Page 29 of Surrendering His Heart (Buena Hills #4)

“Do you need help buckling your seatbelt?” Hallie asked, stepping out of the front office of Isla’s school with both girls at her side. She pulled her key fob from her front pocket to unlock her sedan parked at the far end of the lot.

“I know how to do it,” Isla answered quietly. The poor girl’s bottom lip puckered like she was holding back tears.

Christian had been spot on when he’d warned of his daughter’s likely reaction at the abrupt change of plans.

They’d managed to get through pick up without any meltdowns, especially the kicking kind.

But now Hallie had the strangest urge to scoop the little girl into a hug, despite the doubts swirling around her as a result of Carrie’s gossip.

Hallie grabbed Penelope’s hand as they crossed in between two SUVs waiting in the pick-up lane, their hazard lights flashing.

When she arrived at the school, she’d contemplated joining the line—it certainly would’ve been easier with Penelope in the car—but she hadn’t known how long it would take to verify her ID.

Parking had seemed the best option this time.

This time? There wouldn’t be a next time.

Once the girls were buckled into their seats, they drove to Christian’s house in silence, except for Penelope’s occasional gleeful exclamations over what she saw out the back window. The quiet only intensified the nerves doing a jig in Hallie’s stomach.

What am I supposed to do with them until Christian gets home? She didn’t even know when that would be.

Her heart thumped in her throat as they pulled into the driveway. Carrie wasn’t in sight, thank goodness, though the reminder of their interaction—and the four yorkies yipping at their leashes—stirred up unpleasant feelings about what she’d find inside the house.

Maybe he put the dog in the yard. Owners didn’t usually keep their pets inside when they were home, did they? Wouldn’t leaving them to run free be recipe for disaster? Certainly a big mess, at the very least.

“Let’s go inside,” Hallie said, sliding from the driver’s seat. She helped the girls from the back, and they walked up the path to the front door, decorated with a display of pumpkins in various colors and shapes.

Isla thumped her backpack onto the porch while Hallie looked up the text Christian had sent with the front door code. Summoning all the good vibes she could muster that Princess Pumpkin wasn’t in the house, she typed the numbers into the keypad above the handle and pushed the door open.

No such luck. The golden retriever came bounding toward them from the kitchen as soon as they stepped inside.

Flinching, Hallie pulled into herself. Images of her neighbor’s dog danced through her mind as her breath came in short gasps.

Her pulse sped out of control, and she turned, bracing for the attack.

“Pumpkin, sit,” Isla commanded.

No paws collided with Hallie’s back; no teeth marks broke her skin. Could she really be safe?

After a few seconds, she braved a look over her shoulder. The dog sat a few feet away, tongue hanging out, tail whipping against the hardwood floor. But it was still baring its teeth.

Or was that a smile?

Either way, she appeared safe for the moment. She turned all the way around but kept her guard up. Dogs could attack at any time.

“Pumpkin no hurt you,” Penelope said in her adorable three-year-old voice. “She say hi.”

Hallie didn’t want to say hi.

But Penelope took her hand and led her to the canine. Extending her own arm outward, she allowed the dog to sniff her palm. “Hold your hand like dis.”

Hallie followed Penelope’s lead, marveling at the way the sweet girl was able to ease her anxiety even a tiny bit. Were all three-year-olds capable of showing such compassion? Or was Penelope just special?

Princess Pumpkin pressed her snout into Hallie’s palm.

She jerked her hand away. This would take some getting used to.

Forcing herself to push past the nerves, she brought her hand forward again, allowing the dog to continue sniffing.

Seconds later, the dog’s soft, sandpapery tongue scratched her skin.

Penelope giggled. “She like you.”

Hallie hesitantly patted Pumpkin’s head. The retriever nuzzled into the touch, panting happily as she inched closer.

“You’re not so bad,” Hallie said, growing a little more confident in her strokes.

Penelope reached out to pet Pumpkin’s fur as well. “Her hair is soft. Good for hugging when you sad.”

Hallie smiled at her. “I’m sure it is.”

Finally convinced she wouldn’t be mauled by a rabid dog tonight, she stood, wiping her hands on her pants. “Okay, what would you girls like to do?” After washing the dog slobber off my skin?

Isla ignored her and sprawled onto the couch with her face in a picture book. Hallie would receive no suggestions from that corner. She turned to Penelope.

“Snack time?” the girl asked.

Hallie looked at her watch, realizing it was getting close to dinner time, and she hadn’t asked Christian what he’d planned. “Sure, let’s get you a snack to hold you over while I figure out dinner.”

Heading through the living room, she startled when a small hand slipped into hers. Penelope smiled up at her. I guess we’re holding hands tonight .

Once they’d passed into the kitchen, Hallie’s eyes stretched wide. Had they been robbed? The whole room was a disaster. Breakfast bowls littered the table, with more dishes stacked in the sink and surrounding areas. A pile of clutter took up most of the counter by the back door.

This wouldn’t do .

She helped Penelope into her booster seat, then cleared the table of the leftover dishes, setting them on the counter on top of an electric skillet that had bits of what looked like melted cheese stuck to the black surface.

Then she searched the cupboards for a suitable snack.

Isla hadn’t followed them into the room, so Hallie didn’t push her. She’d come when hunger struck, right?

In her search of the cupboards, she came across flour and sugar, giving her an idea of how to pass the time with the girls.

She set a small bowl of pretzels and a yogurt pouch in front of Penelope, before returning to her task of gathering the ingredients to make her favorite snickerdoodles.

She even found a bottle of cream of tartar wedged in the back corner of the spice cabinet.

The expiration date was smudged beyond recognition, but the powder still held its white color, and no strange odors rose from it when opening the lid. It would have to do for now.

She gathered all the ingredients in the one counter spot not taken over by dirty dishes. “Would you like to help me make some cookies?”

“Okay!” Penelope bounced in her chair. “Isla! Come make cookies!”

Isla offered no response. Hallie paused in her search through more cupboards for mixing bowls to peek her head into the living room. Her heart hitched to find Isla still on the couch, her arms around Pumpkin.

“Isla?” Hallie slowly made her way toward her. “Are you hungry?”

The girl shook her head, and she traced a finger over the small heart on her thumb. The same icon Hallie had seen on Christian’s hand weeks ago.

Hallie watched her for a moment, the small hiccup indicating Isla’s tears pricking her heart. Again, the urge to hug the child came over her but she took a step back instead. “We’re in the kitchen if you need us. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Isla nodded, and Hallie returned to her search for the bowls in the kitchen. Finding two that worked, she placed them on the table since there wasn’t room on the counter. All the while, her thoughts remained on Isla, wishing she could do something to help her .

“First, we need to sift the flour,” Hallie said, opening the bag. “You don’t suppose your dad has a sifter, do you?”

Penelope blinked back at her.

“Probably not, huh? We’ll just do the best we can.” Hallie located some plastic measuring cups and plunged one into the flour. “Here, sweetie. Go ahead and dump that into this bowl.”

Penelope held the measuring cup high in the air before tipping it over and letting the powder fall. The force of the thump caused some of it to poof out onto the counter. She brought her free hand—which was already coated in white—to her mouth to cover her giggle.

“It’s snowing,” she squealed, setting the measuring cup down and swirling her fingers through the flour.

Hallie tore a paper towel off the roll hanging from an upper cupboard and got it wet. “Let’s not make a mess, okay?”

She’d never been a messy baker. In culinary school, when her fellow students’ stations were a disaster of mixing bowls and spatulas, with batter smeared all over their countertops, her station was always pristine, even by the end of class.

Except, this kitchen hadn’t started out immaculate. A small pile of salt was gathered along one edge of the stove, with something sticky on the counter. And what was that crusty burnt spot on the front left burner?

She thought back to the times she’d baked with Mom, finally appreciating the difficulty of baking with a small child. Yet Hallie only remembered the feeling of love present in the kitchen during those special times. Perhaps there were worse things than making a mess.

“You know what? We’ll clean it up later.” She tossed the paper towel in the garbage.

The next few minutes saw them measuring ingredients and mixing them together.

In between whisking the dry stuff and creaming the butter and sugar, Isla abandoned her perch on the living room couch. Hallie smiled at her when she entered the kitchen, wanting her to feel welcome but not overwhelmed with a grand show .

Isla still wore a frown as she sat down at the table to eat her snack, though the rest of her face had softened to wary curiosity, and she darted occasional glances at the bakers.

The electric mixer whirred to life and Hallie beat the ingredients together. A small clump of sugar-coated butter escaped the bowl, landing on Penelope’s cheek.