Cara Colter - First Time, Forever

“Ma’am, I can see that.”

“You can?”

His smile deepened and she was now certain she did not like his smile. It made him, in an instant, in to one of those men who can have anything. Anything. Had she really cooked that dinner just for Mac? Was she feeling prickly as a pear because her nerves were leaping with awareness of this attractive stranger resting his boot-clad foot on her front step?

“In the odd moment. I had him bring the mix out to my calves. I wish you could have seen the look on his face.”

“I wish I could have seen that, too.”

“Well, maybe you will one time.”

“Thanks. Maybe I will.” But since that would mean tangling her life a little more with Evan Atkins she decided she wouldn’t. She had pinned her hopes on Howard, and he had let her down, and the hurt was terrible.

And Howard wasn’t nearly as…compelling as the young, and gorgeous Mr. Atkins. In fact, Howard suddenly seemed very blah, boring. If a blah and boring man could hurt her so much she really didn’t want to think what an exciting and passionate one could do.

“How did things go your first day on the job?”

“Oh. Fine.” What made her think he was passionate? The smoky look in his eyes? The uncomplicated sensuality of his lips?

“Everybody within a hundred miles dropped by to say howdy?”

She felt some of the stiffness leave her and she laughed. “A thousand, I think.”

“Ma’am, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Quit calling me ma’am!” Why did her tone have to be so querulous with him? “Please.”

“All right.” He waited.

She blushed, as if she had just turned sixteen and not thirty-four. “Kathleen.”

“Well, Kathleen, I’ll bet your dance card is full right up for the next year or so.”

“Pardon?”

“They all ask you out? The bachelors of Hopkins Gulch?”

“Oh. A few of them. I don’t do that. Go out.”

“You don’t? Why not?”

Why not? There was no Howard to be loyal to anymore. What kind of woman was loyal to a man for five years after he’d broken up with her? A dolt, that’s what kind.

“I don’t think it would be good for Mac.”

“How’s that?”

“In my experience—” admittedly limited, though she didn’t say that “—romance seems to be distinctly upsetting.”

“Distinctly upsetting,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I’d have to go along with you on that one. By the way, does Mac really have allergies? To horses?”

“No. Did he tell you that?”

“Deathly, according to him. One whiff of horse and immediate anaphylactic reaction. Said he forgot his kit at home. Like a beesting kit, only a horse whiff kit.”

She was staring at Evan trying to hide her horror. When had her nephew become such an accomplished liar? She didn’t even know Mac knew the word anaphylactic.

“I take it,” Evan said at her silence, “it would be quite safe to have him feed the horses tomorrow?”

“Quite safe,” she murmured.

“If he comes.”

“He’ll come.”

“I’ll be here at five-thirty, then.”

“All right.”

He turned and walked away. She was fascinated by the way he walked, loose-limbed and confident, like a man who owned the earth.

“So, what should I call you?” she called after him.

He stopped and looked back at her. “This is a pretty casual kind of place. Evan would do fine.”

“Thanks, Evan, for looking after his shoes.” Was she actually trying to keep him here? If she didn’t watch herself, she’d be inviting him in for supper in a minute.

He gave her a lopsided grin that chased the shadows from his face and made him look charming and boyish and about a hundred years younger than she.

“Did you really pay two hundred dollars for those shoes?”

“Not quite,” she said, “but close.”

He shook his head incredulously. “Why?”

“They’re magic shoes,” she said with a sigh. “They were supposed to make him happy.”

“If you got that in writing, I’d take them back.” He turned then, went down the walk and got into his truck.

She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from stopping him one more time, asking him if he’d like to join them for spaghetti.

It wouldn’t be a date. Not even close. Just a neighborly kind of thing.

Not wanting to look pathetic, she did not watch while he drove away.

She went into the house just as Mac came out of the shower, toweling his head. The freckles had darkened across his nose, and his cheeks were full of color from the sun.

“I really hate that dust hopper,” he told her. “I worked hard enough today that I shouldn’t have to go back.”

“Well, you do,” Kathleen said, glad that her resolve had been strengthened by her talk with Evan.

“He worked me really hard, and didn’t give me enough to eat or drink. I think there are laws against treating kids like that.”

“There are laws about damaging people’s property,” she said sternly. She tried to get him to think positive, just as the book said. “Tell me one good thing that happened to you today.”

He scowled at her. “There wasn’t one.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me about the calves.”

“They’re really stupid and they stink. Just like his kid.”

“His kid?” Kathleen asked, stunned.

“Yeah. He has a little boy named Jesse. He’s nearly three and he wears diapers. Is that normal?”

“I’m not sure.”

“He doesn’t talk much, especially when the Gestapo is around.”

“Who doesn’t talk much? And what Gestapo?”

“The baby doesn’t talk much. And the Gestapo is the dust hopper you think is so cute.”

“I never said I thought he was cute.” She was sure she was going to blush and give herself away, so she turned quickly. Over her shoulder she said, “Don’t call him that again. Gestapo. That’s dreadful.”

“Well, so is shoveling for no pay. That kid can’t say r. Is that normal?”

“I don’t know.” Why was it making her feel so inadequate that she couldn’t answer his questions? Making her feel as if she had missed something. A baby of her own. Another dream Howard had stolen from her. If she waited until Mac was grown up, another six years at least, wouldn’t it be too late then? She’d be forty!

“It doesn’t seem normal. He says wabbit for rabbit. Could I say r?”

“I don’t ever remember you not saying r.”

“That’s good because it sounds really stupid.”

“Where’s Jesse’s mom?”

“She died in a caw.”

“Oh, Mac.”

“It really stinks, doesn’t it, when mom’s die and leave their kids? At least he has a dad who cares about him, even if he is the Gestapo.”

Spoken carelessly, it failed to hide his pain. He was still grieving the loss of his mother, even though it had been nearly five years now. And his father. Kathleen felt a nameless fury. He’d never even seen his son. Abandoned her sister and his unborn child as soon as he’d learned she was pregnant.

And of course, then there had been Howard, who had told her, shortly after her sister’s death, “It’s Mac or me.” Not quite in those words, of course. Howard was always so good with words. Educated. Sophisticated. Things that had impressed her once.

“I care about you, Mac,” she said firmly. “I love you more than a leopard loves its spots.”

Mac couldn’t resist the game. “I love you more than a toad loves its warts.”

And suddenly the anger melted from his face, and he was just her sweet little boy again. And he said, “Did you make me spaghetti for supper?”

“Just for you.” Why did that sound like a lie?

He smiled. “I love you more than a pizza loves pepperoni.”