“Then that makes her one of the best helpers already,” Heather concluded with a wink.
Lyle’s chest tightened at the way Charlotte’s lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, the first he’d seen in what felt like weeks. He knew she still ached for her parents in a way that words couldn’t mend, but seeing a flicker of joy in her eyes—even over something as simple as a kitten—felt like a step toward healing.
“I think you might be onto something,” he said, his tone light. “Pudge, the official snuggle ambassador of Bear Valley.”
Charlotte giggled, the sound a balm to the unspoken worry that had been weighing heavily on Lyle’s shoulders.
Heather shot him a sideways glance. “Guess that makes you her first client, seeing as you could use a snuggle ambassador yourself.”
Lyle raised a brow, playing along. “That an offer?”
“Only if you can pass Pudge’s background check.”
Charlotte giggled again, looking between the two of them with the perceptiveness of a child who knew there was more happening than anyone was saying out loud. “Pudge says Uncle Lyle is okay.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Heather replied, standing and dusting off her knees. But as she turned back toward the training yard, her face softened just slightly. “Good enough for all of us.” Then, with a whistle, she signaled her waiting dogs and stepped forward, taking Charlotte’s hand and leaving Lyle to follow—or not.
3
Lyle decided to follow, although he felt a little obsolete. She’d just marched off with his goddaughter as though he was invisible. That wasn’t something he was used to.
He braced his hands on the fence and watched as Charlotte played with Pudge under Heather’s quiet supervision. She was instructing Charlotte on how to gently guide the kitten’s movements with light touches, her voice lilting and soothing. It struck Lyle, not for the first time, how natural she was at this—at connecting with creatures, big and small, be they animal or human.
He tried not to think about how comfortably she fit into the world he was slowly rebuilding for Charlotte.
Across the yard, Mike ambled up with his usual mix of swagger and mischief, chewing on a piece of hay like a caricature of every cowboy Lyle had ever known. “So,” Mike said, his tone exaggeratedly casual as he leaned against the fence next to Lyle, his grin already too wide, “how’s Heather doing? Still lighting up your world?”
Lyle shot his brother a sidelong glance. “Someday that charm of yours is gonna get you into trouble,” he said instead of answering the question. “And why did you let Charlotte come all the way over here on her own?”
“She asked first. And I watched her cross the field.” Heather’s cabin was indeed across the field from the main house, but there was a bend along the path that kept it from being in direct line of sight.
“So why are you here, then?”
Mike shrugged. “Guess I got a little worried when she didn’t come right back. You’re not the only one adjusting to having kid responsibility. You’re her legal guardian, but we’re all parenting.”
“And I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know,” Lyle said.
Mike nodded toward Heather, who was now walking back toward her truck with Charlotte skipping happily at her side, Pudge cradled like royalty in the little girl’s spindly arms. “You dodged my question about that one. Since when do you sit around gawking unless you’re feeling something?”
“I’m not gawking,” Lyle muttered, though his defensive tone betrayed him.
“You’re gawking.” Mike’s grin didn’t falter. “And I’m telling you, it’s about damn time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time you let yourself feel something other than guilt and responsibility," Mike said, leaning on the fence with a far more serious expression now. "You’ve been back for weeks, Lyle. You’ve barely let yourself breathe, let alone think about what’s good for you.”
Lyle frowned, his gaze locking on Heather for a moment before shifting back to Charlotte, who was now holding the gate open for Pudge to wander through. “What’s good for me isn’t the priority.”
“No,” Mike conceded, drawing out the word like he was testing its weight. “But don’t let that little bit of stubborn Marine pride make you think you don’t deserve it.”
Lyle didn’t answer right away, and Mike, sensing the conversation was as heavy as Lyle was willing to let it get, stood straight and slapped his younger brother on the shoulder.
“All I’m saying is, you could do worse than Heather Prescott. Consider the possibilities.”
“Pretty sure she’s not up for debate,” Lyle said dryly, though his eyes lingered on Heather’s retreating figure longer than he intended.
“Maybe not,” Mike admitted, already heading back toward the house. “But you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to realize she’s been smitten since you all were knee-high to a tumbleweed.”
