A frisson of sympathy for her washed over him.
"It's not distress," he said calmly. "Loretta just has opinions."
"About what?"
"Everything. She's a donkey."
The faintest ghost of a smile crossed Tessa's face. It was there and gone so fast he almost missed it. He looked away before she caught him noticing.
A small voice said, "Are they going to be okay?"
Dillon turned. Tessa's daughter, Makayla, stood at the barn door, hugging herself. She was a mini-me of her mother with long dark hair and brown eyes that were currently huge with worry.
He frowned faintly as he registered that she wore a floral dress, leotards, and ballet flats. Apparently, that was the closest thing to casual wear she owned. It was wildly impractical for a barn, let alone for a kid who should be running around climbing and playing in a barn. A piece of hay was stuck to the hem of her dress and there was a small down feather in her hair.
"Is who going to be okay?" he asked.
"All of them."
"They’ll be fine," he said.
"Can I learn how to give shots?"
He glanced at Tessa, whose startled expression suggested she had not anticipated her daughter volunteering for needle duty.
"If your mom says it's okay, I'll teach you both."
Makayla turned to Tessa with desperate, yearning hope. "Mom. Please."
Tessa sighed. "Fine.”
Makayla's face split into a grin so wide it rearranged her whole face from miniature socialite into a kid standing in a barn full of animals and over the moon about it, looking at Dillon like he'd just handed her the world.
He'd always wanted kids—a big family. Yet another subject he and Lexi had turned out to disagree on. She wasn't even sure she wanted children. If she did get pregnant, it would be, to quote her, "in her late thirties when she no longer cared how she looked in a bikini."
He ignored the old, familiar longing for family twisting in his gut. Or at least he tried to, as he spent the next half hour walking Tessa and Makayla through every animal on the property. He went over each critter's medical needs, feeding schedule, and basic information about that species' temperament and personality. Tessa took notes on her phone with the intensity of a woman preparing for an IRS audit. Makayla trailed behind them, petting every animal, whispering their names like she was memorizing a prayer.
They finished with the horses, who had wandered out of their stall into the paddock beside the barn.
It might have been a wee bit mean, but he tromped out through the melting snow and mud to stand beside the chestnut pair, forcing Tessa in her ridiculous boots and Makayla in her equally ridiculous ballet slippers to pick through the puddles and mud slicks to join him. How else was he going to demonstrate to Tessa that she and her daughter needed an entirely new and different wardrobe if they were going to live and work out here.
The horses were the only animals Makayla didn't go right up to and pet. She stood near them, close enough to feel their warmth, but kept her hands at her sides. It was the same careful distance he'd seen from her at the funeral when she'd watched the farrier trimming a horse in the pasture next to the church parking lot.
"You can pet her," Dillon said, nodding toward June. "She's as gentle as they come."
Makayla looked at her mother.
Tessa hesitated. Something complicated moved across her face—fear, protectiveness, and something else he couldn't name. But eventually, she nodded.
Makayla reached out and laid her palm gently on June's neck. The mare lowered her head and breathed warm air onto the girl's arm. Makayla's breath caught audibly.
"She's so warm," she whispered.
"They run about a hundred degrees," Dillon said. "Like giant, furry space heaters."
Makayla leaned her forehead against June's neck and closed her eyes, and Dillon had to look away because the expression on that kid's face was doing something to him he wasn't prepared for.
This kid didn't own a pair of jeans. She was wearing ballet flats in a barn. And she was leaning into that horse like she'd been waiting her whole life for this exact moment.