True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (21 page)

“Boy, do we make quite a pair,” she said, obviously trying to inject some cheer into her voice. He recognized the attempt at humor, at levity, and he tried to hold on to it.

“Baggage attracts more baggage—that's the saying, right?”

Her eyes searched his, looking for something, and if he knew what she was looking for, he would find it and give it to her. Wholeheartedly and without reservation.

“It really doesn't change anything?” she asked on a whisper.

“All it changes is that I think you're braver, stronger, and more resilient than I already
knew
you were.”

“But…I didn't f-fight. I didn't argue.” She swallowed, though seemed to have trouble with the action. “Not for a lot of years.” She swallowed again, her gaze faltering. “I've never even told anyone.”

“I can't tell you what to do. I
won't
tell you what to do, because that is your life, your experience, your choice, but I would…” He searched for the right words, for the right path down this tricky road. “You should. Tell people. Talk to someone.”

“You mean therapy.”

“I mean… Well, yes. Because I know that it kept us from shattering to pieces. I only mean it as a possibility.”

“For the girl with no health insurance who barely exists?”

“For Summer Shaw, who deserves some healing.”

She bit her lip and averted her gaze, but her hands made their way to his chest again and rested over his heart. He placed his hands on top, holding hers there. He could stand here forever. Well, he wished he could. Unfortunately the ticking clock of single parenthood rattled through his brain.

“You have to go,” she said, a statement, all but reading his mind.

“I can't spend the night. I'm not sure I feel comfortable asking you to spend the night with me. It's not that I don't want you to, I—”

“I understand. We'll have to work up to that sort of thing when it comes to Kate.” She smiled, and he had no doubt it was real. That it wasn't hiding anything but understanding. Because when it came to Kate, she really did understand. Probably more than for most people, his dedication to Kate would resonate with her. Wasn't that something of its own miracle?

He had to smile. He had to lean in and kiss her. “We'll figure something out.”

She nodded, her fingers still clutching his shirt. He didn't want to leave. She didn't want him to leave. He glanced at his watch. He had to do chores in four hours. “I could stay for another hour or so, I guess.”

Her smile curved into a grin. “We can probably find something to do in that time.”

“If we hurry, maybe we can find two somethings.”

She laughed, taking his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. Somehow they'd ended this whole thing with laughter and jokes and hands clasped together.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Thack looked at the future with at least as much hope as worry.

Summer woke up feeling like a completely different person.

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. She was still Summer Shaw, still living in an odd little caravan because she was just a few shades too scared of showing her entire self to her family, especially her father. But little weights she hadn't even
realized
were holding her down were suddenly gone. Even waking up alone, she felt…not really alone.

Thack had snuck out around three, and she knew he'd probably gotten no sleep before he was hard at work at the ranch, hard at work being a dad. Hard at work being someone she was tumbling into love with.

She rolled onto her stomach, buried her head in her pillow, and let herself
wallow
in that giddy, amazing, scary, wonderful feeling.

He'd given her everything she could ever have wanted last night. He'd been
perfect
. She should be satisfied with that, satisfied to exist inside that right now, but she wanted more. That want was a sharp-edged pang.

She wanted to wake up with him. She wanted her days and his to exist on the same plane. She wanted so much more than she already had, and that was always dangerous business.

She blew out a breath and crawled out of bed. She was already behind her usual routine, and today was a singing day, which meant her time at the Lanes was shortened as it was.

What would walking into that house be like after the events of last night? She held a hand to her heart, pausing in her tea making to think it through.

It would be good, she decided. Like coming home.

Oh, stop getting ahead of yourself.

She abandoned the tea, trying to ignore how everything in the caravan had been just a bit out of place when they'd come back last night. Obviously, she'd been distracted. What would be the point of someone somehow getting into her caravan just to mess with her stuff? It was nonsensical.

She pulled on her yoga clothes and then her winter gear, determined to go through her yoga routine slowly and mindfully despite the low temperatures, but when she stepped outside, her stomach sank.

The platform was turned over again. This wasn't right. Between that and her things being rearranged…

Something was definitely wrong.

She leaned against the caravan, trying to fight the rush of disappointment.
Of course something is wrong. You always ruin it.

No.
No. She wasn't going down that road. She had bared her
soul
to Thack last night, and she was not going to believe in some kind of karmic punishment coming down on her for being honest. For finding someone she could give so much of herself to.

She deserved that just as much as anyone.

This morning, she didn't right the platform. She was running late anyway, and she wanted to check on Delia and her almost all-day morning sickness. Summer grabbed a change of clothes and shoved it into her bag, trying not to linger over thoughts of her disrupted kitchen.

Last night, it had been easy enough to forget about the way her space had felt invaded. This morning, it felt more sinister without the promise of sex luring her away. Without Thack's strong and steady presence as a distraction.

She walked away from her caravan, looking back occasionally and expecting to see some random visage of evil. But there were only mountains and white, glittering snow.

She was being ridiculous. She walked the rest of the way, forcing herself not to look back, not to panic. This was a normal, regular day. But instead of heading straight for the house, she headed for the barn, hoping to find Caleb. Because there'd be a sensible explanation, and surely Caleb would have it.

She found him hanging some tools on the barn wall. He looked tired, and she was suddenly wary of saying much of anything.

“Hey, Summer, what are you doing up here?”

“I…” No escape then. “Just wanted to talk to you real quick.”

“Sure. I'm about to head down and check on Delia. Walk with me.”

She nodded, trying to push away the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Um, Caleb…” She tried to match his long strides, though she was all but scurrying after him. “Have you or Delia been around the caravan at all?”

“I haven't. Delia hasn't mentioned it, but I can't imagine she's gotten out of bed the past few days and not told me.” He glanced back at her, worry etched in the lines of his face, but he shook it away and gave her a considering look. “Why are you asking that? What happened?”

She shouldn't tell him. He had so much on his plate. She knew he was worried about Delia's almost constant morning sickness, and he was running the ranch down one hand and with less help from Summer herself.

But wasn't she going to apply the feeling she'd gotten last night to the rest of her life? To open up. To not just want to be accepted but to…do some accepting of her own?

“My platform has been overturned twice.”

Caleb stopped walking completely, furrowed brows and stern expression focusing on her. “What do you mean
overturne
d
?”

Summer twisted her fingers together, trying to find some source of nonchalant calm. “Well, flipped over on its side. Which is…odd. I'm not sure what could be doing it.”

He immediately started walking again and she had to jog. “Hey, wait!”

“I'll tell Delia and call Mel. We'll have a meeting tonight. Should we call the police?”

“Police? Caleb. Stop. Nothing's been damaged. And I…I'm singing tonight.”

He didn't stop and didn't falter. He was already on the porch pushing the front door open when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Call in sick.”

She frowned at his back. She'd gotten less and less content to obey his harsh orders, even when he meant well, and last night was a turning point. “No.”

“This is important, Summer.”

“So is my job, Caleb.”

“As important as someone messing with your stuff while you're by yourself and out of sight of the house? No. Go pack your things and take Mel's old room. I don't want you out there alone.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Summer asked breathlessly, following up the stairs to the second floor.

“I have no clue, but someone is messing with your stuff. It'd be stupid for you to stay out there alone.”

She thought about telling him she
hadn't
been alone, but that seemed irrelevant to the conversation at hand. Mostly.

Caleb stopped abruptly at the closed door to his and Delia's room. He rested a palm on the door frame. “Maybe we should keep Delia out of this.”

“There's nothing to keep her out of. It was nothing. Just…weird.”

A door from the end of the hall slammed. “I'm pregnant, not on my deathbed,” Delia offered, though she was using the wall as a kind of crutch as she walked down the hall toward them. She blew out a breath. “Even if I
feel
like I'm fucking dying,” she muttered. “Now, what's going on?”

“Your husband is overreacting.”

“How very like him.”

“She says, incapable of walking down the hall without leaning on something,” Caleb grumbled, taking Delia's hand and pulling her till she was leaning against him instead of the wall.

“What's going on, Summer?”

“The yoga platform Caleb made me… It's been overturned…twice.”

Delia's eyebrows drew together. “Well, that's weird.”

“Yes, a little weird, which is why I mentioned it, but certainly not worth people getting all worked up about it.”

Delia frowned, and she and Caleb shared one of their married looks. Summer wanted to be frustrated that they were taking this more seriously than they should, but the connection in their eyes softened her. She couldn't help it. They were so prickly on the outside that it made her a little mushy when they were sweet.

“I'm sorry I worried you two. It's weird, but no one's doing anything threatening.”

“Still, you should stay here for a few nights. That's a little too close for comfort when you're out there all by yourself.”

Caleb flashed her a self-satisfied smirk.

Summer blew out a breath. “I'll sleep here, but only because it'll be easier to get ready for all the Christmas celebrating.
And
I'm not going to be here every second of every day.”

Caleb opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but Delia started talking before he could begin. “You know, I think I might be able to stomach some toast. Could you make me some, Caleb?”

He frowned a little, but Summer knew as well as Delia he wouldn't be able to say no.

“All right,” he muttered, brushing a kiss over Delia's temple before he disappeared down the staircase.

“Spill it,” Delia demanded, walking slowly, as though every step was difficult, into her bedroom.

Summer followed. “I did spill it. The platform was overturned twice. That's all.” She was still determined to pretend the inside stuff was her. Her being careless. No one could have broken into the caravan and then relocked it.

“Not that. You've got Caleb on high alert, so we'll have
that
figured out in no time. I'm talking about Thack Lane.”

Summer tried hard to act nonchalant, but her face was on fire. “What do you mean?” she squeaked.

Delia crawled into bed. “Rose called me this morning. Said a Mr. Thack Lane escorted you out of the bar last night.”

Summer frowned. “Why are you two gossiping about me?”

“Small towns,” Delia said with a shrug. “And we care about you, little girl,” she muttered.

Summer sat on the edge of the bed, taking in Delia's pale face and the obvious signs that she'd been losing weight. “I care about you too. I feel like what you're going through isn't quite normal.”

Delia laughed with only a hint of bitterness. “I went to the doctor yesterday at the insistence of my husband. If I've lost more weight at my next appointment, they'll put me on some medication.”

“You're worried.”

“I'm fine.”

“Caleb's worried.”

“I know.” Delia rested a hand on her still-flat stomach. “But unfortunately, there's nothing I can do to keep him from worrying except, well, take care of myself and the little demon.”

Summer placed her hand over Delia's. Delia groaned. “You're going to be a belly rubber, aren't you?”

“I don't know. Mel slapped my hands so many times, and you're a little meaner. I might have learned my lesson. Maybe.”

Delia laughed, and Summer was gratified that she'd brought some levity to the conversation.

“Look out for yourself, Summer. And tell Thack so he can look after you too.”

“Because I can't look out for myself?”

“Because the more people looking out for you, the better. I learned that one the hard way, so don't be stubborn. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. “You really don't have any idea what's going on with the platform? Or who might want to spend time to freak you out a little?”

“No, I don't have a clue.” But the idea that it might be someone deliberately trying to put her on edge instead of…whatever…settled like a heavy weight in her stomach. She could think of one person who would want to mess with her. Who'd know how to get in and out of her caravan without a problem.

It couldn't be.

Two months ago, she thought she'd seen her mother, but it had been Kate.

It had been Kate.

Her mother couldn't be here. Wouldn't be here. She'd always said she'd never set foot in Montana again. Even Summer being here wouldn't change that.

Would it?

* * *

Thack had a million things to do. He was more than a little exhausted, but his daughter was standing on the porch, all bundled up, begging him to make a snowman.

How could he possibly refuse? Summer would be here soon to make lunch, and it would hardly kill him or the ranch to take a break.

He might break out in anxiety hives, but maybe that was necessary to figuring out this whole
balance his life
thing.

“Maybe if you put your hat on him, he'll start talking. Like Frosty,” Kate offered, grinning at him as she rolled a small ball of snow for a head.

Once she was satisfied with it, Thack lifted the ball onto the body he'd created. He winked at his daughter, then plopped his hat onto the snowman's head. “Nothing.”

“He needs a mouth first,” Kate returned, rolling her eyes at him even as she grinned. “I need some rocks.” She darted off toward the landscaping around the porch where, if she dug far enough, she'd be able to unearth some rocks from under the snow.

The sun glinted off the endless landscape of white, and Thack decided to focus on that, how pretty and pristine everything looked, instead of all the things he knew he needed to do before the snow melted.

It was almost Christmas. He could take a week off from worrying and focus on Kate, focus on enjoying what he had. He could make the
choice
to give just as much energy to thankfulness as worry.

“Daddy, look! There's Summer.” Kate used the hand not carrying rocks to point to the tree line where Summer had just stepped into sight. Something in his chest caught, a weird little jab. Like looking into the future, exciting and scary at the same time.

Into the future
. That concept—the future—hadn't been a very fun prospect the past few years.

Kate growing up and going out on her own. Dad getting older and struggling more with his emphysema. Thack in charge of it all. Worried about it all.

But there was something about the possibility of having someone to share it with that made a difference. “You like Summer, right?” It was a stupid question. He saw the way his daughter's eyes lit up every time Summer entered the same room. Probably the same way his did.