Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women)

by Coburn, C. C.

  “And, for what it’s worth, I’m not interested in sleeping with Pixie either.”

  “You’re a man,” she reminded him. “If it breathes, you’ll sleep with it.”

  “Wow, you sure have a pretty harsh opinion of the male species,” he said. “Some guy dumped you and you’ve never got over it?”

  “Actually, it was her high–school sweetheart, but now he’s back in town trying to romance her,” Pixie put in.

  Maggie glared at her and said, “Go to your room.”

  “No! You owe Mac an apology for inferring he’s some sort of pervert.”

  Maggie glanced at him. He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face, as if he was trying to see inside her soul. It was unnerving.

  “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just used to protecting my sisters. Recognizing that they are adults doesn’t always come easy to me.”

  Mac inclined his head in acceptance of her apology. “You have other sisters?”

  “There are five of us,” Pixie said. Only the other three have managed to escape from Nowhere and now live in LA, Seattle and Africa.”

  Mac observed Maggie. She sure didn’t like Pixie calling Coldwater, Nowhere. And she was fiercely protective of her sisters, like a lioness and her cubs. He wondered about that. Where were their parents?

  “Would you like to see photos of my sisters?” Pixie asked, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and flicking the screen with her finger.

  “I’m sure Mac doesn’t want to be bored by Hansen home movies, Pix. Put it away.”

  “I’d love to see your sisters,” He said, stepping beside Pixie so he could see the screen.

  “That’s Paige, she’s a lawyer in LA and that’s her dog, Angus. He bites men, so you better not meet her.

  “This is Lisa. She’s an elementary school teacher in Seattle and that’s her cat, Oscar.”

  “Does he bite men?”

  “No, he’s a real cuddly guy. You’d like him.”

  She scrolled down further. “These are her twins, Nicky and Justin. They’re a pair of unholy terrors.”

  “They take after their youngest aunt,” Maggie put in, deadpan.

  “And this is Kelly. She’s a nurse and works for an international aid organization in Africa. She doesn’t have time for pets.”

  “Your sisters are all very accomplished young women,” Mac said, hoping it would bring a comment from Maggie.

  “And this is our Gramps. He’s coming tomorrow for a visit. You’ll love him.”

  “And you know this because?”

  “Everyone loves Gramps!”

  Pixie put away her phone. “Now you know all the family,” she said.

  So, there weren’t any parents on the scene, Mac guessed. And that’s why Maggie was so overprotective.

  He glanced up at her and read the pain in her eyes. She was a complex and interesting woman and he wanted to get to know her better.

  “If you ladies aren’t doing anything tonight, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for dinner. I can grill some steaks and we could have the crumble for dessert.”

  “You bet!” Pixie said, racing inside. “I’ll be changed in a tick.”

  “I didn’t agree to anything!” Maggie called after her.

  “I’d really appreciate if you’d come. I felt like our conversation got cut off by my phone call today.”

  “From your sweetheart,” Maggie said, her face emotionless.

  “Sweetheart? Oh, you mean, Clancy! She’s my niece. We talk almost every day. She’s a great kid. Can’t wait to come out here and go horse–riding with me.”

  “You can ride?”

  Mac bit his lip and said, “Er… no. But I could learn.”

  Maggie shook her head and said, “A man who sings country music, lives in the city, can’t shoot and can’t ride. Doesn’t that make you a bit of a fraud?”

  Mac clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh, you’ve cut me so deep!”

  He liked sparring with Maggie, she was unlike any woman he’d ever met before. “I didn’t intend defrauding anyone. I just like writing songs.”

  “Set in the country.”

  She wasn’t letting go.

  “If you’re referring to that YouTube clip that went viral, it was never meant to go live.”

  “I don’t know if you’re even speaking English, Cowboy. What I’m saying is, you project an image of being a good ole country boy, yet you’re a pretentious city–bred jackass.”

  Mac was at a loss to understand what he’d done to upset Maggie. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

  “I like you just fine. I’m simply curious as to why you write and sing country. To me, country music comes from the soul, it’s bred into you. That’s all.”

  “And maybe that’s where my soul lies? I’ve been living here less than twenty–four hours and already I feel like I’ve come home.”

  “Oh, please! That sounds like a song.”

  Mac couldn’t help grinning… and then teasing. “I’ve been livin’ in Nowhere less than twenty–four hours and already it feels like I’ve come home,” he sang.

  Maggie crossed her arms. Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile and she said, “I’ll give you one thing, you have the voice of an angel, Mac McKade.”

  “Why thank you ma’am,” he said with a pronounced Southern drawl. “Now, since you’ve agreed to come to dinner and I’m planning on baking my grandma’s famous apple crumble for dessert, I’m going to need another cup of sugar.”

  Maggie turned to the house, saying, “Come on in and I’ll see if we can spare anymore.”

  He followed her inside, liking the sway of her denim–clad butt. The cabin was bigger inside than he expected. He followed her into the kitchen area and was confronted by an enormous bunch of flowers sitting in a vase in the sink.

  “An admirer?” he couldn’t help asking.

  “The high–school sweetheart.”

  “So the events of last night are forgiven?”

  She shrugged. “Guess so. It’s half his fault: he ordered me a beer I hadn’t asked for. The smell of it was the last straw.”

  So, Maggie Hansen didn’t like men making decisions for her. He’d have to remember that.

  “How is it you’re not doing something with him tonight?”

  “Gramps is coming to stay in the morning. I didn’t want Trey here when he arrived.”

  So, Maggie and the high–school sweetheart were in a relationship.

  As if guessing his thoughts, she said, “We’re not involved. Not that way...” Yet.

  “I’m ready!” Pixie said, breezing into the kitchen.

  “Well, I’m not,” Maggie said. You can wait a half–hour until I get everything I need to do done and then we can go over.”

  Pixie pulled a face and said, “Boring!”

  “If it’s okay with you, Maggie, I’d appreciate it if Pixie gave me some help with the crumble,” Mac said, then glanced at Pixie. “You like peeling apples, don’t you, kid?”

  “I’m the best apple–peeler in the county!”

  Maggie grunted.

  “Hey!” her sister protested. “I won the longest peel at the Coldwater Fair three times running!”

  “Only because there was prize–money involved,” Maggie said, then turned her attention to Mac. “Good luck with getting her to help out but, yes, please take her with you. I could do with a few minutes’ peace.”

  “Awesome!” Pixie said as she headed out the door. “Can we play some of your CDs and you can sing along live to them?”

  Mac couldn’t help laughing at her enthusiasm. “Sure, kid,” he said, following her out the door.

  Chapter Five

  When peace descended on the cabin, Maggie made a few calls—one to Gramps to check his arrival time, and another to Martha to check she was as fine as Pixie had said she was.

  “I’m sittin’ here with my feet up, honey, listenin’ to a CD of Mac’s,” she assured her. “Did you know
his real name is Mac? Jake’s just his stage name.”

  Maggie assured her she knew that.

  “Fancy him comin’ to live here,” the older woman said. “I wonder where he’s stayin’?”

  Maggie had no intention of telling Martha. It would be all over town and most of the county by morning, otherwise. Cowboy had come here to escape the rat–race, the least she could do was ensure his privacy.

  After finishing her calls, she brushed her hair, dabbed on some lipstick and went to find a bottle of wine to share with Mac. The flowers Trey had sent were still sitting in the sink where she’d left them while filling the vase.

  She lifted it out and placed the arrangement in the middle of the dining table. The only flowers she ever received were from grateful parents or a hand–picked bunch of wild–flowers from one of her students. Strange how those small gestures meant more to her than this expensive bunch from Trey, who could buy and sell any florist’s shop hundreds of times over.

  She pulled the front door closed behind her—she never locked it, but stray bears weren’t welcome inside her home—and set off down the driveway to Mac’s.

  His front door was wide open, so she went inside and followed the sound of laughter and Mac’s voice crooning a country tune from speakers mounted throughout the house. She found the pair of them in his kitchen covered in flour and giggling like teenagers. They’d obviously got into a flour–fight and were now in the process of cleaning up the mess.

  The delicious smell of baking apples filled the huge kitchen.

  “Hey!” Mac greeted her once the pair of them had stopped laughing long enough and realized she’d arrived.

  “Hey, yourself,” she said, placing the bottle of wine and another of diet soda for Pixie on the countertop. “I won’t ask how helpful your kitchen assistant was. I can see the damage.”

  “Not so. She was great. Had those puppies peeled in no time.”

  “Mac’s a real good cook, sis.”

  “Really good.” How many more years was she going to have to correct Pixie’s grammar before she ‘got it’? Maggie wondered.

  “She’s always doing that,” Pixie said to Mac.

  “And so she should,” he said. “Don’t you want to grow up to be a lady?”

  “Nope. Paige’s the lady of the family. Miss La Dee Dah, I call her.”

  Maggie grinned. The title sure got under Paige’s skin. Paige was so sophisticated, Maggie sometimes wondered if her sister really had grown up in Coldwater with the rest of them—or had she just imagined it?

  “The crumble will be a while,” Mac said. “How about we take some drinks out onto the porch and enjoy the evening?”

  He picked up the bottle Maggie had brought and read the label. “I like this one. I did a concert at their vineyard in Napa.” He opened it and poured two glasses, while Pixie helped herself to the largest glass she could find, filled it with ice, then soda, and drank half in one gulp.

  “I don’t think you’ve got much chance of making a lady out of her,” he whispered loudly enough to Maggie for Pixie to hear.

  As if to punctuate the veracity of that statement, Pixie burped loudly. Then covered her mouth with a sheepish look. “Excuse me,” she said, with little sincerity and a silly grin.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Maggie asked, shaking her head.

  Without hesitation, Pixie put her head on the side and blinked a couple of times like a forlorn lamb and said, “Love me?” She opened her arms, took a step towards Maggie, and wrapped them around her big sister’s waist.

  Mac observed the two of them, their heads together—Maggie’s long locks streaked by the sun, Pixie’s shorter and much fairer—sharing a sisterly moment. Without doubt, Maggie had long been a mother–figure to Pixie and he wondered again what had happened to their parents.

  But now wasn’t the time to bring up possibly unhappy memories, so he said, “When you two have finished bonding, how about we go outside?”

  Pixie opened an arm, indicating he should join them. Mac hesitated then stepped up and place one arm around Pixie and the other around Maggie.

  “Group hug!” Pixie said and pulled him tighter. Maggie, he noticed, kept her arms firmly around Pixie. Understandable, he supposed since the high–school sweetheart was back in town. More’s the pity.

  They settled back into the chairs and gazed out at the river.

  “It’s a shame this house doesn’t face the other way, the sunsets here behind the mountains are spectacular,” Maggie said.

  “So you think if I buy this place, I should have the house lifted up and turned around one eighty degrees?”

  “You’re thinking of buying this monstrosity?”

  “It’s not that ugly!” Mac defended, feeling wounded at her assessment of his taste in houses.

  “Granted, it’s not unattractive, just huge! Why on earth would you want a home this size?”

  “So my sisters and their families have plenty of room to stay over Thanksgiving and Christmas. You’ll meet them next week, they’re all coming for July Fourth.”

  “Cool!” Pixie said. “How old are their kids?”

  Mac smiled, he liked nothing more than talking about his family. “Flynn’s twenty–three and just graduated from NYU. He’s the one who put that clip on YouTube. I still haven’t forgiven him for it.”

  “Why not?” Pixie demanded. “It was so neat!”

  “He’d asked me to help him out with a short film for his course, so I agreed to sing a couple of tunes I’d written. He made a professional–quality clip and did a lot of clever editing, adding country backgrounds and stuff. I was really happy with the results. What I wasn’t so pleased about was him uploading it. He’d said it was only so he could share it with friends and family, but it went viral and soon my life was no longer private.”

  “I don’t get this ‘viral’ word,’ Maggie admitted, to which Pixie tut–tutted.

  “Viral’s when something takes on a life of its own and spreads like wildfire once it’s launched online.

  “Sounds like an infectious disease,” Maggie said.

  “For me, it was,” Mac said. “I hate the media attention: photographers camping outside my condo, following me down the street, magazines speculating on who I’m sleeping with—it’s none of their business. And the screaming fans following me if they spot me somewhere—that is probably the worst part of it. At heart, I’m an intensely private person and just want to be left alone to write songs for others.”

  Maggie nodded. “So why don’t you do just that?”

  “I am. That’s why I rented this place, to escape from civilization, get the heat off me and let the media buzz die down.”

  “But won’t the person you rented this place from recognize you and sell the information to the press?”

  “I had my sister rent it under her married name. Hopefully, they’ll never make the connection.”

  “I’d love to be famous,” Pixie said wistfully.

  “Trust me, kid, you wouldn’t. The novelty wears off pretty quickly.”

  Pixie harrumphed and said, “So tell me about the other kids.”

  Mac sat back and said with pride, “Annie and Tony have three more kids: Jackson who’s fifteen, Caleb is ten and their daughter, Clancy, is twelve. You’ll like her, kid, she’s a lot like you. She wants to learn to ride while she’s here.”

  He turned to Maggie and said, “Can you recommend any good riding schools around here?”

  Maggie almost choked on the mouthful of wine she’d just taken. He gave her a moment to recover.

  “Riding schools? You really are a back–east city–bred jackass, aren’t you?”

  “Not to mention, pretentious,” he added.

  “Exactly, my mistake for forgetting,” she said with a smile. “The best you’re going to find around here is a dude ranch, only you’re supposed to be able to ride when you rent one of their nags.”

  “I could teach her to ride,” Pixie offered.

  Mac tu
rned to her. “You would? I’d really appreciate that. I’d pay you, of course.”

  “Even better!”

  “Pixie! You will not accept money for teaching Mac’s niece to ride a horse.”

  “I’d like to pay her for her time,” he told Maggie. “It would be a huge favor for me, since I can’t ride either.”

  “Oh, it just gets better and better,” Maggie said with gentle sarcasm. “Cowboy don’t shoot, don’t hunt, don’t ride, neither.”

  Mac laughed at her grammar and said, “I can feel a song coming on. I’ve been here a day and already you’ve given me two songs to write.”

  “How about I take you for a hike in the mountains? You might find that more inspiring for your song–writing.” Maggie said. “No! Wait! That’s already been done before.”

  “I could teach you to ride too, Mac,” Pixie offered, ignoring Maggie’s teasing comment. “I’m doing the late shift at the diner tomorrow, so we could get an early start. I could have you roping calves by the time Clancy arrives!”

  That brought laughter from both Maggie and Mac. He reached out and ruffled her hair. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

  Maggie could see Pixie glowing with pride. She wanted to kiss Mac for being so kind to her baby sister.

  “Gee, thanks. No–one’s ever told me that before,” Pixie said and batted her eyelashes at him.

  “I tell you that all the time!” Maggie said.

  “That doesn’t count, you have to love me. Mac doesn’t.”

  Before Maggie could remark on that, Pixie said, “So who else is coming next week? You know the fourth is my birthday, right? We could have a huge party!”

  “Pixie! Control your enthusiasm,” Maggie warned. “Mac came here to get away from everything, not to have you planning parties with his relatives.”

  Mac patted Maggie’s arm and she felt the warmth of his touch clear to her bones. He was so incredibly patient with her over–zealous sister and she appreciated it. But someone needed to rein her in.

  “I think a party on the fourth would be perfect. We can have it here. Kids running everywhere. Are your sisters coming?” he asked Pixie.