“Half a pie and a double scoop,” she assured him.
He felt one corner of his mouth twitch. “Tell ya what. I’ll arm wrestle ya for the bill.”
“Don’t,” Eli warned her. “My dad’s the strongest ever.”
“Is he now?” She was smiling more broadly now. “Well, I guess we’ll see about that.” To Eli she confided, “I’m pretty strong, too.”
“Nah!” Eli shook his head. “Not like my dad!”
“Uh-huh.” She winked. “Only tougher.”
The kid behind the counter was getting antsy. “Can I get you something?”
“We’ll have two double scoops of Christmas Cookie Swirl in . . . waffle cones.” She looked at Eli, who was nodding rapidly.
“And sprinkles!”
Kacey chuckled. “And sprinkles.” She cast a glance at Trace. “And?” Her dark eyebrows arched, and he noticed how thick her eyelashes were, how the green of her eyes shifted in the light. “For you?”
“I’ll stick with pizza.”
He placed their order for pizza, along with two beers and a soda, then, for the better part of the next hour, as the pizzeria became busier still, he sat in an uncomfortable booth, getting to know this woman, a damned doctor, who talked to Eli so easily. She had lied, though, about her appetite, and managed to eat only two slices of the vegetarian side of the pizza, while he and Eli polished off all the meat-covered wedges. Actually, as he thought about it, he’d eaten most of the cheese-and pepperoni-slathered slices himself, as his boy was pretty full after the ice cream. Just what the doctor ordered after the week they’d all had.
“I never asked. What were you doing at the vet’s clinic?” He hitched his chin toward the window and the building on the far side of the snowy street.
“I’m looking for a dog,” she admitted.
“Any kind?”
“The one I hope to adopt is a mutt. Big dog. Boxer and pit bull probably. At least according to the vet.”
“Guard dog?” he asked, remembering the way she glanced over her shoulder as she crossed the street with Eli an hour earlier.
“That’s one criterion.” Her eyes shifted away, toward the area where Eli and a group of kids were crowding around the arcade-type machines. “I, um, live alone.” She picked up her glass. “Could use the company. You know.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, thinking of Sarge and silently praying the dog would pull through.
“So, you grew up around here?” she asked, changing the subject and pushing a bit of uneaten pizza crust to one side of her plate.
“Been here most of my life, except for college and a few years in the army. Inherited the place and decided ranching was a good life. What about you?”
“I was born and raised in Helena, but my grandparents lived here, so I spent my summers at their farm.” She smiled thoughtfully, caught up in the nostalgia of the moment, seeming to study her near-empty glass, though he suspected her mind was miles and years away, conjuring images of her youth. Vaguely, he wondered if she’d known Leanna, who had spent the first years of her vagabond life in Montana’s state capital as well.
“So you decided to settle down here?”
“Eventually.” Her eyes shifted, and she looked up at him again. “I went to college in Missoula, medical school in Seattle, and stayed for a while. I got married, then divorced and, since I’d inherited the farm, decided to move back.”
“No kids?”
She shook her head, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “He . . . wasn’t ‘ready.’ ” She made air quotes, then, as if she’d thought better of it, shook her head. “It’s over, has been for three years, and I told myself I’d try never to be catty about it, even if he is an easy target.” She lifted one slim shoulder, dismissing the man to whom she was once married. “So, how about you? What happened to Eli’s mother?” She took a sip from her glass.
“She took a hike. Never hear from her.”
She thought about that long and hard.
“We do fine,” he stated firmly.
Her expression was neutral, but he bet she didn’t believe him for a second. And the thing of it was, she was right. He remembered Eli’s most recent crying jag, when he’d begged to find out where Leanna was. God, it tore his heart out, and he couldn’t help wondering how scarred his boy was.