Someone to Trust

by Kay Lyons

  Still, the wave of homesickness rolling over her surprised her. Talking with Colt was like chatting up her young nephews. And Ansel and Walter and Zeke reminded her of her many uncles, joking and kidding and telling outrageous tales. The lodge held such a sense of warmth and comfort, it was no wonder it made her think of home.

  And that made her remember the antsy, can’t-wait-to-get-out-of-here feeling she always got when she stayed too long in one place. She didn’t feel it yet. But she would.

  She knew it was only a matter of time.

  * * *

  ALEXANDRA BECAME MORE NERVOUS about her decision to stay as the last two days of the original weeklong stay drew to a close. So much so she briefly considered packing her bags and going home to Tennessee thereby skipping her vacation, as a punishment.

  Why? Because every time Dylan walked into a room, her heart picked up speed. Every time he brushed his hand against hers, she caught herself wanting to close the distance and weave their fingers together. And when he talked or smiled at or hugged his son? Her heart totally melted into a big glob of goo.

  Yup, she was a total sap. Because every one of those little things Dylan did made her want him more. When they came together—she couldn’t even think of it as if anymore, which freaked her out to the point of bingeing on Zeke’s double chocolate cake—they’d be lucky if they made it to a bed. But no pressure, no promises.

  She was determined to take things slow even if she’d never felt this intensely about a guy. But was it pure and simple lust, or the beginnings of something bigger?

  She didn’t know.

  In her twenty-eight years she’d had her share of dates and boyfriends but when her nomad ways and constant traveling wore thin, the relationships always fizzled and ended. Still, sex wasn’t something she did casually. Her parents were about to celebrate their fortieth anniversary together, so to her sex equated to commitment, marriage.

  Staying with Dylan, hiring him as her tour guide, wasn’t something she should even consider doing given the temptation she felt for him. But no matter the internal lectures and warnings of what might befall her, here she was.

  “Want to help me put Colt to bed?”

  Alex looked up in surprise. She’d been sitting staring into the flames in the hearth listening to Dylan play his guitar. Now he stood beside the couch holding his sleepy-eyed son in his arms, and even though there was nothing sexier than the sight of Dylan’s scarred hands cradling Colt so protectively against his chest, pure, unadulterated fear zipped through her veins.

  You could so totally fall for him.

  And what would she do if she did?

  Her pulse began to race at warp speed. She’d wanted time to connect, to see how she felt about Dylan but she didn’t want to fall for him. And in a week? That couldn’t happen, could it?

  She dropped her gaze and made herself focus on Colt’s tired form. The little boy had enough problems without adding to the mix. Whatever happened between her and Dylan, she didn’t want Colt to be a casualty and the only way to prevent it was to keep her distance. “Actually I think I’m going to turn in, too. I need to charge my equipment for our first tour tomorrow, and I haven’t folded my laundry from earlier today…” And she made excuses and by the awareness on Dylan’s face, he knew it.

  The warmth in his eyes faded. “Have a good night then.”

  Oh, you can feel the chill in the air now.

  Alex hugged her arms around herself and remained on the couch as Dylan carried his son down the hall to his room.

  Dylan had been disappointed by her response. Maybe even hurt? Guilt stirred.

  She wanted to call out to him, wanted to follow and listen to Dylan while he read Colt a story about Toad’s adventures. But she didn’t, partly because of the drama presently playing out in Tennessee. Not long ago her brother Ethan had come home from his sojourn to Niger with Doctors Without Borders with a child in tow. He’d hired their sister-in-law’s sister, Megan, to be the boy’s nanny. But Megan’s habit of messing around, not sticking around, had some members of the family worried.

  And like it or not, those same concerns also applied to her. Liking Dylan was one thing, spending time with him and enjoying his company to the fullest extent of wherever it led all fine and dandy, but they had to be careful around Colt. Didn’t Dylan see that?

  Colt was too young to understand the complexities of relationships, and he didn’t need someone else coming into his already confusing, traumatized life, then walking away. Colt’s big dark eyes were too observant, too aware of what was happening around him. Even his inability to speak was proof of that. The trauma of the fire and losing his mother had been too much for Colt’s immature coping abilities.

  Dylan would thank her later because she’d refused his request, would thank her for protecting Colt.

  But the sound of Colt’s door closing down the hall?

  That made her wish she was on the other side with them.

  * * *

  DYLAN LOWERED COLT TO HIS twin bed then lay down beside his son, torn between being happy Alexandra had refused him and angry that she could so easily say no when he hadn’t been able to stop himself from making the request.

  Colt squirmed against Dylan’s side, and with a measure of surprise, he realized Colt was shoving the book at him. Once Colt would have sat motionless. The show of impatience was progress. The shrinks and doctors had said to keep testing Colt in little ways, to deliberately do things to provoke a response instead of catering to Colt’s every need as Dylan had when Colt was a toddler. The hope was that Colt would get impatient enough to voice his frustration.

  Dylan ignored the book and remained silent, his thoughts on Alexandra. In the past he’d never wanted the guests to notice Colt’s muteness, but Alexandra knew. Zeke had told Dylan about Alexandra watching Colt today and all evening she’d been pensive and quiet herself.

  Was that why she’d said no? Because he hadn’t told her or because she was uncomfortable around Colt now as a result? Did she consider his son damaged? He imagined getting involved with a single father was hard enough, but if the child had issues?

  No pressure. If Alexandra couldn’t handle it, best to find out now.

  Colt shoved the book at him again, and even though Dylan knew he ought to wait for one more impatient shove, he accepted the book with a sigh. “You know, one of these days I’m not going to read to you until you ask me with words.”

  His son blinked at him, all sad-eyed innocence.

  Dylan pulled Colt closer and kissed his curly head. “But not tonight. Where were we?”

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY ALEX FELT the intensity of a stare and turned to find Colt regarding her, his precious face seemingly questioning her preoccupied mood as though debating whether or not to approach her. And since she couldn’t be mean to the little boy… “Hey, sweetie. You caught me daydreaming. What’s up?”

  The boy’s arm came out from behind him and he held something out for her to see. A horse?

  His favorite, one of the hand-carved horses from the play set she so admired. What did she say to that? “You want me to have it? Keep it?”

  His eyes widened in obvious alarm.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that.” She rushed to assure him. “I can see how much it means to you.” So what did he want her to do? Play?

  Oh, honey. How am I supposed to say no to you? Especially when she knew he had to be lonely. “I don’t know. I was just getting ready to… You know, I suppose I have some free time. Would you mind if I played with the horse? I’ll give it back to you when we’re done.”

  Colt gave her a slight nod. Wait a minute—a nod? She knew from watching Colt with his father and grandfather that Colt typically didn’t respond. At all. “So that’s what you want? For me to play with you?”

  Wariness settled over his features now, as though he was afraid she would turn him down, afraid she expected him to answer or nod again.

  She thought of Bandit, how skittish the mare
had been when she’d become part of their family. Her grandfather had been adamant that Alex take things slow, build trust with the animal.

  Showing him none of the hesitation she felt, Alex smiled. “I sure miss Bandit. May I name this horse Bandit? Just for today?”

  His little shoulders lowered a tad, his tension lessening. He nodded again.

  And just like that she understood what her mother meant whenever she became frustrated with Alex’s take on marriage and children and freedom. She’d vowed Alex’s maternal instincts would kick in one day.

  Well, surprise, here they were.

  She felt a sense of tenderness and pride, hope and heartache. Sure, Colt had a long way to go but he was making progress right in front of her. Of course, she soon wouldn’t be around to see what else he accomplished.

  Colt wasn’t her child but that nod, that sweet smile after a week of seeing his sad face? Those were hers to cherish and she always would.

  And that pragmatic, cynical voice in her head whispered that maybe she’d subconsciously chosen to care for a guilt-ridden man and his son because she knew the problems they possessed were a guarantee she wouldn’t stick around.

  * * *

  ZEKE GRABBED DYLAN AS SOON as he stepped through the door. “Boys, go stow your fishing gear and wash up. Dinner in about thirty minutes. Dylan, come with me. You gotta see this, son.”

  Curious, Dylan followed his father down the hallway, minding Zeke’s orders to be quiet as they approached Colt’s room. What he saw inside nearly sent him to his knees.

  Colt sat on his rear bent forward over his crossed ankles, a horse in one hand and a cowboy in the other. No surprise there. The surprise came in seeing Alexandra sprawled on her stomach on a pillow, her legs bent at the knees, feet swinging idly in the air above them while she pretended the horse in her hand was avoiding Colt’s attempt to round it up.

  Playing. They were playing.

  Together.

  “Been that way for a while now,” Zeke whispered. “Haven’t seen him like this with anyone. Not even you and me.”

  Neither had he. Colt played, yes. But he didn’t play with those around him. He didn’t interact. Until now. Until her. Instead of being happy that Alexandra had connected in such a way, the fear in his gut spread. He felt like a man standing at the top of a mud slide, knowing he was about to go down and trying desperately to prepare for the rush.

  “Isn’t that something?” Zeke whispered the question, a smile in his voice. “I hate to see you take her on those tours now. At least you spaced them out some. Wish she could just spend the next couple weeks hanging around here.”

  So did Dylan. Standing here spying on Colt and Alexandra as they played, Dylan consciously took the first step Zeke had been pushing him to take since Lauren’s betrayal and his arrest and the whole debacle with Belinda.

  The two weeks hadn’t even begun but he knew it wasn’t going to be long enough. Colt was getting attached, he liked her, was reaching out to her.

  Like father, like son?

  He wasn’t sure of the answer but Dylan didn’t want that connection to end.

  The sight before him made him believe a future was actually possible.

  As though sensing his perusal, Alexandra glanced up. Their gazes met and locked and unable to help himself, he let his eyes flow over her body. When he made eye contact again, a blush bloomed on her cheeks.

  “I’ll go watch after dinner,” Zeke said. “Get on in there,” he ordered before hightailing it down the hall.

  Dylan hesitated, uncomfortable even though it was his son and his—what? Girlfriend? Soon-to-be lover?

  No pressure, no promises.

  Alexandra pushed herself to a sitting position and smiled at him. “Would you like to join us? Colt could use a few more horses to round up.”

  Dylan lowered himself to the floor and picked up one of the horses presently positioned out of the action, his gaze on the beautiful woman beside him.

  How could he convince Alexandra to believe in them when his identity was guaranteed to scare her away?

  Chapter 13

  ALEXANDRA ENTERED THE KITCHEN intent on getting a drink of water and interrupted Dylan reading. His gaze swept over her, lingering on parts of her that immediately heated in response. That thoroughly destroyed her composure. Why was that all it took with him? A single look and she melted?

  It was late, the middle of the night. A battery operated lantern sat on the table in front of Dylan, lighting the pages of his book but cloaking the kitchen cabinets in shadows.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She shook her head, unable to tell him she was so nervous about flying out to deliver supplies with him as soon as the others left in the morning that she’d tossed and turned since going to bed.

  She helped herself to a glass, wishing flannel was as sexy on her as it was him and that her hair didn’t look like a rat’s nest. “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing.”

  She got a glimpse of the child psychology book and sighed. Nothing was pretty heavy material. “I forgot to tell you what Colt did today. Well, it might not be anything but you and Zeke both have said Colt never responds and—”

  “He spoke?”

  Dylan shot off his stool so fast Alex nearly dropped the glass she held. She managed to keep hold of it, but water sloshed over the rim and onto the floor. Dylan plucked the glass from her hands and set it aside.

  “What did he say?”

  She stared into Dylan’s taut features. His hands gripped her shoulders a little too tightly, his eyes blazed with intensity, and she desperately wanted to tell him what he so obviously needed to hear. “I’m sorry. Dylan, no, Colt didn’t speak. I didn’t mean to imply that he did.”

  Dylan’s disappointment was visible. His grip loosened until his hands fell to his sides. “I should’ve known better. You’re good but you’re not a miracle worker.”

  Did he expect her to be? Because that definitely counted as pressure.

  “Alexandra, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Colt, that you had to find out the way you did.”

  She liked his ability to apologize. “I understand. Like taking his photo, it’s for his safety.”

  “Yes. But I should have thought to tell you.” He ran a hand over his hair in frustration. “It’s become so normal I— I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” She reached out to Dylan, placed her hand on his arm. “Today, Colt didn’t speak but I asked him a question and he nodded. I thought it was something.”

  “It is. You’re sure he nodded?”

  The intensity was back. Unable to stop it, pleasure filled her chest and a smile curved her lips. Dylan looked so thrilled at the news and she was glad to have given him that, at least. “Twice,” she said, explaining what had taken place. “I was going to say something earlier but we began playing then it was dinnertime. It slipped my mind. And I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t normal behavior for him.”

  Dylan’s expression of love and hope and a father’s desperation tore at her soul. She stepped close and wrapped him in her arms, feeling the play of muscles along his back and the strength with which he held her.

  How could this feel so right and be so scary? Finally she broke the silence. “Talk to me,” she whispered. “Tell me what the doctors have said. Tell me so I know how to talk to Colt.”

  Dylan inhaled, his lips grazing her neck. “Before the fire Colt talked. He said simple words and short sentences. Then nothing.”

  “Not even a nod?”

  “Not even a nod.”

  Pulling away she caressed his cheek. They hadn’t known each other long enough to know the details of each other’s lives but he responded to her touch. Not in an I-wanna-get-laid kind of way but in a friendship kind of way. An I’m-into-you kind of way. That was a powerful feeling. And oh, so sweet. “That means we need to focus on the positive here. Colt nodded at me, he answered me, and that means Colt is getting better. It�
��s progress, right? It means he’s thinking about it in his head. And maybe next time he will say something and I hope when he does,” she said softly, “he says it to you.”

  Dylan closed his eyes as if in fervent prayer and drew her to his chest once more. He was an affectionate man, touching, holding, brushing his hand against hers. She liked it. Liked it when he smoothed his palms up her back, tangled his fingers in her hair. When he used his grip to gently tip her head back and nuzzled his nose with hers.

  Dylan dipped his head and his breath sent shivers down her spine when it tickled her ear. “I’m not surprised Colt responds to you. God knows I do.”

  Heat pooled low in her belly and that sense of rightness returned. She recognized the signs of desire, of intense and serious like. There was something else, too. Something bigger than them both. Was she imagining that?

  Dylan smelled good, like fresh air and wood smoke. The scents reminded her of fall in Tennessee, and she knew she’d never smell them again and not think of him.

  Alex used his chest for balance and rose onto her tiptoes, giving him a lingering kiss, one that left his eyes dark and made her body tingle. A kiss that brought all sorts of thoughts to her head, most of them warnings and reminders, lists of why she liked her life exactly as it was. Freedom, the ability to answer only to herself. No ties, few worries. A good life, the best life. She was perfectly happy. Splendidly content.

  But this feeling was nice.

  A week with Dylan had made her feel strangely adrift. And it made her question her goals, her lifestyle. Her very core and inner self.

  Was she happy? Did she have all the things she wanted? Was she content?

  The voice inside her head, usually so sarcastic and witty and ready with sharp-tongued quips about all things, was absurdly, strangely silent, leaving her floating in a realm of feeling with no compass to show her the way. “I should… Goodnight.”