Taming the Lone Wolf by Joan Johnston Page A

get socks, I imagine,” Tess said with a smile.
    â€œCan she get them on by herself?”
    â€œI’ll have to help her. The sock drawer’s too high for her to reach.”
    â€œYou’re busy,” Stony said, rising from the sofa. “I’ll do it.”
    Tess arched a disbelieving brow. “You don’t like kids,” she reminded him.
    â€œYeah, well, I’d like it even less if she got sick. Besides, I’m hungry, and you’re putting supper on the table.” He winked, a charming gesture that made her heart flutter. “I think I can handle it.”
    It was impossible not to smile back at him. “Be my guest,” she said.
    Stony didn’t hurry down the hall because he knew Rose would be there waiting for him. He hadn’t counted on the little girl’s resourcefulness. She had pulled out the bottom drawer of the chest and was standing on it in order to reach the top drawer of the chest, which she had managed to open. The whole chest was in danger of tipping over onto her.
    â€œRose!” he said, his voice harsh with fear.
    She leaned back, startled. Her weight, added to thatof the open drawers, was all it took for the chest to begin its tumble.
    He snatched her off her precarious perch and caught the falling chest with his hip. He grunted in pain as everything on top came thumping down onto the braided rug.
    â€œWhat’s going on in there?” Tess called from the kitchen. “Is everything all right?”
    â€œEverything’s fine,” Stony called. “Hunky dory,” he muttered under his breath. He clutched Rose tight while he gave his adrenaline-laced heart a chance to slow down. His hip throbbed where the chest had caught on the bone. He leaned his weight back to force the chest upright.
    â€œWhat’s hunk-dory?” Rose asked, apparently oblivious to the danger she had been in.
    â€œIt means you nearly got killed, but you didn’t,” Stony retorted as he shoved in the bottom drawer of the chest with his bare foot. He shifted her onto his arm so he could look her in the eye. “You should’ve asked for help. You could’ve been hurt.”
    â€œI was getting socks,” she said in a small voice, “like you said.”
    Which made the whole thing his fault, he supposed. It surprised him to realize he cared enough about her to be worried that something might happen when he wasn’t around to keep an eye on her.
    She pointed to the mess on the floor. “Everything fell down,” she said, her chin trembling.
    â€œYeah, well, nothing’s broken,” he said gruffly. “We can put it all back again.” He knew he was an idiot to be trying to placate a three-year-old, but therewasn’t anyone around to catch him at it, so he could do as he pleased.
    She wriggled, her sign to be let down, picked up a pewter bookend and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. “I can help put it all back.”
    They worked together over the next several minutes. He picked Rose up at her insistence so she could rearrange everything to her liking on top of the chest. By the time they were done, she was smiling again. Seeing that smile made him feel ten feet tall. It was ridiculous to let her under his skin. Especially when she wasn’t going to be hanging around very long. But he didn’t call Tess to come get her kid. Hell, he was enjoying himself.
    â€œYou still need socks, young lady,” he said, folding his free hand around her ice cold toes.
    She giggled. “Can you do piggies?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œYou know. Piggies.”
    He was afraid he did know. It sounded like fun. But he wasn’t going to let her make a substitute father out of him. “You need socks,” he repeated.
    He opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of pink socks.
    â€œNot those,” she said firmly.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with these?”
    â€œI want the ones with