Читать книгу For Love and Family - Victoria Pade - Страница 9

“Uh, Johnny? What do we have going on there?”

It was Sunday evening and Hunter was expecting Terese to arrive at his ranch any minute. He’d had his son home from the hospital since Thursday and after some soul-searching, on Friday night he’d kept his word and called her to arrange a time for her to come out and stay so she could meet Johnny and get to know him.

She’d said she had charity functions to attend this weekend, so would it be all right if she got there around nine o’clock. Hunter had agreed. But she was late and since it was already past Johnny’s bedtime, Hunter had gotten the boy ready for bed, complete with bath and pajamas. But the little boy had just disappeared upstairs for a while and now that he’d returned to the living room, Hunter was surprised to see the results of that trip.

“You look nice and I wanted to, too,” Johnny informed him.

Leave it to his son to notice that he’d taken a second shower and shaved again today, and that he was wearing slacks and a polo shirt rather than the jeans and sweatshirt he would normally have been in on a lazy Sunday evening.

“Come over here and let me see what you’ve done,” Hunter said, trying not to laugh.

Johnny had just turned four last month and was very intent on proving that he was more independent than he had been before. But as Hunter sat on the coffee table and pulled his son to stand between his legs, the boy seemed small and fragile to him.

“So what did you do to yourself?” Hunter asked, surveying how his son had spruced himself up.

Johnny had flaming red hair that Hunter kept short on the sides and in back. But he let the barber leave a little on top and now Johnny had done something to make only the front part stick straight up.

Hunter lightly patted the stiff-looking tips with his palm. “How’d you do this?” he asked, careful to sound impartial so as not to offend what his son was clearly proud to have accomplished.

“My friend Mikey showed me. You wet your hair and then you kinda comb it up with the bar of soap till it stays. Then you let it get dry.”

That was a relief. Hunter was afraid he’d used super-glue.

“It makes you cool,” Johnny informed him.

“Cool,” Hunter repeated. “Uh-huh.”

Accepting the hairstyle for the moment, he lowered his gaze to his son’s chubby-cheeked face with the sprinkling of freckles across his tiny nose.

“And did you wash your face again since your bath?” he asked, surprised since it was always a struggle to get his son to wash his face once, let alone twice.

“I din’t wash it. I shaved just a little bit,” Johnny informed him, rubbing a hand along his peach-skin jawline.

“You must have pressed kind of hard,” Hunter observed. “Your cheeks are all red. You made sure you used the special razor I gave you, didn’t you? It’s more important than ever that you never touch mine, you know?”

“I know. ’Cuz yours has a really sharp thing in it and ’cuz of the hemolilia I got now.”

Hunter had tried to get him to pronounce hemophilia correctly but it was a losing battle.

“Right. And did you put some of the soap in your eyebrows to make them stand up, too?” Hunter asked, seeing that the pale brows over his son’s blueberries-and-cream colored eyes were going in all directions.

“No, I think they musta just getted that way when I dried off my face ’cuz the water in my hair dripped.”

“So can I fix them?”

Johnny nodded and Hunter licked his thumbs and smoothed his son’s eyebrows into place.

Then he glanced down at Johnny’s rodeo pajamas. And the way his son had accessorized them.

“That’s one of my best ties, isn’t it?”

“Yup. I wanted to look nice.”

“And you do,” Hunter assured him. He couldn’t stop the smile that escaped. The tie was knotted into a wad at his throat and hung nearly to his knees. “I’m just thinking that this might not be a necktie kind of night. See? I don’t have one on.”

“Maybe you should put one on.”

“I don’t think so. And you know, a tie is sort of fancy for pajamas. Even for the good rodeo pajamas.”

“I look nice,” Johnny insisted.

“You do. You do. I’m just thinking that our company might not have dressed up quite that much and we wouldn’t want her to feel bad, would we?”

Johnny creased his forehead and looked down at the striped tie. “We could tell her it was okay that she didn’t get dressed up good as us.”

“You really want to leave the tie on, huh?”

“Yup.”

Hunter nodded. He didn’t have the heart to force the issue. “Okay, then. Well, I guess since you’re all ready, you can help me get the rest of your toys put away so this place doesn’t look like a cyclone hit it.”

Apparently feeling dressed up made the little boy agreeable because he didn’t balk at that suggestion the way he usually did. Instead he turned and went right to work.

“Who’s this lady again?” Johnny asked as he picked up his toys.

Hunter hadn’t known how to explain Terese Warwick. Johnny knew he was adopted; Hunter and his wife had decided when he was still an infant that they would be open and honest with him on the subject. Despite that, the whole concept seemed slightly out of his grasp yet. Whenever they talked about it Johnny seemed only concerned with the fact that Hunter was his dad no matter what.

Hunter hadn’t wanted to confuse him by trying to explain that Terese Warwick was the sister of Johnny’s birth mother, so he’d opted for a more simple description. Which he repeated now.

“She’s a friend who knew you when you were only a baby, and she’s the person who has the same kind of blood that you have, so she gave you some of hers when you were in the hospital.”

“When I was bleedin’ on accounta the hemolilia.”

“When your nose was bleeding so badly because of the hemophilia, yes.”

“Is she your girlfriend like Mindy Harper wants to be my girlfriend and kiss me?” Johnny asked, being silly.

“When did Mindy Harper want to kiss you?”

“Before last week. At preschool. When we were havin’ graham crackers and yogurt. She told Mikey she loooved me and she wanted to kiss me and I said yuk.”

Again Hunter suppressed a smile. “No, the lady who’s coming to stay with us for a while is not my girlfriend and there won’t be any kissing going on. She’s just a friend who’s a girl. And really she’ll be here to see you more than to see me.”

“Oh, no!” Johnny shouted in a panic.

It was an indication of how on-edge Hunter still was about his son and his son’s health that that simple exclamation was enough to tense his entire body and make him spin around to face the boy.

But Johnny’s current crisis was far less distressing than the one the week before.

“I forgetted about my hair and put my hat on!” the little boy informed him, holding up his cowboy hat. “I gotta fix it!” Then he dashed back upstairs.

“Don’t put any more soap in it,” Hunter called after him. “Just use a little water if you have to.”

Hunter shook his head and laughed to himself at his son’s antics. Then he returned to straightening up the living room.

He knew that it wasn’t Terese Warwick herself that had Johnny so excited. The little boy didn’t know her, after all. It was merely the novelty of having someone come to stay with them.

Hunter, on the other hand, was a different story. For him it was the woman he was looking forward to seeing again. And he was none too happy about it.

In fact, wanting to see her again was what had caused him to drag his feet about calling her to arrange this visit.

Wanting to see any woman hadn’t happened to him since Margee. It sure as hell hadn’t happened to him since Margee’s death.

But with Terese Warwick it had happened. And it had Hunter feeling pretty unsettled. And confused. Why her, of all people? he kept asking himself.

Of course, she didn’t seem anything like her sister. But maybe the difference between them was actually the problem.

For all her money and high-class social circles, Terese still had a sort of girl-next-door thing going for her. And flashy, overly made-up, beauty-shop-perfect women—like Eve Warwick—put him off. Who wanted somebody who looked as if they needed to be kept on a pedestal and dusted once a week? Somebody who might as well have a hands-off sign posted on her forehead?

But the girl-next-door thing? That had more appeal to him. Give him Terese’s long, thick ponytail over her sister’s helmet hair any day. That ponytail was the color of red oak and shiny and neat and clean.

Give him those few freckles that dotted Terese’s pale porcelain skin, keeping her from being too perfect and putting a hint of mischief into her appearance. And there was no doubt that he preferred Terese’s pert nose to that surgeon-fashioned one her sister sported.

Plus, Terese’s eyes didn’t need all that glitter and fake stuff on the lids, he thought as he tossed a few more of his son’s toys into one of the cupboards that lined a wall of the living room. Terese had eyes that were incredible on their own. Warm, sparkling, iri-descent, vibrant blue eyes, with lustrous dark lashes. He’d rather be looking into those eyes any day of the week than into those cold baby-blues of her sister.

Oh yeah, given a choice, he’d vote for the natural, fresh-scrubbed beauty. And when it came attached to a tight little body with breasts that were just the right size…

“Geez,” he muttered to himself in disgust, knowing he didn’t have any business thinking about her breasts. Not now and not the other ten dozen times he had in the last several days.

It was just that something about Terese had gotten to him.

But it wasn’t only the way she looked that kept coming back into his head to taunt him. Or the way she looked that seemed to set her apart from her twin sister. Terese also seemed sweet and kind and unselfish, though not in a doormat sort of way. After all, she’d stood her ground with her nasty sister and that was saying something.

But at the same time, Terese’s sweetness and kindness and unselfishness had seemed natural, too. Innate. And bolstered by a strength of character her twin clearly lacked.

And so there he was, Hunter thought as he jammed more toys into the cupboard and had to force the door closed. He’d taken two showers in one day, he’d gotten himself dressed up, and he was having problems holding down his own excitement at the prospect of Terese Warwick arriving on his doorstep any minute now.

Excitement he was none too happy about at the moment.

All it did was get him riled up for no good reason.

And why?

Because of the who and the when.

The who being that she was Terese Warwick. Which meant that no matter how much appeal she might have, it came in the shadow of her sister and the fact that her sister was Johnny’s birth mother.

And if that shadow wasn’t enough, Hunter also knew he needed to keep uppermost in his mind the fact that though Terese seemed like the girl-next-door, she wasn’t. She was someone who operated on a whole different level than he did. She was someone who lived in a whole different world than he did.

Oh yeah, who she was was sure as hell something he needed to keep in mind.

And as for the when part?

The when part was even more important. So important that if Terese Warwick wasn’t a Warwick at all, if she was the most amazing, beautiful, perfect, wonderful woman on the face of the earth, he still wouldn’t do anything about it.

Because right now was not the time for a woman in his life. For any woman. Right now was Johnny’s time.

It was a vow Hunter had made to himself. Johnny was his priority. Johnny was the one and only person he was devoted to.

Maybe not forever, because he knew that eventually his son would be more interested in his own friends and activities and wouldn’t want his old Dad hanging around. But for now, for as long as dad was the center of Johnny’s universe, Hunter wouldn’t take that lightly. He wouldn’t let there be any distractions, any intrusions. Not by anyone.

So Terese Warwick couldn’t have more than a superficial place in their lives and that was all there was to it.

Which was why he had no business looking forward to her coming. No business getting excited.

But whether he had any business doing all that or not, the feeling was there, anyway.

So he guessed he’d just have to keep it under wraps. Keep it from flourishing. And he’d also have to make sure he didn’t let anything come of any of it.

This was going to be Johnny’s time with Terese, and her time with him. Hunter would just stand on the sidelines and oversee it. He’d keep himself as removed from it as he could.

That was his plan.

But damn if he wouldn’t feel a lot better if this excitement would go away and leave him in peace.

It was almost nine-thirty when Terese finally found the wooden arch that proclaimed Hunter Coltrane’s ranch, the Double Bar S, and turned from the main road onto the gravel drive.

The drive was lined on both sides by a white rail fence that bordered grassy fields where several cows grazed lazily and watched her without enthusiasm. It was a sentiment she hoped Hunter Coltrane didn’t share at the prospect of having her there.

She was surprised by how small the house was when it came into view in the distance. Of course, not only was the white two-story farmhouse in the midst of a vast expanse of open ground, there were also an enormous white barn and a silo looming up behind it, and it occurred to her that they might be dwarfing Hunter’s home, too.

It was a well-kept little house, though, with black shutters neatly decorating each window. The first level was larger than the second and there was a big covered front porch with a crossbuck railing around it that gave the place an inviting, homey feel.

Terese pulled to a stop at the end of the drive where there was a patch of manicured lawn and a cobbled sidewalk led the rest of the way to the house.

Stretching along the porch were brick-bordered flower beds. Although it was too late in the year for blooms, the flower beds were festively adorned with teepees of dried corn stalks and artfully displayed pumpkins, brightly colored gourds and squashes. There was also a life-sized stuffed scarecrow dressed in a red bandana shirt and denim overalls lounging on the chair swing that hung from chains at one end of the porch.

All in all, even though the place was nothing fancy, Terese liked it.

A porch light to the right of the screened front door was lit for her, providing a warm golden glow even after she’d turned off her engine and her car lights. She got out from behind the wheel and just stood there for a moment, looking at the house and letting it sink in that her nephew really was just inside.

In those first few days of his life, she’d fallen in love with the baby Eve had given birth to. She’d held him and rocked him and cooed to him. She’d felt him curl up against her; she’d spent hours with him sleeping in her arms.

In the process she’d begun to hope that her sister would change her mind about giving up the baby. That she could convince her sister to keep him and that then she would get to be a part of his life.

But nothing she’d said or done had changed Eve’s mind. Eve had wanted nothing to do with that baby. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to hold him. She didn’t even want to know he was alive. And she certainly wasn’t going to keep him.

When Terese had finally had to accept that, her thoughts had turned to an alternate course. She’d decided to adopt the baby herself.

Eve had hit the ceiling when Terese had told her. It was the biggest argument they’d ever had, culminating in Eve’s flat refusal to relinquish the infant to Terese. Then, to make it even harder on Terese, Eve had arranged for the baby to be immediately turned over to the parents Eve had chosen. Terese hadn’t had so much as the opportunity to say goodbye to the baby she’d come to love.

It had wrenched Terese’s heart. In fact, she’d gone through a long period of grieving before she’d given up the hope of ever seeing him again.

And then she’d come home to find Hunter Coltrane in her entryway.

Of course the circumstances had been less than ideal. Certainly she didn’t want a health problem to be the cause of bringing her nephew back into her life. But now that it had happened and she was only moments away from getting to see him again, it seemed too good to be true.

Terese opened the rear door and pulled out her leather suitcase, not wanting to waste any more precious time when she could be meeting her nephew.

And seeing his dad again.

But Terese pushed the thought of Hunter out of her mind as soon as it popped into it. Exactly as she’d been doing since she’d seen him at the hospital. Hunter might be drop-dead gorgeous and honest enough to have kept his word, but meeting and getting to know his son was the only thing this visit was about. And she couldn’t let herself forget that.

Terese was determined not to lose sight of just how touchy the whole situation was. She knew she had to keep in mind that she was an outsider in the lives of both father and son. She had to keep in mind that even though she might be a blood relative of Johnny’s, she still had no rights to him, that she was nothing more than a stranger here, allowed to get to know him only out of the kindness and generosity of his father, a father who could very well have dug in his heels and refused to have the line between birth family and adopted family crossed.

No, she had no doubt whatsoever that this was a touchy situation. Touchy and complicated. And it didn’t need to be complicated even more by her drifting into thoughts of Hunter Coltrane as a man.

Terese closed the rear car door with a resounding slam, as if that would help put an end to any thoughts of her nephew’s father.

Then she climbed the four steps to the front porch with her suitcase in hand.

But before she had a chance to knock on the screen, the carved oak door opened and there stood Hunter Coltrane.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Strappingly good-looking.

Taller, broader of shoulder, and even more strappingly good-looking than her memory had made him in all the images that had haunted her since she’d come in on his confrontation with her sister this past week.

It didn’t help matters.

But Terese tamped down the instant, involuntary appreciation that flooded her at that first sight of him and reminded herself that she was out of his league when it came to looks, and that she’d better remember it.

Johnny. This was only about Johnny….

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in lieu of a greeting as he pushed open the screen. “I’m the chairwoman for the committee that gave this dinner tonight and I just couldn’t seem to get away.”

“It’s okay. The man of the hour is still awake and champing at the bit to meet you,” the rancher said in that lush, masculine voice she’d been hearing call her name in her dreams.

As if on cue, a little boy bounded down the stairs behind Hunter just then, shouting as he did, “Is she here? Is she here?”

“What’d I tell you about comin’ down those steps more slowly and holdin’ on to the railing so you don’t fall, little man?” Hunter asked sternly.

“I know,” the small boy grumbled half under his breath. “But is she here?”

Hunter still didn’t answer that. He turned back to Terese, propped the screen open with his backside and reached for her suitcase.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” he said. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Terese muttered as she crossed the threshold in front of him, catching a whiff of a light, heady aftershave that smelled like a pine forest.

The big man had been blocking a clear view of the little boy but once she’d stepped into the entryway Johnny was right there, in full sight, fidgeting with excitement.

“I’m Johnny!” the pajama and necktie-clad child proclaimed proudly.

Terese had no idea how his father had explained her so, as she drank in that first opportunity to set eyes on him in four years, she simply said, “Hi, Johnny. I’m Terese.” But there was a catch in her throat as a combination of emotions put moisture in her eyes and made her smile too big at the same time.

There he is, she just kept thinking as he held out a tiny hand for her to shake as if she were a visiting dignitary.

He couldn’t have been more adorable with that chubby-cheeked, freckled face, that turned-up nose and that fiery red hair that he’d done something with to make it stand at attention in front. And in that instant, Terese fell in love with him all over again.

She wanted badly to scoop him up and hug him, but of course she didn’t do that for fear of frightening him. She did probably hold on to his hand a shade longer than she should have.

“Nice to meet you, Johnny,” she said, finally letting go of him.

“What’s our deal?” Hunter asked then.

Terese glanced over her shoulder at him to see whom he was talking to and found him leaning a shoulder against the door he’d just closed, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his slacks, observing this meeting.

His question had been aimed at his son, though, and Johnny knew it because the little boy said, “I can show her ’round the house and have one short story and then I have to go to sleep.” It had been a recitation peppered with reluctance and it made Terese smile all over again. Especially when Johnny added, “Can our company read me the story?”

“Our company’s name is Miss Warwick.”

“Oh, no, please, I’m Terese,” she implored.

“Okay. It’s up to Terese whether or not she wants to read you a story. Maybe she’d rather get settled in,” Hunter told his son.

“I’d love to read the story,” Terese interjected.

“She’d love to read the story,” Johnny repeated for his father, making Hunter chuckle.

He raised his sculpted chin in the general direction of the house then. “Okay. Well, get to it, Mr. Tour Guide.”

A tour guide was exactly the persona the small child put on for her as he led Terese from the entryway to the living room that opened to the right.

“This is where we play games and watch TV,” Johnny said as if Terese wouldn’t know what the room was used for otherwise. “There’s not s’posed to be food in here since I spilled the orange juice on the couch and we had to turn over the pillow so nobody’d know.”

“Johnny…” Hunter groaned from behind them.

But Terese merely laughed again—both at the son giving away secrets and the father’s embarrassment. “You would never know by looking,” she assured, glancing at the gray tweed sofa that matched an over-stuffed easy chair.

They were positioned with an oak coffee table and a full wall of shelves and cabinets that, from what she could see, acted as an entertainment center, library and knickknack holder in front of them. Solid wood doors blocked the view of the contents of the lower cabinets.

“The kitchen’s this way,” Johnny said, heading through an open arch to the right of the living room.

It was a big country kitchen with an abundance of plain white cupboards and appliances and a large pedestal table with four barrel-backed chairs around it.

“This is where we eat—even at Christmas and stuff. My friend Mikey’s got another room where they eat on Christmas but we don’t.”

“That means there’s no formal dining room,” Hunter translated from where he’d stopped in the kitchen’s entrance.

“Ah,” Terese said.

“This is the mudroom,” Johnny informed her, pointing into the much smaller space that was off the kitchen. It contained a washer and dryer as well as a shelf with coat hooks and a bench beneath it. “My dad says it was named for me because I’m always comin’ in muddy and I need to take off my shoes in there before I track it everywhere else.”

“Good idea,” Terese confirmed.

“So if you get muddy feet, you can do that, too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Now we can go upstairs,” Johnny announced.

Terese followed him back into the living room, casting Hunter a faint smile when she glanced back to see if he was coming, too.

But he didn’t catch the smile because his eyes were too low. In fact, she thought they might have been on her rear end.

Had Hunter Coltrane been checking out her derriere?

She must have been mistaken, she told herself. But even so, she couldn’t help the little rush that went through her.

A little rush she tried to ignore.

They returned to the stairs Johnny had run down earlier and went up to the second floor.

“That’s the bathroom over there. Always knock first,” Johnny said, adding his advice by rote. Next he held one arm straight out and pointed a miniature index finger at another door. “That’s the guest bedroom for when somebody has a sleepover but doesn’t stay in the cabin.” The index finger moved slightly. “That’s my dad’s room.” Another move of the index finger. “And this one is mine!”

Terese couldn’t see into the guest bedroom because the door was closed, but she did catch a glimpse of a tall antique bureau and a king-size bed with a fluffy brown comforter in the room Johnny had said belonged to his father.

There was no time for more than that glimpse, though, as her nephew charged into his own room, clearly intending her to go with him.

“Come on, I’ll get the book for you to read.”

Terese went into the toy-cluttered room, but as she did, she once more cast a glance to Hunter. “You’re sure you don’t mind my doing the honors?” she asked, wanting to make sure she wasn’t stepping on any toes.

“It’s okay,” Hunter assured, leaning a single shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t say any more to Terese but aimed his attention at his son once again. “The necktie has to come off for bed.”

The little boy obeyed without an argument, brought the tie to his father and then situated himself to one side of the bed so Terese could sit on the mattress beside him.

“Green Eggs and Ham,” Johnny said when he handed the chosen book to her. “My dad is tired of it but maybe you’re not.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever read Green Eggs and Ham, so it will be a treat for me.”

Reading to him was a treat for her, but the book itself had little to do with it. Just the fact that Terese was sitting there with her nephew, participating in his bedtime routine, was something more special to her than either Johnny or his father could know.

She was sorry when she reached the last page.

As she closed the book, the little boy slid under the covers and said, “You’ll be here tomorrow, right?”

“I will be,” Terese confirmed.

“We gots ranch work to do but I’m gonna show you our barn and our barn cat and all the stuff outside that I couldn’t show you in the dark.”

“I’d like that.”

She also would have liked to bend over and give him a good-night kiss on the cheek or the forehead, but, as with the urge to hug him earlier, she resisted. Instead she said, “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” and traded places with Hunter to stand at the doorway while he tucked Johnny in, roughed up his hair and gave him the good-night kiss she hadn’t been able to.

“Sleep tight, big guy,” Hunter said once the ritual was accomplished.

“Sleep tight,” Johnny answered, already sounding groggy.

Hunter switched on a small bedside lamp and then joined Terese at the door, turning off the overhead light.

She stepped aside to allow him to go out into the hall but once he had she couldn’t keep herself from craning around the doorjamb for one more look at her nephew.

A wealth of emotions swelled in her and she had an odd feeling that he might once again disappear from her life if she left him behind.

But of course that was silly. She knew she was going to see the little boy again the next day. Reminding herself of that finally made her able to tear herself away from the door.

Once she had, Hunter motioned toward the stairs without saying anything and waited for Terese to precede him.

Not until they were at the foot of the steps did he say, “So that’s our boy.”

Our boy. That pleased Terese. “I wasn’t sure if he knew exactly who I was,” she said then, recalling her introduction to her nephew.

“I didn’t go into the details,” Hunter answered, explaining what he had told Johnny about her.

She didn’t mind her nephew thinking of her as only a friend of the family so as not to confuse him and she let his father know that.

“This way,” Hunter said in conclusion, “he’s just happy to have company.”

There didn’t seem to be any more to say on that subject so Terese felt free to voice the other question she’d been anxious to ask. “What about the blood test? Does he have hemophilia?”

Hunter nodded. “’Fraid so. But now that we know, we can deal with it.”

“Which is why you didn’t want him running down the stairs,” Terese guessed.

“Mmm. I’m probably being overly cautious right now because this episode last week kind of shook me, but yes, he needs to be more careful than most kids since it’s so easy for the bleeding to get out of control if he’s hurt.”

“Well, at least now you know where you can get him a refill,” Terese joked.

Hunter had been very quiet since her arrival but that comment garnered her a smile. A warm smile that softened his features and made her stomach flutter.

Hunter seemed to realize they were still standing at the foot of the steps and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? Or shall I just show you the cabin?”

It hadn’t struck Terese until then that Hunter was hanging back, making her visit only for his son and not participating any more himself than was absolutely necessary. Now that she realized it, she figured he’d prefer showing her where she’d be staying rather than having to socialize with her.

Which was probably how it should have been anyway, she told herself through the wave of disappointment she knew was totally inappropriate.

So, again thinking to give him what she assumed he wanted, she said, “I’m fine. I mean I don’t need anything to eat or drink. You can just show me the cabin.”

He didn’t argue. He just picked up her suitcase and led her out the back door.

Terese paused a moment to look around when she got outside. An industrial-sized light on the barn illuminated the entire area.

The grounds were divided into the plain dirt patch and fenced-in paddock that were immediately in front and to the side of the barn, and a small, grassy yard like any suburban backyard. There was a jungle gym waiting to be played on beneath a tall oak tree, a brick patio complete with a barbecue, several trucks and toys here and there, and, about eight or nine feet off the south side of the house, there was, indeed, a log cabin.

“The cabin was the first house here,” Hunter informed her as he led her down the brick path that connected it to what was now the main house. “My great-great-great-grandfather built it when he bought the land and he and my great-great-great-grandmother and their three kids lived in it their whole lives. There’ve been a few amenities added over the years—you have heat and electricity and plumbing now—but most of it is original and rustic. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’m afraid.”

The door was unlocked when they reached the cabin and Hunter opened it and flipped a switch that flooded the space with light. Then he waited for Terese to go in ahead of him and followed her in just enough to set her suitcase down.

He hadn’t been joking about it being rustic. The walls were log and mortar and it was a single open space that, while not cramped for one person, was impossible to imagine for five.

But there was a four-poster double bed, a dresser, an easy chair and a television, a café-sized table with two chairs, and a black woodburning stove that had probably been the only source of heat for the place originally.

“It’s rustic but nice,” Terese said, meaning it.

“The bathroom is through that door over there,” he said then, pointing it out. “There are some mugs and tea bags and cocoa and instant coffee. You can heat water in that microwave over there if you want any of that. But there’s no kitchen otherwise. I leave the mudroom door open, though, so you can raid the fridge even in the middle of the night if you get hungry. Otherwise, we’ll be eatin’ regular meals together.”

“I don’t usually raid the refrigerator at night, anyway.”

“Wish I could say the same thing. Anyway, we usually have breakfast around eight but I’ll be up and about doin’chores long before that, so if you hear anything, don’t think there are burglars or something, and don’t feel as if you can’t stay in bed a while longer. I’m usually up before dawn but Johnny’ll be sleepin’ later than that.”

“Before dawn? Really?”

“Rancher’s hours. It isn’t so bad. You get used to it,” he said. “So, anything else I can do for you or get you?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“All right, then.” Hunter took two steps to get back out the door and Terese went to the threshold behind him.

“I want you to know how grateful I am for this,” she said, not wanting him to get away without telling him that. “When I didn’t hear from you until Friday, I thought you might have had second thoughts.”

“I did do some thinking before I made the call,” he admitted with a half smile that was a little guilty and only more charming because of it.

“But you let me come, anyway,” Terese said, wondering where the almost flirtatious tone had come from when she hadn’t intended it.

“I think it’ll be okay.”

“I’ll do my best to make it okay. I know this can’t be something you’ve dreamed of.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said more to himself than to her.

Terese had no idea what that meant and didn’t feel as if she could question him about it. And since he didn’t offer an explanation, she continued with what she’d wanted to say. “I’ll be really careful not to overstep my bounds. I don’t have any illusions about being a part of your family and I know Johnny is your son.”

“I appreciate that,” Hunter said, his topaz eyes meeting hers.

“He seems like a great kid, though,” she said then.

“He is a great kid. But a pistol, in case you missed that.”

“I didn’t,” Terese said with a laugh. “It’s part of what I liked.”

“Me, too,” Hunter confided.

Something about that confidence gave Terese a sense that that hanging back he’d been doing was over, that they’d just shared something that broke down a wall of some kind. And she was glad.

Even though, as a result, her mind started to wander in a direction all its own and she began to compare this moment with Hunter at the door to the end of a date.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast, then,” he said after a moment.

“I expect to do my share so don’t think you need to cook for me or anything,” Terese said.

“I’ll be cookin’ one way or another. But maybe you could take a turn of your own,” he suggested with a hint of mischief to his tone.

Terese guessed what was on his mind. “You think I can’t, don’t you?”

He shrugged one broad shoulder and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. “Can you?”

“Maybe you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Oh, more of the flirting. What was she doing?

“Maybe I’ll just have to,” he countered. And unless she was mistaken, there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice, too.

But then he seemed to catch himself because he drew back almost imperceptibly and took another step away from the cabin door.

“I’ll let you get settled in,” he said.

Terese nodded. “Good night.”

“’Night,” he answered, turning on his heels and heading for the house.

But even though that hanging-back thing he’d been doing earlier had returned at the last minute, Terese was still fighting those images of this as the end of a date.

The end of a date when a kiss might have been possible…

A kiss from Hunter?

Even thinking about that was out of those bounds she’d just told him she would stay in.

But out of bounds or not, that was exactly what she was thinking about as she finally closed the cabin door.