Rescued by the Colton Cowboy

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  Palmer laughed, his cousin’s expression too serious for the conversation.

  “Someone who gets my sense of humor!” Stanton exclaimed. “Seriously, though, those two are super close. You need to be ready for it.”

  “We’re not dating. Right now, I’m just helping her out, and when she goes back home, I hope that we’ll remain friends.” Palmer said the words but even he didn’t believe them. What he was feeling for Soledad was far more than friendship and he found himself hoping that her going home would never happen.

  “Then you need to stop looking at her the way you do,” Stanton chuckled.

  “What do you mean? How do I look at her?”

  “Like you’re hopelessly in love.”

  “You’re seeing things.”

  “You get those sad puppy-dog eyes, and you start sweating around the collar. It’s so obvious. Everyone saw it at our engagement party.”

  “No one saw anything they weren’t imagining.”

  Stanton shrugged. “Okay. If you don’t believe me, ask your brother. He was talking about it on the ride back last night. How you’ve been fantasizing about you and her since forever. How you’ve been too nervous to ask her out and tell her how you feel. He said you’re like a walking Hallmark card, the way you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

  “Remind me to kill my brother the next time I see him.” Palmer felt his face flush, knowing his cheeks were tinted a rich bright red.

  Stanton eyed him, his expression serious. “Life’s short. If she’s the one, don’t let her get away. Why spend your life regretting lost love when you can have a lifetime of happiness instead?”

  “So, you’re an expert now?”

  “Look, it took a lot to get me to this headspace. Dominique worked overtime to help me see the error of my ways. That’s why I love her as much as I do. She knows what she wants and she’s fearless about going after it. She’s got fight and I love that she challenges me.”

  “Well, Soledad and I are on different pages. She wants children and marriage, and that has never been in my playbook.”

  “Sounds like you may want to rewrite some of those plays, or even get you a new book. Women like the de la Vega sisters don’t come calling every day, and the fact that she likes you is half your battle.”

  Palmer sighed. “Whatever, man. Right now, all I can focus on is her safety. Protecting her and that baby are the best I can do.”

  “I hear you. But think about it. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to lose her.”

  Palmer shook his head. “We need to get back. You need to make that delivery for me.”

  “What’s the package?”

  “A cake for a client’s party tonight.”

  “A cake?”

  “Yeah, Soledad had a cake order that she was determined to fill. I was going to deliver it myself, but I don’t want to leave her alone or risk anyone else figuring out she’s here with me.”

  “You could wear a disguise. Maybe a wig and hat to conceal your identity?”

  Palmer gave his cousin a look, not at all amused by his suggestion. “Would you focus, please?”

  Stanton laughed and shrugged. “Have you tasted this cake? Is it any good? You know I really like cake.”

  “I swear, cousin, if anything happens to that damn cake and you mess this up for me, I will rip you to shreds. Don’t even think about showing your face around here again.”

  Stanton laughed, the wealth of it gut deep. “Sure, you’re not in love,” he said facetiously. “It’s your lie, cousin, but tell it any way that makes you happy!”

  * * *

  When the two men returned, Soledad and her sister were seated at the counter. Soledad was giving Dominique explicit instructions for delivering and setting up the cake for her client.

  Dominique rolled her eyes, clearly done with the conversation. “Who worked for free the first summer you were open, helping with every position in that damn bakery?”

  “You did.”

  “Who set up the Pinkney wedding cake all by her lonesome when you broke your foot?”

  “You did—but I directed you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did. I kept calling you to tell you what to do.”

  “You kept calling to be a nuisance and I still managed to get that monstrosity of a wedding cake onto the table without it falling apart. It was stunning when I walked out of there.”

  “Because I make wonderful cakes.”

  Dominique tossed Stanton a look. “It was fifteen tiers and had to be delivered in sections and set up on-site. I earned the salary I wasn’t making that day.”

  “You make that sound like I have never pulled an all-nighter editing one of your articles,” Soledad retorted. “Without snacks and coffee.”

  “You got snacks.”

  “A stale bag of peanuts from some flight you’d taken does not count.”

  Dominique shrugged. “You didn’t complain then.”

  “I was hungry.”

  The two women laughed, enjoying the banter that came naturally.

  “Is there anything I need to know or do?” Stanton asked, looking from one to the other.

  “No, honey. I think I have it under control,” Dominique answered. “My sister just doesn’t want to give me my due credit.”

  “I’ve got your back, baby,” Stanton said as he leaned to kiss his fiancée’s cheek.

  “You just get your girl and that cake to their destination, in one piece, please. You just do that.” Palmer gave his cousin a narrowed stare.

  Jack suddenly barked and they all turned to look at the same time. Lyra had taken a nosedive into a mound of pillows and was struggling to right herself. Soledad noticed how Palmer made it to her side in three swift steps, lifting the small bundle into his arms.

  “Did that bad doggy push you?” he said, snuggling the infant. “You have to be easy with the baby, Jack. You can’t bowl her over like one of your play toys.”

  Soledad chuckled. Amusement danced across her face as she watched Palmer with the baby, the tenderness he showed the little girl like a warm blanket. “Don’t yell at Jack. He didn’t do anything. She keeps trying to grab his ears, and when she misses, she falls over. When she hits her target, she tries to drag the poor dog. She’s going to be a terror when she starts walking.”

  Palmer was cooing and making silly faces at the baby. Lyra was giggling as she grabbed at Palmer’s face, trying to chew his chin. The two were quite a pair, and watching them, she couldn’t help but smile.

  Soledad and her sister exchanged a look, the duo having a silent conversation that no one else was privy to. Doing that thing twins did when they shut out the world and it was just them. Dominique’s eyes lifted, her brow furrowed. Her expression was inquisitive and the slightest smile pulled at her lips. Soledad responded with her own wide-eyed stare, batting her lashes rapidly.

  Watching the man and the baby together, Soledad realized Palmer Colton was a natural, despite his assertions that fatherhood was not for him. In that moment, Soledad couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever find a man like Palmer, who was both tender and protective of her and that baby girl. Would there ever be someone who looked at her like he sometimes did? Would she want him as much as she found herself suddenly wanting Palmer? As if reading her mind, Dominique reached for her hand, the two interlocking their fingers and holding tightly to each other.

  Chapter 11

  Staring out the large bay window, Soledad watched as Dominique and Stanton drove away with her cake delivery. She stared until she could no longer see the car, and she was still staring minutes after. An air of melancholy had filled the room, no hint of the laughter that had been there just an hour earlier. Watching her, Palmer felt as if he’d taken a punch to his gut, unable to catch his breath and make things well.

  She caught him s
taring, noticing his reflection in the glass, and she turned to meet his gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, stalling his words. “Please, don’t ask me if I’m okay, because I’m not. I’m not okay,” she snapped, shaking her head vehemently. Her tone was short and riddled with emotion. “I’m so over this. I want my life back.”

  Palmer nodded politely. “Are you ready to go to the police?” he asked.

  There was a hint of hesitation before she answered. “No. I’m sure if I do, they’re just going to put me in hiding somewhere else and maybe even take Lyra from me. For all I know, they might even put me in jail for taking the baby. I can’t let that happen. I still feel safer here. With you.”

  Palmer reflected on her comment as Soledad turned back to the window, her forlorn expression like a knife in his heart. He understood why she felt the way she did and knew there was little he could do to make her feel better. What surprised Palmer was that he found himself wishing that Soledad wanting to remain in his home could be more about her wanting him and less about her simply feeling safe. He released the breath he’d been holding, allowing the warm air to blow softly past his lips.

  “Why don’t I make us some dinner?” he said, moving to the refrigerator. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

  Soledad turned back around and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been so kind to me, and I realize I probably sounded ungrateful just then. But I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’ll probably never be able to repay you for everything, but I hope I’m able to come close.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Soledad.”

  “And there you go being sweet again. Which is why I’m going to make you dinner.” Her smile widened. “Grilled cheese?”

  Palmer laughed. “Grilled cheese works for me.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Soledad and Palmer stood side by side in the kitchen, prepping their evening meal. Lyra was sound asleep and Jack lay beneath her crib, keeping a watchful eye out for any threats.

  As Soledad cut vegetables for a salad, Palmer slid their favorite sandwich together, layering three different cheeses with fresh spinach on a thick crusty bread. He topped off the bread with a light garlic-butter spread and then laid it in a warm cast-iron pan.

  Palmer had turned on the stereo, and as they worked, someone’s jazz played softly in the background. The music was soft and easy, and filled the space with warm energy. The conversation between them was casual, the two chatting comfortably together. Soledad discovered he had a penchant for old black-and-white films and country music. He learned she liked roller coasters and NASCAR racing. Both enjoyed a good James Patterson novel and were members of the mile-high club. Time had revived the laughter in the home, the two chuckling together like old friends who knew each other’s darkest secrets. They were comfortable with one another, and that spoke volumes to Soledad.

  After checking on Lyra, they sat to eat, and their conversation continued. The discussion was heated, the two debating the popular television series The Blacklist.

  “How can you not like Raymond Reddington?” Palmer questioned. “The man is ultracool.”

  “The man is a criminal who wears nice suits and has a poetic tongue. But he’s still a criminal.”

  Palmer laughed. “I see watching television with you is going to be interesting.”

  “Especially if you won’t even acknowledge when you’re wrong.” A slow smile spread across her face.

  Shaking his head, Palmer began to clear away the dirty dishes. “I’ll wash if you dry.”

  “I can do that,” Soledad responded. “I hate washing dishes. That’s what a dishwasher’s for.”

  “It’s two plates, Soledad.”

  “Two or twenty. What difference does it make?”

  “You’re funny.”

  “I’m told you like women with a sense of humor.”

  Palmer gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “And who told you that?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Sounds like my cousin’s been talking out of turn again.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Soledad grabbed the dish towel to wipe the moisture from the plate he passed to her.

  Palmer chuckled.

  “I’m glad your sister came,” he said after a few minutes of silence between them. “I know you hated to see her leave, but it was nice you two could spend some time together. I think it was good for you.”

  “It was good. I needed that time more than I realized. And I’m sorry again if I was acting like a brat before.”

  “You’re forgiven. I was told you could be a little high-strung.”

  “You were not,” Soledad quipped, her voice rising to a high squeal. Shock registered; she was surprised that anyone would think such a thing about her. A nervous giggle blew past her lips.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “There is no one who would tell you something like that about me. Because I am not high-strung. Not all the time, anyway.” She smiled.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” He smirked, his wide smile like a beam in the center of his face.

  Soledad gave him an eye roll.

  Palmer changed the subject. “So, Stanton mentioned Dominique has been working on articles about the Grave Gulch Police Department. How is that going for her?”

  Soledad nodded. “She is. But she says her exposé is more about the forensic scientist that duped them.”

  “Was that Randall Bowe? The subject of that manhunt?”

  “Yes, him. Dominique says she’s uncovered information she thinks will change public opinion of the Grave Gulch PD. That the full scope of what he did and how he did it is eye-opening.”

  “I’ve read a few of her articles. Dominique’s a talented writer.”

  “Yes, she is. She’s a stickler for details and she believes in getting her facts right. She has a way with words, and I’m always impressed with her ability to manipulate them into pretty sentences.”

  “Much like you manipulate dough into cookies?”

  Soledad smiled. “Very much like that.”

  “Speaking of cookies...” Palmer’s eyebrows rose, his eyes bright. “Since you now have my secret grilled-cheese recipe, maybe you can show me how to make those oatmeal cookies with the nuts and Craisins that taste kind of like spice cake. I really like those.”

  “You want them tonight or tomorrow?” Soledad asked.

  Palmer moved to the cupboard and began to pull out the flour and oatmeal and any other ingredient he thought she might need. He dropped everything onto the counter. “No hurry,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you or anything.”

  Soledad laughed. “I think you’re the one that’s funny, Palmer Colton. Just too funny.”

  Palmer laughed with her. “I will own that,” he answered. “For your cookies, I will own it and wear it proudly. Would you like to see my stand-up?” he asked as he winked at her.

  She eyed him warmly. He turned back to the pantry, beginning to pull out the baking pans. Muscles rippled beneath the T-shirt he wore and his denim jeans hugged his backside nicely. She bit down against her bottom lip, thinking she’d love to see his stand-up—and anything else he was interested in showing her.

  * * *

  Soledad scooped the last of the cookie dough onto a sheet, twelve evenly arranged balls of doughy goodness. She slid the pan into the oven and the mixing bowl into the sink. It was the last batch of three dozen. The first dozen was cooling on a wire rack on the counter, and the second dozen had a few more minutes in the other oven.

  Palmer had left the kitchen to answer the cries of a six-month-old. Lyra had begun crying after they had tossed all the ingredients into the bowl and he had yet to return. Eavesdropping via the baby monitor, she knew the little girl now had a dry diaper, a full tummy, and
she was currently being lulled back to sleep with an Irish lullaby. Palmer’s voice was liquid gold and the sweetest caress to her ears.

  The smell of sugar and spice filled the air. Fresh-baked cookies were the best balm and absolutely made her heart sing. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed her work at the bakery. The art of sifting flour and whipping butter gave her immense joy. Folding in steel-cut oats, chopped nuts and a host of spices that teased her senses brought her immeasurable delight.

  The time Palmer had spent measuring the ingredients had been great fun. She found herself enjoying the moments they shared. Soledad had to admit to a few moments of flirtation, the innuendos overt and heated. Palmer was a tease and he seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in making her blush.

  She suddenly thought about her sister and the comment she’d made about Palmer being in love with her. Maybe she was naive, Soledad thought, because she couldn’t see it. Yes, he was kind and generous and had blessed her immensely. Soledad didn’t think him being sweet to her had anything at all to do with his feelings for her. But she liked him. She liked him more than she’d been willing to admit out loud, and the more she thought about him, the more she would have given almost anything for him to return the sentiment. She imagined that what he was feeling had more to do with pity than anything else. And even if it wasn’t, nothing could come of it, if Palmer wasn’t interested in a family and children.

  Leaning across the counter, she reached for a warm cookie and took a large bite.

  * * *

  Lyra had finally drifted off to sleep. She’d eaten and played and been thoroughly entertained. Palmer had made silly faces and strange noises to make the baby giggle and laugh. Amazingly, Lyra had him in full “daddy” mode, and he was still in awe of how easily he’d fallen into the role.

  The entire evening had been one of the best experiences he’d had in some time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed as much or as hard or been that happy. But Soledad had him walking on cloud nine and Lyra was the pot of gold at the end of a bright rainbow.