by Susan Fox
“You pull your weight around there,” Cassidy commented.
The girl grinned. “I can’t believe they pay me to do this stuff. I’d do it for free, just for the fun of it.”
Dave, chopping tomatoes and cilantro, smiled. “No one says you can’t have a job that you love doing, that still pays decently. Like your mom running Boots, Evan helping his clients do financial planning, Gramma Brooke cutting people’s hair and making them feel good about themselves. And of course me running the Wild Rose.” He tossed some of the chopped tomatoes and some of the cilantro into a bowl.
“I know. Cassidy, this is such a cool story. Dad fell in love with the inn when he was a kid and Grandma Sheila and Grandpa Ken took him and his brothers and sister there for ice cream sundaes.”
“From ice cream sundaes to owning it?” Cassidy said as she mashed the peeled avocado and other ingredients together. “Impressive, Dave.”
He shrugged. “The owner had trouble making a go of it and the Wild Rose got quite run-down. People started saying maybe the old girl should be torn down and a new hotel put up.”
Cassidy winced. “That wouldn’t have been right. Not for Caribou Crossing.” She smiled at Dave as he added some of the tomatoes and cilantro to her guacamole.
“That’s exactly what Dad thought,” Robin said. “So he saved her. You tell her, Dad.”
He was slicing purple onions and green peppers now, deft with the knife. “I was a teenager and the history of Caribou Crossing fascinated me. I even made that the theme of my valedictory speech at high school grad. I said that moving into the future should also mean respecting and preserving the past. I’m not sure that’s what the other kids wanted to hear.”
“It’s a good theme,” Robin defended him.
“It is,” Cassidy agreed.
Dave diced a few of the onion slices and added them to the guacamole. “Anyhow, I wanted to preserve and restore the Wild Rose. I made that my mission.” He gave Robin a quick smile. “Along with marrying Robin’s mom and raising our little girl, of course. So I went to work at the poor old inn, doing whatever jobs needed to be done. Kind of like you, Cassidy, though I also fixed plumbing, mended leaks in the roof, flipped burgers. I fit in night school and correspondence courses on business administration and on running hotels. Read a ton of books. Jessie was great, never begrudging the time I spent.” He gave a fond smile. “Bless her heart, she never once said I was chasing a foolish dream.”
“It wasn’t foolish, Dad!”
“Thanks, sweetheart. Anyhow, fortunately, the old owner didn’t want to see the place torn down. And the bank knew my family and trusted us. My father cosigned a loan.” He raised an arm and used the back of his wrist to push back the sandy hair that flopped over his forehead. “Cassidy, you know how, when I was talking about Jessie getting Boots off the ground, I said that it took a village?”
She nodded.
“Same with me and the Wild Rose. I had Jessie and Rob, my parents and hers, a friendly bank manager, an obliging inn owner, former classmates, and other townspeople who tossed in labor and supplies. City officials and a chamber of commerce who helped out with the heritage designation and the required permits. Turned out, the old Wild Rose had a lot of friends.”
More likely, Dave Cousins did. The same as his ex-wife. Again Cassidy felt a twinge of envy. What would that be like? She had a ton of acquaintances all over the world, whom she kept up with via Facebook and e-mail, but her lifestyle precluded the kind of deep friendships where people pitched in to help you out.
“Okay,” Dave said. “I’m going to grill the chicken. Cassidy, how about you sauté the onions and peppers? Rob, you put the salsa, guacamole, and cheese in bowls and set the table.”
When he’d gone up to the roof and Cassidy was sautéing vegetables, she thought about him and his ex. He and Jess were both confident, resourceful people, yet they didn’t mind accepting help. Unlike Cassidy, who felt the need to make her way in the world with complete independence. Oh, she’d happily eat Ms. H’s pancakes and let Dave pay her first couple of weeks of salary in advance, but she always paid back in full measure. She mowed Ms. H’s lawn and read to her when her eyes were too tired for her e-reader or the large-print books she borrowed from the library. She worked her butt off at the Wild Rose. In her head, there was a running tally so she could make sure not to be beholden to anyone. Not to rely on anyone.
In her life, Gramps had been the only person she could rely on—until he’d up and died.
A few minutes later, Dave came in with the cooked chicken, and sliced it up.
The competent way he wielded a knife was sexy. The way he moved, whether on horseback, strolling the streets, or fixing dinner, was sexy. They’d both avoided talking about last night, when she’d offered sex and he’d . . . Had he really turned her down, or just got upset when she started talking about Anita?
Today, she’d caught his gaze on her from time to time, and best as she could tell he was ambivalent. Attracted, but still worrying rather than going with the flow.
As Cassidy tipped the cooked onions and peppers into a serving bowl, Dave said, “Anita loved the Wild Rose too. We shared a love of history and historic buildings.”
And there was the thing that worried him, that held him back. His memory of, loyalty to, love for a woman who died three years ago.
He handed the dish of sliced chicken to his daughter to put on the table. “Rob, remember how you came along a couple of times when we shopped for things to restore for the inn?”
The girl nodded. “And I was bored, and I wished I’d been riding instead, and I let you both know it. I wish I hadn’t been whiny to Anita.”
“Sweetheart, you were a little kid then. We should have known that browsing through old stuff would bore you.” He paused. “Anita loved you. Even when you were whiny. She so looked forward to being your stepmom.”
“Me too.” Robin’s eyes were damp. “I miss her.”
“Yeah.” He gathered her in for a rough hug, and his own eyes were squeezed shut.
Cassidy felt like an intruder, yet she was happy to have helped these two reach this point.
Dave opened his eyes, released his daughter, and said briskly, “Okay, let’s eat.”
Once they were seated, each stuffing tortillas with whatever combination of fillings appealed to them, the conversation turned to safer topics. Robin asked questions about Karen and Jamal’s wedding, and she told stories about her mom’s last group of students at Boots.
When they’d eaten all they could and started to clear up, Dave’s cell rang. He checked the display, then answered.
“Hey, Jessie.”
He listened, then said, “Hang on a minute. I’ll talk to Rob.” He went over to his daughter, who was putting leftovers into containers. “Your mom and Gramma Brooke are checking about that babysitting offer you made.”
“You don’t mind if I have the babies here, do you, Dad?”
“Not at all.” A note of sadness in his voice made Cassidy think that he and Anita had planned to have kids. Another thing he’d lost. “Cassidy, we invited you for the evening, maybe for a movie. How do you feel about having a couple of infants along for the ride?”
“I love babies.” In fact, she loved people of all ages, as long as they were good-hearted.
“Or you and Cassidy could go line dancing,” Robin suggested.
Cassidy immediately thought of their slow dance last night.
Dave glanced at Cassidy and heat sparked in his eyes. “Maybe we will.” His gaze locked with hers. And this time, for once, he didn’t look away.
“I’d like that.”
Back on the phone, he said, “Bring the babies along. We’ll see you in a bit.”
He studied Cassidy again. “Other Sunday nights, you’ve been working. Haven’t had a chance to try out line dancing. You think you’d be up for it?” His tone was teasing, but a note of something else, something sexy and purely male, lurked below the surface. Was he talking onl
y about line dancing, or asking whether she was still interested in hooking up?
She struck a pose, one hip cocked. “I’ll have you know, I’ve line danced in Austin, Texas. Jimmy B and Bets can’t toss me anything I can’t handle.” Nor could Dave, sexually, and the prospect of “handling” him made her breath quicken.
He gave an appreciative grin, which faded to a look of concern. “How about your leg?”
“It feels fine.” She’d be furious with her stupid leg if it ruined another special moment.
“You really should see a doctor.”
“It’s just a pinched nerve or something. I strained it and it’s never quite healed.”
“If it’s a pinched nerve, it might do some permanent damage.”
A few minutes ago, he’d looked at her as if he thought she was sexy. Now he was lecturing her. Bummer. “Dave, I’m not your daughter.” She tried to keep her voice even, but a touch of snippiness crept in. “I’m a grown-up and I can look after myself.”
“Well, pardon me for—”
He broke off, but she knew he’d been about to say “caring.” She also knew that he didn’t mean anything more by it than if he’d been nagging Madisun or Sam about something.
“Doctors are okay,” Robin said. “They fix you up, and then you’re on the go again.”
“I’ll think about it.” They had valid points. If it was a pinched nerve, maybe the doctor could send her for physio or whatever.
But what if it wasn’t? she wondered as she rinsed dishes and handed them to Robin to put in the dishwasher. Gramps’s mother-in-law had had multiple sclerosis. GG had deteriorated until she couldn’t talk properly, couldn’t walk, and was incontinent. Cassidy, a little kid at the time, had almost been glad when she died and there were no more visits to the care home. When Cassidy was a teen, Gramps had told her to watch out for symptoms because it was one of those diseases where there could be a genetic predisposition.
She’d argued that no one else in the family had it, and he’d said it was possible his wife did, and that she’d died before being diagnosed. She had been only twenty-eight—a year older than Cassidy was now—when she’d fallen down the basement steps and broken her neck. What had caused her to fall? Had her leg tingled, gone numb, and given out on her?
No. Cassidy refused to consider that possibility. No way was she going to lose her mobility, her freedom, her independence.
Chapter Eleven
Cassidy’s expressive face told Dave that she was troubled. But she’d made it clear she wanted him to butt out. He couldn’t help but worry about that leg thing, but he wouldn’t push anymore tonight. He only hoped his and Robin’s words sank into Cassidy’s brain the way her advice last night had with him, about letting his daughter talk about Anita.
The kitchen tidy now, Robin turned the dishwasher on. She said to Cassidy, “Want to watch an episode of Heartland?”
“What’s Heartland?”
“You’ll love it! It’s a TV show set in Alberta, about this family who have a ranch and lots of horses, and they’ve also got guest cabins.”
“Sounds cool.” Cassidy’s interest seemed genuine.
“Totally,” Robin said eagerly. “And they take in kids who are, you know, in trouble. But the coolest part is the star, Amy, who’s, like, a horse whisperer.”
“Wow.”
“Did you know that Mom knows a horse whisperer? He heals rescue horses and Mom uses some of them at Boots. He and his wife live down near Vancouver and they said I could come stay with them and learn from him. But”—she frowned at Dave—“Dad said I can’t until I’m eighteen. Which is, like, forever.”
“Hmm.” Cassidy tilted her head consideringly. “But if you stayed with them, you couldn’t help out at Boots. What would your mom do without you?”
Huh. Dave would’ve expected her, with her “new day, new adventure” attitude, to support his daughter. He mouthed a silent “Thanks” over the top of Robin’s head, which Cassidy acknowledged with a slight dip of her head.
“Well yeah, that’s true,” Robin said thoughtfully.
“C’mon, let’s go watch Heartland,” Cassidy said. “It’s on TV tonight?”
“No, I have DVDs. Dad gives me each season’s for my birthday, because I want to watch them over and over.”
“Seems like you have a pretty good dad,” Cassidy said. “Even if he does have some pesky notions like not wanting you to get hurt or to grow up too fast. You should be glad he’s paying attention.” There was an edge to her voice when she made the last comment.
He gathered that her parents had been so caught up in their marital dramas that they hadn’t paid enough attention to Cassidy and her brother. She spoke very fondly of her grandfather, but she’d lost him when she was fifteen. She always seemed so self-sufficient and poised. Happy to sample bits of life here and there and then move on. Was it her lack of stable, loving roots that had turned her into an independent gypsy?
When he’d first met her, he’d thought she might be superficial, but no, she was responsible and perceptive. She’d helped him recognize that it wasn’t healthy for him or Robin to not talk about Anita. Yes, his throat hurt when he spoke Anita’s name, and dredging up memories brought an ache to his heart. But hugging Robin while they shared their grief had felt good.
Cassidy paid attention to others. But who was paying attention to her? Did she settle in one place long enough to give anyone that chance?
She and Robin had headed into the living room, with Merlin on their heels. Dave followed, finding Cassidy seated on the couch, her bare feet resting on a magazine on the coffee table. Robin sorted through DVDs and Merlin was settling in his usual spot on the rug.
Dave took the recliner chair. When he glanced at Cassidy, her clear gaze met his. She cocked an eyebrow in a silent question.
He wasn’t sure what she was asking, nor was he sure what he intended to say when he smiled at her, except that he was glad she was there.
She smiled back, and neither of them looked away. It was weird how natural this felt. Having dinner together, cleaning up, settling in to watch a show with Robin.
“Okay,” Robin said. “Cassidy, this is from season one, and it’s the episode where Amy gets this race horse that needs healing. It’s a really good one.” She clicked the remote, then hunkered down by Merlin.
As she watched the show, Robin combed grass seeds and burrs from the dog’s coat and silky ears. Cassidy seemed to quickly be caught up in the adventures at Heartland.
Dave did enjoy the show, for the scenery, the horses, and the family drama—which made his own rather unusual family seem almost normal—but tonight he had trouble concentrating. It wasn’t because he’d already seen this episode. It was Cassidy’s presence.
What was this woman to him? A friend, yes. Did he want more? A sexual relationship?
In three years, she was the only woman he’d felt this way about. She wasn’t like some of the women who’d come on to him. Her sexiness wasn’t about abundant breasts and hips in a tight shirt and painted-on jeans. It wasn’t about made-up eyes and red lips. No, it was in her animated face and pixie haircut, the gentle sway of slim hips in nondesigner jeans, the row of snap buttons down the front of her thrift store shirt. And there was more to her appeal than sexiness: her musical burble of laughter, her easy way with Robin, her persistence in trying to drag him out of the past.
Her itchy feet made her safe. She didn’t want things he couldn’t offer: commitment, love, a future. For her, those things were undesirable.
For him, they’d once been the most important things in the world. He’d lost them, and that agony was something he never wanted to—never would—face again.
As he’d told Cassidy, he’d never been into casual dating and sex. But he was feeling pretty darned motivated to try it out.
Oh yeah, Dave thought a couple of hours later, Cassidy sure did know how to line dance. She followed even the most complicated movements, and looked as if she wasn’t even trying.
Watching her, Dave, who’d been line dancing since he was a kid, found himself stumbling in his cowboy boots. He didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry when Jimmy B and Bets called a break.
A couple of women headed for the jukebox to cue up some tunes. Keith Morton, a young cowboy who was popular with the ladies, came toward Cassidy, his intent clear on his face.
An unfamiliar sensation stabbed Dave. He moved fast, touched Cassidy’s shoulder, and identified that burning in his gut as jealousy. His grip tightened and Keith veered off toward one of the other women. “Dance with me,” Dave said to Cassidy.
She glanced at his hand. “Only if your dance hold won’t bruise my shoulder.”
“Sorry. Let me try that again.” He let go and held out his arms in an invitation.
“Much better.” She slid one hand into his and rested the other lightly against his shoulder.
“Know the two-step?” he asked.
“You bet.”
He wrapped his arm around her back and, as Shania Twain sang “Any Man of Mine,” he led her into the quick-quick, slow-slow motion of the dance. She did know the moves, following him easily. Though she felt delicious, all warm and vital, he couldn’t relax. He spun her out and brought her back. “Keith is interested in you.”
A knowing smile flickered. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you interested in him?”
“Not in the dating sense. I’ve hung out with Keith. A few other guys too.”
Last night, when she’d said she was trying to seduce him, he’d figured she must not be dating anyone else, but he needed to make sure. “Just hung out with?”
“Drank some beer, shot some pool. No, I’m not dating anyone.”
“Why not?”
“You’re the only man I’m interested in. In that way.” Her hips shifted forward, brushing his, leaving no doubt what “that way” meant.
His body reacted immediately. Though he wanted to grab her and pull her tighter, he forced himself to ease away. Two-step wasn’t a clutch-and-sway dance. “Jeez, Cassidy, let’s not give Caribou Crossing something to gossip about.”