serious.”
“Taskmaster.” Her brown eyes sparked with delight.
“You have no idea.”
“Right.”
Clearly, she saw straight though him. The last thing Conner would do was push her, physically or emotionally.
“We’ll find Gavin when we get back to Powell Ranch.”
Dallas made a face. “I have to tell him today?”
“It will take me a while to ready the wagon and the team of horses. I’m not starting until he gives me the okay. The ranch is liable, after all.”
“You going to make me get a note from my doctor, too?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Dallas grumbled, then dived into her remaining salad, polishing it off in a few bites, along with the rest of her meal.
Conner watched, forgetting about his coffee. Did all pregnant women inhale their food? He hadn’t paid much attention to Sage and Caitlin’s eating habits during their pregnancies.
“I’m not keeping you from your work?” Dallas asked when the last bit of sandwich had disappeared.
“You heard Gavin. You are my work for the next few weeks.”
“Good.” Rising from the table, she smiled seductively.
Conner waited a moment before snatching the tab and following her to the front of the restaurant, his legs alarmingly unsteady.
Had she just flirted with him?
No, he must be mistaken. Dallas was always that way, friendly and outgoing, with a thousand-watt personality. It was the reason men found her so attractive, Conner included.
Only his interest in her went well beyond casual.
He reminded himself yet again of her current condition and the man responsible for it. Acting on his attraction would surely result in trouble. And until Conner’s life was back on track, trouble was the last thing he needed.
* * *
THE FRONT DOOR OPENED even before Dallas came to a complete stop in the driveway. Her mother stepped onto the porch and raised a slender arm in greeting, the folds of her vibrantly colored peasant skirt hugging her legs. Gold bangles on her wrists and neck glinted, catching the last rays of a disappearing sun.
The bohemian style of dress was much like the woman herself, free-spirited and uninhibited.
Dallas grabbed the casserole dish off the passenger seat, fussing with the loose foil covering it. Purse in tow and dinner contribution secure, she climbed out of her Prius Hybrid and headed toward the house.
“You’re early.” Marina Camponella stood waiting with open arms.
Dallas leaned in and let her mother hug her, the most she could manage with the load she carried. “Mom, you look great.”
“Thank you, dear.” Marina accepted the compliment as she did most things in life: graciously and humbly. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?”
“It comes and goes, generally without me having to run to the nearest bathroom. For which I’m grateful.”
“Be happy. Morning sickness is the sign of a healthy baby.” She gave Dallas’s stomach a quick pat and relieved her of the casserole dish.
They went through the tastefully appointed living room on their way to the kitchen. Many of the exquisite pieces on display had been crafted by her mother. A talented sculptress, she’d abandoned a promising artistic career to marry Dallas’s stepfather, Hank, and raise her two children.
She still sculpted for personal enjoyment, completing only two or three pieces a year. Teaching at the Horizon School of Art in Tempe took up most of her time.
Glimpsing her newest piece reminded Dallas that her mother wasn’t enjoying the fulfilling life she might have if Hank had encouraged rather than discouraged her dreams.
Speaking of which...
“Where’s Hank?” Dallas asked, draping her jacket over a kitchen chair and stowing her purse on the counter.
“In the den. Watching the presidential address on TV.”
“Ah.” Dallas rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”
“You know Hank and his politics.” Her mother opened the oven, and the aroma of baking chicken immediately filled the air.
Curry chicken, Dallas could tell. So could her stomach, which roiled at the prospect of any spicy food.
“I do know Hank,” she mused aloud.
How could she not? She’d spent twelve years living under the same roof with him. Arguing with him, disobeying him, rebelling against him and finally just tolerating him until the day she could move out. It wasn’t that she hated Hank. Not at all. They were simply polar opposites.
Dallas took after her unconventional mother, something her conservative financial-advisor stepfather didn’t understand. If he had, he wouldn’t have established such strict rules for two teenagers simply eager to get their feet wet in a big, wide world.
Real-life blended families, Dallas had concluded, weren’t like the ones portrayed on TV. They didn’t always, well, blend. Dallas’s younger brother held a similar opinion and had left home the year after she did.
“Heard from Liam recently?” she asked.
“He’s in Colorado. Mapping a remote part of the national forest.”
“Sounds exciting.”
Liam had also inherited their mother’s free-spiritedness. Dallas wasn’t sure he’d ever trade his job as a surveyor for a permanent address.
Like her brother, Dallas valued her independence, but she also longed for stability. A husband and children. She believed all things were possible with the right person.
For the last two years, she had assumed that person was Richard. Except then they’d called it quits.
Dallas’s mother handed her a stack of plates from the cupboard. “You mind setting the table?”
“Of course not.”
She didn’t wait for the next item, fetching glasses and flatware while her mom sliced a loaf of freshly baked bread.
“Hank,” Marina called, then sighed with exasperation. “He can’t hear me over the TV.”
“I’ll get him.” Dallas made her way to the den, following the sound of what had to be a news commentator recapping the address. “Hi, Hank,” she said, stepping into the decidedly masculine room, the only one not decorated by her mother. “Mom sent me to tell you dinner’s ready.”
“Hey.” He pushed himself up from the recliner, turned off the TV with the remote control. “I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.”
“Mom met me outside.”
“She loves it when you come to dinner.”
Dallas detected a hint of reproach in his voice. As if she didn’t already know her visits were too infrequent.
“Work’s piled up lately.”
“You need your rest.” Hank placed a large hand on her shoulder, the gesture more stilted than affectionate.
It was, Dallas had long ago accepted, the best he could manage.
“Have you heard from Richard lately?” Hank asked as they entered the kitchen.
He was fit and tall, and the gray at his temples gave him a distinguished appearance. Dallas could see how her mother had become enamored with him.
“He called Tuesday.”
“Today’s