Footsteps approached from behind her, and she tensed. But the voice was her brother's. "Pie, Erin? Anytime today would be nice."
"You're so desperate, cut it yourself," she said sharply.
"Whoa? What bit you?" Taggart raised his eyebrows.
"Nothing! I'm just … just tired." She'd been going to say hot and squelched that.
"Fine. I'll cut. Go sit down. Talk to Deke." He reached for the knife, but Erin jerked it away.
"No! I mean, no. I'll … do it." She raked a hand through her hair. "These are cut," she told him. "Put them on plates."
She tried to focus on the job at hand, tried to be the calm, cool, collected woman she knew she could be, tried to be dispassionate about Deke.
But the truth was that the sight of Deke Malone, his head tipped back in laughter as he sat at the table between her son Gabriel and her father, affected her just as much as it ever had.
Time hadn't erased the awareness. It wasn't the surprise, the jolt, the unexpectedness of seeing him again.
It was the man.
Trust Deke Malone, she thought irritably, to improve with age. It wasn't fair.
At seventeen he'd been a handsome boy. At twenty-two he'd been a gorgeous guy—lean and well-muscled with fine strong features, thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
He was still lean, still as muscular as ever, but he was more solid. His shoulders were broader, his hair cut shorter and edged at the temples with a hint of gray. His face was a little less perfect. His nose looked to have been broken once or twice, and he had a scar by his left eye. There were grooves bracketing his mouth and tiny squint lines fanning out from his eyes that crinkled when he grinned.
Girls had always fallen all over him.
She wondered which one had finally settled him down.
Who had actually been more than his friend? Who had satisfied him body and soul and become the mother of his child? She couldn't help it. She wanted to meet this woman.
Deliberately Erin picked up two plates of pie and carried them to the table. She set one in front of her father.
The second plate Erin held out to Deke. "I thought you might like one of your own." She felt pleased that none of her earlier agitation was evident. Her voice was warm and friendly, nothing more.
He glanced up and grinned that wonderful wicked grin. "Thanks."
Her heart skipped a beat. She'd obviously congratulated herself too soon. She took a deep breath. "So, where's your wife?" And then, because that sounded much too blunt, she added, "I'll bring another one for her."
Deke's smile turned a little wry. "No wife, I'm afraid."
"Oh. Sorry. I assumed—" she stopped and shrugged awkwardly, feeling equal parts cheered and dismayed by his reply. She hadn't thought he'd be divorced.
"Zack's mother died."
Even worse. Now she felt like an even bigger idiot. Deke had offered condolences to her about Jean-Yves and she hadn't even known his wife's name. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't even know you were married."
"I wasn't." His mouth twisted. "One more thing for us to talk about."
Erin shook her head hastily. "No, no. That's not necessary. We don't have to—"
"We do," Deke said flatly. "Finding you here is the best thing that's happened." He smiled at her, and Erin felt traitorous melting feelings. Resisting them, she backed away.
"Hey, Deke," Taggart said as he passed around more pieces. "You gotta come out to the barn and see our new stallion. Remember Shoeless? This guy's even better."
Deke's eyes lit up. "Love to see him."
Erin's traitorous feelings wanted to go see him, too—with Deke. She wiped damp hands on her jeans and backed right into a solid male body.
"Careful there." She turned to look into Cash Callahan's smiling face. He had a dusting of snow on his cowboy hat and he was still wearing his jacket.
"Oh, there you are!" Milly, with C.J. in her arms, swooped in on Deke. "We stopped at the house and you weren't there. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said gruffly. "Don't fuss." He glanced around, caught Erin looking at him, and shrugged ruefully. "Same ol', same ol'."
"Your father? After all these years?"
He didn't answer, and that was answer enough.
"We were just going to take Deke out and show him the stallion." Will Jones pushed back his chair. "Want to come?" he asked Cash.
Cash beamed. "You bet. He's a beaut. You gotta see this horse."
"Show you the new bull riding arena, too," Taggart offered.
"Bull and bronc ridin'," Noah Tanner corrected, carrying a stack of dirty plates into the kitchen. He dumped them into the sink and snagged his jacket from the hook by the door. "It's pretty snazzy. Bleachers on one side. Just like the real thing. Let's go."
Deke took one last bite of his pie and got to his feet. He started to take Zack out of the high chair, but Will said, "Erin'll watch him. Come on."
Deke looked at her. "Would you mind?"
"No, of course not." She felt a mixture of emotions, but no, she didn't mind.
"Thanks." He winked at her, then reached out and ruffled his son's hair. "Be nice to Erin, buddy. She's my best friend in the whole world." Then he followed her brother and the others out the door.
In her dreams Erin had held Deke Malone's child in her arms. She had nuzzled her nose in his soft hair. She had kissed him and mopped him up and rocked him to sleep in her arms.
Tonight she did all these things.
It was lovely and bittersweet at the same time because he was Deke's son … but not hers. She sat in the corner of the sofa in the family room with the activity of a dozen kids and cowboys swirling around her, playing parlor games, laughing and arguing and teasing, while she cuddled Deke's sleeping son.
After Deke had gone off to the barn, she had supervised Zack as he demolished the rest of his pie. Then she'd carried him to the sink and washed his face and hands, despaired of the sticky apple all over his shirt and had sent Sophie to find one of Willy's outgrown ones.
Sophie, who adored babies, had helped change him, then took him to play with the other kids. There were easily a dozen—little Joneses, Nicholses, Tanners, Holts, Malones and McCalls, as well as some she didn't even know. But Zack had fit right in, playing happily until Hank McCall accidentally socked him in the nose with a tractor.
"Mama!" Sophie had snatched him up and brought him to Erin who had kissed his nose and rocked and soothed him while he rubbed his eyes and stuck his thumb in his mouth.
"Is he getting tired?" Sophie wondered.
To Erin's practiced eye, he had been. So she'd carried him over to the sofa and settled in, cuddling him and singing to him softly one of the songs she'd sung to her own children. Within minutes he had fallen sound asleep.
He still was, half an hour or so later, when Deke and Taggart came back inside.
"Oh, jeez." Deke hurried over when he spotted them on the sofa. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to stick you with him."
"Not a problem." Except maybe a few twinges in the region of her heart. She rubbed her cheek against Zack's hair. "He was lovely. Just tired."
Deke flexed his shoulders. "It's been a long day." Erin thought he sounded even more drained than he looked. "I suppose I should get him back to Milly's."
Erin glanced at her watch. It was past ten. "And I need to get my kids home, too."
"We'll get together tomorrow."
"Sorry, I can't."
Deke's brows lifted, clearly surprised at being turned down.
"I'm busy tomorrow," Erin said quickly.
"All day?"
"Yes." Which wasn't precisely true, but while she'd been sitting there holding Zack, she had had time to think—and to make a decision.
It had been good to see Deke tonight. She was glad she had. But it would not be good to start daydreaming about him again. It would be unproductive and juvenile and she was far too old. If Jean-Yves had been alive, she wouldn't worry about it.
But Jean-Yves wasn't
alive. There was, she realized, a hole in her life where Jean-Yves had been. And while she hadn't envisioned ever looking at another man again, she now realized that she might.
Tonight when she'd looked at Deke Malone again, she'd felt something she hadn't felt for a long, long time—interest, desire. You name it. Erin didn't want to.
And she didn't want to feel it, either—not for Deke. There was no point in feeling it when she knew it would never be returned.
"Tomorrow night—"
"Tomorrow night, too," she said. "I'm going to a gallery opening. Charlie Seeks Elk has an exhibit opening in Livingston."
Deke grinned. "At Dustin's? Me, too."
"You, too, what?" Erin said warily.
"It's my opening, too. Charlie's in the front room, I'm in the back."
Oh, hell.
"So, I'll see you there, right? We can go out after. Catch up."
Erin arched a brow. "Just like old times?" she said dryly. "You and me and Zack and Gabriel and Sophie and Nicolas?"
Deke made a wry face as he bent and scooped Zack out of her arms and settled the sleeping boy against his chest. "Well, maybe not exactly like old times."
His gaze dropped to rest on Zack, then lifted again to meet hers. He winked. "I think they're better."
It was close to eleven when she and the kids finally left Taggart's place. The light snowfall that had begun about five had turned the landscape white and silent as Erin drove her Suburban back over the creek and down the winding road out of the foothills and into the valley toward Elmer and home.
In the back seat Nicolas was asleep and Sophie was yawning widely. Next to Erin in front, Gabriel was awake, staring out at the snowy landscape.
"Have a good time?" she asked. It had been their first American Thanksgiving, and Nicolas and Sophie had clearly enjoyed it, but with Gabriel, as quiet as the other two were noisy, it was sometimes hard to tell.
"Yeah." He slanted a glance her way. "I liked it. Were you worried?"
"Not really," Erin said, though she did sometimes wonder if the adjustment was harder for them than they led her to believe. "I just wondered. It's not exactly Paris."
"We always had Thanksgiving in Paris," he pointed out. And that much was true. Erin had always made sure that her children were aware of their American heritage. They knew all about the pilgrims and Squanto, the Declaration of Independence and the Fourth of July.
"Which wasn't exactly the same as here, though," she commented.
"Full of crazy cowboys, you mean?" Gabriel grinned.
She laughed. "It did get a little Western."
While Taggart and Deke and a few others were out in the barn, Felicity had organized the rest of the adults and teenagers into groups to play parlor games. Those who groaned about playing games ended up washing dishes. Between the silly charades and the outrageous guessing games and the bull riders and little kids who thought that snapping dish towels was the height of hilarity, things had turned just a little wild.
"It was cool," Gabriel said.
"Was," Sophie echoed from the back seat. "Liked that little boy," she murmured sleepily. "Didn't you?"
"Mmm. Yes." Erin didn't have to ask which little boy Sophie meant. If she bent her head she could still catch a whiff of the baby shampoo and apple pie smell that Zack had left on her sweater. Deke's child. The notion still made odd things happen in the pit of her stomach.
Deliberately she refocused, determined to think about something—anything—else. She needed to start thinking about her work. While she wasn't under serious financial pressure, she still needed something to fill her days. Several of the French magazines she'd done freelance work for had said she could contact them when she was ready. But she had held off, telling herself that they wouldn't be interested in photos from Montana. That was probably true—but it didn't excuse her from pursuing other markets. She hadn't, though. She'd been drifting since she'd come back to Elmer.
She wasn't even sure she wanted to do that sort of work anymore. Whenever she thought about it now, she felt hollow. She and Jean-Yves used to support each other's work. Now she had no one to share it with.
Polly McMaster had suggested that if she wanted to do something else, she could turn several of the bedrooms in their big old house into bed-and-breakfast rooms. "Get people who want a taste of the West," she'd said. "God knows Elmer's that. And it's got an international reputation now." She grinned now at the memory of The Great Montana Cowboy Auction they'd held last February that had put Elmer on the map.
"Maybe," Erin had said. And maybe she would. Certainly it was time to start thinking about doing something. She was restless suddenly. Fidgety. Tense.
Because Deke Malone had come back into her life.
He'd awakened her again as he had all those years ago. It had been Deke's advent into her teenage life that had given it color, excitement, promise. His work, his brains, his sensitivity, his gorgeous body—everything about him—had awakened her to possibilities she'd never considered.
She owed him the inspiration to follow her dreams, though he probably didn't know it. She owed him Jean-Yves and her children—and the best years of her life. Though he didn't know that, either, and would deny it if she told him, because he had never ever realized the effect he'd had on her.
And he would never know the effect that tonight he'd had on her again.
Sophie and Nicolas were both asleep by the time they got home. Erin woke them, then said to Gabriel, "I'll see these two upstairs. Sophie, Nicolas, come on. Let's go."
Sophie yawned. "Are we home already?"
"Yes. Nicolas, come on. I can't carry you." He was too big for that now. He leaned against her as she opened the back door and steered him in.
"I'll wake him up," Gabriel offered, a brotherly glint in his eye.
"I'll bet." And Erin could just imagine how. "No, thanks. You just deal with the dog. Nico! Stand up! Grandpa and Uncle Taggart have no use for lazy cowhands."
Bleary eyes opened. "'M I gonna be a cowhand?"
"If you can wake up in the dark," Erin said. "When Grandpa brings cattle in for branding, he gets up pretty early."
Nicolas straightened up promptly, and Erin aimed him toward the stairs. "No bath tonight," she said to Sophie, who was climbing the stairs ahead of them. "Just brush your teeth and head for bed."
She knew Nicolas wouldn't even get as far as the brushing teeth bit. He fell asleep on the bed again while she was taking off his boots. So she stripped him down to his underwear, tugged a pair of sweats on him, bundled him into his bed and kissed him good-night. He didn't stir.
When she went to Gabriel's room, he was just getting into bed. "I put Sammy out and I gave him some water."
"Thanks. I'm sure he appreciated it."
"He missed us. We should've taken him along."
"It would have just made things crazier."
Gabriel smothered a yawn. "Crazy is okay." He got into bed, settled against the pillow and looked up at her, his eyes assessing. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Erin said quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I just thought…" He paused and considered things as he always did before he spoke. "Did you feel funny coming back for Thanksgiving?"
He was so sensitive to her moods. "It was different," Erin allowed. "It's been a long time."
"Yeah. I guess. I liked it. But after, I thought—" his midnight blue eyes met hers intently "—did it make Papa seem farther away?"
Erin felt her throat tighten. "Yes."
Gabriel swallowed. "For me, too. When we got home. It was like … sad." His fingers twisted the edge of the comforter. "I miss him." His voice was so low she barely heard him.
Erin brushed a hand over his dark hair, then bent and kissed him. "Me, too," she said softly.
As one, they both looked at the picture on the table next to Gabriel's bed. It had been taken the last time Jean-Yves had been home, three weeks before his death. It had been a cold January in Paris, and they'd go
ne on a brief holiday to a small village on the Mediterranean. The first morning they were there Jean-Yves and Gabriel had rented a boat and gone sailing, just the two of them. And when they'd come home, sunburned and smiling, exhausted, but obviously well bonded and supremely content, Erin had snapped the picture of the two of them, Jean-Yves's arm around Gabriel's shoulders, as they strode up the walk.
Erin felt tears well now and prayed they wouldn't slide down her cheeks. She bit her lip.
Gabriel looked at the picture a long time. Then he rubbed a hand across his face. "He would have had a good time tonight," he said, his voice sounding rusty. He tried to smile at her.
Erin tried, too. Then she kissed him again. "Yes, he would have," she said firmly. Jean-Yves loved a good party. "And he'd be glad you did."
Gabriel nodded, the smile a little more real now. "Oui." He turned his head to look at the photo again. "Bon nuit, Papa," he whispered. Then he turned to Erin again. "G'night, Mom."
Sophie was nearly asleep, but she opened her eyes when Erin entered. "It was wonderful, wasn't it?" she said sleepily. "All those people. 'Specially the cowboys. 'Specially Tuck."
Erin smiled. Sophie loved cowboys—especially red-headed, hazel-eyed Tuck McCall. Sophie had talked about Tuck ever since she'd noticed him last year. He was a lanky teenager now, a little awkward and sometimes shy, gifted artistically. He reminded Erin, personality-wise, of Deke. Fortunately he had a supportive family. If Tuck ever wanted to go to Paris to study, Erin was sure his uncle Jed and aunt Brenna would bust themselves to see that he got there.
"There were so many little kids, too," Sophie said. "Neile and Shannon and Hank and C.J. are going to be there tomorrow. Becky said I could come back and help baby-sit them."
"Would you like to do that?"
"Yeah. I like baby-sitting. Except for Nicolas." She wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't mind me. But the littler kids are fun. I liked Zack."
Erin hesitated, then smiled. "He was cute."
"I liked his dad, too."
"When did you talk to him?"
"I carried Zack's diaper bag out to his truck for him. He said I was a big help. He said I was just like you." Sophie was of an age where she still considered comparisons to her mother to be a compliment.
The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle Page 5