True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (17 page)

He deserved something too, right? To be the example, to show Kate she deserved things for herself, that it wouldn't do for her to be the martyr. Worse yet, for her to think she was to blame, to think
she
held the responsibility to keep him from being sad.

It might be that every time he reached out for something for himself, his hand got slapped, but if he put Kate in his shoes, he would want her to keep reaching. He also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the wonderful, loving women he'd loved and lost would want that for him too.

But even if he needed to be better about finding his happiness and not taking everything so seriously, that certainly didn't mean Summer wanted to fling herself into all of this.

But she was here, and she wasn't moving away from his hands on her face.

“Um, well.” Summer cleared her throat. “I'm so sorry. For blubbering all over you this morning. My heart just breaks thinking about it, but that's unfair. She was your wife. Kate was so little.”

“Yes, I recall.” The anguish on her face made him sorry. “What I'm trying to say, badly, is…it means something. That you care. It does.”

“I…love her,” Summer said, looking at her lap. But he couldn't take his hand away. He couldn't stop touching the soft skin of her cheek. Couldn't stop himself from leaning in or feeling the full impact of her words, even if he didn't know what to do about them.

His world, Kate's world, it had all become so small. He'd been so intent on keeping her safe, keeping her away from all the bad things life could bring. What good things might he have been keeping her away from as well?

“I know that may seem strange since she's not mine,” Summer said softly, still avoiding his gaze. “But she reminds me of myself. And she's so sweet, so open, and to have that little piece of absolute shit say something so horrible to her at
school
when she's
seven
… Oh, I wish I could strangle him. And burn every possession that means anything to him.”

It was such a strange thing to watch his own feelings be expressed by someone else. His own hurt. His own anger. Quite honestly, he hadn't given as much thought to the boy who had done this to his daughter, because he'd been caught up in the damage control.

He didn't want to tap into that anger though, because he was afraid if he thought too much about it, nothing would stop him from punishing the kid himself. “I'm going to do my best to talk to his parents without throwing any punches.”

She laughed, though it was harsh, not joyous. “I've seen a lot of people do terrible things, but to be so young and be unnecessarily vicious to someone younger still. I am not a violent person, but I can imagine doing a
lot
of violent things. If you
did
punch someone, I'd probably applaud.”

He didn't know why that moment in particular prompted him to move. Why were
those
words the ones that made touching her face not nearly enough? Whatever it was, he lowered his mouth to hers and took what he should have been so much more careful about taking.

But she made it hard to remember caution when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer, touching her tongue to his bottom lip. Caution flew out the window under the lulling warmth of her mouth, the way her eyes fluttered to closed, and the bright colors from the Christmas tree lights reflecting there and against the glossy strands of hair that teased her jawline.

He let his hands travel over her face, into that hair that smelled of flowers and felt like silk between his fingers. He slowly tangled his tongue with hers, pulling her closer, his own eyes closing as he sank into that sweet, dizzying taste of Summer.

He lost himself in the lazy, sensual kiss. It had the same effect as the angry, frustrated one of the other night. It held the same danger, just a softer danger, and he was more inclined to try to navigate it, to dive deep into the sizzling heat that somehow mixed with the comfort and softness that seemed so essential to who this woman was.

She made a little sighing noise into his mouth, and he shifted so they could be closer, so he could hold her soft chest against his hard one. He held her closer so he could delve deeper into the beautiful mystery and comfort of her mouth. Her slender arms tightened around his neck, and he could feel the press of her bangles into his skin as she held him just as close as he was holding her, meeting exploration for exploration.

All the muscles she'd relaxed with her back rub tensed tight with a new kind of burden. Hard, unrelenting
want
.

But there were things that had to be said before he could allow want to take over, and more importantly, there were things Summer needed to understand. Things that had to be untwisted before he could even think about trying to be the kind of person she would need. So, he pulled away a hair. Just a hair, their mouths still so damn close.

The lights from the tree twinkled in the moisture on her lips, and he wanted to sink there again. Again and again.

Was talking really necessary before more kissing? More Summer?

She didn't unwind her arms, just blinked up at him. “Was that a particularly seductive statement?”

The laugh that escaped his mouth was rusty. “No.”

“Right. Um. So. As much as I hate to point it out, because I'd prefer to keep doing this, the last time I kissed you…”

“I know.” He forced himself to sit back, to remove his hands, to remove
hers
. To be a rational, reasonable adult. He'd made a promise not to pile blame on himself, but that didn't mean he should jump into things he wanted without thinking, without weighing the consequences. His life would always be complicated by the challenges that had come before, and they could never totally go away.

He blew out a breath. “After Michaela died…I did a lot of counseling. Made Dad do it too. I knew we had to be one hundred percent healthy with everything to give Kate what she needed.”

Summer's hand slid over his and squeezed. “You have no idea… Not all parents would put their children first. Not like you do.”

He blinked at the emotion in her voice, the admiration. He felt unworthy, but so damn pleased by it.

“Thack…what did you mean? When you said that it wasn't as untrue as you'd like?”

He looked at her hand on his and wondered how he would get through this explanation without feeling like… Well, just feeling, he supposed.

But, at this point, there was no choice or going back to a time when she didn't have a right to ask him that. “During one of Michaela's exams after she found out she was pregnant with Kate, they found a tumor. It turned out to be colon cancer. Because most of the interventions posed a risk to the baby, Michaela refused treatments until Kate's chance of survival was greater than her own.”

Summer made a sound, not as dramatic as a gasp but something close to it. Her hand gripped his tighter.

He never thought he'd have to explain this to someone. Not for himself. Maybe for Kate, but never for him. He could stop or gloss over the rest, but as hard and painful as it was to say, he was finding that doing so also lightened the load.

“It was an impossible situation, but Michaela didn't think she would have found out about the cancer in time if she hadn't been pregnant, so she refused to risk Kate. Her parents weren't particularly supportive. They wanted me to change her mind or do what I could to override her decision.” He wanted to kiss Summer and forget this. He wanted to walk away, but the months, maybe years, of tenuous, strong-armed over-control seemed to have been a way of doing just that.

He didn't want to set that example for Kate. He wanted her to be able to move forward, blameless, happy, even if she would always wish she could remember the mother who had sacrificed so much for her.

Which meant that was what he had to give himself. He had to move forward, blameless and happy, even when things were hard. “The thing is, sometimes I wanted to. I wanted to fight her and beg her to give herself more of a fighting chance, but I couldn't… She was dying—how could I argue with her? I'd been down the cancer road. I knew where it ended up. And I blamed myself, because it seemed like every time I stepped out of line, someone I loved suffered the consequences.”

Summer touched his cheek, that way she had that was soft and strong at the same time. He didn't want to look at her, because it was hard enough keeping his emotions in check as it was, but she rubbed her thumb along his jaw and he forced himself to be strong.

Her eyes were full of tears, and she swallowed before she spoke. “But, you know that it was normal to be confused and right to take her side. You know that…cancer isn't karma used against you.”

She said it so certainly, so forcefully. Where had she come from, this miracle in front of him? “I try to know that. I fail sometimes, and I don't think some of that guilt will ever ease, but it doesn't eat me up like it used to.”

“Good.”

“Summer, I don't know what I could have to offer you.” Which was true beyond measure. He wanted to be able to offer her everything, but all he had were broken pieces.

She didn't move away and didn't falter. “We could find out.”

Even knowing it would probably bring him pain, that it would be another impossible facet of his life to navigate, he found he wanted to. He wanted to find out how he could fit her into their world. Because as much as he was attracted to her, as much as she made him feel more alive than he'd been allowing himself to feel, as much as all that mattered and made him want to try, the core of it was so much more.

He'd grown to trust her. Completely against his will, while he was looking the other way, she'd shown that he could trust her not just with himself, but with his daughter. His daughter, whom Summer loved.

It wasn't the same as if she were their blood, but that didn't mean her feelings weren't important. Without even asking, he knew he could trust Summer to put Kate first. Together, they would put Kate first, trying to navigate all the rest.

It was scary as hell, but it felt like a new chapter in his life was starting. For once, he was looking forward to it.

Summer had never felt so odd. On the one hand, her heart ached for all Kate and Thack had been through. Even when she woke up the next morning, there was a kind of heavy hurt in her chest. It didn't go away, and she didn't know how she felt about that. Was it strange that she should hurt for them the way they hurt for each other? Or did it speak more to what she'd admitted to Thack?

She loved Kate. She did. And sometimes her feelings for Thack were…strong. Really strong. But then again, last night she'd realized how little she really knew him. So, it was more like a seed. She didn't love him, because the seed hadn't sprouted yet.

But it could. It wouldn't take much.

Which led her to the other hand, the hand that was giddy and happy and ridiculously excited over the prospect of
finding out
where this could lead.

It was how things were supposed to be in a normal life. And, yes, Thack and Kate's tragedy wasn't exactly
normal
, but a relationship could be. It could be easy and sweet and good, just what she'd always wished for.

That hope, that giddiness, didn't erase the chest ache, but it buoyed it. It was a lot like those first few weeks after she'd first come to Blue Valley. She had ached at her father and Mel's response, but Caleb, in his gruff way, had accepted her on sight. She'd found her family. For the first time in her life, she'd felt safe and happy, even if the situation wasn't perfect. No one would harm her here. She was safe from the whims of a volatile woman she'd never understand.

Summer sipped her tea, thinking about the Shaws. She was a part of their lives. She felt valued and like she belonged. Her father's coolness toward her was the little hangnail that bothered her, but she never pushed. She was so afraid to push—in case one day she'd push too far and he'd admit that she wasn't his.

But why would he have admitted he knew her mother was pregnant and not admit he wasn't the father? Unless Mom had…

She shook her head and finished off the tea. She didn't want to think about that. She had work and people who needed her. She mattered to the Lanes. Thack had
thanked
her for being someone Kate could trust.

That was what she would focus on—the places where things made sense. Where she could be of some help.

Of course, that didn't mean she could head over there first thing. Mr. Lane was obviously feeling better if he was…entertaining, so he would be getting ready to take Kate to school. Thack would be working.

She had a normal routine to see to, and it was Friday. She'd be singing at Pioneer Spirit tonight. She needed to get back to her usual to-do list: yoga, shower, tidy up the main house, and check in on Delia. Make lunch for the Shaws, make lunch for the Lanes. Tidy up there.

She smiled as she pulled on her yoga clothes. Her life was full. Full of giving to people. Full of using skills she not only enjoyed, but was good at.

She didn't have to entertain strangers or make creepy men feel comfortable. She didn't have to let anyone do anything to her that she didn't want them to do. Her life was her own, and she'd never, ever been happier.

When she stepped outside, she frowned. Her yoga platform had been flipped over. Odd. It was too heavy to have been tipped by the wind. Surely an animal wouldn't have been able to do that either. But what could?

All the contented excitement that had built in her chest dropped to her toes.
You don't deserve it. Remember that, Summer. Whatever happy you get, you'll never deserve it.

Her mother had whispered those words to her, time and time again, once while she'd calmly, deliberately loaded a gun.

Summer squeezed her eyes shut. No. She wasn't going to think like that. She was happy, and nothing could ruin it. She
did
deserve to be happy, and she was going to have joy in her life.

She opened her eyes, forcing herself to look at the overturned platform. It had to have been a wild animal. Maybe a scrap of food or a tinier animal had gotten underneath, and the bigger animal had turned it over…somehow.
Oh
, maybe Caleb had wanted to move it so it didn't sink farther into the ground. It had been dark last night when she'd returned home. Maybe he'd done it yesterday, and since she hadn't been around, he hadn't been able to tell her.

Yes, that was it. Had to be. She put the platform back to rights, working through her normal routine and doing everything in her power not to think of all the sinister things that this could signify.

That was just silly. As silly as the creeping sensation that she was being watched. No one was in those woods. No one was messing with her. What would be the point?

There was no point, but even though she pretended she was fine, her limbs didn't feel sturdy. She hurried through her routine and packed her bag with only half a brain dedicated to the task.

Even as she walked to the Shaw house, she kept her eyes on the tree line. She was a believer in following her gut, but her gut was being ridiculous right now. There was just a lot of good happening in her life and she wasn't used to trusting that.

She stepped into the Shaw house, headed for the stairs and the upstairs bathroom, but before she could take a step, she heard Caleb call her name from farther inside the house.

Odd. Usually everyone was out working at this time of the day. Still, she made her way to the voice, stopping short in the entry to the living room when she realized everyone was there. Well, not their father, but Caleb and Delia, Mel and Dan, and Lissa snoozing in her little playpen in the corner.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” Summer replied, feeling as nervous as she'd felt since those first few weeks. “Was I supposed to be here earlier?”

“No, but you were supposed to be here yesterday, when we would have talked to you about Christmas.”

She couldn't fight the flush of embarrassment that swept over her cheeks. It would be easy enough to tell them there'd been an emergency with the Lanes. After all, it wasn't like she had a set schedule for helping out here.

It was just… It felt like they knew. Knew that she was throwing herself at Thack and didn't approve.

“Sit down,” Mel said, though she added a smile and an odd gesture as if she was trying to make it sound like less of an order.

Stiffly, Summer moved to the couch. All eyes were on her. It made her feel weird, but she plastered a smile on her face. “What's this all about?”

“Well, yesterday we were going to start planning out Christmas Eve and day, but you didn't show up. Which isn't like you.”

“We're worried about you. You've been scarce,” Caleb added.

“I have two jobs. The Lanes had a minor emergency yesterday, and I pitched in to help.”

They all exchanged a look. Summer frowned. As much as she appreciated their concern, she did not appreciate…whatever this was. It felt a heck of a lot like judgment.

“I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation you're dealing with over there. The Lanes have been through a lot,” Mel finally said, her tone and expression deadly serious.

“Yes, I know.”

Mel and Caleb exchanged another look, then Caleb zeroed in on her. “You know?”

“Yes, I know. I know what happened. I don't know why that's cause for all this.” She waved a hand to encompass the room. “What exactly are you all afraid I'm going to do?”

“We're just worried. You're too kind for your own good. You give too much and take too little, and it'd be awfully easy for the Lanes to take advantage of that.”

“Before my husband continues,” Delia said, lounging in a recliner, feet tucked under herself, “I'd like to point out I objected to this and suggested they let you handle your own affairs. My opinion—that you are an adult and capable of making your own decisions, just as Mel and Caleb are capable of making theirs—was vetoed.”

“You're not helping,” Caleb grumbled.

“Dan agrees with me,” Delia returned.

“I agree with no one. I'm Switzerland,” Dan replied.

Summer wanted to feel cheered that they cared, that they were worried. She wanted that to be love, and she supposed in Mel and Caleb's roundabout way, they were showing their love. But…it wasn't what she wanted. Especially after getting the creeps with everything this morning, she'd wanted to come here and feel normal.

Not like a chastised child.

“Thank you for standing up for me, Delia,” Summer said as evenly as she could manage. “As for the rest of you, I appreciate the concern…” No, she didn't. She almost said it. Almost let her temper slip through, but she didn't want to make anyone
mad
. “But, I'm quite capable of handling hard things.”

“You're too softhearted.”

Summer ignored the sting of tears and got to her feet. “Excuse me. I need to take a shower,” she said overbrightly.

“Running away isn't the answer,” Caleb said softly as she walked past him.

She whirled on him, surprised by the force of anger inside her. But she fought it. Because she didn't want to cause a scene or make them mad. Didn't want to be unwelcome here, not now.

Of course, the last time she'd yelled at Caleb hadn't exactly resulted in that. In fact, it had helped. She and Mel being firm with Caleb had helped him repair his relationship with Delia.

When she was firm, when she lashed out, Summer tended to get…maybe not what she wanted, but at least forward movement. It was a shocking revelation. Her father's stupid words about trusting people with your anger rung in her head again.

She loved Mel and Caleb. They were her siblings, and even though they hadn't all grown up together, she'd been around for the start of their new lives with their spouses. That had built a bond.

Did she trust that bond?

She swallowed and glanced at Mel, then Caleb. “Screw you both for thinking so little of me,” she said, surprising even herself. “I came here, and I had to fight to be accepted. It was very kind of you to let me into your lives, and I love you because you are my sister and my brother, but…that doesn't mean you can treat me like the stupid baby of the family. Do you know what I've gone through to even be here?”

“You've never told us.”

It hurt to have Delia point that out when for a shining second she'd been the one on Summer's side.

“Because I don't want to. Because I want to forget that part of my life ever existed.” She fixed Caleb and Mel with twin glares. “But make no mistake: I can handle the Lanes, I can handle you lot of crazies, and I can handle myself.”

She stalked out of the room to the sound of applause—which she assumed came from Delia. A few whistles that had to be from Dan. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry.

Instead, she got ready to face the day, because she could handle it. She could handle
all
of it.

* * *

It had been a long day. Of course, that could be said almost every day. It had been a long two weeks of scurrying to get ready for Christmas while still running a ranch, making sure Kate was getting along at school, and trying to find a few extra moments to spend with Summer alone.

Thack had been failing at that last part, but Summer had been there helping with the rest, and that would do for now. Maybe once the holiday fervor died down they could go on a real date and share more than a quick kiss on the porch before Summer headed back to her caravan at night.

Thack was a little edgy with the waiting, but he'd deal. Besides, tonight his mind was occupied with the phone call he'd made asking Stan and Marjorie to please, for Kate's sake, come to Blue Valley at least for a small portion of her Christmas break next week.

To his surprise, Stan hadn't just agreed, he'd
promised
. Marjorie had supposedly started seeing a new therapist who suggested facing her grief rather than avoiding the triggers for it.

Thack still wasn't sure if he'd tell Kate beforehand. Though it seemed promising, he didn't want her hurt if her grandparents' plans fell through.

Maybe he'd talk to Summer about it. Ask her opinion. He couldn't help smiling at the thought. It was something of a miracle to have found someone he trusted.

As he approached the house, however, his smile dimmed. Dad had Mrs. Bart over for dinner. In Thack's house. At his kitchen table. Where his mother had once served them meals.

He wasn't angry with his father for that, could hardly blame him when Thack seemed to be starting something with Summer, but it didn't make the situation any less weird.

He really didn't want to have to face the thought of his father with his kindergarten teacher. He was running out of other options though, and staying outside any longer would only make things weirder. So, he trudged across the yard, up the porch stairs, and into the warm entry of his house.

Laughter greeted him. He smiled. It was nice there could be laughter even without Summer, who would have already have left for her gig at Pioneer Spirit.

In the living room, his father was sprawled in his recliner watching one of his shows with the volume too loud. Mrs. Bart and Kate had their heads together over the coffee table, both drawing something on red and green pieces of paper.

“Hi, Daddy,” Kate greeted without even looking up. “You missed dinner. Mrs. Bart made mac and cheese with
hot dogs
in it.”

“Oh…”

“There's some without too,” Mrs. Bart said, giving him a wink. “Though I sent most of it home with Summer. She was flitting around here so much she barely ate.”

“Um, well. I'm sure either will be fine.”

Mrs. Bart cleared her throat, giving a meaningful look at his father. Dad straightened in his chair.

“Oh right. You know, it's a Friday night. Lillian and I can get Kate to bed if you'd like to go paint the town.”