Jane Porter - My Cowboy Valentine

“Tommy’s not afraid of the dark?” Cade asked, watching Tommy disappear down the hall.

“Not if he’s the first one to turn the lights on. It’s a game to him,” Rachel answered wryly, still feeling a little raw from being so emotional on the way home. “But come in. I should go check on him.”

Moving through the house, Rachel noted that Tommy had managed to turn every overhead light on in the three bedrooms and two bathrooms before throwing himself down on the floor of his room with his tub of LEGO. He was in the process of dumping the entire bin out when she looked in on him, but it was fine. Dumping out and picking up thousands of pieces of LEGO was a daily occurrence around here.

Smiling, she returned to the entry where Cade was waiting. “He’s playing,” she said, peeling her coat off and hanging it in the hall closet. “He’ll be happy for a while, too. Once Tommy’s engrossed in something, he’s focused.”

“Is this when you get some time to yourself?”

Rachel laughed. “Moms don’t get time to themselves...not unless you call dinner, laundry and bills ‘mom time.’” She glanced at her watch, saw that it was almost six. “Speaking of dinner, I’d better get something started because Tommy will be hungry soon.”

“I’ll head off, then.”

“You don’t have to. If you like frozen pizza, you’re welcome to stay.”

“Frozen pizza?” he repeated, not looking overly enthused.

Rachel laughed again, unable to help herself. “Or we can order pizza, but if we do that, you’re paying.”

“Done. Tell me what kind of pizza you guys like, and I’ll make the call.”

Thirty minutes later they were all sitting at the round oak table in the kitchen eating pizza and drinking root beer. Half of the pizza was pepperoni and half was cheese, and Tommy, who never wanted anything but plain cheese, watched Cade eat a pepperoni slice and decided he wanted one, too. Rachel nearly fell out of her chair when Tommy inhaled the slice and wanted more.

Cade watched Tommy eat a second pepperoni slice, holding the wedge with both hands, his eyes big and bright, but his expression was dreamy and unfocused, and he seemed far away.

He was a sweet kid, Cade thought, a quiet little boy who lived in his own world, but that didn’t bother him. Growing up, Cade had been fairly disconnected from the world, too, and sometimes it was better to be distant and dreamy than aware of all the chaos and pain.

So far Rachel hadn’t said anything about Tommy’s father, and frankly, Cade didn’t want to know much, having already formed an opinion of Tommy’s father and it wasn’t flattering. Any man who would walk away from his own child was an A-hole and a loser, and both Rachel and Tommy deserved better.

Suddenly Tommy looked up at Cade and smiled. “Pizza,” Tommy said, tomato sauce smudging his mouth as he grinned broadly.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Cade answered, smiling back at the boy, aware that this was the first time Tommy had ever spoken directly to him.

Tommy continued to grin and eat, watching Cade’s face as he chewed, and something shifted and ached in Cade’s chest.

It was ironic, but with his dark hair and big blue eyes, Tommy looked an awful lot like Cade and could easily pass for his son, just as Cade had looked like his father, rodeo cowboy legend Jack King, who’d died at twenty-seven when his horse had rolled on him during the saddle bronc competition. It was a freak accident—and rare—as most fatalities in the sport came from bull riding, and even then there had only been three in the PRCA since 2000—but it made big news.

Cade wasn’t much older than Tommy when his dad died, just five, but he remembered the funeral and all the cowboys who attended, and how so many of them clapped him on the shoulder, or patted his head, and told him one day he’d be a great cowboy, too, just like his dad.

Funny. Cade rarely thought about his dad, despite becoming a rodeo champion in his own right, but remembering his childhood never felt good and he’d learned to get through life by focusing on the next event, the next road trip and the next prize to be won.

“Done,” Tommy said, pointing to the hall. “Go. LEGOs.”

“You had enough to eat?” Rachel asked, leaning across the table to wipe his mouth off.

Tommy nodded so Rachel excused him, and Cade watched Rachel watch her son dash down the hall and he felt his chest grow tight again. She loved her son so much, and her love was so pure and so unconditional that it moved him deeply. She was so different from his mother, who wasn’t a maternal woman...

Abruptly he stood and gathered the plates and cups and carried everything to the sink, turning the faucet on to rinse the plates clean.

“Leave it,” Rachel said from behind him. “I’ll do it later.”

“I’m here. Let me help.”

“You’ve helped so much already today, Cade. You saved me.”

“I did nothing—”

“Nothing? You were an answer to my prayer! If it weren’t for you, Mia wouldn’t have had a cake, and what’s a wedding without a cake?”

“Not much of a wedding,” he agreed, turning off the water to smile at her, his expression warm. “But it was my pleasure to drive you there, and attend the reception with you. You looked so happy...it made me happy to see you smile and laugh with your friends. I have a feeling you don’t get to see your girlfriends as much as you used to.”

Her mouth curved and yet he saw a shadow in her eyes. “No, but someday they’ll be moms and we’ll have more in common again.” And then just like that the shadow was gone and she was sitting forward in her seat, smiling mischievously at him. “And you, Cade King, were quite popular at the reception. Seems like you knew everybody. There was a line of folks waiting to talk to you all afternoon. I swear you were more popular than the bride and groom.”

“I sure hope not, considering I wasn’t invited.”

Rachel laughed. “You might not have been invited, but Mia was thrilled you were there. She’ll be telling everybody for the next year that a celebrity attended her wedding.”

Cade grew warm, uncomfortable with talk like that. “I’m not a celebrity,” he growled. “And I was there as your wheels. Your assistant. Your driver.”

Her lips pursed and she arched a dark eyebrow. “My chauffeur?”

“Exactly.”

She gave her head a faint shake, even as her gaze searched his. “You really didn’t mind racing around, wrestling with my cake, dealing with my car?”

“Best day I’ve had in years.”

“Stop it.”

He drew an X on his chest. “Cross my heart, Rachel James.”

Her lower lip quivered before she bit down hard into it. “You’re killing me.”

“Why?”

“You’re too good with lines.”

“They’re not lines, Rache,” he said earnestly, wishing he could reach for her, touch her, take her into his arms. “I mean everything I say. I loved being with you today. It felt good. Right—”

“So, how long do you think it’ll be until my car will be ready?” she asked, jumping to her feet, reaching for the bottle of root beer and screwing the cap on. She walked quickly to the refrigerator and put the root beer away, but the tumble of dark hair around her face only highlighted how pale she’d gotten.

Cade silently kicked himself, wishing he could take the words back. What was the matter with him? Why make her uncomfortable? “At least two or three days,” he said. “Maybe more, depending on how hard it is to find the parts and complete the labor. But Phil will call you in the morning once he’s been able to assess things better.”

“Will it be expensive?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cade hesitated. “Probably.”