Vows of the Heart

by Susan Fox

  "Here's the hammer," Veronica said, offering it to Cole, but he shook his head, his hand gripping the tent stake.

  "Go ahead. I trust you."

  Veronica raised the mallet, then glanced up at his smiling face. "Are you sure?"

  "The longer you hesitate, the less sure I get. If you miss and smash my hand instead, at least it's the last stake." His smile widened to a grin.

  Veronica grinned back, then fixed her eyes on the head of the stake and carefully pounded it into the ground. When she finished, Cole took the hammer and helped her to her feet.

  "Come on, Curtis," Cole yelled toward the truck. "Let's get that gear over here." While she and Cole were putting up the tents, Curtis was supposed to be unload­ing the truck so they could set up their campsite. But so far he'd managed only a few things and these he'd placed near the ring of smoke-blackened rocks left by a pre­vious camper.

  Veronica glanced around the campsite, which stood in a small clearing surrounded by dense forest, and took a savoring breath of the clean pine-scented air. So far, the day had been ideal. After a quick breakfast at the ranch, Cole had loaded the truck and they had set off for the Laramie Mountains, leaving Shorty and the other men to fend for themselves for the weekend. Cole had offered to share cooking duties with Veronica on the trip, and since Curtis had been a model of good behavior, Veronica was beginning to feel more optimistic about their two days and one night together.

  Cole went over to hurry Curtis along and Veronica unzipped the flaps of the tents, which were set up side by side, to begin tossing their bedrolls and extra blankets inside. The last things she threw in were the small duffle bags that held their clothing. By the time she'd finished, Cole had deposited the canvas bag of towels and cook­ing utensils on the small wooden table he'd carried from the truck. Once the campsite was put in order, Cole got out the fishing poles and tackle. Curtis held a Styrofoam cup of worms they'd purchased on the way, avidly inter­ested in the live lures that squirmed in the dirt.

  "Let's go get supper." Cole led the way down the slow incline to the small lake, which wasn't visible from their campsite. Veronica followed, carefully using her crutches to negotiate the rocky dirt path that curved haphazardly to the lakeside. Tree roots ribbed the path in spots, mak­ing an occasional natural step that leveled out the path slightly before it started downward again. Veronica made her way down with much more ease than she anticipated for the return trip, but she was ecstatic.

  Although she'd spent a lot of summers at camp, she never fished, preferring to spend her time swimming or horseback riding. Hank used to promise to take her one day, but he'd never found the time. And as Veronica grew older, she didn't think much about it, adapting to the more ladylike pastimes of her friends.

  "How are you doing?" Cole asked as she reached the bank and watched him search through his tackle box for hooks. Curtis was already threading his onto the end of his line like a pro, his young face intent on his work.

  "Just great," she returned as Cole unfolded his lean length from a crouch. Veronica paid close attention as he put hooks on her line and his, then gave each pole a quick check. The plaid shirt he wore stretched appealingly over his broad chest and back, emphasizing the effortless play of hard muscle, she noticed, while the comfortably faded jeans he had on clung to his every move, reminding her how it felt to be pressed against the unyielding contours of that length.

  "May I try?"

  Cole had started to bait her hook when her question stopped him. He grinned, his look telling her he expected her to change her mind. Curtis was suddenly right be­side her, holding his Styrofoam cup of bait practically under her nose, his face a picture of glee.

  Without missing a beat, Veronica dug into the pun­gent, earthy-smelling container and pulled out a long fat worm. As she held it at eye level, she glanced down at the small face that was watching for her to make some deli­cate expression of revulsion. Instead, Veronica smiled.

  "I have a recipe somewhere for earthworm cookies. I've always wondered what they'd taste like." Veronica pretended to give the worm a considering look.

  "Yuk!" Curtis's face was screwing up disdainfully as Cole started chuckling. Curtis realized then that Veron­ica was joking and his disdain turned to a childish gig­gle, then to impish delight. "Hey, how about making some of those cookies for Shorty?"

  "What?" Curtis's question caught her off guard, but she suppressed a smile at the boy's uninhibited sense of mischief.

  "Shorty is always talking about the weird things his mother made him eat when he was a kid," Curtis ex­plained. "We can see if he recognizes the taste." Curtis was turning the Styrofoam cup this way and that as if counting the number of worms they had left.

  "Let's just feed the worms to the fish and forget about earthworm cookies," Cole suggested to his son with mock sternness as he exchanged a sparkling look with Veronica. "Why don't you go ahead and get your line in." Curtis seemed only mildly aware that his father had nixed the idea. Eagerly he skipped off to the water's edge and swung his pole in a near-expert arc.

  "I might regret getting the two of you together," Cole told her after Curtis was out of earshot. "I can see now that it might turn out to be a case of what one won't think of, the other one will."

  Veronica's gaze shifted from Cole's grinning expres­sion to the sight of the small boy fishing on the bank. She was unaware of the look of faint longing in her eyes.

  "Am I going to stick this poor helpless worm, or not?" she asked him suddenly. The wistful look had disap­peared. Cole stared at her for a few uncomfortable mo­ments before he answered.

  "You've got too much worm there, Ronnie. You'll have to break him in half."

  Veronica's face was incredulous. "Do you mean I'll have to. . .?"

  "'Fraid so," Cole answered. Then holding out his hand, he said, "I'll do it."

  "I'll do it myself," she replied. "You and Curtis came up here to enjoy fishing, not bait hooks for a squeamish female." She gritted her teeth and performed the un­pleasant but necessary task.

  Cole chuckled. "I'm glad to see that little tomboy is still in there somewhere underneath that quiet reserve of yours, Veronica." His low rough voice brought her at­tention back to his face. "It would be a real shame if she couldn't come out and play with the boys once in a while." Cole's kiss was swift and set his hat askew. He just barely caught it before it fell to the ground.

  Moments later, Cole was giving Veronica a few point­ers about fishing, teaching her how to cast hook and bait into a deeper part of the lake.

  "Dad always says that a good fisherman cleans his own fish." Curtis giggled.

  "Someone should have mentioned that earlier," Veronica commented wryly as she glanced across the large flat rock into Cole's laughing eyes. The three of them were sharing the same rock, and soon each was busily cleaning and scaling their catch. The elation

  Veronica had felt at catching four fish to Cole's and Curtis's two had definitely tapered off now that she struggled with the task of cleaning what she'd caught.

  It wasn't so bad, really, she'd decided, but she hoped her appetite for fried fish wouldn't be unduly affected.

  Once she had finished the task Cole expertly filleted the fish. Before they left for the campsite, he deposited the scraps in a shallow hole he'd had Curtis dig earlier.

  Curtis gathered up their poles and the tackle box, carefully stowing the cup of worms inside the box before he started up the trail ahead of Cole and Veronica. Veronica had all she could manage with her crutches and Cole followed her with the large plastic freezer bag of fillets, giving her an occasional hand up over a steep spot on the trail.

  The afternoon had been idyllic. The three of them had fished companionably the entire time, with Curtis jab­bering to them both despite Cole's chuckling reminders that he would scare off the fish. Veronica was thrilled that the boy spoke to her nearly as often as he did to his fa­ther. There had been no trace of inhibition or inkling of the reason for his mistrust and fear of her the other day
.

  At Veronica's insistence, Cole had agreed to stop questioning his son about the incident at Helen's. Ap­parently, if today was any indication, it had been the right thing to do and Veronica felt untold satisfaction. They were almost at the campsite when they heard Curtis's whoop of excitement.

  "Uncle Bob!"

  Veronica heard Cole growl something under his breath, and they both increased their pace as the path grew level. Now they could hear the sound of tent stakes being driven into the hard ground. Cole and Veronica stepped into the clearing just in time to see Curtis launch himself into Jessica Ryan's welcoming arms.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Hey, Dad! Look who's here!"

  Curtis was behaving as if he hadn't seen Jessie and his aunt and uncle for months instead of just the day be­fore. Bob and Wylie, who'd come along too, were nearly finished setting up one of their tents, and Helen and Jes­sie had already unfolded a large camping table and car­ried most of their gear to the campsite across the stone ring from Cole's tent.

  "What is all this, Helen?" Cole's voice was decep­tively soft, but Veronica could almost feel its under-lying hardness.

  "We were coming up the trail on our way to that site north of here—you know the one—" Helen explained, as if she hadn't noticed her brother-in-law's annoyance. "Well, we saw your truck and decided to join you and Curtis. We didn't think you'd mind." Helen managed to look just worried enough about Cole's reception of their intrusion to bring a resigned twist to his lips, then a more sociable smile.

  "Ronnie and I were about to start supper."

  It was only then that Helen's eyes moved from Cole to Veronica.

  "And you have Veronica with you." Helen's pleased expression rang false to Veronica, and from the look Cole shot her, it had to him, too. "Well. . ." Helen glanced around to catch her husband's attention. "Bob? Maybe you won't need to set up the tent. You men can bunk in with Cole and Curtis, and the girls and I will use our tent."

  "No. Put up the other tent, Bob," Cole called, his cool gaze never leaving Helen's. "Ronnie and I already have all the chaperoning we need," Cole responded casually as he set the bag of fish on the small table he'd brought, then went off to the truck for the other food. Veronica managed a polite smile at the interlopers, hoping their arrival didn't signal a premature end to the happy re­laxed atmosphere of the camping trip.

  Curtis had been asleep for at least an hour and Veronica had gone to her tent soon after, changing out of her clothing and shrugging into a thigh-length T-shirt nightie. She was still uncomfortable with the tension that had all but ruined the evening for her, and she lay awake listening to the sounds outside. The others hadn't gone to bed yet, but the talk around the fire dwindled to near si­lence when Cole decided to retire for the night. She no­ticed through the small nylon mesh window that the light in Cole's neighboring tent was now off. She could hear the others bidding goodnight to each other, and then, al­most suddenly, all was quiet.

  Just as Veronica was drifting off to sleep, a shuffling sound outside her tent summoned her back to complete consciousness. She could hear the low buzzing sound of the double zipper at the door flap and sensed Cole's presence in the darkness even before he leaned over to crawl inside her tent, zipping the flap closed behind him. She felt a thrill of excitement when he gently touched her shoulder.

  "Ronnie, are you awake?" he whispered, crouching beside her.

  "Yes," she whispered back. "What are you doing here, Cole? What will the others think. . . and Curtis?"

  "Shh." He placed a finger gently over her lips, his eyes now nearly adjusted to the blackness. "Curtis is sound asleep. If there's a problem, we're right next door, and I'll be back there before he's awake. As for the others, I don't care what they think."

  "Cole, I—"

  "Ronnie, I'd just like to lie close to you for a while." The words wrapped irresistibly around her heart and she whispered her consent. Cole eased himself onto the edge of Veronica's bedroll, sliding beneath the blankets to stretch his length alongside hers.

  "I'm sorry about tonight, Ronnie. I had no idea Hel­en and Jessie would pull something like this." Cole's whisper was harsh.

  "You don't need to apologize," Veronica whispered back.

  She wanted to end the conversation there. She didn't think she could keep from commenting on several barbed remarks Jessie had made that evening, or the way Helen never missed an opportunity to link Cole's name with Jessie's. Wylie had been short-tempered—and with cause, Veronica thought sympathetically. He had appar­ently been counting on a cozy little trip with Jessie, but Jessie had obviously used him so she would have some­one to toss in Veronica's direction while she went after Cole.

  Veronica felt the subtle tension next to her escalate just before she heard a stirring of movement as Cole reached for her in the darkness. She didn't resist when he drew her close and rearranged the blankets until they were shar­ing one another's warmth.

  Slowly, hesitantly, as if giving her a chance to refuse, Cole's lips found the shell of her ear. The hard arm that encircled her waist began to move upward as his gentle fingers found the neckline of her nightie and tugged it aside to bare her shoulder to his kiss. With a distinct ab­sence of haste, Cole slipped his other hand beneath her head, pillowing her on his forearm as he turned her onto her back and found her lips. As she felt herself begin to melt, Veronica's arms went around Cole's neck in unre­served invitation.

  A tremor shot through her when Cole thrust his tongue forcefully into her mouth while his hand found the hem of her night shirt. With a riveting mixture of laziness and determination, Cole stroked her thigh, then let his hand wander up to her hip and across her flat stomach before moving higher. In moments, Veronica was feverishly re­turning Cole's kiss, going breathless when he slipped a jeans-clad leg between her thighs and shifted more and more of his weight onto her smallness.

  Her night shirt slid higher as Cole's warm sure fingers toyed enticingly with her breast. The heat beneath the blankets became sweltering as Cole's lips left hers to burrow beneath the ripple of clothing and find the small hardened peak.

  Suddenly there was a cry from Curtis's tent.

  "Look at this fish, Dad," the childish voice called out.

  Cole went as still as if he'd heard a shot, and Veron­ica's pleasure-tormented gasp died in her throat. The only sound for startled moments was the rapid staccato of two racing hearts as they listened for more.

  "See him?" they heard Curtis say.

  Cole carefully smoothed Veronica's night shirt down over her hips.

  "What'd I tell ya?" the happy little voice chattered, and Veronica began to shake with silent laughter.

  "Talking in his sleep," Cole whispered unnecessarily before he, too, started to chuckle. "Let me make a quick check on him. I'll be right back."

  He rose and moved toward the tent entrance, then ex­ited and looked in on his son. After watching him roll over and he in silence for a few minutes, Cole decided the sleep chatter must be finished.

  "I guess we couldn't ask for a better chaperon than a seven-year-old boy," Cole said as he made his way back into Veronica's tent. He started planting skin-branding kisses on her neck, but Veronica sensed his self-control was back in place.

  Suddenly Cole said, "I think I'm falling for you, Veronica."

  Veronica's rapidly beating heart skidded to a halt at the unexpected words. A warmth came into her, a free-flowing, heart-bursting heat that crested deep inside, yet left her with a bittersweet ache.

  Careful, her mind cautioned. Cole's very choice of words was a clear intimation that he was still unsure of what he really felt. He thought he was falling for her, she reminded herself. That was still eons away from a simple heartfelt "I love you, Veronica."

  "I care for you, too, Cole," she heard herself say, desperate to sound casual and unaffected. "But I'm really tired. I'd like to get some sleep now." She started to roll out of Cole's arms and pull away from him when his arms tightened almost fiercely around her.


  "You can't just turn over and go to sleep!" Cole's whispered rasp was incredulous.

  Veronica kept silent, staring up into the shadow of Cole's face. She couldn't see him clearly, but she could almost feel the harsh line of his mouth. In another mo­ment Cole relaxed his hold and Veronica took the op­portunity to turn away from him.

  Although she was reluctant to abandon the whipcord length that warmed her back, she managed to summon the strength to shift away from Cole to the far edge of the rumpled bedroll.

  "You don't have to go, Ronnie," came the near-silent whisper. Veronica paused, feeling the emotional tenta­cles of his words wrap around her and tug at her resist­ance. Her mind raced frantically for a way to escape Cole's persuasion.

  "Playing around with you like this can only lead to one thing," she whispered irritably. Veronica drew the blan­kets to her chin as she lay on her side and stared at the blackened tent side.

  "So?"

  Veronica sighed then pulled her knees up to lie in a de­fensive curl, wondering what she should say. What could she say? Was it time to tell Cole everything about her marriage to Eric? Or would there ever be an appropriate time? Did Cole even care to know? Maybe, she thought, there was really no reason to tell him anything. Veronica squeezed her eyes shut, electing to sleep and say noth­ing.

  "It's your husband, isn't it?" Veronica's eyes popped open. "Or rather, ex-husband."

  The silence of the night had grown unbearably loud. The sounds of the forest around them had paused, as if waiting for her to respond. Suddenly, it all seemed a se­cret not worth keeping. The months since the accident felt like years, the agony of Eric's abandonment no longer the raw wound it had been.

  "I don't still love him, if that's what you mean," she said quietly.

  "Is that why you divorced him?" came the inevitable question.

  Veronica made a restless movement. "Is this just idle curiosity, or do you really want to know about my mar­riage to Eric?" Cole didn't hesitate.