“Yeah.” Alyssa sighed. “I know. Did he respond?”

No. So Lanie decided to wing it. “He said he loves you very much and that the two of you can work this out in private, somewhere other than the employee room,” she said, grimacing at River, who was still standing there, now wide-eyed and slack-jawed, presumably impressed by her lying skills.

“Oh.” Alyssa sounded somewhat mollified. “Did he say anything else?”

“Uh . . .” She looked at River, who bit her lower lip and gave her a say more gesture. Lanie closed her eyes and thought about what she might want to hear from the love of her life. But here was the problem: she’d never had a real love of her life.

Oh, Kyle had played the part. He’d romanced her—hard too. And he’d been good at it. But the thing was, love wasn’t in the bouquet of flowers or the romantic, candle-lit dinners. It was in the everyday stuff, like knowing when your person was tired and needed help, understanding what made them tick, what to do to soothe and comfort.

How to be at their back when their back was up against a wall.

She knew from what she’d seen of Alyssa and Owen that they had that kind of love. So she made it all up. “He wants to take you out, just the two of you, somewhere special where he can tell you how attractive and gorgeous and amazing you are.”

“We don’t have a babysitter.”

Okay, so she shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Your brother said he’d babysit.”

An almost inaudible snort had her turning around. Mark stood next to River in full uniform, arms crossed, dark sunglasses on, looking intimidating as hell. At just the sight of him, River let out a little squeak of surprise and/or terror and took a step toward Lanie. Lanie slipped her hand in hers and squeezed lightly.

“Do I need to haul you in for lying your cute ass off?” Mark asked Lanie, his tone sardonic and maybe slightly amused.

She simply pointed to the still-closed door. “This is on you.”

“Me?” He removed his sunglasses and gave a look of disbelief. “How do you figure?”

“You’ve got a penis, don’t you?”

River let out a horrified, choked laugh and covered her mouth.

Mark didn’t take his eyes off Lanie. “I do in fact have a penis.”

River pulled free of Lanie’s hand. “I’ve gotta go back to my desk.” And then she vanished faster than an almost seven months’ pregnant woman should be able to move.

“I’m out too,” Lanie said. “You people are exhausting!” With that, she stalked through the place, heading toward the office, where she worked for a few hours without pause. Finally her stomach told her it was going to riot if she didn’t put something in it. She looked up and realized everyone was gone for the day. Telling herself to just grab another snack so she could finish up the last of her stuff for the day, she ran to the employee room and took another bar. When she got back to her desk, Uncle Jack was there. Baby Elsa was in her baby seat on top of Lanie’s desk, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth wide open as she wailed at top decibel, her tiny fists waving in the air as she let anyone and everyone within a twenty-mile radius know that she was one seriously pissed-off baby.

“Sorry,” Jack said, standing, saying something that couldn’t be heard over the sheer volume of the baby’s cries.

“What?” Lanie yelled.

“I took on babysitting but I can’t get her to be quiet. I’ve tried everything!” he yelled back.

“I thought Mark was in charge!”

“I told him I wanted to do it! I was clearly temporarily insane!”

Just then Mark appeared and did what he did best—took charge. He leaned in and scooped up the baby. “What’s the fuss, cute stuff?” the big, bad, tough sheriff crooned softly, his fingers tracing the outlines of Elsa’s cheeks, wiping away her tears.

She immediately stopped with the screaming to stare up at Mark in that total absorption babies have when they’ve encountered something new and exciting.

He laid her against his broad-as-a-mountain shoulder and patted her back.

Elsa burped once and beamed a drooly smile at Mark that could’ve melted the polar ice caps. She then went on to babble and coo at him, all while pumping and waving her arms and legs like a very happy camper.

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

This caused a long string of “goo-goo-ba-ba” before Elsa stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Both Lanie and Uncle Jack stared at Mark, probably with the exact same absorption Elsa had. “How?” Jack asked.

Mark shrugged as the baby’s tiny hand gripped one of his fingers in a baby death grip, like she was never letting him go.

Lanie couldn’t blame her. She probably wouldn’t want to let go either. Also, she was stunned. Was no female on earth immune to the Capriotti charm?

As if he could read her thoughts, he gave her a steady gaze that did funny things to her insides she couldn’t have explained to save her life.

“You’ve got the touch,” Uncle Jack said.

No kidding, Lanie thought.

“It’s like you’re Batman, Superman, and Prince Charming all wrapped up in one,” Uncle Jack said.

And Lanie couldn’t help it, she snorted.

Mark grimaced and handed the baby back to Uncle Jack. He then took Lanie by the hand. “We’ve got a thing.”

Chapter 7

Things that give me anxiety:

—everything

—people without anxiety

Lanie shook her head. She and Mark most definitely did not have a thing. At all. But he had her hand in his one hand and her purse in his other. He walked them through the offices, not looking even remotely silly with her purse swinging from his fingers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, ineffectively trying to free herself. “I’m working.”

“It’s nearly six thirty and you’ve been at your desk since early this morning. Twelve hours.”

“How do you even know that?”

He shrugged a broad shoulder, not slowing down. “I had a really early shift, saw you frowning and swearing at your computer.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I know.”

She gaped at his back. “You’re the one who keeps leaving me coffee.”

He didn’t answer.

“How did you even know I like three sugars?”

“Because I pay attention,” he said. “And by the way, that stuff’ll kill you.”

“Says the guy who inhales three pieces of lasagna and cheesy bread almost daily for lunch.”

“See, you pay attention to me too.”

“Whatever,” she said. “And it’s hard not to notice because you eat whatever you want and you still get to look like you do.”

He smiled. “So you do like the way I look while you’re pretending to hate me.”

She sighed. “I don’t hate you.”

When he stopped walking, she nearly plowed into him, having to plant her other hand on his back, which was how she discovered that the promise of a great body he gave in clothes most definitely was true because beneath his shirt, he was solid, lean muscle.