Santa In Montana (8 page)

Cat felt a little uncomfortable. “You're right.” They were well away from the commissary by now, starting home across the expanse of the ranch yard. “Are you always so quick to read situations?”

“Oh, I've had a fair amount of practice. In my line of work, it's an essential skill.”

“I imagine that's true,” Cat replied.

They walked in companionable silence for a little while, Wade lifting his head to look up at the Homestead in the near distance, pillared and impressive.

“So, is it by choice?” Wade asked her.

Cat looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“That you don't date. Or date rarely. Whichever applies.”

She really didn't want to answer that truthfully, but she did, her voice low. “By choice, I suppose. Although there is a definite shortage of eligible candidates.”

“Especially ones brave enough to ask a Calder out.”

Cat laughed. “You're underestimating the men who live in this wide-open land. Very little ever intimidates them.” Pausing, Cat shook her head with wry amusement. “How did we get on this subject again?”

“Maybe because we're both wondering about it.” Wade paused. “At least I am. I think you feel a similar attraction. If I'm wrong, just say so.” He cocked his head. “Am I rushing things?”

“A little,” Cat replied. “But I don't mind.”

His expression turned rueful. “This whole dating scene baffles me. Things have changed so much. I feel awkward as hell. Like I lost whatever technique I might have had somewhere along the way.”

The open confession disarmed her. “I know the feeling. I take it you haven't dated much either.” She left the subject of the loss of his wife alone.

“No,” Wade said. “I barely knew where to start. A couple of friends offered to fix me up, but I figured if I didn't click with someone they thought would be perfect for me, my friends would get insulted. So that wasn't an option. Then I looked into those online match-ups—” He shook his head with a grimace. “Not for me. How about you?” adding quickly, “if you don't mind my asking.”

Cat laughed. “It's okay. I did the same thing one night when I was feeling lonesome.”

“And?”

“I checked out the eligible men in my age range, but I didn't post a photo or profile.”

“Maybe that's why I didn't find you,” he teased.

“No. I quit looking before I signed up. Between grown men who posted their prom pictures from when they still had hair and all the oddballs who described themselves as ‘fun,' I just wasn't interested.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“Besides that, it just seemed too strange to contact people I didn't know.”

“I hear you. That's why I stuck with the old-fashioned methods. You know, strike up a conversation, get to know someone, take her out—” He smiled wryly but she felt a tiny flicker of jealousy.

Wade didn't seem to notice her lack of a reply. “I wouldn't say every date was an unqualified disaster, but there was no chemistry. Maybe I've been on the shelf too long.”

“I don't think so.”

“Thanks. Nice of you to say so.” He gave her a warm look that made her pulse flutter. “Anyway, I just stopped looking. I guess I realized that I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Maybe because I felt obligated to respond to invitations or because I was trying to get on with the business of living.”

Cat could sympathize. “That's not easy after you lose someone you love.”

His gaze became faraway and she regretted her comment, until he turned his focus back to her. “You know something? Right now if I didn't have to leave immediately after I speak with Chase, I'd be asking you to have dinner with me.”

“And if you weren't leaving, I'd say yes.” She drew in a breath, feeling like her old self again. A little headstrong. A lot flirty.

Wade looked at her intently. “Maybe you could give me a raincheck.”

“Of course.”

“It will be at least a week before I make it back, though,” he warned.

“Fine. We can figure out the details then.” She was feeling bolder by the minute.

“Not here at the ranch, though,” Wade specified. “Somewhere else.”

“The restaurant in Blue Moon is open again. That's the closest place to headquarters.”

“That should work. Though I can't say I know where Blue Moon is.”

“About an hour from here,” Cat said. “Nothing up to D.C. standards, but I hear the food is good.”

“That suits me.”

A pickup truck honked behind them, the loudness and closeness of it startling Cat. She turned as it pulled up alongside them.

Laredo lowered the window and let the engine idle, leaning out to talk to Cat. “Thought I'd better tell you, Chase just called Jessy, wanting to know where you were, Cat.”

“We're on our way to the house now.”

“No need to call him back then.” Laredo shifted out of park.

“No.” She smiled and waved a good-bye. “Thanks, Laredo.”

Cat started forward again with Wade at her side. They reached the porch as the pickup truck accelerated onto the main road of the ranch. At the front door, Wade reached around her to open it, then followed her inside. A second later Cat heard the familiar clump of Chase's cane.

He stopped, standing just outside his den. She couldn't quite decide if he was annoyed with her or not. His expression was impassive.

“Did you just get here?” he asked Wade.

The other man nodded. “I arrived a little less than an hour ago.”

“I suppose you told him I was taking a nap,” he said to Cat.

“I certainly did. It was the truth. I had to make a quick trip to the commissary for some powdered sugar and—”

Wade interrupted her. “I invited myself along.”

Chase gave a thump of his cane as he turned. “After you put that sugar away, you can bring us some coffee, Cat.”

She didn't mind his peremptory tone. Cat walked on air all the way to the kitchen, thinking about the evening she would be spending with Wade.

One week to wait. Already it seemed too far away.

Sloan's trip to Wolf Meadow turned into a quick one. It was only mid-afternoon when she made it back to the ranch headquarters. Certain that Trey would appreciate a break from looking after Jake, she went in search of the pair. She finally found them in one of the machine sheds, taking apart a tractor motor. Trey was doing the greasy work, while Jake watched from the sidelines, clearly fascinated.

“Hi, Mom!” He jumped down from the metal footstool he'd been given to stand on.

“Hi, honey.” She gave him a kiss and blew one to Trey, who was up to his elbows in black lube. He acknowledged the greeting with a lift of one greasy hand.

“Care to help?” he asked.

“No thanks. You're getting dirty enough for both of us.” She ruffled her son's hair. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. Motors are cool. Dad was going to let me put part of it together.”

“Aha. Then I'm just in time.”

“Not from a little boy's point of view.” Trey chuckled. “His hands are still clean.”

“Let's keep it that way,” Sloan stated, ignoring Jake's protest. Still he let her lead him away from the tractor without kicking up too much of a fuss. “See you later, Trey.”

Absorbed in what he was doing, Trey nodded. “Sure thing.”

Jake didn't stop talking during the short drive back to the house.

“Mommy, do you know what?” She didn't have to ask for the answer he supplied instantly. “I got to line up all the screws and count them. Dad said I got it different every time. Is that good or bad?”

Sloan laughed. “You'll have to ask your dad, but I'm glad you got to practice your numbers. Keep at it.”

“I will. And then you know what?” Again he answered his own question. “Ralph gave me a big box of nails to sort by size. I put 'em in old jelly jars for him. Ralph sure has a lot of jelly jars. And a lot of nails, too.”

“I'll bet he does. And I'll bet he was glad you helped him.”

“Yeah,” he said with satisfaction.

They pulled up in front of the house and parked by a car she didn't recognize, not noticing the rental agency sticker on the back bumper. Jake scrambled out and got down himself without waiting for his mother.

“Not so fast, young man.” She got out and ran around the car to catch him by the wrist. “I think you're forgetting something you promised to do.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“As if you didn't know.” They walked hand in hand to the porch steps. One of Jake's sneaker laces had come untied but she wanted to get him inside the house first. “You have to rehearse for the Christmas play.”

“Aw, Mom. I don't want to.”

“That's not the issue. Everybody else in the Christmas play has to practice their parts, too.”

“But it's a nice day,” he said vehemently, as if that clinched the argument.

“It certainly is. In fact, it's a perfect day to rehearse a Christmas play.”

“Aw, Mom,” he grumbled, then sighed theatrically. “Okay, I'll do it.”

“You don't have to act like you're doing me a big favor. When you commit to something like a play, you have to follow through. Remember, other children are depending on you. What if you stood up there and forgot your lines?”

“I'd make something up,” he said confidently.

“That's not how it works—hey! Come back here!”

But he'd pried his hand loose and gone running in the direction of his great-grandfather's study. “I just remembered something I have to tell Greypa!”

“Jake—” Sloan stopped, her hands on her hips, looking after him with exasperation as he tugged open a door to the den and plunged inside. Hearing male voices from inside the room, she suddenly remembered the unfamiliar car outside and realized Chase had a visitor. On the heels of that, Sloan recalled Cat mentioning Wade Rogers intended to come back this week. Doubting that Jake's intrusion was all that welcome, she walked to the den to collect her wayward son. Sloan poked her head inside the room. A quick glance failed to spot him. “Anyone seen Jake?”

“He's right here,” Chase answered.

Her son popped up from the far side of the desk like a jack-in-the-box. “I was hiding,” he said mischievously.

“Now that you've been found, let's go practice your lines.” Sloan motioned for him to join her.

“But—” he began in protest.

“That's enough of that. Run along like your mother said,” Chase told Jake.

The little boy stood where he was on the other side of his great-grandfather's desk, playing with a pen he took from it. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. And you're interrupting,” Chase said firmly. “That's not allowed.” His glare was enough to take the steam out of Jake, who didn't argue as he handed back the pen and walked, crestfallen, to his waiting mother.

Sloan took his hand and turned around, reproving Jake in a low voice as they moved into the hall. He tripped over his untied sneaker lace. Halting, she knelt down and retied it, making sure it was double-knotted. “Shh. Greypa has work to do.”

For a wonder, the little boy was completely quiet.

When she rose, a movement within the den caught her eye. Chase was handing Wade a piece of paper; it appeared to be the same size and shape as a bank check. Unwilling to give the appearance of prying, Sloan led Jake away from the den doors. Again he jerked his hand from her grasp and darted back to the den.

Sloan swore under her breath, took two steps at a time and reached the open door just in time to hear Chase say, “So you're set. There's more when you need it, of course. But this should smooth the way for you initially.”

Jake was trying to hide behind the door where no one could see him. She uncurled his fingers from the doorknob and began to close it, saying in an almost inaudible voice that was more like a hiss, “You heard me. I said your great-grandpa is busy!”

“Who's there?” Chase called.

Sloan realized that both she and her son were outside his peripheral vision. “Sorry, Chase. Jake is being obstinate.”

She moved into the doorway so the old man could both see and hear her well.

“Jake, obey your mother,” his great-grandfather said. “No harm done,” he added in an aside to Sloan. “We've just wrapped things up.”

“That means the meeting is over,” Jake said knowledgeably, as if he attended them all the time. “I can go in.”

Sloan shook her head. “You're going to your room. And I'm going with you. And you are going to study your lines until you have them memorized perfectly.”

Chase smiled but his visitor tried not to. “Never argue with a woman when she's right, Jake. Now, quick march.”

Jake scowled but he seemed resigned to his fate.

After the pair left, Wade turned to Chase. “I'd better be going. If you don't mind, I'll stop in the kitchen and tell Cat good-bye.”

“Not at all. Keep in touch. And good luck.”

“Thanks.” Wade exited the den and started toward the rear of the house. As he crossed the living room, Cat emerged from the kitchen and saw him. She paused in mild surprise. “Are you two finished already?”

“We are. I was on my way to tell you good-bye before I left.”

“Oh.” Glowing, Cat seized the unexpected chance to have a private moment with him. “I'll walk you to your car.”

In the entryway Cat grabbed a jacket that wasn't even hers. It wouldn't do to stand outside and shiver. By the time she had slipped it on, Wade had donned his coat as well. As if by mutual consent, they both moved toward the door. Again Wade opened it and stepped back to allow Cat to precede him. Cat had always considered herself as liberated as any modern woman, yet she still enjoyed the show of old-fashioned gentlemanly courtesy Wade displayed, finding it something to be savored.

The crisp winter air of late afternoon seemed to sharpen all her senses when she walked outside. She paused while Wade closed the door behind them and moved to her side, tucking a hand under her elbow to escort her to the steps.

“I could probably find my car, you know. But I really appreciate the company,” he told her and added with a twinkle, “so walk slow.”

Sharing the sentiment, Cat readily complied, postponing the moment when he had to leave.

“You won't forget about our date, will you?” he said in a light teasing tone as they negotiated the steps.

Smiling, Cat replied, “I made a mental note to add it to my social calendar the moment I'm back inside.”

“Anyone else on that calendar besides me?” Pausing by his car, he opened the driver's door.

“I don't think so. But I'll have to check,” she said impishly.

He chuckled. “You do that. I'll be seeing you.” The warmth in his look promised that it would be as soon as he could make it.

She waved good-bye and stayed in the yard until his car reached the main road, waving once more when he turned onto it, even though she knew he most likely couldn't see her.

Cat raced up the front stairs and peeled off the borrowed jacket the instant she was inside. She was filled with such a heady sense of anticipation, she had to resist the urge to hug it tightly to herself. Instead she crossed to the mirror in the front hall and examined her reflection, unaware that Chase had come out of the den. “Don't worry, girl,” he said in a low voice. “You're still a beautiful woman.”

Startled, she half turned to look at him. “You're prejudiced,” she countered, but was still pleased by his compliment.

“And you're all starry-eyed,” he observed thoughtfully.

“Is there a reason I shouldn't be?” The question was a lighthearted one but Chase recognized that it was her silent way of asking whether he knew something about Wade that she didn't.

“None at all.”

“Good.” She beamed at her father. “Wade asked me to have dinner with him the next time he came. I said yes.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding. “That must be why your smile reminds me of a kitten lapping up a saucer of cream. But a touch less innocent.”

She laughed at his teasing.

“So.” He leaned his weight on the cane. “What about those cookies? Did they get frosted?”

“Yes, they did.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked upstairs. “I was going to see if that scamp Jake wanted to join me in the kitchen for some cookies and milk. Guess he must still be rehearsing his lines.” As if on cue, Sloan started down the stairs, but without Jake.

“Where's Jake?” Chase asked her.

“He came down before I did,” Sloan replied, automatically beginning a visual scan.

Chase looked around as well. “Not a trace of him. I wonder where Jake is,” he said in a loud voice meant to flush his great-grandson out of hiding.

Silence.

“When he turns up, tell him that there are frosted Christmas cookies in the kitchen, Sloan,” Chase said. “There might even be enough for him.”

“I will,” Sloan promised as Chase and Cat both headed toward the kitchen.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, Sloan paused, a little annoyed by Jake's disappearing act. She heard a noise coming from the den and walked down the hall to investigate. As she entered the room, Jake scrambled onto a wingbacked chair he had pushed up to the fireplace, and stood up on it. Balancing precariously, he strained to reach the set of mounted Longhorns above the mantel.

“Jacob Calder, you get down from there this minute!” She realized the second the words were out of her mouth that she'd startled him.

Jake wavered dangerously, then righted himself just in time to keep from crashing to the floor. He tumbled into the capacious seat, safe from a fall but not from his mother's anger.

“What were you doing?” She rushed to him. “You could have hurt yourself!”

“I just wanted to touch the horns.”

He jumped down from the chair and ran behind the desk, knocking off some items onto the floor.

“Jake—” She sighed with exasperation.

He kept his distance, watching her with wide eyes that were suspiciously shiny and it occurred to her that he might cry if she yelled at him. Her irritation dissolved.

“Help me pick up the things on the floor,” was all she said.

Jake obeyed, handing her Chase's flipped-open checkbook without closing it, more interested in a bubble-glass paperweight that fortunately hadn't been broken. He cradled its heavy smoothness in his small hands before he returned it to the desk.

Sloan wasn't paying attention. She was looking at the last check entry. Chase's handwriting on the stub was clear and bold.

To Wade Rogers. In the amount of ten thousand dollars.

Taken aback, she stared at the stub to make sure she'd read the amount correctly, wondering if it was for a charitable donation or what. But that space had been left blank.

Puzzled, she closed the checkbook and returned it to the desktop. “Aunt Cat made some Christmas cookies this afternoon. Your great-grandfather's in the kitchen. Shall we go join him for some milk and cookies?”

“Can I take the paperweight?” He cast one last admiring look at it on the desk.

“No. You don't want Greypa to know that you went tearing around and messed up the things on his desk, do you?”

The little boy squared his shoulders. “I'll tell him. He won't mind.”

Sloan absently stroked his hair and smiled. “No, he probably won't.”

 

“Jake's all tucked in and almost asleep.” Trey walked into the master suite's sitting room, expecting to see his wife lounging on the couch. But Sloan was at the window, staring into the blackness beyond it, clearly preoccupied. “I thought you'd be watching television,” he said, glancing at the darkened set. “Something wrong?”

“I was just thinking.” She turned away from the window, still seeming distracted.

“About what?” Trey scanned her expression, sensing she was troubled about something.