Sheltered by the Millionaire(6)

Megan watched his truck drive away, a knot in her stomach.

It would be too damn easy to lean on those broad shoulders, to get used  to the help, which would only make things more difficult when she was  on her own again. Megan turned away from the door and temptation,  returning to reality in the form of her precious daughter sitting on  Abigail's lap as they played on the iPad together. Evie's knight's armor  was slipping off one shoulder, her toy sword on the ground beside her  tiara.

Megan held out her arms. "Come here, sweetie."

She gathered Evie into her arms and held her on her hip. Not much  longer and her baby girl would be too big to carry around. This precious  child, who wanted to be a "princess knight" for Halloween and cut  through tornadoes with a foam sword. Megan had hoped her daughter would  relax and heal as they put the storm behind them, but now Thanksgiving  was approaching and Evie was still showing signs of trauma.

The holidays were tough anyway, reminding her that she was the sole  relative in Evie's life. She was a thirty-year-old single mom.

And damn lucky to have landed in this small town full of warmhearted friends.

"Thank you, Abigail, for helping out even after the school finished repairs. You've been a lifesaver."

The roof of Little Tots Daycare had been reconstructed quickly, but the  dust and stress had taken its toll on the kids and the workers. Some  had gotten the flu.

Others, like Evie, had nightmares and begged to stay home. Her daughter  conquered pretend monsters in iPad games and dress-up play.

Abigail rocked back in her chair. "My pleasure. She's a doll." She  pinched Evie's cheek lightly. "We have fun readin' books on the iPad.  Don't we, Evie?"

Bringing her daughter to work wasn't optimal, but Megan didn't have any choices for now. "Thanks again."

"I'm always a call away. The benefit of being retired. Maybe we'll see  Mr. Daltry again tomorrow. Now wouldn't that be nice if he became a  regular volunteer?"

As much as Megan wanted to keep her distance, she couldn't ignore all the amazing things Whit had done for her.

Evie patted her mother's cheek with a tiny palm. "Where did the nice man go?"

"He brought a kitty to stay with us here."

She stuck out her bottom lip. "We don't like people who dump their pets. Does this mean I can't like him anymore?"

"He didn't dump the kitty, sweetie. He saved her from being cold and  hungry in the woods." Although she had to admit she was disappointed he  hadn't offered to keep the cat. She struggled not to resent his wealthy  lifestyle. Everyone knew he was a self-made man who'd worked hard to  build a fortune before his thirty-fifth birthday. "Tallulah lost her  family and had nowhere else to go. We're going to help her find them  again."

"'Lulah?"

"Right. That's her name."

"She can come home wif us and live in our house. I'll get her a costume too."

They already had three cats and two dogs, all of which Evie had been  dressing up as part of her medieval warrior team. The costumes  transformed them into horses, elves, queens and even a unicorn.                       
       
           



       

Their house was full.

And Megan was at her limit with work and her daughter. "You can visit  Tallulah here while she waits to find her family. We have our kitties  and doggies at home to take care of and love."

Evie patted Megan's face again. "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll tell Mr. Whit to keep 'Lulah."

If only it worked that easily. "I need to work a little longer, just a  few phone calls and then we can go home for supper. We'll make a pizza."

"Can Mr. Whit share our pizza?"

Abigail laughed softly from her perch behind the counter. "I think Mr. Whit wants to share a lot more than pizza."

Evie looked up, frowning. "Like what?"

Megan shot Abigail an exasperated look before kneeling to tell Evie,  "Mr. Whit is sharing his airplane to help send some of the puppies and  kitties to forever homes before Thanksgiving."

"He shares his plane? See. He is very nice. Can I play my games,  please?" Evie squirmed down with her iPad, her foam sword tumbling from  her hand. "I'm gonna play a plane game this time." Her daughter put on  her tiara and fired up a game for touring the states in a puffy  airplane.

Megan glanced at the receptionist. "I don't want to hear a word about Whit's visit today, Abigail. And no gossiping."

She glanced over her shoulder to see if other volunteers were listening  in. Luckily, most of them were occupied with exercising animals,  folding laundry and washing bowls. The only person even remotely close  enough to hear was Beth Andrews, Megan's favorite volunteer.

"Gossip?" Beth chimed in. "Did I hear the word gossip? That would  surely never happen in the town of Royal where everyone stays out of  each other's business. Not."

Beth wasn't a known gossip, but was definitely known for helping out  everywhere; she was very involved in the community. The leggy blonde  owned Green Acres, a local organic farm and produce stand. Beth's  business had taken a big hit from the tornado. That made her generosity  and caring now all the more special, given how rough life had been for  her lately. The homemade goodies she brought to the animals were always a  treat. Beth had that willowy thin, effortless beauty that would have  had women resenting her if it weren't for the fact she was so darn nice.

Abigail stroked her phone as if already planning a text. "It's a gift  having a community that cares so much. Like how Whit Daltry just showed  up to make a big donation."

Beth arched a blond eyebrow. "You two are speaking to each other?"

Megan shrugged her shoulders and examined her fingernails. "He's  helping with the overflow of animals. I can work with anyone for the  good of the animals."

"Everyone's had their lives turned upside down since the twister. To  lose over a dozen lives in a blink...to have our friend Craig gone so  young...." She paused with a heavy sigh. "No one has been exempt from  the fallout of this damn storm. Even our mayor was critically injured.  And that poor Skye Taylor..."

"What tragic bad luck that she came back to town after four years on  such a terrible day. How is she doing?" Megan rubbed her arms again,  feeling petty for stressing over her life, thinking of Skye Taylor,  found seriously injured and unconscious after the storm, her baby  delivered prematurely. And since Skye was still in a coma, she hadn't  even met her child. Megan shivered again, even though she didn't know  the woman personally. As a mother, she felt a bond. Thank God Evie was  safe. That's what mattered most. She would figure out how to heal her  daughter's fears.

Clearly agitated, Beth thumbed a stack of shelter flyers. "Drew checked  in with the family and Skye is still in a medically induced coma and  the baby girl-Grace-is in the neonatal intensive care unit."

Abigail sighed. "And the doctors still don't know who the father is?"

Did this qualify as gossip? Megan wasn't sure, but if the talk could  help find the father, that would be a good thing. "I've never met her,  but I heard a rumor Skye ran off with the younger Holt brother despite  their parents' protests. So I assumed he was the dad."                       
       
           



       

Beth tucked a stray curl back into her loose topknot, scrunching her  nose. "I recall hearing mentions of an age-old feud between the Holts  and Taylors. Abigail, do you have any idea who started it?"

"I haven't a clue. Quite frankly, I'm not sure they do either, anymore."

Beth shook her head slowly. "How sad when feuds are carried on for so  long." She stared pointedly at Megan. "So what's this with Whit Daltry  coming to the shelter to see you? And you actually spoke to him rather  than running out the back exit?"

"Running out the back? I wouldn't do that." Okay, so maybe she had  avoided him a time or two but hearing it put that way made her sound  so...wimpy. And she didn't like that one damn bit. "I think we've all  done some reevaluating this past month. If he wants to offer his private  plane to transport homeless animals to new homes, who am I to argue?"

Beth laughed softly. "About that flight... Look how neatly he tied in a way to see you again. Coincidence? I don't think so."

Not even having a clue how to respond to that notion, Megan clasped her  daughter's hand and retreated to her office. The second she closed the  door, she realized she'd done it again. Run away like the coward she'd  denied being.

But when it came to Whit Daltry and the way he flipped her world with  one sizzling look, keeping her cool just wasn't an option.