True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (8 page)

“It's a good strategy.”

“Great.” She began loading the dishwasher, then nodded at the plate still in his hands. “You should sit and eat.”

“Right.” He should sit and eat and remove himself from whatever weirdness was swirling around them. No, it wasn't weird. He was just getting used to having someone else underfoot, that was all. Someone who made music with his father, while his daughter ate more for lunch than she usually did in a day.

He sat down at the table, and when Kate got up on her knees and opened her mouth, he handed over the pickles on his sandwich without a second thought.

Dad chuckled and Thack glared at him. “What are you laughing at?” he muttered.

“Nothin'.” Dad brought the harmonica to his lips and played a few notes, something Thack thought he recognized, but he wasn't sure he wanted to try to figure it out. When Dad grinned, Thack knew for a fact he didn't want to know. Whatever that song was, the answer was only going to piss him off.

“Play more, Grandpa! Daddy, can we watch
The
Little Mermaid
tonight? You said for the three-day weekend we could stay up late.”

Thack all but choked on the bite of sandwich he'd taken, finally recognizing the snatch of the tune.

“Kiss the Girl.”

He forced himself to stare at the sandwich. He would not look at Summer. He would not let on he'd recognized the song.

“Sure,” he muttered to Kate, choking down the rest of his sandwich. Best to get out of here before things got weirder. “Make sure Grandpa gets out the VCR this afternoon.”

“You barely took a breath between bites, boy. In that big of a hurry?” Dad clouded the question with concern, but Thack could hear his father's laughter underneath the question.

“Busy day. Gotta finish inventory and do a ride around.” It was an unnecessary explanation. Dad knew exactly what needed to be done. “I'll be back for dinner.”

He just needed some space. To recalibrate. Change always required a little adjustment period.

Summer had dinner in the oven half an hour later than she'd planned. The living room was a mess of feathers and glitter because she'd thought a little craft project would be quick and easy to do with Kate. Mr. Lane had suggested it before he started napping in a chair in the living room.

He'd tried to be sly, but Summer didn't miss the little oxygen tank he was trying to hide behind the recliner. When she had her head down with Kate, he'd place the mask over his face and breathe into it—but the minute she moved even an inch, he'd shove the mask back out of view.

Summer had been so distracted by
that
, and by keeping Kate occupied while still being around Mr. Lane, and not letting Kate out of her sight, and trying to keep things tidy, that dinner had completely gone out of her mind until nearly five.

What had started so easily, so
perfectly
was falling apart.
She
was falling apart. But she had to keep it together because Kate and Mr. Lane were sitting at the kitchen table doing a puzzle while she frantically shoved her carefully planned chicken dish into the oven.

Mr. Lane had said Thack always came in for dinner between five fifteen and five thirty, unless there was cow trouble, and Summer prayed fervently for that kind of delay.

She set the timer and winced when the front door creaked open. Neither Kate nor Mr. Lane seemed to notice, but they probably hadn't been listening for the footsteps of doom.

He'd been so…shocked and impressed at lunch. She'd felt like a queen. On top of the world. Now…

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the fresh wave of embarrassment and disappointment. She was being so foolish. He could hardly blame her for a little mess and a late dinner, especially when she'd been entertaining two people all afternoon.

And yet, his surprise and awe this afternoon had been wonderful. She'd felt like she'd won some kind of lottery.

And you liked the way he stared at you.

Summer scoffed at the unbidden inner thought. He had not. Sure, she'd felt a little skitter across her skin, that rash-like feeling from the other day. Only without irritation behind it, the tickle on her arms hadn't felt so much like a rash.

It felt like a caress. The kind you actually wanted.

“Well, the living room is full of feathers and glitter. Let me guess—you've been building fairies?”

Thack stepped into the kitchen, and she
knew
she was being foolish. She knew she was letting her imagination and silly notions of romance take over reason and sense, things she had promised herself she wouldn't do anymore. But the air changed when he came in the room. He was handsome. Kate was always talking about how Summer looked like that picture of a fairy queen, but Thack looked like a cowboy out of an old movie. He was broad and strong, with a smile for his daughter that made jittering sensations cartwheel through Summer's chest.

Do not be stupid, Summer.
How could she have gone so quickly from not liking him at all to gooey-brained attraction?

He touched Kate's flyaway hair almost reverently, and that tenderness was the key to Summer's undoing. For as irritating and off-putting as Thack had been in the beginning, his dedication to his daughter had melted so many of the defenses Summer had mustered.

What must it be like to grow up knowing you were safe and loved?

His gaze lifted to her, and something in her chest shifted awkwardly.

“Everything okay?”

Okay? Ha. Not by a long shot.
But she had it under control. She was strong. She was resilient. Right? Right. “Dinner's a little late, I'm afraid.”

“That's all right.”

“When the timer goes off, it's ready. No fuss, really.” But that wasn't what Mr. Lane had asked of her. Two meals a day, snacks for Kate. She hadn't had a chance to help him with his woodworking shop today, but he hadn't been feeling well, so she'd had to keep her eye on Kate.

“You're going to eat with us, aren't you? And watch the movie! Oh, and spend the night.”

Summer's heart stuttered over saying no to Kate's exuberant offer, but as much as she wanted to shower the motherless little girl with whatever she asked, she knew Thack wanted boundaries.

It would be best if she gave herself some boundaries and calmed down. Typical first-day jitters—typical putting too much pressure on herself. She wasn't going to fall back into that habit, that old Summer. Trying to please a volatile and unpredictable woman.

So, she smiled at Kate. “I would love to, of course, but I have to go have dinner with my family.”

Kate pouted but went back to her puzzle without making too much of a fuss.

“I'll just go tidy up the living room.” She'd put in a little overtime, and then Thack couldn't find her lacking.

She grabbed a rag and slipped out of the kitchen and went to the craft-table mess. She'd simply set this to rights, then—

“You were supposed to be done a half hour ago. You don't have to clean this up.”

She turned to face Thack. He was as tense as always, but she thought he was trying, probably very hard, not to appear so…foreboding. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans instead of tensed at his sides, and his mouth wasn't that firm, disapproving line.

It wasn't a smile either, but she wasn't about to expect
smiles
from Thack Lane. Not yet anyway. Maybe that was a goal to aspire to.

“That's what your father's paying me for though, right? Housekeeping.”

“From eleven thirty until five thirty. You don't need to put in any overtime on cleaning. You made lunch and dinner, and Kate didn't escape. That's pretty much what he's paying you for, and we
have
been surviving without you.”

“I'm here to make that surviving easier. I don't mind putting in a few extra minutes to clean up a mess I initiated.”

“All right. I…I'll help.” He walked haltingly toward the table as Summer collected the feathers and stuffed them back into the craft box. Thack used the rag she'd set down to wipe up the glitter, and Summer picked at the little glue spots.

It was weird to work side by side with him, silently cleaning. He was so…big and…hot.

Come on, Summer. Be an adult.
“You have quite the artist on your hands,” she quipped, probably far too cheerfully as she tried not to notice the easy, almost relaxed way he cleaned up the glitter. As though this was just part of his day. It probably was, but it was hard to reconcile this rough, strong
cowboy
with a man who read his daughter bedtime stories and, according to Kate, hand made her a fairy queen costume.

“Yes, I keep hoping if she focuses all that imagination into
art
, she'll stop taking off on me and scaring years off my life.” When Summer didn't say anything, he sighed. “It's okay. You can tell me I'm too uptight. It isn't exactly news to me.”

“I-I mean, I understand. You want to keep her safe. I think that's admirable.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You do?”

“Well, I mean, I might go about it a
little
differently. But I'm me, and you're…you.”

He cocked his head. “Thanks. I think?”

She chuckled and shook her head, handing him the box of feathers. “Anyway, I should head out.” Because if she stayed, she might be tempted to give him more compliments. Which wouldn't be such a bad thing, but she had a feeling she might be a little transparent, and she didn't want to make things weird.

“Would you like a ride back to Shaw?”

“No, thank you. It's a short walk.” And she needed to get her head together. Somewhere away from this different side of Thack she was seeing.

“It's cold and getting dark.”

“I don't mind it.” Which was true, but more, tonight she needed it. Some time in the dark cold would give her space to get her thoughts together, to figure out what to do with a complicated attraction to a very, very complicated man.

* * *

Thack couldn't stop himself from watching Summer as she walked away from the house. It was probably creepy, but the idea of her walking in the dark woods bothered him. She should be more careful.

But that wasn't any of his business. Summer Shaw was no concern of his outside his home. Where she'd spent the day somehow making his life…
Easier
wasn't the right word.
Lighter
, maybe?

More colorful
, certainly. Not just because she dressed like a rainbow, but in the way the air… He really needed to stop reading Kate so many fairy stories. He was starting to believe Summer might be a little bit fairy herself.

The front door squeaked open, and Dad stepped out onto the porch.

“Dinner ready? I'll—”

Dad blocked the door. “Few minutes yet.”

“Okay, so what's Kate do—”

“Put in the movie. Told her we could eat on TV trays.” He folded his arms over his chest. “We need to talk.”

“About?”

“You.”

Thack turned away, back to the railing and the view of trees and the flash of Summer's colorful clothes disappearing deeper and deeper into the dusk-heavy woods between their properties.

Dad took a step next to him. “She's a pretty girl.”

“Too young for you.”

Dad snorted. “You'd be surprised.”

Before Thack could lose his lunch over
that
comment, Dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Sweet girl. Good to your daughter.”

“And, thanks to you, an employee.”

Dad shrugged. “So what?”

He wasn't going to argue with Dad about whatever he was trying to suggest. So Summer was young and pretty and good with Kate? He didn't have time in his life for a woman. He most especially didn't have time in his life for
that
woman. He might not know her well, but it didn't take much knowing to suspect that she'd bring all kinds of complications into his life.

Not to mention Kate was already attached, which meant he couldn't allow himself to be. Someone had to keep their head out of the clouds.

“You need something outside these fences, Thackery.”

“I don't have time for—”

“You need to make some time. Hire a full-time ranch hand. We can afford it. Your life can't be this ranch and that girl alone.”

“I love this ranch and that girl alone.” What was wrong with that? Most of his old friends from high school didn't have
half
what he had. “I don't need anything else.”

“Yes, you do, because if this is all you have, it's going to give you a heart attack before you walk that girl down the aisle.”

Thack shuddered, though he wasn't sure which idea bothered him more—Kate walking down the aisle to some jerkwad who could never be good enough for her, or the idea of him not living to see it. How would she cope with neither of her parents being there when she was an adult and trying to tread water through all life's cruelties?

“You need something. Maybe it's a woman. Maybe it's a hobby. A vacation.”

No time. Not now. Besides, he did love the ranch—working it, running it. Sure, it was more of a burden than he was always comfortable with, but welcome to his life. “I'm fine.”

“I want you to be more than fine. I want you to be happy.”

Happy. Thack wasn't sure when he'd lost that.

It wasn't that he was unhappy. It was just…things had started seeming more and more insurmountable. Ever since Kate started kindergarten, and he'd had to unclench for hours at a time, the time he did have with her had gotten…harder. The worries seemed to multiply in those hours. But the more he worried, the less control he seemed to have. The problem was, he didn't know how to fight his reaction. Even after identifying it and acknowledging it, how did he get rid of it?

“I know I was not the best role model when your mother died.”

“I don't want to talk about Mom.” Or those dark years after she'd died and Dad had utterly fallen apart. They'd gotten through them. That was the important thing.

“Maybe we should. Things were bad, and you had to take on a lot of responsibility. Maybe if I'd held together better…”

“But you didn't.” Which was too harsh and not exactly what Thack meant. But in his frustration, he couldn't seem to find the right words.

Maybe you should try.

“I don't blame you, Dad. I don't. And more, I think… Look, it got me ready, you know? I knew how to power through it when Michaela died, because I'd already had to do it. So, in a weird way, I needed that.” Dad had drowned his grief in booze and cigarettes, and Thack had had to step up and take care of things. In the moment, it had felt like too much. But he'd learned a lot from stepping up, from taking over, and mostly from watching his father fall apart.

He'd learned how to be strong when he had lost his own wife, when he had to raise his child without her mother. That need to be strong had perhaps been what had kept them all going.

Good things could come from tragedy. Mom had tried to assure him of that as she'd withered away.

“Michaela's been gone for six years, Thack. It's time to stop powering through.”

Thack leaned his elbows on the porch rail and blew out a breath. “Hell if I know how.”

Dad rested his hand on Thack's shoulder. “Give yourself a break. Let yourself look at that girl. We won't fall apart just because you're not here holding on to the pieces too tight 24-7. One of these days, if you're not careful, you'll squeeze so tight that all the pieces fly right out of your hands.”

Thack looked out at the dark. Summer's colors had long since disappeared. He knew his dad wasn't wrong. But he wasn't sure Dad was right either. Thack had kept everything going for so long. How did he just step back from that?