Chapter 7

7

DIANNA

D ianna probably should have headed home after the riding lesson. Or taken her chance to escape after walking Mathew home. She definitely shouldn't have stayed to draw any pictures, because her sketch was beginning to look a lot like the man who was standing just a few feet away.

Oh goodness. What was going on with her?

She needed to keep her mind off the handsome man with the steady stare and those clear eyes. Quickly, she added more facial hair and a hat for good measure. There. Now the person with kind eyes and a soft smile staring back at her was none other than Santa Claus himself.

"Whoa."

She jumped and stared wide-eyed at the little boy seated beside her. Did he just speak to her? Dianna sought Tristan's gaze, finding him just as surprised where he stood in the kitchen. Mathew hadn't appeared to notice her change of body language as he continued staring at the picture in front of her. "I didn't know you were that good."

Chills raced down her spine and along her arms. She'd been told that Mathew could speak and that he was very intelligent. It was strange to actually experience it. A part of her wanted to jump up and down, grab him and make him celebrate with her. Then on the other side, she worried if she made any sudden movements he'd retreat, bursting into flight like a scared pheasant.

She swallowed and nudged the paper closer to him. "You can keep it if you like."

He looked up at her and smiled widely. "Can you draw Molasses next?"

Dianna let out a soft laugh. "I can sure try."

Quickly, he snatched a fresh sheet of paper and held it out to her.

Feeling Tristan's eyes on her, she chanced a peek in his direction. She had already overstayed her welcome. It wasn't that she had anywhere to go. It was that she needed to get out of their hair so they could get started on dinner.

She gnawed on her lower lip and brought her gaze down to Mathew. "Would it be okay if I take this home and bring it back tomorrow? We'll do some more reading, and if you'd like, we can draw some more."

His features scrunched up and his focus bounced to his father. "But I want her to stay."

As much as it warmed her that Mathew had grown fond of her so quickly, Dianna didn't feel the same sentiment from his father. There was a definite tension that continued to hang in the air whenever they were in the same room. Maybe it was the way she was a bit over opinionated about the expectations he put on Mathew's treatment outcomes. Or maybe he just didn't like anybody that much.

There was something about him that got to her. She wouldn't describe it as being uneasy. It might have more to do with the fact that despite all the irritating things he'd said, she could tell he was a good dad doing the best he could.

Not many men would stick around in the first place, and Tristan had done more than that. He'd taken on raising Mathew all on his own.

Tristan shifted, his eyes boring into her.

"Mathew, I have other things?—"

"Why don't you stay?" Tristan asked.

She stiffened, unsure of why he would say such a thing.

"I'm not the best cook, but you're welcome to stay for dinner if you don't have anywhere else you have to be."

Mathew reached for her hand and smiled. "Please?"

His large, round, blue eyes were nearly impossible to turn down. How could she deny him when he asked her like that?

Dianna shrugged and let out a sigh. "Why not?"

Mathew's grin stretched even farther. "And then you can help me make Christmas cookies."

She let out a laugh. "I don't think we have time for that. But maybe we can make cookies when I come on Thursday."

"We're going looking for a Christmas tree on Thursday," Tristan interjected. "But you're welcome to come with us when we do. I'm sure Mathew would love the company."

The boy nodded. "Will you help us pick a tree and decorate it?"

She could have been knocked over with all the sudden invitations. She loved Christmas and trimming the tree, but her head was spinning and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to react. His request had her feeling pushed up against a wall. All her life, she'd liked to be able to think about things before taking action or saying yes to anything.

"Mathew, how about we see how dinner goes before bombarding her with all of these other events."

"Okay," he murmured. "But I'm still gonna invite her."

Tristan and Dianna locked eyes and she chuckled. "You're always welcome to extend an invitation, Matty, even if I can't say yes." Dianna pointed to his picture of a horse that he hadn't colored yet. "You finish up your drawing while I go see if your father needs help."

Mathew nodded and settled onto his knees.

Dianna's heart fluttered as she moved across the room and straight for the person who seemed to be making this room more difficult to read. She leaned over the island in the kitchen right as he crouched down to grab a saucepan from a cupboard. He filled it with water and placed it on the stove before turning to face her.

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a wry smile. "I hope you know you're more than welcome to tell Mathew no. He might not like it, but we've been able to work through disappointment before."

She shot a look in Mathew's direction. "Maybe another time. I didn't want to jinx the progress we just made."

"I get it," he said.

Dianna swung her focus back to him.

Tristan continued, "I can't believe he spoke to you. It's unheard of."

Warmth flooded her stomach and she smiled. "I'm glad he likes me so much."

"It's more than that. He trusts and respects you. He thinks you're worthy of his time and energy. I know it doesn't make sense or maybe sounds harsh, but?—"

She tilted her head and let out a laugh. "I know exactly what you mean, and I don't think it's harsh. These kids have such a unique view of the world, and they have to figure out how they fit in it. I would imagine Einstein had similar notions as a kid and no one was trying to make excuses for him."

Tristan stared at her like she'd sprouted horns.

"What?" She laughed.

"I don't get how you can understand him so fully. I feel like I have to break every little nuance down into pieces people can grasp. Even his therapists back home have to get used to him and vice versa before they can make any progress. But you make it look so effortless."

Dianna broke eye contact and turned around so her elbows rested on the island instead. "I guess I just have a specific sort of empathy."

His footsteps chuffed against the tiled floor as he walked around the island and stood beside her. "Whatever it is, I think you've found your calling."

She gave him a funny look. "Why do you say that?"

He didn't meet her gaze; his focus locked on Mathew as he continued his drawing. "I can't really explain it. You're just so…" He sighed and shrugged before he looked at her. "There's something different about you."

Goosebumps erupted on her arms and she moved to rub them away.

"Shane said that you're a recent hire and that you're just doing this to help out during the holidays."

She nodded. "My family's ranch is pretty busy, but I was able to get my father to agree to my working here for the holiday season. It's better than spending every waking moment with my sisters."

His lips quirked into a grin. "Well, maybe you should consider doing this full-time. Have you thought about going to school to become a therapist?"

Dianna's whole body stilled. She hadn't thought about that at all. She liked to work with animals. And she was obviously good with children—but she felt like she connected to Mathew more just because she had similar tendencies as a kid. There was no guarantee she'd be this good with other children. What if her connection with Mathew was an anomaly? Failure didn't sit well with her. Stomach knotting, she ignored the question and prayed he didn't notice her lack of response. "Do you have any family?"

Without missing a beat, Tristan nodded. "I've got a sister. She's married and has three kids. You said you have sisters?"

"Six."

He let out a low whistle. "It's all coming together."

"What do you mean by that?" Dianna meant for her tone to sound offended but couldn't hide the amusement she felt. She already had a few ideas of what he could be inferring.

"You're good with kids. You must have several younger than you whom you've spent a lot of time with."

" Oh , and here I thought you might be suggesting I only stayed because I didn't want to go home to a house full of hormonal women."

Tristan laughed.

It wasn't just a dry chuckle meant to make her feel good. It was a deep, warm, and smooth laugh that only added to the tremors she felt by simply being a few inches away from him. She could feel the heat emanating off him, and all it would take was to scoot slightly in his direction for her to get to experience it.

While he watched Mathew, she got a few minutes to examine him without being caught. His jawline was sharp and unlike the cowboys who resided here, he opted to be clean-shaven. His eyes were gray with hints of blue underneath—probably where his son got his coloring. And the mussed sandy hair made him look like he belonged on a beach somewhere, not in the mountains covered in snow.

He could pull off the fur-lined leather coat with the best of them. Tristan was tall and lean and… he was looking right at her.

Dianna tore her eyes away from him and glued them to the floor, shifting ever so slightly away from him without being obvious that was her intention. It was probably too late. She shouldn't have allowed herself to get caught up in her study of him. No wonder she'd drawn him. He was a handsome specimen.

Her face burned with embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid to get caught checking him out?

Tristan shifted, moving away from her and around the counter, but his distance only served to make her feel chilled. The warmth that had flowed from him was gone and as her blush faded, she couldn't prevent the shiver that racked her body.

"I hope you like macaroni and cheese because that's the only thing Mathew will eat."

"Do you have any tomatoes?" The question slipped from her lips before she could prevent them. Her sisters had always thought she was weird for mixing the two items together, but it was the only way she could stomach the pasta dish.

"I think so," Tristan drawled. "Why?"

The flush started to crawl up her neck once more and she gave him a half-smile. "I cut them up into cubes and mix them in."

He wrinkled his nose and laughed. "I've never heard of that before."

"I want some too," Mathew piped up from his place at the coffee table.

Tristan's brows lifted. "But you hate tomatoes."

"Not in my macaroni," he insisted.

"You're not going to eat them," Tristan shook his head. "How about we don't waste our food."

Mathew glowered. "I want tomatoes. Dianna gets them, so I want them."

Dianna mouthed the word "sorry" to Tristan, relieved when he waved her off with a dismissive hand.

"I'll cut some for you, but how about you put them on the side and try it one bite at a time."

Before Mathew could argue, Dianna interjected. "That's how I want mine tonight."

"Me, too," Mathew agreed.

Tristan's gray, unwavering gaze met Dianna's once more and that strange current flowed between them. He was probably just glad that she was being a buffer.

He wasn't looking at her like that because he liked her. And the fact that her thoughts had already gone to that extreme meant she was spending too much time here. Getting involved with a client was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.