“It’s never too early to start teaching the alphabet.”
God! The alphabet! “But how would you do that?”
“By showing it to her every day. By reading books and teaching her simple words.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun,” he said.
“Cole, it would be normal for a child her age,” Honey said, watching him with a frown. “Children as young as two can sing the alphabet and enjoy doing so. What Tanya is offering is appropriate.”
“But—” Cole couldn’t articulate why it bothered him. “Tanya, what is your teaching background?”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t have a teacher’s certificate. You know that, Cole. I’ll use the same methods I used with my four children who are all at college now. They’re smart young people.”
“Yes, they are.” Cole knew that, but he glanced at Evan and Madeline, looking too solemn for their ages. “I just want them to have fun.” A little desperately, he added, “Just for the summer.”
Tanya and Honey exchanged a glance. In it, he saw worry. Was he being unreasonable? God, he didn’t know.
“Tanya, thanks for coming in today.” Cole stood and Tanya followed. “I have a couple of other candidates to interview. I’ll call, okay?”
Tanya looked puzzled.
He’d ended the interview too abruptly. His timing and instincts were way off.
“Sure thing, Cole.”
Five minutes later, after she said goodbye to everyone and tried again to connect with Madeline, who turned away, Cole escorted her out of the apartment.
When he came back upstairs, Honey asked quietly, “What was that about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Evan and Madeline are not too young to learn. Sure, Madeline won’t start kindergarten in August, but there’s always preschool.”
Cole dug in. “Madeline’s too young to go to school, even preschool.”
“Are you afraid she’s not ready to meet new kids? She might be by August.”
Cole crossed his arms. “Maybe.”
“Okay then, maybe, but Tanya’s idea of reading to her often and teaching her the alphabet is strong.”
“Maybe.”
Honey hissed out a breath. “Cole, you are not going to damage those children by teaching them. Tanya’s ideas are a low-pressure way to prepare Madeline for school.”
“School!” he spat out. “How can we talk about school? Look at how tiny she is.” He pointed toward the fort. “She’s only three and a half years old!”
Honey backed away from him, and he realized he was looming over her. He eased off.
Honey’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s not as if Tanya was suggesting drills and flash cards.”
“Yeah, but...” He didn’t have a good reason for not choosing Tanya.
“Cole, I know you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared.”
Honey crossed her arms and stared at him.
“I—” Okay, he was scared. All of it—the new parenting, hiring a nanny, being responsible for kids who were still crying at night because they missed their parents—terrified him. “It’s a big decision.”
Honey softened. “Yes, it is.”
“They cry at night,” he admitted and her expression softened.
“I understand.”
Cole shrugged. “I—Honey, I don’t know why, but Tanya’s not quite right.”
“Tanya Mayhall is not quite right to babysit?” Rachel had walked up and heard him. Her skepticism mirrored Honey’s. “She’s perfect.”
Again Cole shrugged, helpless and irritated. “Support me on this. Please.” After a glance between them, they nodded.
Cole retrieved Tanya’s teacup and brought it to the kitchen. Honey took it from him. The second her fingers touched his, he stepped away. She did the same thing. He wasn’t a skittish kind of man. She wasn’t a jumpy woman.
Whew. This situation was getting on everyone’s nerves.
“Who did you book next?” Honey asked.
“Ellen Clarkson.”
Rachel nodded along with Honey. “Another good possibility,” she said.
Cole sat near the window again, exhausted but with two more interviews still to conduct.
After sitting with her fingers splayed like frog digits until the polish dried, Madeline climbed out of the cave and ran to the window.
In the sunlight, her nails sparkled. He’d be surprised if they were any longer than a quarter of an inch from cuticle to tip.
Her fragility, her utter dependence on him, sent him trembling with insecurity. He glanced at Evan. Cole saw vulnerability there, too. Their losses were huge.
Give him a bunch of bad guys to round up and throw into jail. Give him a fistfight to resolve with his own fists if necessary, or a gun to face down, but not, not this.
Madeline held her hands out to Cole. He lifted her onto his lap with the care deserving of a glass ornament and admired the paint job before placing a soft kiss on her forehead and holding her close, his cheek on her tiny head. An aching tenderness swept through him.
When Vy and Chelsea left to head home, Cole hugged them goodbye.
Ellen arrived moments later.
Again, Cole stood through another hug. He loved his townspeople. He loved these women, but their sympathy ripped off countless bandages, tearing open his wounds.
When the time was decent enough, he set her away from him. He asked Honey to sit in on the interview.
Small and elfin, Ellen had a perky way about her that might appeal to the children.
“Hi,” she said to the kids inside the cave. “I’m Ellen.”
Madeline turned her face into a pillow, refusing to look at the woman, let alone acknowledge her.
Evan drummed his feet. “Hi!”
Cole sat down with Ellen while the children resumed their quiet play in the cave. Too quiet.
Again, as with Tanya, he covered the basics, then moved on to, “How would you fill your time with the children?”
“Play! We’d do lots of fun stuff.”
Yes! Fun stuff sounded good.
“Like what?”
“We’d get outside every day, rain or shine. Children shouldn’t be indoors. Ever. Unless they’re sleeping. They should be involved in physical activity. Tires them out.”
“But you’d have quiet time indoors, too, right?”
“Don’t see why I should. Raised all of my kids to enjoy the outdoors. You know Karen’s being considered for the Olympic ski team? Downhill racing. Richard’s studying to be a phys-ed teacher. Football’s his specialty. Likes to coach. Thinks all kids need to be physically active. I taught him that.”
But Evan loved to read comic books and do puzzles. Madeline liked to play with dolls and jigsaw puzzles with huge cardboard or wooden pieces. Cole knew that much about them.
“But—”
Ellen talked over him. “Kids need to be outdoors, Cole. You have to understand how important that is.”
He foresaw arguments. Yes, children needed to be outdoors, especially with summer so close, but even when it rained? He wanted them out swimming and playing at the splash pad the town had set up in the park.
But all the time?
He thanked Ellen for coming out and told her he’d be in touch.
“Think of what I said, Cole. Outdoors. Important. Necessary.”
She bent to give Madeline a kiss on her cheek, despite her cool reception on her arrival.
Madeline turned her back to Ellen. In other circumstances, the action would have been almost comical.
“I can fix that with plenty of play,” Ellen said, ignoring the fact that the child had just lost her parents.
He nodded and closed the door behind her, trudging back upstairs to face Honey and Rachel.
T
hey watched him silently.
He shook his head.
“I agree, Cole,” Honey said. “She’s not right. Not for Evan and Madeline. Not at this time, at any rate.”
Cole exhaled. He hadn’t wanted Honey to fight him on this.
He’d been dropped into an alternate-reality version of Goldilocks.
Tanya was too hard. Studies. For a three-and-a-half-year-old. Well, maybe not according to Honey, but in Cole’s mind? Yeah. Give the child another year.
Or maybe not. It was only reading. God, he didn’t know!
But compared to Ellen’s stringent approach, maybe Tanya was too soft.
Would Maria Tripoli be just right? He’d know in—he checked his watch—twenty minutes.
Half an hour later, he watched Maria leave and knew she was pretty darn close to what he needed. Not too hard, not too soft. But perfect?
He couldn’t decide.
Was there such a thing where Evan and Madeline were concerned?
Madeline had resisted overtures from even affectionate, nonthreatening Maria. If Maria couldn’t physically touch her, how could she care for her?
Honey and Rachel watched him.
What could he say?
I can’t hire these women because I can’t give these children over to anyone but myself?
Unreasonable. He had to work. His deputies could cover for the coming week, no problem, but that was it. He’d taken off suddenly last week, and they’d filled in for him. But now he needed to get back to his job.
In one week, he would need this settled.
Tori peeked her head out of the cave.
“Honey, can we have snacks?”
“Again? You want food again?”
Madeline looked stricken by her tone, but Tori giggled, seeing right through Honey’s phony indignation. “We’re hungry already, Honey.”
“Okay. Let’s see what else Vy brought for us.”
“Can we have crackers and jam, Honey?”
“What makes you think I have all of that, missy?”
“You always haves them for me.”
Honey burst out laughing, her smile a slash of rich sunshine on a cloudy day. God, she brightened his spirits.
Cole basked in her reflected glow, trying to convince himself yet again that it was enough just to be near her. That he didn’t need more. That her good cheer was worth taking a risk when his past shouted, Don’t do it, fool! You know better.
He’d arrived in town fourteen years ago with a few bucks in his pocket and not much else. Honey had been a budding teenager, fourteen at a guess, and far too young for him to even notice.
He’d come from a bad and aching place. He’d put it all behind himself and had flourished here in Rodeo, working in law enforcement.
Four years later, when she’d been old enough for him not only to notice but to fall for hard, Cole found he couldn’t utter a full sentence that made a damned bit of sense when Honey was around.
She tied his brain and his tongue into knots.
Honey brought out all of his old insecurities.
By then, there’d also been Daniel in her life, and Cole had lost all hope.
Seven years ago, Daniel had died. Not well or easily. Cole had witnessed it and, at Daniel’s request, had lied to Honey about aspects of it. Cole could never forget his role in that cover-up.
Honey had been inconsolable for a long time.
Six years ago, she’d lost her mother. He’d had no soothing words or caring hugs. He’d overcome a lot of the damage his parents had done to him, but not when it came to Honey.
Even an expression of condolence had been more than he could make.
The only way Cole had found to ease her pain was to help at the bar on the weekends. She and her mother had been a real team. Honey had grown up in this apartment over the bar her mother had named for her, hoping that someday her daughter would take it over. As soon as Honey was old enough, she had started to work there. When her mother died, she had inherited the bar.
Cole had stopped in on the first Friday night after her mother’s death, intending to do nothing more than make sure Honey was okay.
At that time, she hadn’t been used to running the place without her mother there. When Honey had needed a break, Cole had stepped behind the bar and filled in.
Nothing had been said, by him or by her.
Somehow, he’d just kept going back.
Those Friday and Saturday nights were bittersweet torture, but he wouldn’t give them up for anything.
Honey bent over Tori, laughing. “I do always have crackers for you, don’t I?” she said. A curtain of Honey’s blond curls covered Tori.
Madeline’s tiny fingers inched forward and grabbed it. Automatically, Honey picked her up. Madeline nestled into her arms and into the shield of her hair.
“Everyone to the table,” Honey ordered. “No crunchy crackers on my furniture, if you please.”
They climbed onto the chairs and settled in to wait.
Honey pulled out a box of saltines, buttered them and spread a little raspberry jam on each.
She put plates of crackers in front of the children.
Tori turned to kneel on the chair, grasping the rungs on the back and threw her arms around Honey. “I love you.”
Honey bussed her loudly on her puckered lips. “I love you, too, Tori-ori-ori-o.”
Madeline turned around to kneel on her chair and stare at Honey.
About to return to the kitchen, Honey stopped, arrested. She glanced at Cole, unsure what to do. He didn’t know, either.
He held his breath.
Sure, Madeline had allowed Honey to hold her, but this went way past that.
Madeline stretched her tiny arms toward Honey and pursed her tiny mouth.
Honey approached cautiously and touched her lips to the rosebud mouth.
When she eased away, she said, “Thank you, Maddy-addy-addy-o.”
For a protracted moment, Madeline stared solemnly before scrambling around on her chair and sitting down. She picked up one cracker and took a tiny bite. It crumbled into her lap. Her lower lip wobbled.
Honey said, “No problem. Those crackers do that all the time.”
“To me, too, Honey. Remember before?” Tori asked.
Honey brushed off the crumbs and threw them into the garbage. She pushed Madeline closer to the table and drew the plate right under her chin.
“There. Now the crumbs will fall onto the plate.”
Evan sat quietly watching it all. Cole crouched beside him and asked, “How’re you doing?”
The child mumbled, “Okay,” but Cole hadn’t missed the longing while he watched Honey’s interplay with the girls.
Honey’s keen eye caught it all. Cole should have known she would.
When the children finished, Honey brought a damp washcloth over to wipe their hands. She started with Evan and made a fuss over him, so much so his cheeks turned red. Still crouched on his other side, Cole felt the same impulse Madeline had felt when Honey’s hair fell forward.
He itched to run his fingers through it. Over the years, he’d wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
Next, Honey finished with Madeline, who let her clean her jam-sticky hands.
Madeline turned over her hands and held them in front of Honey.
“Yes, I noticed your lovely nails. Chelsea did a fabuloso job, didn’t she?”
Madeline nodded and Cole sighed.
The child had accepted Honey through and through.
She was letting Honey touch her.
She had let Honey kiss her.
Cole stared, shattered by a realization he should have seen sooner.
Honey would make an excellent caregiver. The children’s new nanny had to be Honey.
She might not be ri
ght for him, but she was perfect for the children.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it had to be Honey. Well, yeah, one doubt—a big one—her work. Her bar. But otherwise, she was perfect as a nanny. Surely, they could work it out somehow?
“Honey?”
She glanced over her shoulder from the kitchen where she rinsed the washcloth.
“Could I talk to you?” Gesturing with his head toward the hallway, he stepped forward.
With a questioning brow, she preceded him toward the back of the apartment, away from little ears.
“Rachel,” Cole murmured, “watch the kids?”
“Of course.”
Now to convince Honey, a woman who ran a busy and successful business, that he needed her to take care of his children.
It might look like selfishness on his part, but no. It was all about Evan and Madeline.
Honey stepped into her bedroom and Cole halted at the doorway, not sure he wanted to get close to her here. Even so small an intimacy threatened him, especially now, in this time of vulnerable need.
Whatever he had expected should he ever step into Honey Armstrong’s bedroom, it wasn’t this.
Charcoal walls closed in the space, making the large room small and cozy. White linen and lace everywhere brightened things. The startling contrast worked.
With Honey’s take-charge character, he hadn’t expected lace. Sure, she wore a lot of fancy turquoise-and-silver jewelry and leaned toward off-the-shoulder white tops, but making love to her here would be like bedding down in a big bowl of confectioners’ sugar.
It would be amazing.
Honey stood beside her bed, and Cole swallowed. It sounded loud in the quiet room.
Because he’d dreamed so many times of making love to Honey, he stayed where he was in the doorway, far away from all of that feminine lace and fancy wrought iron.
Had the bed been made for her? It was unique enough. Cole could see Honey sketching out what she wanted and having it styled just for her, controlling every minute particle of her life.
Above the bed hung a huge abstract landscape painting in purples, reds and silver. Another contrast. Honey and her passion in oil on canvas.
Had the artist known her?
The name came to him quickly. Local artist Zachary Brandt, whose landscapes hung all over town. None of them was like this one, though. He’d nailed Honey. Metaphorically, at least. Cole hoped they’d never had a relationship, especially not in this very room.
Rodeo Sheriff Page 4