by Myra Johnson
“Probably?” Christina released a shaky laugh.
“Okay, I definitely owe you an apology.” He brushed a hand across his nape while deciding how much of his own past to open up about. As little as possible, he reasoned. Doubtful she’d stick around long enough for it to matter. “My grandmother has accused me more than once of being overprotective of my kids.”
Was that a smirk on her face? No, more like a smile of acknowledgment. “Yes, I recognized the signs.”
“Maybe I am,” he said defensively, “but I’ve got my reasons.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out your little girl is deathly afraid of dogs.” Christina’s gaze held his, her tone softening. “May I ask what happened?”
This much he could reveal without too great a risk of deepening the gash in his heart. “My brother-in-law has two Rottweilers. My...wife—” Okay, this was hurting a little more than he’d planned on. He took a stuttering breath. “She, uh, took the kids to visit her brother, and the dogs got a little rough with Eva. She wasn’t even three years old then. The dogs each outweighed her by a hundred pounds.”
“Oh, no. Was she hurt?”
“A few bruises, and a split lip from being knocked down. It wasn’t like they attacked her. They were just being playful and didn’t know their own strength.”
“Still, she must have been terrified.” One hand caressing her dog’s head, Christina sat forward. “I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen with Gracie. There isn’t a gentler animal alive.”
Seth stood. “Just keep her away from my kids.”
Chapter Three
With last-minute preparations for the reunion guests, Christina had little time to dwell on Seth Austin’s mercurial moods. Seemed he could go from caring and considerate to simmering animosity at the drop of a dusty Stetson.
Also, if she read the situation correctly, he still had unresolved feelings for his late wife. Or ex-wife. Or late ex-wife. Christina still wasn’t totally clear on which label applied. And she definitely wasn’t clear on why it should matter to her, because the last thing she needed in her life was a tall, good-looking cowboy with issues of his own.
Even if his two kids were adorably precious.
When the first of the weekend guests rolled in on Thursday afternoon, Christina thought it wise to get out of the way for a while. She snapped on Gracie’s car harness and buckled her into the passenger seat, then headed for town.
Passing the spot where she’d first encountered Seth brought a quiver to her stomach, so she kept her eyes forward until she turned onto Main Street. Downtown Juniper Bluff appeared no busier now than it had been two days ago when she’d first driven through, which was a good thing because since the accident, Christina didn’t easily abide noise and confusion—another reason she hoped moving to a small town would help her ease back into normal life.
The sun-dappled town square looked peacefully inviting. Christina parked on a side street and walked over with Gracie, and they followed the path to the foot of the horse-and-rider statue. Christina read the inscription on the plaque beneath.
Jake Austin.
Juniper Bluff’s Hometown Hero.
According to the plaque, Austin was a search-and-rescue volunteer who met his death twenty-two years ago while freeing a family trapped in their overturned car.
A tremor raced through Christina as images from her own accident surfaced. Determinedly shaking them off, she focused on the man’s features forever preserved in bronze. The resemblance to Seth was uncanny. Could Jake Austin be his father? If so, Seth would have been a young boy at the time, probably about Joseph’s age. So very young to lose a parent.
Gracie nudged Christina’s hand, the dog’s quiet signal that she sensed Christina’s tension level climbing. How an animal knew such things, Christina had no idea. She was grateful nonetheless and made a conscious effort to relax.
“Okay, girl, let’s walk. After two days of maid’s work, I need to stretch the kinks out.”
After an hour or so of meandering around the square and peeking in a couple of interesting shops, they headed back to the car. Before leaving town, Christina stopped at the supermarket and picked up a rotisserie chicken and small container of three-bean salad. Marie had been cooking all day, and the family would have dinner in the main dining room with the ranch guests. Marie had invited Christina to join them, but Christina doubted she could endure the socializing—or Seth’s annoyed glares—without her dog close by. A quiet supper in her cabin sounded much more appealing.
Hard work and tranquil surroundings were definitely conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Christina awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she had in a long time. The sun had barely peeked over the hills when she trekked to the workroom to organize her housekeeping supplies. As soon as the guests had gone to the main house for breakfast, she trundled the maid’s cart down the path and set to work. She easily finished making beds and freshening bathrooms in the two occupied cabins before the families returned.
Consulting her checklist, she made sure everything was in order in the other three cabins reserved for the weekend, then pushed the cart back to the workroom and deposited a pile of damp towels in the laundry bin. By then, her morning burst of energy had waned. Ready to put her feet up for a bit while sipping a cold drink, she trudged outside.
“Christina!” Marie called from the porch. “Can you come in the house for a minute and give me a hand with something?”
“Sure.” Christina waved and started that way. The soft chair and cold drink would have to wait.
In the kitchen, Christina found Marie huddled over a red-faced, teary-eyed Joseph, perched on a chair at the end of the trestle table. The little boy cradled his left hand and refused to let Marie see it.
Christina hurried forward. “What happened?”
“He was playing in the barn and got a big ol’ splinter. Now he won’t let me pull it out.”
“Ouch.” Offering Joseph a sympathetic smile, Christina knelt in front of him, Gracie at her side. “If I promise not to touch it, would you hold your hand out for me to see?”
“Y-you promise?” He started to extend his hand, then jerked it back. “You can’t let Omi touch it, either.”
“Absolutely not. What if Omi and I both tuck our hands into our back pockets? Will you show us then?”
Joseph thought a moment, then nodded. He opened his left hand to reveal an ugly splinter embedded deep into his grime-covered palm. If they didn’t get the splinter out and clean the wound, infection was sure to follow.
“Wow, that’s pretty nasty,” Christina murmured. She skewed her lips. “Hmm, seems to me you have two choices.”
He looked up with a worried frown.
“Well, if you don’t let Omi pull out the splinter and clean up your hand, you might have to go to the doctor for a shot.”
Joseph gasped and tucked the injured hand beneath his other arm. “No shots!”
Marie patted the boy’s shoulder. “Christina’s right, I’m afraid. Please, Joseph—”
“But it’ll hurt!”
“I have an idea,” Christina said. “Whenever I’m scared or worried or hurting, I just hug on Gracie, and pretty soon I feel better. I bet she’d let you pet her while Omi takes care of your hand.”
Swallowing, Joseph cast the dog a leery glance, then studied his palm. It seemed forever before he finally whispered, “Okay, I’ll try.”
With an inner sigh of gratitude, Christina rose and led Gracie around to Joseph’s right side. “Now, then, you keep all your attention on Gracie and don’t pay any mind to what Omi’s doing.”
She nodded at Marie, who stood ready with an alcohol-sterilized sewing needle and tweezers. Marie pulled a chair closer and sat down, then gently placed Joseph’s injured hand on her lap. While Christ
ina talked softly to the boy and had him stroke Gracie’s soft fur, Marie quickly and efficiently plucked out the splinter.
Joseph looked around in surprise. “It’s out?”
“Sure is!” Marie held up the wood fragment for him to see.
“It’s...so big!” He grinned up at Christina. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”
She tousled his hair. “Thank Gracie. She’s the best, isn’t she?”
Marie stood. “Now we need to get you washed up and put some antibiotic ointment on your hand.”
Joseph turned to Christina. “Can Gracie come, too?”
“Of course.”
The three of them, plus Gracie, traipsed down the hall to the bathroom. After Marie finished treating the wound, they returned to the kitchen as Seth and Eva came in the back door.
At the sight of Gracie, Eva shrieked and leaped into Seth’s arms. Shielding his little girl, Seth glowered at Christina.
This time she refused to be intimidated. “I’m sorry for scaring Eva, but my dog just saved your son from an infected wound.”
Doubt clouding his eyes, Seth looked from Christina to his grandmother. “You got the splinter out?”
“We did.” Marie patted Gracie’s head. “Couldn’t have done it without this sweet thing.”
Now they had Eva’s attention. Still clinging to her father’s neck, she peeked down at Gracie, then shot her brother a worried frown.
“It’s true, Eva,” Joseph said. “I petted the dog the whole time Omi fixed my hand and it didn’t hardly hurt at all!”
Marie reached for Eva. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll fix you kids some chocolate milk.” Balancing the little girl on her hip, she raised a brow in Seth’s direction. “Why don’t you take Christina down to the picnic area and y’all can start setting up for tonight’s barbecue.”
Seth’s expression said spending time with Christina was the last thing he cared to do, but he didn’t argue. With a deferential nod, he extended one arm toward the back door. “After you.”
* * *
Leave it to his grandmother to put him in yet another awkward position. Seth would have liked a little more time to accept the notion that Christina’s dog had actually proved helpful. Although Joseph’s surprisingly sunny attitude made it pretty clear.
In the barn earlier, when Seth first heard his son’s yelp of pain, he’d tried to remove the splinter himself.
“No! Let Omi do it!” Joseph had screamed.
Seth had sent him on to the house, hoping his grandmother would get the deed done before Seth finished his barn chores and caught up. Times like these were when the kids most needed a mother’s gentle touch. Omi was the next best thing, but Seth knew his son well enough to realize even Omi would have her hands full in this situation.
He cast a sidelong glance at the woman walking beside him. The words thank you sat on the tip of his tongue, but stubbornness prevented him from forcing them out.
Halfway to the lakeside picnic area, Christina broke the silence. “What exactly do we need to do out here?”
Halting in his tracks, Seth slapped a palm against his forehead and groaned. “It would help if I’d remembered to get the picnic supplies from the storeroom.”
“I was wondering...” She offered a pert grin, and Seth figured he should be glad that was the worst of it.
“You can wait here if you want. Won’t take me long.”
“No, I’ll help. I need to know where to find things.”
“Suit yourself.” Seth pivoted and strode toward the garage. He didn’t look back to see if Christina followed, but the soft crunch of sneakers and dog paws on the gravel drive told him she wasn’t far behind.
Rounding the garage, he stopped at the storeroom door and fumbled in his pockets.
“Something wrong?” Christina asked.
“Don’t have my keys with me.”
“Allow me.” Nudging him aside, Christina used her set of housekeeping keys to unlock the door. She pushed it open, then mimicked his earlier gallantry to motion him inside.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
She tilted her head, one brow arched accusingly. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
With a roll of his eyes, Seth released a weak chuckle. “I deserved that. So let me try again. Thanks for getting the door. And thanks for helping get Joseph’s splinter out.”
“You’re welcome. Now, where are those picnic supplies?”
A few minutes later, Seth had loaded three plastic crates and some cleaning supplies onto a utility wagon. Once again, they started for the lake, and this time the tension between them wasn’t quite so thick. At the picnic area, the dog stretched out in the grass while Seth and Christina began wiping down tables and benches. Then Seth unfolded a blue gingham tablecloth. He took one end and handed Christina the other, and together they smoothed it across the first table. Seth found a container of specially made clips, which they used to secure the cloth in place.
The breeze shifted, and Christina paused to sniff the air. “Something smells wonderful!”
“That’d be the brisket Opi’s smoking. Best in Texas, if you ask me.”
“We have pretty good barbecue in Arkansas, too.”
Seth scoffed as he shook out another tablecloth. “Only because of the Texans who moved there. And I bet y’all don’t have sauce as good as what my grandmother makes.”
Fastening down her side of the cloth, Christina winked. “Don’t tell me—it’s a secret family recipe.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Seth’s hand brushed hers as he smoothed out a wrinkle, and he felt the tingle all the way to his knees. He quickly straightened, clearing his throat. “I should get back. I need to gather some wood for the fire pit.”
“Oh. Okay.” Did she sound a little bit disappointed? “Anything else I need to do here?”
“One of the crates has some table decorations. Candles and globes, flowers, greenery. You’ll do better with those than I would.”
Christina slanted him a teasing look of disdain. “Why? Because I’m a girl?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to see the mess I’d make trying to put a centerpiece together.”
“If you say so.” Christina turned to peer inside one of the crates. She pulled out a handful of artificial bluebonnets and a box of candles. “What should I do with all this stuff when I finish?”
“I’ll bring the wagon back with the firewood and then haul the crates to the storeroom.” Hands on hips, he glanced around. “You’ll probably be done before then, so just leave everything where it is.”
As he turned to go, Christina called out to him. “Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His forehead bunched. “For what?”
“For giving me a chance.”
A fresh wave of guilt swept through him. “I haven’t been real good about it so far, have I?”
“No, but I understand why now. And I’m in no position to judge.”
Seth cringed as his grandmother’s admonition came back to bite him. “I’m sure not, either.” He paused while a beefy aroma drifted his way on the morning breeze. He had plenty of other things to do, but for some crazy reason he couldn’t seem to get his feet moving. Pointing to the bluebonnet sprigs Christina was attempting to arrange around a candle globe, he said, “It works better if you use one of those Styrofoam thingies.”
Christina looked up with an arched brow. “And you said you didn’t know anything about centerpieces.” Her expression softened into an endearing smile. “So will you give me a hand? Because I’m really not the artsy-craftsy type.”
He opened his mouth to say yes, then snapped it shut. This was so not happening. Not again. Against his will, memories of Georgia crept in. He’d fallen for her dur
ing their junior year at Texas A&M, lured by crystal-blue eyes, silky blond hair and an invitation to help her stuff envelopes for a sorority fund-raiser she was heading up. Eight months later, they were married.
Eight years later, he’d found himself standing at his ex-wife’s graveside and wondering how it had come to this. Wondering how he’d ever explain to his kids why they’d never see their mother again.
No, they’d had enough heartache in their short lives. Seth had experienced more than his share, too. He wouldn’t risk letting another woman slip through the chinks in his armor.
“Whatever you do will be fine,” he muttered.
Without a backward glance, he marched to the house. About time to check on his kids. Eva never liked him out of her sight for long and was probably pestering Omi about going to find her daddy right now.
He walked into the kitchen to a very different scene. While his grandmother stood at the counter chopping vegetables, Joseph and Eva perched on barstools and nibbled string cheese. Engrossed in her brother’s recounting of his splinter experience and “Miss Christina’s amazing doggy,” Eva hardly acknowledged Seth’s arrival.
The realization that he hadn’t been missed—and the reason why—cut deep. For the space of a nanosecond, he forgot how to breathe.
“Hey, Seth.” Omi’s cheery greeting snapped him out of it. “How’s it going with the picnic setup?”
“Fine. Christina’s putting the centerpieces together.”
“So what are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be helping?”
He swiped a carrot stick and bit off a piece, then chewed with a vengeance so he wouldn’t have to answer right away. “She’s managing,” he mumbled over a mouthful, then grabbed a slice of zucchini.
Omi slapped his hand. “Those are for the barbecue tonight. And you shouldn’t have left her on her own. She’s still learning how we do things around here.”
“Seems plenty capable to me.” He wouldn’t mention Christina’s lopsided fake-bluebonnet arrangement.
The chopping knife came down hard on an unsuspecting green pepper. “Seth Jacob Austin, if you aren’t the biggest scaredy-cat I ever did see.”