The Prodigal Cowboy (Mercy Ranch Book 5)

by Brenda Minton

  Just like that day twelve years ago she felt it again, hitting her hard, taking her breath for just an instant before she reminded herself that he was a two-timing, no-good piece of work that she wanted nothing to do with.

  Yes, he’d tried to make amends. There were times she might even still consider him a friend. But she couldn’t let herself get pulled in by his looks and charm. Not again.

  She was just in a vulnerable state because she was tired, hungry and...tired.

  “Holly,” he started.

  She shook her head. The room spun a little and felt a need to put some distance between them. She took a step back.

  “What are you doing here?” she heard herself ask him. It was a silly question. His family lived here. And it wasn’t the first time he’d come home. Nor the first time she’d seen him in the past eleven years.

  It’s just that he never came here, not to the café.

  “I’m sorry, I know it’s a shock. I just need a few minutes of your time.”

  “Why?”

  He had moved closer and was suddenly in front of her, too real, smelling too good. She nearly groaned at her own weakness for this man.

  All because years ago he’d given her six-year-old self a kitten. He told her she needed that kitten more than he did because she needed to smile more. And she had. She’d needed both the kitten and his friendship.

  “Spit it out, Colt.” He remained silent, and she started to walk away.

  “Not here,” he finally told her.

  He wasn’t the boy she’d met all those years ago. He wasn’t even the man she’d met up with at college. The man in front of her had laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and he’d broadened across the chest and shoulders. He had a small scar on his forehead, where he’d been kicked by the bull that had taken him down.

  “Couldn’t you have just sent an email?” she asked.

  “Afraid not.” He lowered his voice. “Not this time.”

  “Colt, could you head on down the road,” Martin Finley said as he stuck his fingers in Chet Duncan’s ice water. “I’ve got three burned fingers and coffee in my fries. You’re like yesterday’s bad news.”

  “Not until I get some business taken care of.” Colt continued to stare at her and Holly felt her self-control unraveling. She’d had a horrible morning and he was making this a terrible afternoon so far.

  Why oh why did he have to be the prettiest man she’d ever laid eyes on? His dark lashes and quicksilver eyes just about did a girl in.

  “Does your dad know you’re home?” someone in the diner asked Colt.

  “I didn’t come home to see Jack.” Colt lowered his voice, making it obvious the conversation was between the two of them. He caught her gaze and held it. “I came to see Holly.”

  She nodded and glanced around, looking for the waitress still on duty. “Stacy, could you take over for me?”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Stacy was already on it. She had a mop, a towel and a look that said she’d handle things. And that included Colt, if need be.

  “We need privacy for this conversation,” he told her, his voice reminding her of coffee on a cold winter morning. Coffee, strong and with the right amount of sugar and cream.

  “Fine,” she told him. “We can talk in the back dining area.”

  She led the way to the back room, typically used for overflow or private parties and he followed at a slower pace. She had a minute to breathe, to regain control.

  He closed the door behind them and she turned to face him.

  “Have you decided to call in the loan, or maybe sell your percentage of the café? I know you, and whatever brought you here it isn’t going to make my life any easier, is it?”

  Her life was hard enough as it was. The café was doing well but her mother’s health was failing. Holly hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in what felt like years. The last thing she needed was Colt showing up, disturbing the tenuous balance of her life.

  “Really, that’s what you think of me?” His eyes narrowed, he looked hurt. “Holly, I haven’t asked for a payment. I haven’t given you advice. I don’t come in and give my opinions. I think I’m the model silent partner.”

  “You are and I’m sorry. But there’s a reason you’re here and that’s the only one I could think of. Is your dad okay?”

  “Jack’s fine. I’m not here about Jack. I’m here because we need to have a conversation.”

  That was the last thing she thought they needed to do. As strong as she thought she might be, he had a way of chipping at her defenses. He would make her feel pretty, feel special and then feel broken. He’d done it before. She had a lot of reasons to protect her heart from Colt West.

  He motioned her toward a table, even pulled out a chair for her.

  She took the seat and he sat across from her, tossing his hat on the table and running both hands through his hair like he meant to pull it out.

  “Get it over with, please. I can’t take much more of this. Are you sick? Did that bull hurt you worse than everyone said?”

  He looked up, his head still resting in hands that were buried in his hair. He grimaced as he leaned back. “I’m not sick. I would tell you not to worry but I doubt worry is the first thing you feel for me.”

  “I would be upset if something happened to you,” she admitted, her voice faltering.

  “This isn’t about the accident. I’m healing up fine. I’ll hopefully be back to work at the end of May.”

  “But until then, you’re here to make my life difficult?”

  “No, I’m not.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her face. “You’re still beautiful.”

  Of course he would go there. That was his way of dealing with life. He charmed. He complimented.

  Holly, you’ll always be my best friend. He’d told her that when she turned nine and he was ten. He’d given her a wilted bouquet of wildflowers as he made the promise.

  “Don’t. I don’t want your compliments and I don’t want you trying to take me down rabbit trails. You’re obviously here on business. So why don’t we cut to the chase?”

  He didn’t smile. “Of course, right to the point. I’m not here about the café.”

  Raising her arm, she made a show of checking the time on her watch. “I do have a business to run. Our business. Remember, I send you a check each month.”

  He shoved himself up from the table and limped to the window. His hand rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Holly, it’s about Dixie. That’s why I’m here.”

  Dixie.

  He wasn’t here about the café or about them. He was here to tell her something concerning Dixie.

  Their daughter.

  Chapter Two

  Holly’s world tilted and everything started to dim. She became aware of Colt at her side telling her to breathe as he shoved her head down between her knees. She breathed because it seemed necessary, but then she sat back up, pushing his hand away.

  “Dixie?” she whispered, afraid to say the word out loud. “Is she hurt? Or sick?” she asked. “What’s happened.”

  He backed away from her. “I think it’s time to clear the restaurant.”

  “Clear the restaurant? Why?”

  “Give me a minute to deal with your customers.”

  She nodded, agreeing. “Have Stacy send everyone home for the day. Tell them there’s a family emergency.”

  He paused at the door. “I’ll take care of it. And I’ll have her bring you a glass of water.”

  A glass of water was the last thing she wanted. She wanted answers. She needed to know that Dixie was okay. No, she hadn’t raised her daughter, but that hadn’t diminished her love for the tiny baby she’d held, then handed over to another woman to raise. She’d always loved her daughter, and if something had happened to her, surely she’d sense it. Wouldn’t she?


  From the main dining room she heard Isaac, not Colt, telling customers they were going to have to leave due to a family emergency. A few of her customers questioned him. Chet Duncan flat-out asked him what Colt had done to Holly. Isaac assured them Holly would be fine, but the café would be closed until further notice.

  Until further notice? That’s not what she’d told Colt. She started toward the main dining room but then Colt returned, stopping her. He wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was a girl. A girl of eleven who looked like the perfect combination of the two of them.

  It was hard to breathe, hard to think. She wanted to move but her feet seemed to be glued to the floor. Her vision swam as tears filled her eyes.

  “Colt, what have you done? Because this isn’t like bringing me a kitten. You can’t just take a child.”

  “I’ve done this all wrong,” Colt said as if surprised that he could ever be wrong. But what did she expect from Colt?

  She expected him to break her heart, to shatter the life she was building for herself. That’s what she expected because that’s all he’d ever done.

  No, that wasn’t true. Once upon a time he’d been her best friend, always doing little things to make her smile or laugh.

  She blinked away the tears.

  “Dixie.” Her voice broke as she took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

  Her daughter was here, just feet away from her, holding herself ramrod stiff. Holly wanted to pull her close. She wanted to reassure herself that the child was real and whole and unharmed.

  “I, uh...” The girl looked from Colt to Holly, her silver-gray eyes—Colt’s eyes—suddenly unsure. “I’m fine.”

  Holly cataloged the rest of the girl’s features. Her nose, her mouth, her honey-brown hair. A little bit of her was Holly. The mouth. The wave in her hair. The freckles on her nose.

  For eleven years she’d mourned the loss of this child. For eleven birthdays she’d cherished photos sent to keep her updated on her daughter’s life.

  “You’re here.” Holly shook her head and pinned Colt with a look. “She shouldn’t be here. Colt, why is she here?”

  Holly closed the distance between them. Dixie stood straight, as if barely holding herself together. Silver-gray eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but the girl, just a child really, didn’t let them fall. Without asking, Holly wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her, keeping her close until that ramrod stiffness dissolved. Because this was where the two of them might be the most alike. Holly knew all about holding it together, staying strong, not letting people see her weaknesses.

  Captured in Holly’s embrace, the child fell apart, her sobs coming in heavy waves.

  Colt walked away, taking a seat at a table some twenty feet from them.

  Holly held her daughter until the tears started to subside.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on,” Holly murmured against her daughter’s head. “But I’m glad to have this chance to meet you.”

  “Me, too,” Dixie sniffled against her shoulder. “I kind of can’t breathe.”

  Holly released her daughter. Dixie shuddered a little, then wiped her eyes with her hands. Holly grabbed a few napkins from a dispenser on a nearby table.

  “Let’s sit down and figure this all out.”

  She walked Dixie to the table where Colt had taken a seat. He looked more unsure than she’d ever seen him, except once. The day Dixie had been born. The day they hugged their baby girl, prayed for her and turned her over to Becky Stafford.

  She looked at Colt. “Explain,” she said. “Because this is not the birthday gift I expected today.”

  He smacked his forehead. “I forgot your birthday. I knew there had to be a reason you’re so upset with me.”

  He winked at their daughter. Dixie giggled just a little. Enough to lighten the ache in Holly’s chest.

  Holly gave him a warning look. “I need to know what is going on.”

  “My mom had a heart attack,” Dixie said softly, her voice breaking as she answered.

  “I’m so sorry,” Holly said, wanting to gather the girl up in her arms again and hold her. Dixie leaned back a little, as if knowing Holly’s thoughts. Holly shifted her attention back to Colt.

  “What do you say we get Dixie settled and we can talk later?” he said with a meaningful look in Dixie’s direction.

  “Yes, later, of course.” Holly pushed her seat back but she didn’t stand. She had so many questions and it seemed as if he was purposely avoiding answering them. “Where are you staying?”

  He rubbed a hand across his stubbly cheek and had the good sense to turn a bit red in the face. “A few years back I bought the old Miller place. It was a good investment and I thought maybe someday I might come back to Hope. That’s where I’ve stayed the couple of times I’ve been to town.”

  “A mile from my house. You own a home a mile from mine?”

  “This is getting awkward,” Dixie said in a dry tone. “Do I get a say in where I’m staying?”

  They looked at each other, she and Colt. Did Dixie get a say? Holly had no idea because she didn’t know what was going on.

  “I don’t know. Colt, does she get a say?”

  Colt pushed himself to his feet and leaned heavily on the cane. “Yes, you get a say.”

  “I’ve been with you for a week. I’d like to know my mom a little better. After all, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Dixie followed Colt’s lead and stood.

  She wanted to stay with her mom? Holly sat there for a few seconds, then it hit her. She was the mom Dixie spoke of. She was the person Dixie wanted to stay with.

  “Is that okay?” Dixie asked, suddenly acting her age and showing her uncertainty with the situation and with them.

  “I...” Holly hesitated, thinking about her mother. “Yes, of course.”

  Dixie’s attention suddenly switched to Colt. He looked at both of them, then nodded.

  “Does that mean we can go?” Dixie asked.

  “I have a few things to take care of,” Holly told her. “But yes, we can go.”

  Holly left them in the dining room, hurrying to the kitchen. She needed a minute to breathe, to cry, to compose herself.

  “You okay, boss?” Jim, her fry cook, stopped wiping down the counters and tossed the rag in the sink. “Anything I can do?”

  “I’ll be fine, but thank you.” She turned to the woman who waited tables but managed any number of problems for Holly. “Stacy, could you make sure everything is taken care of? Just close up and go home for the evening. I’m not sure if we’ll open tomorrow. I’ll let you both know.”

  The two of them waited for more of an explanation. Holly closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the tears from falling. Her eyes opened as arms went around her, pulling her in for a quick hug. A tear trickled down her cheek. A hugger who rarely included Holly in her affectionate embraces, Stacy released her but the caring in her hazel eyes struck a chord in Holly. She’d always been on the outside of most friend groups.

  She was no longer the shy little girl who kept to herself. She had friends now.

  “Leave it to me,” Stacy said. “And if you want, I can open for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Just say the word.”

  Holly bit down on her bottom lip and looked from the woman who had been her best help to the cook who could do his job blindfolded.

  “Holly, I’ve worked for you for three years. I can do this. And a day off would be good for you. Sleep in. Take care of whatever is going on, and trust me.” Stacy’s gaze shifted to Jim. “We’ve got this, right, Jim?”

  He nodded but remained silent. She knew her employees counted on their weekly salary. A day closed meant a day’s pay gone.

  “I do trust you.” She looked around the kitchen, sparkling clean and ready for the following day. This café had been her dream for years. She’
d come home to work for Mattie, and when Mattie decided to retire, Holly had prayed for a way to buy the place.

  Colt had shown up, lurking around town, watching his dad from a distance but still too angry to approach him. But he’d had the nerve to approach Holly. She remembered how it had felt to see him standing at the edge of the lake, waiting for her to arrive. He’d smiled, as if they were still best friends. She’d been wrapped up in a past that felt like a coat of too many colors. Anger, hurt, bittersweet emotions of childhood, love and sadness, all swirling around deep inside her.

  They’d managed to talk without her killing him and she’d told him about Mattie’s Café. And now, here they were, business partners, parents, still barely able to manage the past that would always be between them.

  “We’ve got this.” Stacy drew her back to the present with words of assurance. “And it seems you have bigger fish to fry. If you need anything, Holly, I’m here.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced toward the door, and through the window she could see the dining room where her daughter stood at Colt’s side.

  “You need to take the weekend off, Holly.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” Holly exhaled. “Call in Evelyn if you need help tomorrow.”

  “Got it. Now go home.” Stacy took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the door. “I’ll take care of the café. You take care of yourself.”

  Holly returned to the dining room. Dixie and Colt had moved to the front door. Isaac had left. There was an awkward moment that settled over them as they stood there together.

  “Let’s go to your place,” Colt suggested as he reached to push the door open.

  “Of course.” They had to start somewhere. “My place it is.”

  The place where her mother resided. Colt knew her mother; he knew the struggles of Holly’s childhood. True, Opal wasn’t the same person she’d been twenty years ago. That didn’t make it any easier to think about taking a child into her home. It really only meant the surfacing of old memories and old wounds.