A Future for His Twins
Page 8
It was nice to hear someone say it, especially since many days had passed and Chloe hadn’t even texted an emoji in response to Faith’s phone call.
She took Angie into a brief embrace. “Thanks for being on my side.”
“Of course.” After pulling back, Angie reached to fuss with Faith’s hair. “I’m bummed that some of the other shopkeepers are so enthusiastic about Tom getting the building.”
“It doesn’t mean they don’t want a museum or don’t like me.” Even though sometimes she took it personally and wanted to drown her sorrows in a gallon of mocha-almond-fudge ice cream. “It doesn’t mean Tom will sway the council, either. He was talking about doing stuff that could be detrimental to the structural integrity of the store. If he still wants to do that, it could be bad for him.”
“Will you bring it up in your presentation for the council?”
She could, but—
“I don’t want to sling any more mud. I’m going to focus on the benefits of my museum rather than the drawbacks of his store.”
“Civil discourse rather than a shouting match. The world would be a better place if we all adhered to that policy.”
Faith glanced at her watch. A minute past ten. She turned the closed sign in the window to open. “The weather’s nice, so hopefully we get some customers to make the day go faster for you.”
They could use the sales, too, but Faith didn’t dare speak it. Much as she didn’t want much to change in town, Tom was right about the need for something to draw more visitors to Main Street.
“So where are you going on this hike?” Angie pulled out the feather duster from under the counter and made her way to the window display. Dusting was an everyday part of keeping the store looking its best, but it was never as fun as organizing pieces into displays or getting to know customers.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I ran into Tom and the kids in the church parking lot on Sunday. Tom said he’d pick me up here at ten fifteen, and he’d take care of the picnic, too. I haven’t seen them around since then.”
But she had seen Elena Santos twice. Once at Angel Food, and again at the supermarket when they’d both reached for celery at the same time. After an awkward exchange of you-go-ahead pleases, Elena grabbed her celery and rushed out of the produce section like she didn’t want to exchange another syllable of chitchat more with Faith than she had to.
Enemy camps, Angie had said. Well, that explained it. Elena was upset Faith was fighting Tom for the building.
Angie peeked up from dusting the bike display in the front window. “Here comes your hiking group.”
Faith swiped her suddenly damp hands on her jean-clad thighs. What did she have to be nervous about? She was going to spend a few hours with cute kids. And their dad. Whom she was battling for a building. Awkward, yes, but nerve-racking? Just hike and be done with it.
Dressed in jeans, light jackets and new-looking mini hiking boots—Nora’s tied with fluorescent pink laces—the kids rushed up for hugs, Nora’s fierce, Logan’s clingy. They smelled faintly of maple syrup. “Hi, guys.”
“Hi, Miss Faith.”
“Morning.” Tom wore jeans and hiking boots, but instead of a jacket he had on a green-and-white-plaid flannel shirt over a casual green button-down.
The Santos trio looked like far more serious hikers than she did in her green canvas tennis shoes. Oh, well. This wasn’t a serious hike, right?
Tom tipped his head toward the front door. “Roscoe’s out in the car. Are you ready?”
“Sure.” Ignoring the fluttering in her belly, Faith grabbed the tiny backpack she was using as a purse, heavier than usual on her shoulder since she’d stuffed it with sunscreen, snacks and water bottles. A quick wave to Angie and they stepped outside. His black SUV was parked just feet away, with a tongue-lolling Roscoe watching them from the back seat.
To her surprise, Tom followed her around to the passenger side of the car. Was he going to help the kids in the back seat, or—oh, my, no one had opened a car door for her since Grandpa. Most men didn’t do that anymore, unless they were on a date.
Which this was not. He was showing her courtesy, that’s all.
Nevertheless, her nerves buzzed to life at his proximity. He didn’t smell like cologne today, but the dark pools of his eyes meeting her gaze created a similar effect on her. Her heart pounded in her throat.
“Thanks,” she croaked, taking her seat.
“My pleasure.” He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, whistling, clearly oblivious to the wave of weirdness she’d just experienced. It would be awful if he thought she might be attracted to him.
Which she couldn’t be. He was the worst person in the world to have feelings for.
Her nervous system didn’t seem to care, though. Each of her senses seemed to be on high alert—making her acutely conscious of the click made by her latching seat belt, the graham-cracker smell of the car, the sudden warmth on her ear—
She twisted in her seat and yelped. Right into Roscoe’s doggy face.
Logan cackled. “Roscoe scared you.”
“Yeah, I guess he did. Sorry to yell in your ear, Roscoe.” Clearly, she wasn’t yet as rational as she wanted to be. She scratched the dog behind one ear to hide how jittery her hands were.
She had to get ahold of herself, now, before she did something stupid like letting her knees get all weak again. Tom was a better guy than she’d initially judged him to be, but he was 100 percent completely wrong for her in every single way.
Her knees and nerves would get the message soon enough, if she kept reminding them.
* * *
The drive to the parking area near the trail didn’t take long to navigate, and the kids were only a few verses into “Old MacDonald” when Tom pulled into a shady spot beneath a live oak tree. “All right, we’re here.”
“Quack-quack here and quack-quack there,” Nora continued singing.
“Where are we going?” Faith reached for the backpack at her feet.
“Mulder Ranch,” he said softly, leaning into her so as not to be overheard by the kids as they noisily unbuckled and continued singing. Or, rather, quacking. “I wanted to keep it a surprise.”
Her smile indicated she understood why. Mulder Ranch was another name for the place locals called the daffodil spot. “We could have walked right onto the ranch from the road, you know.”
“I thought it might be more fun to hike in through the back way.”
“Let’s hike,” Nora yelled so loud it hurt Tom’s ears.
Faith laughed as she tugged an earlobe. “I love your enthusiasm.”
While Faith and the kids exited the vehicle with Roscoe, Tom retrieved his backpack, ensuring the picnic lunch, blanket, extra water and dog leash were secure in the pack. He hoisted it over both shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“Anyone need sunscreen first?” Faith tugged a yellow tube from her little blue pack.
He should’ve thought of that. “We all do, thanks. You sure you don’t mind loaning us some?”
“Don’t be silly.” She squirted a blob of white lotion into her palm and then handed him the tube. He reached for Logan, who squirmed. “I don’t like that stuff.”
“Me, neither.” Nora grimaced. “It’s all coconutty.”
Oh, yeah. They hadn’t used sunblock since last summer, when they’d had mini tantrums over the stuff for some reason that defied all logic. Tom braced for a fight.
“Too bad,” Faith said with a shrug. “I was going to frost you like a cupcake.”
Nora did a complete one-eighty, turning her body toward Faith and losing her grimace. “I want to be frosted like a cupcake.”
Faith dabbed a dollop onto Nora’s nose, which made his daughter squeal.
“Me, me.” Logan rushed to Faith’s side, nose high in the air. “Frost me like a cupcake.”
And just like that, without a fight, his kids were covered in sunblock. Faith hadn’t done anything that earth shattering, but his kids thought it hilarious enough to submit to the sunblock with enthusiasm.
He’d have to remember the cupcake trick next time. Although he had a feeling it wasn’t just the trick, it was the woman, who’d not only diffused a potential argument but made the situation fun.
Faith was not like anyone he’d ever met. And even though they were rivals, it seemed the effect she was having on his family was...
Good. Nora was dancing around now, and Logan wasn’t acting his usual shy self at all with Faith. Right now, he was poking the dog with a chorus of “boops.” Roscoe, of course, took it all in stride, smiling in his doggy way.
Tom smeared some of Faith’s sunblock on the back of his neck, breathing in the aroma that always made him feel young and carefree. Like the weight of the world wasn’t resting entirely on his shoulders. Maybe the feeling also had something to do with Faith, but he couldn’t think of that now. Or at all, really.
This was a hike to cement their neighborly relationship. Nothing more.
Faith shoved the tube back in her pack. “I thought you might be taking us to the Raven Mine, parking out here.”
“I didn’t realize it was that close.” He whistled for Roscoe, who’d gone investigating near a clump of chaparral scrub.
“Quite near Mulder Ranch. There’s history everywhere you turn in gold country.” Faith grinned as she and Nora preceded him and Logan onto the trail. Roscoe caught up and panted happily as he wove between them.
Nora patted Faith’s leg. “Is it called gold country because the grass is yellow?”
“Not quite,” Tom answered. It was easy to understand his daughter’s question, though, because everything seemed tinged in gold this morning: the warm sunlight, the wild mustard blossoms scattered through the landscape and yes, the yellow hue of the drying grasses. “It’s because gold was discovered here a long time ago.”
“Right here?” Logan scanned the ground.
“Not on this spot, but close enough that people came from all over the world to look for gold in this area.” Faith pointed at the yellow rolling hills ahead. “The Raven Mine is up there. It brought up over three thousand tons of ore one year.”
“Is there still gold in there? Can we go?” Logan quickened his pace.
Tom met Faith’s gaze. “How far is it?”
“Less than half a mile from the ranch, actually.”
“That close? Why didn’t I ever go there on a field trip or something?”
“Nothing’s left anymore, so some of the other mines are more interesting to visit. But it’s part of the Mine Trail.”
“My shoe.” Nora wiggled her foot in a circle. Loosened laces flapped around her boot.
Faith paused and dropped to retie it before Tom could even blink. Here she was, helping his kids again. With a tug on the double knot she’d formed, she stood up.
Tom started walking again. “So which came first in 1850-whatever, Main Street or the Raven Mine?”
She grinned. “The Raven wasn’t opened until 1869, but Main Street was built in 1852, after gold-bearing quartz deposits were discovered close by. Your ancestor came in ’51, I think, but became a mason pretty quickly.”
Ah, yes, his great-great-whatever grandfather. “What’s your family history here in town?”
“Same as yours, for the most part.” She glanced back at him as they continued up the trail. “A few of my ancestors found they made better livings at things like law enforcement, animal husbandry, that sort of thing, but two of my great uncles worked in the Raven. Mining is part of the fabric of this town. We wouldn’t be here without it.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Me neither, not in my whole life,” Logan said.
It was difficult to keep a straight face at that remark. Faith must have thought so, too, because as they walked she turned back to smile at Tom—
And yelped, falling to her knees.
Tom gripped her arm and tugged her upright, pulling her close to stabilize her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“You landed hard. Do your knees hurt?”
She shook her head, causing her hair to sweep his hands, which still rested on her shoulders. Their faces were inches apart. So close he could breathe the faint scents of sunblock and laundry soap. Their gazes held, for a moment or an eternity, he couldn’t guess.
He forgot where he was. His gaze lowered on its own accord to her peach-glossed lips.
“Daddy, you let go of the leash and now Roscoe’s running away,” Nora chastised.
What was he doing? “Right. Gotta get Roscoe back.” He released Faith and whistled after Roscoe, who trotted back with obvious reluctance.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” His question was for Faith, but he made a point of not looking into her eyes again.
“Yeah. Just didn’t see this rock.” She brushed dirt from her knees.
“Are we almost there? I’m hungry.” Logan rubbed his stomach.
“Soon, bud.” Even though they were taking a roundabout way, Tom hadn’t forgotten his kids were kindergarteners. The trek he’d chosen wasn’t too long or rigorous.
They talked cartoon movies and plant names and Nora’s wayward shoelaces—which mysteriously kept untying themselves despite Faith’s double knots—as they made their way up the gentle slope to the daffodil spot. The shallow conversation was perfect, not too personal but easy enough so he and Faith established a neighborly foundation, as intended. Nothing more.
He would not be attracted to Faith. Nope.
He prayed as he walked, begging God’s help.
Then the oaks and pines surrounding the trail thinned and a chain-link fence appeared ahead. The gate before them stood open, welcoming. They went through it but stopped at the top of the slope leading down into the backside of Mulder Ranch, private property whose owners welcomed visitors every spring when the daffodils bloomed.
It was better than he remembered. Below, the ranch spread out, dotted with grazing cattle in a half-dozen shades of brown. Glimpses of the owners’ white Georgian-style home were barely visible through the barrier of cypress trees planted around it. The Mulders had posted welcome signs, though, directing visitors to take out whatever they brought in and leading them to make themselves at home on the acreage down the slope, where a donkey watched them from a paddock by the old wood barn a hundred yards or so from the banks of the creek.
Between them and the barn, however, were the daffodils. Thousands of them, white and yellow, some fully open to the sun, others still closed tight in yellow-green buds, waving on bright green stalks in the gentle breeze.
“Wow.” Logan’s mouth went slack.
“It’s bee-you-tiful.” Nora tucked her clasped hands beneath her chin.
“It really is.” Faith led them down the slope. “I’d forgotten just how much.”
How could that be possible? She was all about the town’s heritage, and this was a part of it. “Aren’t these bulbs really old?”
“The tradition is over a hundred years old, so yes, some say many of the bulbs are decades old. The family plants new ones every year, though.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, so pretty his heart stopped for a second. “Thanks for bringing us here, Tom. This is wonderful.”
It was. The scenery, and the feeling in his gut.
It was as close to happiness as he’d had in a long time.
Just for today, he’d stop worrying about being the perfect dad for his kids to make up for failing them. Or whether or not Faith could be both friend and foe, especially when he was starting to appreciate her a little more than he should.
Just for today, he would choose to enjoy the moment.
Chapter Eight
“Can we pick daffodils?”
“Can we smell them?”
“Can we look at the donkey?”
Tom laughed at the barrage of questions. “No, yes, and yes.”
The kids ran down the path through the daffodils toward the donkey, Faith at their heels. Tom leashed Roscoe and dug his phone from his pants pocket to take pictures. He’d have to get a few of the kids among the blooms, too.
After a minute with the donkey, Logan’s shoulders slumped. “Can we eat now?”
Tom’s stomach rumbled, too. “Sure. How about over there?” He pointed to a flat spot beneath a wide old oak.
First things first. He removed a collapsible pet bowl from his pack and poured the contents of a water bottle in it for Roscoe. While the dog lapped in noisy slurps, he and Faith laid out a gray blanket. After wiping their hands with a towelette, they said grace and dug into their ham-and-Swiss sandwiches.
“That is one snazzy backpack. My picnic basket belonged to my grandparents. I love it, but it doesn’t insulate like yours does. Or have as many nifty compartments.” Faith munched on a tortilla chip, eyeing his backpack.
“I’m going to carry them in my store, for sure. They’re lightweight and hold a lot of stuff.” He glanced at her sandwich. “Hope you don’t mind ham and cheese. Or sourdough.”
“It’s one of my favorites, actually. This is from Sweet Pickles, isn’t it?”
“Best deli in town.”
“The only deli in town.”
Nora wiped her hand on her pants. “We bought sandwiches, but brought everything else from home. I washed the apples.”
“And I put the chips in baggies.” Logan helped himself to a few more.