“The boys are very lucky to have you, jefe! You are very good to them.”
“They just need to know we care, Noé,” Palmer said, thinking back to when he’d been in the system and how he’d been desperate to know that someone cared about his well-being and wanted him to be happy. Leanne showing him attention and supporting him had been everything he wanted when he’d needed to feel loved.
The man nodded. “Everyone is waiting for you, boss.”
“Give me one minute,” Palmer said. “I need to make a quick telephone call before we get started.”
“Very good,” Noé said. “We will wait.”
As Noé walked away, Palmer leaned back against his truck and took out his cell phone. He wanted to call the house to speak with Soledad, to just hear her voice. He was missing her already and feeling completely out of sorts because of it.
Soledad’s presence in his life was a distraction, albeit a pleasant one, but still a distraction that was already proving to be problematic. It wasn’t like him to show up to anything late, and he hadn’t missed a day of work since before he had closed on the property. Now not wanting to leave Soledad’s side and being unable to stop thinking about her had him slacking on the job. How quickly things had changed, he thought.
He sighed, slipping his cell into the back pocket of his jeans. He would see her in an hour or so to pick up those cookies. Until then, he would have to settle for the memory of a kiss he wished he had planted on her lips instead.
* * *
“You own all this?” one of the boys challenged.
His name was Tyler, and Palmer thought he looked like a miniature version of Jimmy Kimmel but with red hair. Skepticism filled the boy’s face as he eyed Palmer with reservation.
“I do,” Palmer answered. “This is all mine.”
“I don’t want no farm,” a second little boy interjected. “I plan to live in a penthouse apartment in a big city like New York or Miami.”
“That’s good,” Palmer said. “It’s good to have goals. You can accomplish anything you put your mind to.”
“I plan to be a race-car driver,” a third child added.
“I love your ambition,” Palmer answered. And he was proud of them. They were good kids who’d been dealt bad hands, but most of them were willing to bet the bank on themselves succeeding. He admired their perseverance, determination seeming like it was ingrained in their DNA.
“These are some good cookies,” another little boy chimed in. “Where you buy them cookies?”
Palmer laughed. “I didn’t buy them. A friend made them especially for you boys.”
“I like your friend.”
“I like her, too,” Palmer said as he bit into his own chocolate-chip cookie that Soledad had made with chunks of dark chocolate and trickles of caramel across the top. He found himself hoping that how much he liked Soledad didn’t show on his face.
Running back home to pick up the freshly baked cookies had come with its own challenges. Soledad had been playing with Jack and the baby when he’d arrived, the trio dancing around his living room again. The cookies had been packed in a plastic container and waiting for him on the counter. He had only been able to stay for a quick second, Noé sitting in the truck outside waiting for him to return.
Despite his nervousness, Soledad hadn’t had anything to say about that kiss or their previous conversation. It was almost as if he’d dreamed it, nothing at all having happened between them. He had rushed in and rushed back out, cookies in hand and thoughts of Soledad in his head.
The boys’ conversation shifted to the latest video game and some girl named Paloma. Paloma’s “breast game” had all their attention, someone declaring that she’d moved from training bras to ones with real cups and lace. From the gist of the conversation, Palmer surmised Paloma was much older, closer to fourteen and at least three to five years out of their league.
Despite his efforts to keep the conversation on track, it would split off in a dozen different directions as quickly as a random thought crossed one of their young minds. Those thoughts spoken aloud kept Palmer and the rest of the chaperones on their toes.
Grandma Butler chastised two of the youngsters for inappropriate language and Palmer gave her a smile, nodding his head. “Get them, Grandma!” he said.
One of the new kids sat with his hand raised, waving it eagerly. Palmer gave him a nod. “Yes, Charlie?”
“Can I come back here next time?”
Palmer smiled, his head bobbing up and down. “As long as you keep your grades up and do what you’re supposed to do, you’ll be able to come back every time.”
“Cool. I like this place,” he said. “I like riding the horses.”
One of the older boys rolled his eyes, less than impressed. He scowled, leaning back in his chair, the front legs lifted off the floor. “Man, this place bites,” he grumbled. “Why do we have to muck the horse stalls?”
“David, we have this same conversation every week,” Palmer said. “Mucking the stalls is necessary to maintain the health and well-being of the horses. If you want to ride, you also have to be responsible for their care. Those are the rules.”
The young man shrugged. “Whatever.”
“What’s happened?” Palmer questioned. “Why are you in a mood today? This isn’t like you.” And it wasn’t, Palmer thought. David pretended to be hard, a coping mechanism to protect his feelings. Deep down, he was a good kid, kind, compassionate and eager to be of help to others. He had rarely been a problem, so his sour disposition and belligerent attitude were completely out of character.
Since David’s first visit to the ranch, Palmer had wanted to see him excel. He’d taken the young man under his wing, personally overseeing his training around the property. Palmer saw a lot of himself in David and he knew the right attention could be a springboard for his success. He asked him again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
David looked away, not bothering to offer Palmer an explanation. His bad mood seemed to intensify when he punched one of the younger kids in the shoulder for stepping on his sneakers.
Palmer stood. “We’re not going to do that. Get up,” he snapped.
David gave him a defiant stare, visibly debating his options before finally standing.
“Now apologize,” Palmer ordered. “We don’t resolve any issue with our fists. Not for any reason.”
The boy tried to stare Palmer down but gave in when he quickly realized it was a battle he would not win. “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.
Palmer corrected him. “‘I apologize. I should not have hit you.’ Now say it. Clearly and with conviction, and look him in the eye when you do.”
David snarled, wishing he could sit back down and forget the conversation altogether. A minute passed before he finally turned to the boy he’d bullied and repeated what Palmer had instructed him to say.
“I apologize. I should not have hit you.”
The other boy laughed. “You’re a punk!”
“We’re not going to do that, either,” Palmer said, pointing a finger at the child. He shook his head as he turned back to David. “Walk with me,” he said, guiding the boy toward the door.
Minutes later, the two sat atop the fence that bordered the pasture where the horses were grazing. Palmer knew that David enjoyed riding and that the quarter horse named Majestic was one of his favorites. This was his third or fourth year in the program and he had always been one of the promising students and successes.
“Talk to me, buddy. What’s going on with you?” Palmer asked.
David shrugged his shoulders, staring out across the landscape. His eyes swung back and forth, and Palmer sensed he was trying not to cry.
“It’s okay,” he persisted. “You can talk to me. Did something happen?”
“It’s my birthday next week.”
“Happy birthday
to you!” Palmer exclaimed. “When you consider the alternative, that’s a good thing.”
“I’ll be eighteen. I’ll have to leave the foster home and my aunt said I can’t come live with her. She’s got a new boyfriend and he’s got two daughters, so he says I can’t stay there with them. I don’t have no place to go.”
Palmer heaved a heavy sigh. The number of children who aged out of the foster-care system each year was astronomical. Far too many became instantly homeless. Even more were unemployable. And some suffered with mental-health issues that would never be treated. It had become a vicious cycle, and even David knew he was about to become lost within it.
“What does your social worker say?”
“I might be able to stay at the center until the end of the summer, as long as they don’t need the bed. Then I’ll be able to move into the dorm at the college.”
“You were accepted?”
“I got into the University of Michigan, Michigan State and Wayne.”
“Dude! Congratulations! Have you decided where you’re going?”
“I got a full scholarship to Wayne State. And I like their engineering program. It’ll also pay for housing if I can get through the summer.”
“That’s good news. I’m proud of you.”
David shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to go. I’ll need to find a job to support myself. My aunt is the only family I have left, and she just tossed me over for some guy named Larry.”
Palmer could sense the boy’s deflation, every ounce of his spirit feeling bruised and battered by the hand life had dealt him. As he shared, tears rained down David’s cheeks.
Palmer sat staring out over the landscape. His own frustration was palpable. Too many boys would feel like David did. They would commit to the work, turn their lives around and then get kicked down on their way out the door. “Let me talk to your social worker. We’ll figure something out. You won’t be homeless. I promise.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yes, I would. Just remember, though, one day, I’m going to need you to pay it forward and do something good for someone else. Understood?”
David nodded. “Yeah!”
“Good. Now stop beating up on the younger kids. You need to be an example for them to emulate.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We need to head back. It’s almost time for your bus to pull out.”
“Thanks, Mr. Colton,” David said, throwing himself off the side of the fence to the ground. “Thanks a lot.”
* * *
As the yellow school bus pulled off the property, Palmer and his men watched, waving goodbye at the boys who were waving at them.
Noé gestured for Palmer’s attention.
“We didn’t have any problems, did we?” Palmer asked.
“No, boss. Just the usual with them. For the most part, all the boys were good today.”
“Yes, they were! I was impressed by their ingenuity and the effort they all put into the team-building exercises. It was a good session this week.”
“We have new livestock being delivered tomorrow,” Noé reminded him. “I’ve scheduled more hands on deck to help get them tagged. Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“What time’s that truck due?”
“Early morning. He came before eleven the last time.”
“We’ll be ready. Anything else?”
“No, jefe. We are good.”
“Then I’m headed back to the house. I will see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, boss. You have a good night.”
“You, too, Noé. And thank you for all your help today.”
As Palmer headed back to his truck, he smiled. It had been a good day and another successful event for the kids. He thought about David, making a mental note to give his social worker a call first thing in the morning. The young man was headed toward a bright future, and he wasn’t willing to let anyone or anything impede his journey. He felt responsible for David in a way that awed him. Palmer couldn’t help but think if he had a son he would go to bat for him in the same way. But he didn’t have a son, and he didn’t want to worry about someone being there for his child if he couldn’t be.
He blew a soft sigh, suddenly wondering if he was being irrational about not wanting children. Because he was there and able to do whatever was necessary. Starting his day with Soledad and Lyra had him rethinking every aspect of his life, and he found himself enjoying the experience of family. It took him back to his days after being adopted. And those had been great days! What if he could have what his parents had and not be afraid that it might blow up on him? Palmer suddenly realized he had more soul-searching to do. Until then, he looked forward to his evening, he thought, pulling his truck out of its parking spot. The night couldn’t help but be good once he was back with Soledad.
Chapter 13
Soledad was putting the final touches on five dozen cupcakes as Palmer sat at the table and rocked Lyra to sleep. This was the only other order that she was determined to fulfill. Palmer had promised to take it to her sister, who would deliver the order to her client.
The mother of the bride had ordered lemon cupcakes hand-decorated with vanilla-buttercream flowers and leaves. They were layered and tiered, and Soledad was certain each cupcake, individually wrapped in a green, tulip-cut paper baking cup, would make for a stunning presentation. This was one of those custom orders that would solidify her position in the local culinary scene—and bring in a dozen more orders from those present at the party.
Looking up, she watched as Palmer pulled his index finger to his lips, shushing the dog. Jack had begun to whine for his attention, not impressed that he had rocked the baby to sleep. The dog had apparently wanted to snuggle with the little girl by his lonesome, seeming irritated by Palmer’s presence.
“Stop, Jack,” Palmer whispered loudly. The little girl shifted against his shoulder, turning her head to stare down at the dog nuzzling her foot. She leaned and reached a small hand out, muttering something that Palmer couldn’t begin to decipher.
“You woke the baby, Jack,” Palmer said, rising and shaking his head.
Soledad laughed. “Actually, if you just go put her down in the crib, she’ll fall asleep. You rocking her to sleep is spoiling her.”
“I like spoiling her,” Palmer said.
“You do know, then, that you’ll have to come over every night to get her to sleep when we go home, right?”
“Or you could just stay here,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Soledad said, her voice rising slightly. “I didn’t catch that.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He blushed, turning toward the makeshift nursery to lay the baby down to sleep.
Soledad laughed. She’d already been prepping the cupcakes when he’d come back from his volunteer event. Lyra had been napping, Jack keeping a watchful eye on her. Palmer had lumbered through the door with a rowdy Honey, I’m home, and the laughter between them had started all over again.
After a quick shower, he’d taken a seat at the counter for a quick lesson on the art of cupcake making and then he’d shared the events of his day. As the cupcakes had baked and cooled, they’d eaten a light dinner, still chatting about their day. Everything between them had felt comfortable and natural. Almost too comfortable, Soledad had thought.
Although she enjoyed their time together and the banter between them was as easy as breathing, Soledad couldn’t help but worry that maybe she was becoming too close to the man. Palmer didn’t want a family and she couldn’t let herself want a family with someone who didn’t want what she did.
Minutes later, Palmer walked back into the kitchen and resumed his seat at the table. “Those look incredible,” he said, eyeing the artwork she’d crafted atop each dessert.
Soledad placed one on a s
aucer and passed it to him. “I made a few extra for us. Tell me how they taste.”
Palmer took a big bite, his eyes widening. He hummed his appreciation. “This is really good, Soledad.”
“Thank you. It’s one of our more popular flavor combinations.”
“I think the salted caramel that you make is probably my favorite.”
Soledad gave him a look, one hand falling to her hip. “You really did spend a lot of time at my bakery, didn’t you?”
“You didn’t believe me? I told you I was there almost every day hoping to catch a glimpse of you. How come you never come out front?”
She laughed. “I do sometimes, but depending on what orders I need to fulfill, I have to be in the kitchen most of the time. Had you asked for me, I would have gladly come to the front to see you.”
He tossed up his hands. “Now you tell me!”
Soledad shook her head. “Seriously, though, why didn’t you ask me out?”
“Because I am painfully shy if I don’t know you. And truth be told, I really didn’t think I had a chance with you.”
Oh, you had a chance! she thought to herself. She smiled and said out loud, “You may have been right.” Soledad teased. “It’s not like you’re my type.”
“You have a type?”
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t change the subject. What’s your type?”
“I like my men tall, handsome and intelligent.”
Palmer blinked. “You’re right. I might not be your type. I’m probably an inch shy of tall,” he said smugly.
Soledad laughed, the beauty of it ringing warmly through the room. “So, what’s your type?” she asked after catching her breath.
“Beautiful inside, beautiful inside and beautiful inside,” he answered.
“You’re not hard to please, I see.”
“You’d be surprised.” He finished off the last bite of a second cupcake and licked the icing from his fingers.
A significant pause swelled thick and full between them as each dropped silently into self-thought. Palmer eventually spoke first, shattering the quiet that had fallen over the room.
Rescued by the Colton Cowboy Page 15