After a rocky start, Sam had turned out to be the fair owner’s grandson and an okay guy, even pairing up with the town’s diner owner. An unlikely friendship had developed between newly adolescent Chelsea and four-year-old Tori.
“Is Chels coming?” Tori repeated.
“I think only Vy,” Honey said.
Tori scrambled out of the armchair. “Mommy, I needs your phone. I gots to call Vy. She needs to bring Chels.”
Rachel handed her cell to her daughter. Like a miniature expert, the child unlocked it, located the number and placed the call.
“It’s Tori, Vy! Hi! Bring Chels to Honey’s house, okay?”
Silence while Tori listened, followed by an argument. “She will so want to come. Please? My friend Mad and me needs hot-pink nail polish with sparkles. Ask her, okay?”
Again silence and then Tori said, “Okay. See you soon. Love you!” A second later, she squealed, “Love you, three!” and disconnected. She returned to the armchair fort, throwing back over her shoulder, “Chels is coming.”
Cole smiled. That child could move mountains.
A moment later, Tori backed out of the fort. From Cole’s spot at the sunny end of the room, he noted her distress.
“Mommy, Mad is crying.” Tori looked just this side of giving in to tears herself.
Cole moved to intervene, but Rachel got there first and placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.
Madeline crooked one tiny finger at Tori, who leaned close and listened to the whispering in her ear. “She said she’s not Mad.”
“Of course she isn’t. Why did you call her mad?”
“Her name is long. I gives everybody a nickname, Mommy.”
“Fair enough. ‘Madeline’ is a mouthful. She might like Maddy. It’s pretty. Try it out and see what her reaction is.”
Tori leaned close to Madeline. “Your name is long. I can call you Maddy, okay?”
Madeline nodded, and peace was restored.
Rachel reached to wipe Madeline’s cheeks, but she reared back. Honey exchanged a glance with her friend.
Since the funeral, only Cole had been able to hold Madeline. She wouldn’t even go to his sister’s best friend. But she’d wanted Honey to hold her.
He’d thought maybe Madeline was softening. But she’d rejected Rachel, who was about as warm as a person could be, who loved children, and who was loved by children in return.
How was Madeline going to be with Tanya? Cole hadn’t expected this wrinkle.
His legs wanted to pace. His feet itched to carry him far away.
A breath whooshed out of him. He’d pushed through the past week with sheer discipline, but now that he was home in Rodeo, he’d hit a wall.
And yet, he had so far to go. His new life had only just begun, with no time for fatigue. In coming home, he hadn’t reached the end, but a beginning.
He didn’t have a clue how to live this new life.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, his palm rasping across his unshaven jaw.
He drained the last of his coffee. Honey was right. The warm drink had restored a semblance of calm.
Needing another one, he stood. Already way ahead of him, Honey took his mug and refilled it.
He had to resist her allure.
If he let himself go, he would grab hold of her and never, ever release her again.
He wanted Honey that badly.
Her touch staggered him, weakened him and made him wish for things he knew could never be.
That bit of foolishness when he’d taken her hand and held on for dear life had been a mistake, simply his neediness taking over.
He loved her.
He shouldn’t. He knew in his heart they wouldn’t suit each other. Experience had taught him irreversible lessons.
Case closed.
She handed his coffee then stepped away, passing through a shaft of sunlight. His breath caught.
She really was one of the prettiest women for miles around. Honey’s deep-set blue eyes studied the world with captivating intelligence. Long, blond curls touched the base of her spine. A wide-necked white blouse fell from one shoulder while a belt cinched in her waist above a flowing blue skirt. Turquoise and silver jewelry at wrists, ears and throat shone in the sunbeam.
Her lush figure, pocket-size compared to his six-one frame, well... Cole swallowed. He couldn’t dwell on that too much. He’d ached for her for too long.
Best to ignore physical desires.
The absolute perfection of Honey Armstrong, though, was her smile—the one she flashed often for every man, woman and child in Rodeo. It turned prettiness into beauty.
Cole turned away and steeled himself.
The door that separated the apartment from the stairs down to the street opened. Violet Summer burst into the room. Exactly the kind of entrance bold, confident Vy liked to make. She waved to Cole at the other end of the living room. He raised one hand in a modified version of Vy’s flamboyance.
He liked Vy a lot. She was one of the town’s go-to sources of good common sense in the midst of any crisis. Plus, she sold great food at respectable prices and treated everyone with sincere, if sarcastic, good humor.
Chelsea followed her in, and Tori launched herself at her friend. They hugged.
“Did you bringed the nail polish?” Tori asked.
“What do you think, pipsqueak?”
Tori giggled. “’Kay.”
They put boxes on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and unloaded them. They must have cleaned out all of the diner’s Saturday leftovers.
Honey took Vy’s hand and led her down the hallway. Rachel followed. Cole knew what that meant—his story being shared.
He hated it, loathed this laying bare of his life, but he expected it. The whole town would, and should, know of it soon enough.
Rodeo was now the home of his sister’s two children, and the townspeople needed to get to know them.
He knew everything there was to know about his fellow citizens. Why shouldn’t they know about him? He’d protected his past from them, though. That was his and his alone.
But the children’s story would spread, naturally.
Vy strode back into the living room and made a beeline for him. He stood to catch her in his arms when she grasped him to her curvy body.
She held on for long moments, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
They both knew it was inadequate, but her concern was welcome nonetheless.
When he could take no more of her sympathy, he set her away from him. He glanced down and smiled to relieve the grief building in him like a pressure cooker about to blow.
God knew he didn’t want to cry in front of these women and the children. That would set off everyone, especially Evan and Madeline.
“Is it my imagination, or are you showing?”
Vy swatted his shoulder. “A man should never discuss a woman’s weight.” She dropped the fake outrage and grinned. “Yeah, I’m finally showing. Isn’t it awesome?”
If his answering grin wobbled around the edges, it was to be expected. He was happy for Vy, and Sam Carmichael, too, and glad they’d found each other even if the pregnancy had come shockingly quickly. Cole had no right to envy.
Vy deserved all of this and more.
When Vy turned to walk away, Cole noticed Honey watching with a frown.
What was that about?
Vy stooped in front of little Madeline.
“Hi,” she said and held out her hand.
Madeline didn’t take it.
Vy turned and tickled Tori until she giggled with delight. Tori and Vy were great friends.
Madeline and Evan watched with fascination, as well they might. Cole hadn’t been able to give them a damned b
it of pleasure this past week.
He wished he knew more about their lives with his sister and her husband. His twice-yearly visits hadn’t been nearly enough to forge as strong a bond as he’d have liked with his nephew and niece.
He needed one now, this minute, but God knew how long that would take with the children so damaged.
He watched Honey placing bowls on place mats. Then she called the children to come and sit at the table.
When Madeline sat down, she started to cry.
Cole rushed over and picked her up. She cuddled her head against his chest. He knew she liked the vibrations his voice made when he talked. “What’s wrong?”
“Raisins,” she whispered for his ears only.
Honey had given the children Vy’s amazing rice pudding, some of the best comfort food on earth, thick with custard and sprinkled with nutmeg, but Madeline was obviously offended by the raisins.
“She doesn’t like raisins. Is there something else she can have?” He picked up her bowl to put it in the kitchen, but Tori’s high-pitched voice stopped him.
“Sheriff, no! I gots a big love for raisins. I eat them.”
A big love. Good lord, Tori was cute. No wonder she broke down resistance wherever she went.
He set the bowl back on the table.
“Maddy, do you likes rice pudding without raisins?” Tori asked.
Madeline nodded.
“I eat your raisins and you eat the pudding. Okay?”
Madeline nodded.
“Mommy, can you putted the raisins from Maddy’s pudding in my bowl?”
“I’ll do it,” Cole said. Tori might be here for the children’s sake, but her open, honest spirit soothed Cole as well. When he finished, the children ate.
Honey approached and rested her fingers on his arm to get his attention. He sidled away. He might crave contact with her, but Honey touching him constituted a dangerous, subversive act against his vulnerable defenses.
She was not the woman for him, he reminded himself yet again.
“Here,” she said, handing him a plate of reheated meat loaf and mashed potatoes. He could smell the garlic in them. The Summertime Diner’s food was the best.
“Eat,” Honey ordered.
He sat down in the remaining empty chair not at all certain he could swallow a bite. But he tried.
Minutes later, he’d finished the entire plate.
“Better?” Vy asked.
He nodded. A second later, Honey appeared at his side with a bowl of rice pudding for him, too, her floral essence swirling around her.
Madeline grasped a hank of Honey’s hair and held on, forcing Honey to pick her up, sit down in her chair and put the child on her lap.
Madeline pulled Honey’s hair around her head and under her chin like a nun’s wimple, leaving only a narrow portion of her face showing.
Cole put down his spoon and squeezed the bridge of his nose. How was he supposed to make life normal for children who had lost so much?
Honey picked up a bit of Maddy’s rice pudding in a spoon and fed it to her. Maddy let her.
Cole had been having trouble getting enough food into the child. Thank God for Honey.
The apartment door opened and Will, Vy’s cook, stepped in carrying a tray.
Cole glanced at Vy.
She grinned. “I asked him to make milk shakes and bring them over.”
Cole frowned. “On a Sunday? You shouldn’t have. It’s his day off.”
“I don’t mind,” Will said. “Nothing much else to do.”
That surprised Cole. Will was a big handsome guy with a wicked set of dimples that set the women of Rodeo sighing. No exaggeration. Cole had witnessed the weird phenomenon of usually sensible women falling all over Will when he indulged them with one of his rare smiles.
The women of town pursued. Will resisted. Cole had no idea why.
With a magician’s flourish, Will snatched the towel from the tray to reveal a half dozen small milk shakes in retro diner glasses.
“Who wants one?”
All three tiny heads nodded, as did Chelsea.
“Who are these two little ones I haven’t met?”
“I’m Evan.”
Will shook his hand.
Madeline didn’t say a word. “That’s my sister, Madeline,” Evan clarified.
Will leaned close. Madeline stared at the colorful drinks. “I have vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. What is your choice?”
Will made no mention of the odd way Maddy sat surrounded by Honey’s hair. Good man.
Madeline pointed to a pink milk shake. Will put it on the place mat in front of her, then asked Evan, Tori and Chelsea which flavors they preferred.
The front doorbell rang.
“It’s like Grand Central Station in here,” Cole muttered before remembering he was interviewing today.
God, he was tired.
Honey headed downstairs. The room had filled up with adults and children, but the second Honey left, so did all of the room’s warmth.
Cole’s mantra—if Honey is there, I am aware—ran through him.
She returned with Tanya Mayhall.
Tanya, a solidly built, affectionate middle-aged woman with not one sharp edge about her, searched the room for Cole with a worried frown.
He stood and approached.
As naturally as the sun rose each day, she took him into her arms.
He went willingly.
If ever a woman was designed to be a mother, it was Tanya. Madeline and Evan might need mothering right now, but, strangely, so did Cole.
Tanya had a strong grip. He returned it. She enveloped him with not only the warmth of her affection and empathy but also a complex cloud of lavender and vanilla.
Cole sighed.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Tanya whispered. Her response did nothing to change what had happened but was heartfelt and welcome.
Over her shoulder, Cole again noted a puzzling frown from Honey.
Chapter Three
Honey watched another woman embrace Cole.
Why should it bother her? That flash of tenderness toward him earlier had unnerved her with its intensity. She didn’t harbor hopes of a relationship with Cole. So why feel jealous because he was taking hugs from other women? For a woman who knew her own mind, this confusion didn’t sit well with Honey.
Tanya released Cole but held his face between her hands and spoke quietly. The tension in Cole’s shoulders eased.
Tanya brushed a hand across the creases on his brow, and Honey could almost see Cole’s burden lighten.
What was Tanya saying? What words of comfort did she have for Cole that Honey hadn’t managed to come up with?
She’d never felt this lack in herself before.
Why did she feel awkward with Cole, not in everyday life, but now that there was something out of the ordinary happening to him? Now that she was called on to see him differently?
To maybe not take his presence for granted?
Tanya turned to the rest of the group and said hello. A still-handsome woman in her late fifties, she’d raised four great children.
She could certainly handle these two little ones.
When Tanya stepped close to the table and talked to the children, Madeline wouldn’t let Tanya touch her.
Tanya returned to the far end of the room with Cole.
Honey sent the children back into their armchair fort. Chelsea, no longer a child but not yet an adult, either, was allowed into their tiny circle.
Honey poured a cup of tea and brought it to Tanya.
Did Cole even know the right questions to ask a nanny?
He glanced at her, and, in that brief meeting of eyes, she saw doubt.
He gestured with his head for Honey to join them.
Honey knew he was capable. He interviewed criminals all the time. But this was different. Maybe he felt overwhelmed.
* * *
WHEN HONEY HANDED the cup of tea to Tanya and her arm brushed Cole’s shoulder, he struggled not to pull away from her touch, from all of the good feelings she engendered in him. Feelings that scorched where his skin had thinned with grief and need.
He wanted Honey.
He had always wanted her.
He had nowhere to put these feelings, no one he could trust with them.
Honey would never trample his heart, but his judgment had been poor in the past and could be poor still, and it was all tangled up with the awful way he’d been raised.
Normally he could deal with how she affected him and could hide his feelings, but not now when his emotions were a teardrop away.
Not now when he wanted to bury himself in Honey’s grace and good humor and never let go.
Silently, he asked her to join him in the interview. Maybe she would catch something he missed. Maybe she knew something children needed that he hadn’t thought of.
Tanya watched it all with eyes that saw too much.
He hadn’t fooled her. He didn’t think the town knew how he felt about Honey, but Tanya had just caught a glimpse, and that left him uncomfortable. It angered him.
Unacceptable.
Maybe that was why his questions became tougher than merely determining her hours of availability and how she felt about children.
“How would you spend your time with Evan and Madeline?”
“They’re young still. It’s already June so school is over for the year, but I would teach them every day. Along with playtime, they would have studies.”
“Studies?” At Madeline’s age? In the cave, with the barest touch, Chelsea applied hot-pink polish to Madeline’s tiny fingernails.
Madeline watched Chelsea intently. There was barely anything there to paint, those little nails small and fragile.
God, anything, everything could hurt that child. And what about Evan? He put on a better show than Madeline, but Cole knew how much he cried at night for his parents.
“Madeline is young,” he said. Petite. Vulnerable. Depending on him to protect her. “What would those studies look like?”
Rodeo Sheriff Page 3