Читать книгу The Scrooge Of Loon Lake - Carrie Nichols - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Des watched them walk away and felt…what? Relief, that’s what you feel. He shook his head and limped toward the house. He didn’t need or want a woman in his life, especially one with a child. Sam was a cute kid and seemed bright and curious, despite his lack of verbal skills. No, this had nothing to do with Sam. His reluctance was all down to Natalie. She was making him feel things, think about a future he’d given up wanting a long time ago.

Natalie’s gingerbread men.

Halfway toward the house, he stopped. That plate of delicious cookies was still on his workbench. Heaving a sigh, he turned back toward the barn. Those were too good to take the chance of some critter getting them. He’d caught a crow hanging around the barn and had had small items go missing from his workbench. No proof the bird was the thief but he had his suspicions. Yeah, that wasn’t crazy or anything.

He retrieved his cookies, eating one on the way back to the house. In his mind’s eye he could see Natalie’s striking blue eyes, pert nose and Cupid’s bow lips that kept forming a smile. From the first words she’d uttered, her voice had grabbed him in the gut…and elsewhere. Damn. He needed to stop thinking about the beautiful Natalie Pierce. A blind man could see she was a white-picket-fence-kids-dog-soccer-practice type of woman.

He might have had a similar dream once upon a time, but it died the day he had to punch out of his aircraft. Those three seconds, the most violent experience of his life, had changed the course of his future. That was the amount of time it had taken from pulling the lever until he was under the chute. A textbook low altitude ejection. Except for the part where his parachute lines had gotten twisted and he’d lost precious time correcting them while plummeting toward the earth.

He’d hit the ground hard, shattering his left leg and fracturing his spine. After two surgeries and endless months of PT, he’d regained his ability to walk but not to fly jets. Although Ashley had stuck by him during his recovery, once she realized he’d no longer be flying jets, she began voicing concerns over their engagement. She’d said perhaps they wanted different things from marriage. Evidently being married to him wasn’t her dream so much as being the wife of an aviator. Any aviator.

As a last-ditch effort to salvage their relationship, he showed her the horse farm he’d stumbled across and had admired while visiting Riley Cooper in Loon Lake. Stupidly, he had thought maybe the beautiful family home and the prospect of having room for horses would appeal to her. At one time she’d claimed to be a horse lover, but she’d taken one look and said she hadn’t signed on to live in small-town Vermont. The place wasn’t even on Google Maps for heaven’s sake. She’d thought after a career in the navy, he’d work for a major carrier, they’d live in a metropolitan area and would take advantage of all of the travel perks. Yeah, she’d had their future all planned out, except he wasn’t sure where his wishes fit in.

Going into the house he’d gone ahead and purchased after their final split, he set the plate of cookies on the counter and slipped another one off the stack. He had a crazy thought that he would never confess under the threat of torture, but he swore he could taste the love Natalie put into her baking. He suspected she put her heart into everything she did. Sam, with his big grin, was proof of that. A woman like Natalie deserved someone who had a heart.

He glanced around at his state-of-the-art kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops and the off-white cabinets with glass inserts on the upper doors. The kitchen had been remodeled by the previous owner. When he and Ashley had toured the house, he’d figured the updated kitchen would be another point in his favor, but like everything else it had gone bust. So for the past three years, he’d rattled around in the immaculate kitchen using the refrigerator, microwave and coffeemaker.

Too bad he had nothing more than a dream kitchen to give a woman like Natalie.

Des set the pliers back down. His new piece had stalled and it had nothing to do with the fact that Natalie hadn’t returned for two days. Two days and no cookies, no pleas for him to make something for her auction. He’d listened for the sound of a car but all he heard was the silence. Silence was why he’d chosen this place. He liked silence. Huh, he and Sam would get along fine. It sure beat her chattering nonsense.

And he didn’t care if Natalie’s blue eyes reminded him of the adrenaline rush he’d gotten—and missed—when successfully landing his jet on the rolling deck of a carrier. He would’ve sworn there was nothing in the world to compete with going from one hundred and fifty miles an hour to nothing in the two seconds it took for the arresting wires to do their job. But looking into those clear eyes… He shook his head to shake some sense into it. What was he doing thinking that way about this woman? Hadn’t he learned his lesson? First his mother, then Ashley. How long would it take for Natalie to see the flaws in him?

His mother still lived in Colorado, in the bungalow he’d grown up in. Although he dutifully called on a regular basis to see if she needed anything, the answer was always no. But he called anyway, just as he’d contacted the man who’d fathered him and been rebuffed. So he lived half a continent away and used his acres as a buffer between him and the rest of the world.

Disgusted with his unproductive thoughts, he got up and put another log into the woodstove in the corner of his work area. They’d had some unusually warm days at the end of November, a truly long autumn, but December had come, bringing much colder temperatures.

Back at his workbench, he held up the piece he’d cut this morning when he’d first come to his workroom. The curve of the glass still wasn’t to his exacting standards. He’d have to redo it. Again. Maybe he should abandon adding the loon—except he’d gotten the idea the day Natalie had barged into his barn.

I follow through on my promises. Natalie’s words, in that lilting, slightly husky voice, taunted him as he worked.

Yeah, right. Forty-eight hours and she hadn’t been back. He tossed the piece of incorrectly cut glass into the box that held rejects. Those could be recycled and used another time. The pile had grown since yesterday, but he could use them in a future glass sculpture. Yeah, that was putting a good spin on the situation. He barely knew this woman and her absence for two days didn’t give him the right to mope.

I’m a champion of lost causes. A regular St. Jude.

Maybe he was one lost cause too many. Maybe Natalie saw the same thing in him that his mother did so that no matter what he’d accomplished, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough because he wasn’t his half brother. Though he and Patrick shared the same mother, they had different fathers. He chose another piece of glass, determined to get this one right. His muse had returned and he wasn’t going to let a couple of mistakes stop him. He’d—

A car door slammed in the distance. He started to rise from the stool he’d been perched on but forced himself to sit back down. What is wrong with you, Gallagher? He ground his back teeth, but deep down he enjoyed sparring with Natalie, enjoyed being the kind of guy who could attract a wholesome single mother, even if that was temporarily. Even if it was because she wanted something from him.

“Hello? Lieutenant?”

His heart thudded at the sound of her voice and he scowled, angered by his reaction. Making a fool of himself was not on today’s agenda.

She appeared around the corner, her straight, blond hair billowing out behind her as if she were a model at a photo shoot. Once again she carried a tin in one hand and had a tight grip on Sam’s hand with the other. The boy’s bright blue eyes danced above ruddy cheeks as he held up a fistful of colorful candy canes and grinned. Des shifted in his seat and his throat clogged up with emotions at the sight of Natalie and her winsome son.

“Boy, it’s windy today. Don’t you think so?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Sorry we’re late but we stopped at the store and well, you know how Tavie is. Talked our ears off, didn’t she, Sam? Anyway, that’s why we’re so late today. Have you wondered where we were?”

Only for two freaking days. “No.”

She stepped farther into the barn. “Sam’s pediatric neurologist wanted a colleague to exam him, so we drove to Montpelier.”

“What’s there to do for two days in the state capital?” Damn. He hadn’t meant to ask that and he detested the thread of need evident in his voice. What was that about not making a fool of himself?

“You’d be surprised at how much there is to do.” She gave him a blinding smile. “Maybe you should check it out.”

“Humph.”

“Grumpy again today? Maybe these will help.” She set the tin on the bench. “I made you my special homemade minty shortbread cookies dipped in chocolate and topped with sprinkles. Sam put the Christmas sprinkles on them, didn’t you, Sam?”

The boy grinned and nodded his head and Des bit back the snark that threatened to roll off his tongue. It wasn’t Sam’s fault he was such a dumbass around the boy’s mother.

“Huh, maybe I should’ve asked if you liked mint before I inundated you with it, but I see you ate all the bark, so I guess that answers that.”

She opened the tin and the scents of peppermint and chocolate wafted out. The green cookies were partially coated with chocolate and red, white and green sprinkles on top of that. They looked delicious, but Des scowled at them, refusing to be coaxed out of his mood by her or her baked goods.

“Problem?” Her gaze flicked between him and the cookies.

He fisted his hands to keep from reaching out and caressing her cute little frown. Or better yet, running his tongue over those furrows in her forehead. He swallowed a groan. “If I keep eating what you bring, I’m going to end up as a carnival sideshow.”

She broke into a wide, candid smile, transforming her from attractive to unforgettable. “Didn’t you get the memo? Calories don’t count in December.”

He grumbled but grabbed a cookie and took a bite, closing his eyes as butter, mint and chocolate exploded in his mouth. These were the best yet. No doubt left, he was a goner.

Natalie gave him an expectant gaze. “What do you think?”

That I’ve died and gone to heaven. He shrugged. “They’re pretty good.”

“So…” She met his gaze. “Have you given any thought to making ornaments?”

“Yeah,” he said and winced at the hopeful expression on her face. “The answer’s still no, but—” he held up the half-eaten cookie “—I applaud your effort.”

“Ah, you have a sweet tooth.” She gave him a smile that had him wishing he was the kind of man she deserved. “Good to know.”

“You can bring a whole bakery and the answer would still be no,” he warned and grabbed another cookie. He did not need her getting under his skin any further. The fact that he’d been looking for her for the past two days rankled. And she never quite answered why she’d been gone that long. How many appointments did Sam have? Yo, Gallagher, none of your business. So why was he fixating on it? She didn’t owe him an explanation, just as he didn’t owe her one for refusing to make Christmas-themed glass art pieces.

“But don’t you enjoy the feeling you get from doing a good deed?”

Give the lady points for tenacity. He shook his head. “It might alter people’s expectations of me.”

Instead of being cowed or annoyed by his surly attitude she seemed buoyed, ready to take on the challenge he represented. Des admired that. Yeah, admiration was a nice safe name for what he felt for Natalie Pierce.

“I must say, you’re quite the conundrum.”

“Really? I’ve always considered myself more of an enigma.” He handed a cookie to Sam and winked. Sam grinned and bit the treat in half.

“Tell you what,” Des said and popped the rest of the shortbread into his mouth, but it lost its appeal when her expression turned hopeful again. He was going to disappoint her, but he should be used to disappointing the women in his life. Not that she was in his life. Nope. He didn’t do charming. Why did he always forget that around her? “I’ll make a cash donation to this auction of yours.”

“Thank you. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but we would have more earning potential if you made ornaments. More people would attend if we were able to advertise that we’d have your exclusive crafts. Ones that you can’t get anywhere else. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but more people would be bidding on them and that would drive up the price.”

“I thought it was a silent auction.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a “gotcha” gesture.

Natalie stabbed her finger at him. “Okay, you got me there, but when people see all the bids piling up for your ornaments, they’d bid higher.”

“Are you sure you’re not overestimating my appeal?”

She blushed. “I don’t think that’s even possible.”

His stupid heart did not stutter. What was he, fifteen? He cleared his throat. “You know I was referring to my art.”

She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent expression, but those baby blues shone with amusement. “Of course. That’s what my answer was based on. What did you think I meant?”

Sam tugged on her sleeve and she glanced down. “You’re right. It’s getting late.” She glanced up and met Des’s gaze. “He has another hippotherapy session today.”

He might not do charming, but he admired the heck out of the strong bond she had with Sam. “I wouldn’t want him to miss that.”

“Especially if it means getting rid of us, hmm?”

He held up his hands. Hey, even his jerkiness had its limits. “Honestly, I didn’t mean it that way. You said he enjoyed the sessions.”

“I was teasing,” she said and laid her hand on his arm.

Incapable of speech, Des couldn’t think of anything except that she was touching him. The warmth of her hand penetrating the flannel of his shirt had muddled his brain.

“Contrary to the popular consensus, I believe you have a lot buried under all that grumpiness, including a sense of humor.” She squeezed his arm before letting her hand drop.

As reason returned and he became capable of speech once again, he lifted a finger and wagged it. “See? That’s where you’d be wrong. I’m grumpy on the outside, morose and malcontented on the inside. Unlike you, I don’t do optimism.”

“Oh, my, you say optimism like it’s a communicable disease.” Her eyes sparkled. “And maybe I choose to see more in you.”

He snorted a laugh. Damn, too bad he didn’t do cute. Except that argument died a little more each time he saw her and soon that feeble excuse would be on life support. He shook his head and tried to arrange his face in a scowl, but for once those muscles refused to cooperate. His grin snapped back like a rubber band. “Then I seriously question your choices, Ms. Pierce.”

“Question them all you want, but it won’t change my opinion.” Sam tugged on her sleeve again and she nodded to him. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Making threats again?”

She exited the barn, leaving behind her subtle lavender scent and the echo of her laughter. What would it be like to be in her orbit? To know her so well that silent communication was possible?

Des sighed and cut the piece again. This time the curve was perfect. “Coincidence,” he muttered as he put the glass in place to create a loon rising from a lake. He believed in a lot of things but coincidence wasn’t one of them. Which meant he was in a whole heap of trouble.

Standing, he stretched his back and took a sip of coffee from the insulated mug as he eyed the tin of cookies. He was going to have to add time to his workout regime if he kept this up much longer. He reached for another cookie.

“Umm… Des?”

His head snapped up to find Natalie and Sam still standing in the doorway of the barn. The smile that had started at the sight of her slipped when Sam sniffled as if he’d been crying. Des jumped up and nearly tripped when his leg protested.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is Sam okay?” His heart pounding, he ignored the pain in his leg to get to them. “Did he get hurt?”

“He’s okay… I’m okay…we’re both fine.” She waved her hand. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s my car. It won’t start. I could call Ogle Whatley’s garage, but Sam’s session would be over by the time Ogle came out here and fixed it.”

Des exhaled, but his heart was still pounding. “Is that why he’s crying? He doesn’t want to miss his session?”

“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to frighten you.” She appeared as distraught as her son. “I’m sure it must seem silly to you but—”

“It’s not silly when you’re five, is it, Sam?” He held out his hand to the boy. “Want to help me look for the jumper cables? I have some in my truck. If it’s your battery, it won’t take long to get you going. C’mon, Sam, let’s go take a look.”

He should resent having his work interrupted now that his muse was back, but the fact was, the sight of either one of them in distress made him want to help. And when Sam slipped his hand in his, Des had the urge to start whistling some stupid, sappy tune.

Natalie hung back as Des and Sam left the barn. She’d thought Des might be put out at having to help her, but he seemed strangely happy. Don’t read too much into it, she cautioned herself. Maybe he didn’t want to upset Sam. As gruff as Des tried to project, he’d been nothing but kind to Sam.

She followed them outside to where Des was pulling jumper cables from a locker in the bed of his pickup. Sam was standing on his toes, trying to see. “Sam, please don’t get in the lieutenant’s way.”

“Why don’t you get back in the car?” she suggested. Sam frowned and she added, “You can watch him from your seat. I’ll lower your window.”

“I think your mom has a good idea, bud. You might even get a better view than standing on tiptoe,” Des said.

After she made sure Sam was buckled into his car seat, she got in the driver’s seat and lowered her window. Like son, like mother? She shook her head, but couldn’t help gawking as Des leaned over the hood of her Camry to hook the jumper cables to her dead battery. To prevent drooling, she ordered herself to think about the cost of a new battery—and at Christmastime—instead of how luscious his butt looked, caressed by all that faded denim. But it wasn’t just his glutes making her mouth water. The stubble that peppered his face, the two-haircuts-past-due thick, black hair and the intense dark brown eyes all sent her pulse racing.

“Natalie?” Des asked, his tone laced with impatience.

Nothing like getting caught daydreaming about the super-hot naval officer. How many times had he called her name? “Sorry. What?”

“I’m going to start my engine and I’ll let you know when to try yours again. Wait for my signal.”

She nodded and he went to his truck. Once they got her car started, he came back and removed the cables, rolling them up as he walked toward his pickup. She was glad to see that his limp wasn’t as pronounced today.

Grabbing the roll of paper towels she had on the passenger seat, Natalie tore off a few. He came back to her car, and she offered him the towels through her open window.

“Thanks.” He wiped his hands. “Stay here while I shut the barn door.”

“Why?” She checked her watch. Sam’s session would be starting soon. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to follow you and make sure you make it to the therapy place.” He spoke as if his actions were a given.

His concern brought delicious warmth to her insides. Again making her yearn for something she hadn’t even realized was missing from her current existence. Okay, maybe she’d realized it, but she’d been ignoring the vague discontent. There’s nothing missing. You have a full, satisfying life, she repeated to herself. And she did. So what if she hadn’t dated in the three years since Ryan’s death? Sam had been her top priority during that time. Ryan’s generous life insurance payout gave her financial stability and the nursery school in Nashville where she’d been employed part-time had permitted Sam to attend free of charge. Here in Loon Lake she’d met Mary Wilson through volunteering at the weekly payment-optional luncheons at the church. When the Wilsons’ summer camp cook had taken ill, she’d stepped in. The Wilsons had also allowed her to bring Sam and even invited her back next summer.

Full life or not, since meeting Des she’d wondered if she had room for more. Something more. Or rather, someone more. And that was disconcerting.

She stuck her head out the car window. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “Unless you plan on letting the car run the entire time you’re there, you might need another jump.”

She fought the urge to brush his hair back, to touch it to see if it felt as soft as it looked. “That wouldn’t be good for the environment, would it?”

“No, ma’am, it wouldn’t.”

She snickered at his use of ma’am. “Aha, I see what you did there.”

“So it’s settled. I’ll follow you.”

She’d love for him to come along, but she didn’t want him to see her and Sam as a nuisance. Yeah, as if he didn’t already, considering the way she’d barged into his life with her demands for Christmas ornaments.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, aren’t you the one trying to convince me to support this enterprise?”

That did make sense. “Are you saying you might be so overcome by what you see, you’ll do whatever I ask?”

Des dropped his arms and snorted a laugh. “Too late for that.”

A flush of warmth spread through her and she couldn’t contain her grin. Was he saying he felt an attraction, too? Was that a possibility? Des might act all gruff and surly but she suspected beneath all that he was a caring man bent on protecting himself. Don’t go spinning fairy tales, she cautioned herself. Des might be a case of WYSIWYG—What You See is What You Get. Yeah, the problem with rainbow optimism was that you often got your heart broken.

On her wedding day, she’d assumed they’d happily grow old together, but two years later a stranger’s careless actions had taken Ryan from them and changed the course of their lives in an instant. Because of it, Sam would have to grow up without his dad.

Ryan had convinced her to drop out of college when Sam was born. He’d had a decent paying job at a tech start-up in Nashville so her degree hadn’t been a priority then. Now she understood how short-sighted she’d been.

As much as she needed optimism, facing reality was key to planning for the future.

She waited for Des to come back and climb into his truck before she put the car in gear and made her way to the therapy center.

Conflicting thoughts vied for space in her head during the drive to the stable. She hardly knew Des. Or what had happened to make him keep the world at arm’s length. Few wounds healed without permanent scars. She’d have to be crazy to even try bringing him out of his self-imposed exile. She had enough on her plate with Sam, finishing her degree and starting a career, as opposed to the lower-paying jobs she’d had since Ryan’s death.

Last year, she’d inherited her grandmother’s summer home, a duplex in Loon Lake. After careful deliberation, Natalie had decided not to sell the place, but to move to the quaint town she’d remembered and loved from childhood visits.

Thanks to the inheritance she lived mortgage-free plus collected rent from the tenant on the other side of the two-family home. That monthly rent paid her utility bills and helped with upkeep. With Ryan’s generous life insurance payout, she’d been able to spend time with Sam when he’d needed her during his recovery and rehabilitation. But now was the time for a concrete plan for their future. Finishing her degree so she could get a decent job was the first step. She’d set aside a portion of the life insurance for Sam’s college fund and had refused to draw from it. Next year, when Sam started school, she’d have more time to devote to online studies or attend classes at the nearest university.

She pulled into the packed earth parking lot of the hippotherapy center and chose two spots together in case Des needed to jump-start her car again. She smiled. It was nice to think someone had her back. Even though she’d lived in Loon Lake for a short time, many of the residents remembered her grandmother and were friendly and helpful, treating her as if she’d lived there all her life. But it would be nice to know she had someone more permanent to share life’s ups and downs with. What was she doing? She barely knew this man, so no more spinning fairy tales.

Once the auction benefitting the equine therapy center was over, maybe she could still take baked goods to Des. And maybe he’d have to take out a restraining order on me. She laughed at herself as she turned off her engine and got out and opened the rear door. Sam scrambled out of the car and she held out her hand. He dutifully took it, but she knew the day was coming when he’d refuse to comply. She’d gotten into the habit of insisting on holding his hand because he couldn’t answer if she called to him.

He’d gotten away from her once when he darted under a rack of clothes in a department store. She’d frantically called to him, despite knowing he couldn’t answer. After five agonizing minutes that felt like fifty, she’d found him, but from that day forward she’d insisted he hold her hand in public. She suspected that his seeing her anguished tears that day had scared him and he hadn’t fought holding her hand since then.

Turning to Des, who’d parked and was getting out of his truck, she said, “I’m going to take Sam in to get saddled up. Over there by the fence is the perfect spot to watch his session.”

He nodded and she took off toward the barn with Sam.

Des leaned against the fence and studied the dirt arena where the sessions were held. He’d used his laptop the second day Natalie had visited to look up information about how hippotherapy worked. At the time he’d justified learning more about it because he’d planned to give Natalie a cash donation for her auction. It had nothing to do with wanting to learn more about the woman who’d barged into his life with an endless supply of chatter and baked goods. But it wasn’t the sweets that had invaded his dreams every night. She and her crooked-toothed smile, her big blue eyes and that sweet voice had kept him company the past few nights.

He caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned as Natalie made her way over to him. His heart kicked as it always did when he saw her, but her face lacked its usual sunny expression. The sight of her distress was like a blow to the chest with a two-by-four.

He wanted to reach out but forced himself to stand still, keeping his arms along the fence to keep from pulling her into his arms and crushing her against him. “What’s wrong?”

She heaved a sigh. “I found out the program’s financial situation is worse than I thought. The owner is close to being evicted from this place.”

“If they lose the lease, what will happen to the horses?” he asked, her unhappiness weighing on him.

“I don’t know. But without the horses, getting the lease paid up-to-date or getting the business on sound financial footing won’t matter. This place relies a lot on volunteers, but there are two part-time employees, in addition to the owners, who would be affected. I’d hate for anyone to lose their job. Not to mention, the nearest therapy center is three hours away.” Her bottom teeth scraped her upper lip in what appeared to be a nervous habit. “Driving that far for twice-weekly sessions would be out of the question.”

He shoved aside his urge to soothe that lip with his tongue. He needed to concentrate on practical matters, like finding out what sort of business operation was Natalie getting involved in? “How did this place get into such a financial bind to begin with?”

She gave him a sharp look. Yeah, his tone had been gruffer than he’d planned, but he didn’t want her getting hurt. Financial or otherwise.

“From what I understand, the owners are going through a contentious divorce,” she said.

“So raising money might not even help?” His instinct was to interfere in order to safeguard Natalie and Sam. But he had no right to feel the protective feelings that rose up. They’d known one another a short time. They weren’t even friends, just acquaintances.

“I had hoped raising funds would keep the horses safe and in place until something better could be figured out.” She waved at Sam, who was smiling proudly as he sat on his horse.

Sam looked at ease atop a seal-brown gelding with one white rear leg. Des considered Sam a sunny, happy child, and he could see how much pleasure he got from riding the horse.

Des cleared his throat. Did he want to bring this up? It was none of his business, but he’d be damned if he stood by and let her be harmed in any way. “You haven’t done anything other than organize this auction, have you?”

Her head snapped back and she narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about infusing this place with cash…as in, your own cash.” He curled his hands into fists on top of the cross posts for the fence, waiting for her answer.

She shook her head and raised a hand. “I would never ever do anything to jeopardize Sam’s future by putting money into a failing enterprise. And I don’t appreciate the inference that I would.”

He took her hands in his and winced at how cold they were. He rubbed them to try to warm them up. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Natalie. I wanted to understand what we’re dealing with.”

“Thanks. I’ve had a lot of support from family and friends ever since the accident, but sometimes, late at night when I’m alone, I second-guess all my decisions.” She grimaced. “I didn’t mean to snap, but sometimes guilt—warranted or not—makes me a bit defensive.”

He squeezed her hands. “I was worried about you pouring your own cash into a dying business.”

“No chance of that.” She shook her head and visibly relaxed. “I’ve been extremely frugal with our finances. I take my obligation to Sam seriously. I want him to be happy, but not to the point where I might jeopardize his future. I’m the parent and need to make the hard decisions.”

He let go of her hands. He barely knew Natalie so his relief at her answer was disproportionate to the situation. If she wanted to go bankrupt supporting a failing business that was her problem, but he admired her fierce protectiveness toward her son. As a kid, he would’ve given anything to have had a mother like Natalie. Heck, he would’ve been thankful for one who’d taken any interest at all. He cleared his throat. “What if nothing can be figured out?”

She frowned. “Are you always such a pessimist?”

“I’m a realist. I would think you’d be one, too.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. “Look, Natalie, I—”

“No, you’re probably right.” She turned to face the dirt track and Sam. “But I can’t think that way. I have to choose optimism. If that’s rainbows and unicorns, then so be it.”

When he didn’t respond, she brought her gaze back to him. “No comeback about my choices?”

He gave in to his urge, running his fingers across her cheek and tucking strands of silky hair behind her ear. “No glib comebacks. Sam’s one lucky guy to have you for his mother. Not all mothers practice the kind of unconditional love you have.”

“I like to think I’m the lucky one.” She smiled at Sam before turning her gaze back to Des. “So you believe not all mothers practice unconditional love? What makes you believe that?”

“I know they don’t,” he said, thinking of his own. He’d always known Patrick was the golden child but it wasn’t until after his brother’s death that—

She cupped her hand around his cheek. He should pull away because it wasn’t just her mothering he admired. How could she be offering comfort after his callous remark? What kind of woman did that? He leaned into her touch. What would it be like to pull her into his arms, let her warmth sink into those cold places inside him?

She started to pull her hand away, but he reached up and captured it in his. “I apologize for my comment. I may be an insensitive jerk but normally I practice my antisocial tendencies when I’m alone and especially not when I’m in the company of a beautiful woman.”

“Apology accepted.” She blushed. “After his session, Sam and I always go to the café in town. I hope you’ll join us. I want to thank you for getting my car started.”

“You should go straight to the garage and have Ogle check the battery. Your old one may not even have kept the charge.”

“You’re right,” she said and frowned. “I know I should’ve gone straight to Ogle’s but…” She turned her head to watch Sam, a tender expression on her pretty face.

He studied her profile as Sam and his horse continued to be led around the ring. Sam grinned and waved to them each time he passed. Des waved, but his attention was on the woman beside him.

“I see how much he enjoys riding,” he said.

“He’s calmer since he’s started spending time with the horses.” Her voice sounded resigned. “We’ve had our ups and downs. He gets frustrated and can be quick to anger but being around the horses soothes him.”

He reached for her hand again. “And what soothes you?”

“Me?” She stared at him, surprised. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that.”

“Maybe they should.” He touched her cheek with his other hand. “So tell me what you find soothing.”

She looked off in the distance as if trying to decide how to answer.

“I bet I know.” His hand moved from her cheek to her hair, unable to resist touching the corn-silk strands.

“Oh? What do you think it is?” she asked, sounding a little breathless.

He contemplated, stalling for time. Then something occurred to him. “Baking. I’ll bet baking soothes you.”

She seemed to be thinking it over, her gaze meeting his. “I believe you’re right, but how did you know?”

He cleared his throat and broke eye contact, glancing at Sam on the horse. “I can taste it.”

Before she could say anything, he pointed to Sam, whose horse was being led back into the building. “Looks like he’s finished.”

To his relief, her focus shifted back to her son. He was not about to admit his feelings about her baking.

After his session, Sam came out from the building and carefully made his way toward them. His gait was slightly stiff, but a huge grin split his face.

“You looked like a jockey up there on that horse, bud,” Des told him and held out his hand, palm up. The kid slapped it and although it seemed impossible, Sam’s smile got even bigger. What was it about this boy and his mother that called to Des?

“You did great, Sam, but I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. We won’t be able to go to the café like I promised. I need to take the car to Ogle’s garage for a new battery. We can get some snacks at Tavie’s store while we wait if you’re hungry.”

Even though the Loon Lake General Store was next door to Ogle’s garage, Des didn’t think a few packaged snacks were as much fun as going to Aunt Polly’s Café. And he was right; the boy’s face fell. “You like Polly’s pancakes, don’t you?”

Sam grinned up at him and nodded his head vigorously.

Natalie’s eyes widened. “How did you know that’s what he always orders?”

“Because having pancakes when it’s not breakfast is fun, right, Sam?”

Again, the boy grinned and nodded. Des answered with a wink.

Natalie put her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not sure how long it will take for the battery to be replaced, if that’s even what’s wrong. The café is only open for breakfast and lunch, but we’ll try.”

Des cleared his throat. “I have an idea. I’ll follow you to the garage and we’ll go to Aunt Polly’s while Ogle is checking out your car.” What was he doing? Did he suggest they go to eat? As in together? As in a public place? Not only would he be seen in public, but also with a woman and