.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a kind of…personal question?”
She looked at him, pulling in her chin. Of course she minded; she wanted to keep things strictly employee/employer between them. But she was taking care of his most precious possession—his child. He had a right to ask personal questions. To a point. “No, not at all,” she said, her voice higher than normal. “What would you like to know?”
He propped his forearms on the table, then gave her an inquisitive stare. “Why did a young, beautiful woman like you want to come out here and live in the middle of nowhere?”
Her heart lurched when he called her beautiful, but she quickly crammed the feeling into a little ball and ignored it. “I thought we covered that in the phone interview.”
He inclined his head. “We did, sort of. Something about wanting to support yourself being a nurse without your parents’ help.” He turned and bored into her with his intense, compelling blue gaze. “There’s got to be more. Not many women would willingly come here to stay.”
Jenny focused on how he seemed to be speaking from personal experience rather than on how his blue stare made her shiver. She had to keep his appeal from sucking her into a dangerous place she’d sworn never to go again when Jack had died. “Um, I, well, I needed to get away from Oak Valley,” she said, hoping he’d leave it at that. She wasn’t ready to share her innermost fears.
“Why?” he asked, still staring, dashing her hopes.
She bit her lip and popped a grape into her mouth, stalling. How could she share with him how much she needed to escape the sad memories of Oak Valley, how she was determined to avoid laying her soul bare again to the most intense pain and hurt she’d ever felt?
Given that searing reality, opening up about Jack’s death seemed…well, nearly impossible. And yet, she was trying to move on and make a new life, for Ava’s sake. To do that she needed to get past the pain, or at the very least be able to deal with it in the most basic of ways. She needed to be able to talk about it.
Taking a deep breath, she hesitated. “Did Connor ever tell you about how my husband died?”
Ty stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
She swallowed, fiddling with the napkin on her lap, working herself to