Cowboy Daddy (8 page)

When he was done, he glanced up to see Nicole staring at him, her brow holding a faint frown.

“Can we take Auntie Nicole to see the puppies again?” Justin begged.

“We'll have to do the dishes first,” Nicole said.

“After the dishes.” Justin turned to Kip. “Can we? Please?”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Kip said, remembering the last time she'd taken the boys to see the puppies. Though he hadn't been proud of his reaction—part of it was plain and simple fear—he still believed he was right to insist she run anything new past him first.

Nicole glanced over at him, an enigmatic look on her face. It was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I have to call Nellie back,” Isabelle announced, pushing back from the table.

“Before you do that, can you help me clear the dishes?” Nicole asked, getting up.

Isabelle shot her a puzzled frown as if wondering who this woman was who was asking her favors. She sent Kip a look of appeal.

“That's okay, Nicole. I don't mind helping,” his mother said.

“See? Mom can help,” Isabelle said with a triumphant note in her voice and a faint sneer in Nicole's direction.

He sighed, feeling as if he was stuck between a sister who was basically lazy and a mother who enabled her. Though Kip understood why Isabelle would resent taking orders from a woman she barely knew, at the same time he was disappointed that his little sister couldn't see that their mother wasn't able to help much.

Then he caught Nicole looking at him, as if wondering what he was going to do and he stiffened his back.

“Mom, you go into the living room and watch television,” he said, coming up with his own solution. “Isabelle, you can make your phone call but keep it short. I'll do the dishes.”

“Can we help you and Auntie Nicole do dishes too?” Justin and Tristan asked, their eyes lighting up.

“Of course you can,” Nicole said, bringing a stack of plates to the kitchen counter.

Nicole got the boys clearing the table while she walked over to the counter, pulled on her apron again and started cleaning up.

“As you can see we don't have a dishwasher.” He didn't know why he was apologizing for the lack.

“No big deal.” She started running water in the sink and getting the boys to find some dry dish towels.

He returned to the table and pulled off the tablecloth, not sure what to do with it. “And where did you find this?”

“Isabelle found it in your mother's bedroom,” Nicole said, shooting him a quick glance over her shoulder. “I hope that was okay.”

She added a gentle smile to the glance and again their gazes tangled. She didn't turn her head away and for a moment, neither did he.

Don't be an idiot,
he told himself, breaking the connection.
You're just a lonely bachelor, that's all.

He folded up the tablecloth with jerky movements. “That a rich Toronto thing? A tablecloth on the table?” That came out a bit more harsh than he intended. Truth was she made him uncomfortable and he had to keep things impersonal.

Of course having her in his kitchen, wearing his mother's apron after making his family supper didn't exactly create an impersonal atmosphere.

“Actually it is. All the very wealthy people use tablecloths,” she snapped.

He'd made her mad. Well, that was his intention, wasn't it?

With every visit and everything she did for him and for his family, she seemed to be slowly seeping into his life.

And the trouble was, part of him didn't mind. She was helpful, capable.

And attractive.

You can't afford to go there, he reminded himself. She's trouble.

He set the folded tablecloth on the worn wooden table, noticing again how old and scarred it was. He and his brother and sisters had grown up around this table, arguing and bickering over doing the dishes, doing chores and whatever else it was that siblings argued about.

Until half a year ago, his brother sat here as well.

Kip clenched his fist, willing away the memories, forcing himself to the present. He looked over his shoulder again at Nicole, who was teasing Justin and encouraging Tristan.

And this woman, standing in his kitchen, was part of the present he didn't want to deal with.

 

“Weeding the garden? You sure you know which ones to pull?”

Kip's voice made Nicole look up. All she saw of him was his outline silhouetted against the blue sky. He looked larger than life and, as he had the past couple of days, the sight of him lifted her heart. Being around him gave her the tiniest thrill.

It's the whole rugged-man thing that he carries off so well with his piercing gaze and smoldering looks,
she thought, trying to pull back and analyze her reaction.

And let's not forget the cowboy hat.

Yet even as she tried to be casual about it, she knew there was more to his appeal than simply looks.

“I go by height,” she said airily, trying to dismiss her
reaction to him. “If it's tall and healthy-looking, I figure it must be a weed.”

“Gramma is helping,” Justin said, pointing to his grandmother, who sat on a bench at the end of the garden overseeing the operation. “She's telling us what to pull.”

Nicole glanced over the mat of green tangled plants. “It's an ongoing battle,” she said.

“The curse of the earth,” Kip replied. “Adam had to deal with it from the beginning.”

“So why are we doing this instead of you?”

Kip laughed, then reached over and yanked out a large-leafed plant. Pigweed, Mary had told her. “Because I'm tilling the ground on a different scale.”

“At least you get to use a tractor.”

“Air-conditioned, too,” he added, pointing to a bead of sweat working its way down her temple.

She hurriedly wiped it away, suddenly self-conscious. Usually when she was talking to men she wore a suit, her hair was pinned back and she had an attitude. Usually she was in charge. Not on her knees with dirt under her nails and probably smears on her face.

In spite of that, she knew she felt more comfortable than she'd had around any man she'd met in a while.

It was a distraction she couldn't afford. She had her own plans, the culmination of which would mean her leaving with the boys he claimed were Cosgroves. That leaving would effectively kill any hint of attraction she sensed growing between them.

And why did that bother her?

“Have you ever done any gardening before?” Kip asked.

“The closest my mother came to having a garden was when I brought home a bean plant in grade six.”

“In a foam cup too, I'm sure.”

Nicole laughed. “You too?”

“I think it's a classic.” He pulled another weed and tossed it aside. “So you know what a bean plant looks like.”

“I don't know if I can think back that far.” She moved forward a bit more and reached for another weed just as he did. Their hands brushed each other and she jerked hers back.

And now you're acting like you're back in grade six again.

He sat back on his heels. “I have a couple of favors to ask,” he said. “Tomorrow I promised a buddy that I would go help him do some welding, so would you mind watching the boys?”

“So you won't be around?” she said. This would be a treat for her, not having him around.

“Nope. Sorry. I know you'll miss me like crazy, but a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.”

Nicole couldn't help a chuckle at that. “Noble of you. But no, I don't mind.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if she could take them to town, but she thought she could save that for another time.

He pulled out another weed, then pushed himself to his feet and walked over to his mother.

“Good to see you out here,” she heard Kip say to his mother, walking over to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. Nicole convinced me that I'd feel better if I went outside and she was right.”

“That's great,” Kip said. “I better get back to work. Didn't get as much done yesterday as I hoped.”

“You got the fence fixed and went out on Duke,” Mary said. “You haven't had a chance to go riding in months.”

“Nope. I haven't. Duke was a bit out of shape.”

Nicole heard the longing in his voice. She wasn't sur
prised. This morning Mary had told her that Kip used to practically live with the horses before Scott died.

Then she had given Nicole a bright smile. “Thanks to you taking care of the boys, he's able to go now,” she had said. Then Mary had launched into further stories from the past. How Kip, an A-plus scholar, had dropped out of school when his father died so he could take care of the ranch and his mother and Isabelle.

Nicole had heard about all the work Kip took on when Scott left and how Scott had returned to the ranch with the two boys, which only made more work for him. How Kip provided for them all and how he worried about the financial well-being of the ranch.

Mary showed Nicole pictures of Kip, but the one that stood out the most was a picture that had been taken when he won at the Ponoka stampede. The photographer caught him standing on the chuck wagon, leaning forward, reins threaded through his hands as he urged his horses on.

She saw, through the pictures and Mary's stories, a side of Kip that she wasn't sure she wanted to get to know. It was a side of him that created a mixture of sadness and admiration for the sacrifices he had made for his family and for the boys.

Nicole knew she was in danger of seeing Kip as human. Caring. Compassionate.

Trouble.

“Do you think you'll have a chance to enter a team in any of the races?” she heard Mary asking Kip.

“Those times are over, Mom,” Kip said with a note of finality that made Nicole think back to the pictures.

She stopped her thoughts, but even as she did, she chanced another look up. Kip was looking directly at her.

She couldn't decipher his expression and wasn't sure she wanted to spend much time trying to figure him out.

She dragged her attention back to the gardening. She had to make another phone call to her father's lawyer. Surely something had to have happened by now.

She didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to.

“H
ow are things between you and the cowboy?” Heather asked.

Nicole tucked the phone under her ear and sat down at the minuscule table that passed for a desk in her motel room. “And a good morning to you, too,” Nicole said to her assistant.

“Sorry. Good morning back. I've been hanging around your dad too long,” Heather said with a laugh. “I tend to get straight to the point.”

“May as well, there's a lot to do. As for the cowboy, we've agreed to disagree,” was all she said, preferring not to talk about Kip.

Yesterday he had been at his friend's place doing some welding, and today he'd been busy with the horses, which meant he wanted Justin and Tristan out of the way.

She had been only too happy to oblige. Being around Kip confused her and frustrated her.

“Your father's been putting major pressure on me to pressure you to find out what's happening with the boys,” Heather said.

“I don't have anything to report.” Last week this would
have frustrated Nicole, but part of her didn't mind the time she spent with the boys without her father around.

“This cowboy of yours. Will he give up the boys or will it get down to a battle?”

“He's not my cowboy, and even though we've come to a bit of a truce now, when push comes to shove it will be a fight.” Nicole rubbed her forehead, not sure she wanted to imagine her and Kip in that situation. “He's attached to the boys and they're attached to him.”

“Of course they would be. They spent most of their life with him. No thanks to his brother taking the boys away.”

Nicole felt the same way, yet each day she was at the ranch gave her more insight into Kip's life, gave her a bit more knowledge of him as a person.

Made her more attracted to him.

“By the way, I stopped in at your place. Did you know your dad is fixing up Tricia's old room for the boys?”

A shiver danced down Nicole's spine. Tricia's room hadn't been touched or changed since she left all those years ago. It was left like a shrine, as if waiting for her return.

“I suppose that's a good sign. It means he's moving on.” At the same time it created an extra layer of pressure that Nicole couldn't deal with yet.

“I may as well warn you, your father is doing more than fixing up the room. He's got me checking out private-detective agencies.”

“That seems a bit extreme.”

“Nothing else is happening. Your dad's lawyer seems to be stalling out and your dad's getting antsy.” Heather sighed, and Nicole was fairly sure her assistant was on the receiving end of some of her father's frustration. “Change of subject,” Nicole said abruptly. “I'm still waiting for a
quote from the caterer, and the venue's been making noises about an increase in costs. I'm looking into a few alternatives just to keep them on their toes.”

“You do realize that I'm perfectly capable of doing that,” Heather reprimanded.

“I've got to do something while I'm waiting for visits.”

“I'll call the lawyer again and put more pressure on him, and you should stop worrying about the fund-raiser. I do have some experience with this.”

Nicole knew that, but the fund-raiser was a major source of income and prestige for the foundation. And the foundation was her father's passion, the only way he could keep the memory of his beloved wife alive. Nicole's work for the foundation was one of the ways she had found she could maintain a connection to her father.

“You just develop some kind of relationship with those boys,” Heather said, “so it's not such a shock to them when they come here. I'll take care of what I can over here.”

Nicole was reassured by the authority in Heather's voice. Not
if
the boys come back,
when
they come back.

Nicole said goodbye, then got up and walked over to the window. From here, all she could see was the parking lot of the hardware store beside the motel. If she stepped outside, she could see the sun setting behind the mountains beyond the town, and for the faintest moment she felt a longing to go back to the farm that had nothing to do with the boys.

But she couldn't. Things were shifting between her and Kip. Her loyalties were getting strained. She had to get back in control of the situation. Starting now.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

Kip answered on the first ring and she plunged in.

“I'd like to take the boys to the Calgary Stampede tomorrow,” she said.

Silence followed her request. She chafed at the pause, feeling like she was a minion begging for favors. The boys were as much hers as Kip's. Even though Tricia was her adopted sister, she was still her sister.

“What time would you be coming for them?” he asked.

Nicole was taken aback. She thought he would fight her on this. “I was hoping to pick them at eleven and spend the day at the Stampede, then take them on the midway.”

“That's more than the usual time,” he said.

“I think I'm due a bit more than the ‘usual time,'” she replied with some asperity, trying to create some distance.

“I suppose you are. What time did you figure on being back?”

“I hope to be back by nine o'clock in the evening. Of course that would depend on traffic and anything else out of my control.” She didn't mean to sound snappy. She didn't like feeling like a potential date being grilled by a suspicious parent.

This netted her another thoughtful pause on his end. She heard his muffled conversation. What could he possibly have to think about or consult his family about? It was a simple yes or no answer.

“Okay. That might work,” he said when he came back to the phone. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Nicole heard a click in her ear and then she stared at the phone. Well. I guess that was that. Tomorrow she was taking the boys out. All by herself. She smiled at the thought, but behind that came the tiniest touch of regret.

It would have been kind of fun if Kip came along.

She pushed that thought aside. She had been thinking about him too much lately. Time to focus on what lay ahead.

Bringing the boys back.

 

Saturday morning dawned with a spill of bright sunshine and a clear blue sky. Nicole smiled as she drove to the ranch, thinking of her day alone with Justin and Tristan. She was looking forward to a break from the tension of constantly being around Kip and his family. She needed to feel like the boys were hers. Needed to spend some time one-on-one with them.

When she pulled into the ranch yard, the familiar sight of the house nestled against the tree-covered hills rolling upward to the mountains created anticipation.

She was going to see the boys, her boys, again.

As always a small part of her held back committing all her emotions. People left, she knew.

When she stepped out of the car and the boys came barreling down the stairs toward her, however, she ignored her innate wariness, bent over and pulled them into her arms and into her heart.

They smelled like hay. “Have you been helping your Uncle Kip haul hay again?” she asked, pulling back.

“We were playing on the bales,” Justin reported. “Uncle Kip had to do some welding so he didn't want us around.”

“That's good thinking.” Nicole pulled out a handkerchief and wiped a smear of jam from the corner of Justin's mouth. “Looks like you had lunch already,” she said with a touch of disappointment. She had hoped to get them something to eat at the Stampede.

“Just enough to take the edge off,” Tristan said. “At least that's what Gramma told me.”

“Great. Now you boys stay here inside my car and don't move an inch. I want to say hi to your gramma, and when I come back we're going.”

She buckled the boys in, then fairly flew up the stairs.
She was going to have so much fun. She was going to spoil these boys absolutely rotten.

Then, just as she stepped onto the verandah, the door opened and Kip stood before her. He wore a clean shirt that she remembered Mary folding the first day she had come. The day they thought she was the housekeeper.

His blue jeans were crisply new and he had shaved, making him look less gruff and more approachable. His hair, still damp from a shower, curled over his forehead and around his ears. He looked even more appealing than he usually did.

Nicole pushed down her reaction and forced herself not to take a step back. “I want to say hello to your mother,” she said, hating the breathless tone in her voice. “I'll just be a minute, then I'll be leaving.” She ducked around him, catching a whiff of laundry soap and aftershave. She wondered where he was headed. A date? But he was always talking about how busy he was.

Why do you care?

Nicole pushed open the door of the porch and stepped into the house.

Mary Cosgrove stood by the sink, leaning on her walker with one arm, doing dishes with her free hand. It looked awkward and uncomfortable and Nicole had to resist the urge to help her. But she was glad to see her up and about.

“Hey, Mary. I've come to say hello,” Nicole said.

Mary glanced up and a welcoming smile. “Well, that's kind of you. As you can see, I'm using my walker.”

“That's great.” Nicole frowned as Mary washed another plate one-handed. “Where's Isabelle?”

“She's in the bathroom.”

Tricia used to do that, Nicole thought. Her little sister could make a bathroom break stretch out long enough to
miss loading the dishwasher and cleaning up the kitchen. Her mother always let her get away with it.

“She can easily help you,” Nicole said, regretting the sharp tone her voice took.

“I know,” Mary said with a gentle sigh. “It's less work to do the dishes myself than it is to make her help me.”

“Kip should be helping you out.”

Mary frowned. “Kip doesn't have to do the dishes. He works hard enough on the ranch.”

“I meant with Isabelle,” Nicole replied.

Mary shrugged. “I don't think he always knows what to do with her either.”

Nicole bit back another reply, realizing that all this badgering and pushing was none of her business.

“Well, I'm leaving with the boys. You take care,” Nicole said quietly. Then she left before she could offer more of her unneeded advice. The Cosgroves' problems weren't hers, she reminded herself as she closed the door of the house behind her.

The unmistakable growl of Kip's truck resonated through the quiet. Guess he was off on his date now that he didn't have to watch the twins.

She squinted against the sun then lifted her hand to shade her eyes as she looked at her car. Empty.

“Justin. Tristan. Where are you?” she called, walking toward her car, her gaze flickering over the yard. She was so sure she had told them to stay put.

Then she heard the honk of a horn and saw Justin leaning out the back window of Kip's truck, waving at her.

What in the world was going on? And where did Kip Cosgrove think he was going with the boys?

She marched over to the driver's window and as she did, Kip rolled it down.

“I thought it would be better if we took my truck. There's more room for all of us than in that car you're driving.”

“What…how…” she sputtered, trying to comprehend what he was saying.

“I'm coming along,” he announced pushing his cowboy hat back on his head.

Anger washed over her. She didn't want to share her time with the boys. Especially not with him.

“C'mon, Auntie Nicole. Let's go,” Tristan said, leaning out of the back window. “We don't want to miss anything.”

She felt suddenly impotent, unable to speak openly in front of the boys, her own feelings a tangle of mixed emotions. She grabbed onto her anger, suspecting she would need it as a defense. “I understood the boys and I were going alone…”

Kip shrugged. “You understood wrong. Are you coming? It's a long drive. Don't want to waste any time.” His steady gaze held hers and she read resolute determination.

Nicole tried to hold her ground as various emotions danced through her head. Anger, yes, but behind that a vague hungering for a chance to spend more time with this man.

She truncated that thought. She and Kip could never be anything but adversaries.

“I'll get my purse.”

Ten minutes later the truck's tires hummed on the asphalt, a country song whined from the radio and the boys narrated the trip from the backseat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvie live there,” Justin said. “Last year when Isabelle took us out trick-or-treating, we got four chocolate bars from them. They were yummy. But Mr. Jorritsma always has the best candy and he brings honey to the farmers' market.”

They told her about trips to see friends, play dates with cousins and how cute Auntie Doreen's brand-new baby was.

The plus of all that chatter was that Nicole didn't have to say anything to Kip.

So she formed her lips into a smile and nodded, listening to the boys, all the while pretending not to be fully aware of the tall figure sitting behind the wheel. He steered one-handed, the other resting on the open window as he drove, looking as comfortable as if he were lounging on a couch watching television.

She wished she felt as comfortable. She had hoped to avoid him today, but they sat mere feet from each other, and with each mile her anger seemed more foolish. He was here. He wasn't going away. May as well enjoy her time with the boys.

“So what did you boys do this morning?” she asked, half turning in the seat so she could focus on them.

“Uncle Kip got up real, real early,” Justin said.

“He said he wanted to get done on time 'cause he had a hot date.” Tristan frowned. “What's a hot date?”

She couldn't stop a quick glance Kip's way. He was rolling his eyes and a flush warmed her cheeks. She wasn't sure she wanted to know exactly what Kip meant by that. Sarcasm, most likely.