Her Cowboy Hero (The Colorado Cades) (11 page)

Bringing video games would first require Santa to bring a video game console. Which may not be in Santa’s budget. “Um...December’s a long way away,” she said noncommittally.

Next to her, Colin’s blue eyes had brightened with interest. “Which racing game?” He followed Evan, and within moments, all three males in the den were excitedly discussing video games.

“Boys will be boys,” Annette said with a laugh. “No matter their ages, huh?”

Both women were amused when it was Colin—not Evan—who asked if they had time for one quick football game, promising to set short quarters. Todd had put away the racing disc and was showing Colin some of his other favorites. Hannah sat in a recliner with her plate, while Annette cheered on her husband and Evan rooted for Colin. Todd didn’t score once. Colin decimated him.

He hoisted Evan on his shoulders for an impromptu victory dance. “This is the part where they pour Gatorade on us,” he told the boy.

“On cream-colored carpeting?” Annette asked in mock horror. “I don’t think so.”

Colin was still grinning as he and Hannah herded Evan to the car.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were so good at video games,” she said, holding out her hand for the keys. Now that she wasn’t making a bunch of phone calls, she didn’t mind driving.

“Are you kidding? Justin and I used to play for
hours.
” He tilted his head at her. “Why would you assume I was bad at them?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that I thought you’d be bad at them. They just weren’t part of the picture I’d painted of you in my head.” Were her cheeks getting red? “Not that I spend a lot of time thinking about this. But you don’t have a computer and you carry charcoal pencils and a sketch pad in your motorcycle bag. I guess I had this vision of you as kind of a...bohemian cowboy.”

He snorted, but tried to school his features into a serious expression. “Yes, a bohemian cowboy with many deep and mysterious layers. And a competitive streak a mile wide.”

From the backseat, Evan asked, “What’s com-petive?”

“Competitive,” Hannah corrected. “It means when someone likes to win.”

After a moment’s thought, Evan proclaimed, “
Everyone
likes to win.”

“Yes, but some people can get overzealous about it,” she said.

“I don’t know that word, either.”

“It means they want it really bad,” Colin said. “Some people get bad attitudes. You know that word?”

“Ohhh, yes. Mommy tells me all about attitudes.”

Hannah stifled a laugh.

“I try not to get a bad attitude about winning,” Colin told the boy, “and just try very, very hard to make it happen. Like your mom, putting so much effort into the ranch. She’s a real winner.”

“I want to be like her when I grow up,” Evan said.

“Yeah.” Colin smiled in Hannah’s direction. “So do I.”

* * *

E
VEN
BEFORE
HABITUAL
nightmares had made him restless, Colin had been a light sleeper. When he was younger, a sense of responsibility for Justin and Arden—a fear of losing any more family—had jarred him from sleep whenever he heard a noise. It had eased somewhat after he married, when he’d been content with life and had Natalie pressed against his side, but after Danny was born, Colin had quickly resumed old habits.

He woke early Friday morning, before the sun had fully risen, to the sound of voices downstairs. Then he heard the front door open and close. He’d slept in a pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt. Now he pulled on a pair of faded jeans, washed so many times they’d lost their denim texture and were threadbare at the knees.

When he got downstairs, he found Hannah sitting on the sofa, her knees tucked up beneath her. There were no lights on in the living room, but she appeared to be staring at something on the coffee table. He squinted in the gloom. Was that a muffin?

“Morning,” he said, trying to gauge her mood.

She didn’t look at him. “Sorry if we woke you. Annette came by to bring me a cupcake on her way out of town.”

His vision had adjusted. He realized the cupcake had a candle sticking out of it, and there was writing on the brightly colored wrapper. He couldn’t discern any of the words but he could guess what they said. “It’s your birthday?”

“Yep.”

He sat on the couch with her. “So your friend decided to wake you up by delivering a cupcake at six-thirty in the morning?”

“She knew I wouldn’t be asleep.” Hannah sighed, pressing her head against the back of the sofa as she turned to look at him. “This is my first birthday since moving to Bingham Pass, but she and I have talked about it. This is the day that’s the hardest. That sounds so selfish. You’d think it would be Michael’s birthday, or the anniversary of when he was killed. But the first year we were married, he forgot my birthday entirely.”

Colin let out a low whistle. Since his sister had also been his wife’s best friend, Arden had usually started bugging him about coordinating birthday plans months in advance. But he knew the hell Natalie would have given him if he’d ever overlooked it.

Hannah’s lips curved in a wistful smile. “He felt so terrible that every year after, he went all out. I mean, it was crazy. His birthday presents to me were bigger than Christmas. He ‘kidnapped’ me one year and took me cross-country to see a play on Broadway. We were only in New York one night. I’ve always wanted to go back when I had more time to sightsee, but it was an amazing night.”

She gave herself a shake. “Wow. Pity party, table for one. Sorry—I’m fine. Next week, Evan and I will probably go to Annette and Todd’s for a belated birthday dinner. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“I may take you up on that invitation, but we’re not waiting until next week to celebrate your birthday.”

“Colin, seriously, it’s okay, I just—”

“Is there a miniature golf course in Bingham Pass?”

Her eyebrows rose and she took a second to answer. “Not in town, exactly, but just on the other side of it. Annette and I took Evan once.”

“Perfect.” He draped his arm over the back of the couch, leaning in so she could see his resolve. She wasn’t talking him out of this. Hannah took care of her son, went out of her way to make Henry feel useful, was building this ranch in part for her late husband and cooked for half the damn county. Today, she was going to let someone do something for her. “How about you meet me on the front porch at two o’clock? That gives me time to knock out some work, including your chores. You are under house arrest.”

“But—”

“Take the day off,” he said sternly. “Play with your kid, read a book, watch a dumb movie.”

A smile lit her face. “And at two o’clock we’re going to play minigolf?”

“Affirmative. Then we come back here, and I cook you dinner.”

“That is incredibly—” She straightened. “Wait, didn’t you tell me you were a lousy cook who microwaved everything you ever made for Arden and Justin?”

“And burned half of it,” he said. “The other half was usually still cold in the middle.”

“I suddenly remembered I’m on a diet.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry, Hazel, I got this.”

“Hazel?”

“Oh.” Before, he’d called her that only in his head. He hadn’t intended to say it out loud. “Your eyes. You have beautiful eyes.” He tried to say it matter-of-factly, but his voice was too low. Raspy.

Now it was her turn to respond with, “Oh.”

Were they really sitting so closely he could feel her breath fan across his cheek, or was that his imagination?

“Colin?”

It was hardly the first time she’d said his name, but this time it did something to him. His body tightened, and he found himself angling even closer. “Yeah?”

“You have nice eyes, too.”

One move of his hand—that was all it would take. If he lifted the hand at his side and cupped her face, would she meet him halfway? His gut said she would. And then he’d be kissing her.

He shot to his feet. “Two o’clock then?”

She nodded, her words shuddery and slightly out of breath. “Two o’clock.”

In a spectacularly stupid lack of self-control, he reached out anyway, from a safe standing distance, and brushed his hand over her cheek. Her skin was velvety soft, and her long hair teased his fingers. She trembled beneath his touch, and he abruptly dropped his hand.

Thank God they’d have Evan to chaperone them on their trip to play putt-putt golf. Otherwise, it might feel like a date. As out of practice as Colin was with dating, even he knew it was customary to end dates with a good-night kiss.

Chapter Nine

Holy crap.
The sentiment wasn’t particularly eloquent or mature, but it kept repeating in Hannah’s head as she listened to Colin’s booted steps descend the porch stairs.

That had been hot. All he’d done was touch her face, but it had left her entire body tingling. Her heart was pumping as if she’d just chugged an espresso, and parts of her body she hadn’t heard from in years were suddenly checking in to wish her a happy birthday. And to offer suggestions on what she should wish for.

For a second, she’d thought he might kiss her. And even though she didn’t technically know what kissing Colin would be like, female intuition told her it would be richer and sweeter and more decadent than the world’s best devil’s food cupcake. Hell, just the way he’d looked at her made her melt.

She reached for the lamp on the end table, switching it on as if seeing more clearly might help her think clearly. Over the past few days, there had been moments... Sometimes he’d smile at her in a way that made her think she wasn’t the only one stealing appreciative glances. He’d been more playful. After his taciturn first few days here, he was becoming quick to shower her with compliments. At first, they’d been about her cooking, no more personal than flattery Henry or Todd might have given her. But last night he’d upped the ante. When he’d told Evan she was a winner, it had been tough to contain her sigh. She’d grinned the entire drive home. Then there was this morning.

You have beautiful eyes.

She hugged a throw pillow to her body. As recently as yesterday, she’d been cautioning herself that it would be foolish to care too much for Colin. But a woman would need a heart of stone to resist a man who treated her like this.

“Mommy?”

Hannah whipped her head around guiltily, the same way she’d felt when she accidentally used the D-word in front of Evan. “Hey, honey. You’re up early.” No wonder—people had been coming and going all morning. She held her hands out for a hug, and he padded toward her, dragging Trainket behind him.

He snuggled against her, and she thought a day of “house arrest” with her kiddo actually sounded pretty perfect.

Suddenly, he gasped, his voice full of wonder. “Mommy, where did the chocolate come from?”

She started to tease “cupcake fairy,” but he might take her seriously. “Aunt Annette brought it over as a present because today is my birthday. I was waiting until you woke up so we could share it. Want half a cupcake for breakfast?”

He nodded, his eyes eager.

“I have a surprise for you. We’re going to watch cartoons and play games all morning. And after lunch, we’re going to play minigolf with Colin.”

Evan leaped from the sofa with an ecstatic shriek. He ran in place for a minute, pumping his arms in a celebratory dance. Then he stopped. “I have a surprise for you, Mommy.” He zoomed out of the living room and down the hall.

He returned with a folded piece of yellow construction paper, presenting it proudly. Multicolored glitter on the front formed a shape that was heartlike, and the word
MOM
had been written painstakingly in the center.

Love surged through her, a giddy pressure in her chest. “What’s this?”

“I made a card at Aunt Annette’s house. She said it was a secret mission. We hid it in Trainket when you came to get me,” he boasted. Inside, Annette had written the words
Happy Birthday
and
I love you
in pencil, and Evan had attempted to trace over them in crayons.

“It’s fantastic—the best card ever!” And for a day she’d been subconsciously dreading, it was off to a pretty fantastic start.

* * *

I
T
WAS
GOOD
that none of the cows got in the way of the tractor, because, today, Colin might not have noticed. He was preoccupied with the thoughts racing through his head. When was the last time he’d celebrated a birthday—his or anyone else’s?

He honestly couldn’t remember.

Then you’re long overdue.
The voice in his head sounded like Natalie’s. She’d loved parties and social events. One year, when she’d informed him that she was throwing him a birthday party, he’d said it wasn’t necessary and she’d teased that he had no say in the matter, she’d just been looking for an excuse to get a bunch of their friends together. Their circle of friends had been other young, married couples, some with kids, some without. Being around them had become even more wrenching than enduring the pity-filled glances of his siblings. As politely as possible, Colin had cut them all out of his life.

Now he found himself thinking about some of those former acquaintances, wondering if Peter or Don might want to grab a beer while he was in town for Justin’s wedding. Or had they written him off as a self-absorbed jerk, too wrapped up in his own misery to be civil?

He was struck with an unexpected pang of regret. There wasn’t one damn thing he could have done to keep from losing Nat and Danny. But what about the other people he’d deliberately lost?

Even though he’d stayed busy with a string of jobs, he’d been living in suspended animation. It was time to engage. Taking Hannah and Evan to celebrate her birthday was a start.

And nearly kissing her? What was
that?

Before Colin had left Cielo Peak, there had been some dark moments, rare shameful nights when he’d tried to numb his pain by losing himself in physical oblivion. He hadn’t been with any women he actually knew and he hadn’t brought any of them home to the bed he’d shared with Natalie. They’d been frantic, hollow nights. He couldn’t recall if he’d kissed any of those women.

If he kissed Hannah, there’d be no forgetting it.

The temptation was so strong. He hadn’t felt that pull in so freaking long. But Hannah was a nice woman.

Yesterday, she’d responded gently to all of Darcy’s vitriol about her cheating husband and marriage being a trap she should have never willingly entered. Hannah had advised the woman not to close herself to the possibility of love. As they’d talked, it had become evident that Hannah hoped she herself might eventually remarry. It was easy to envision. As nurturing and generous-hearted as she was, a man would be lucky to call her his wife. And a man would be one lucky SOB to have her in his bed.

Someday, she would find a guy who could love her forever, who would give Evan little brothers or sisters. Colin was a temporary figure in her life, a man with a truckload of abandonment issues and survivor guilt who’d alienated most everyone he knew.

Hannah was special. He hoped she got everything she deserved—and she deserved far better than him.

* * *

F
ROM
THE
PASSENGER
SEAT
, Hannah peered through the windshield and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Or groaning.

“So, as it turns out, there’s an inherent flaw with impulsive, last-minute birthday party plans,” Colin admitted sheepishly.

“Not checking the weather forecast first?” she asked. It had started to drizzle before they even left the ranch, but now it was pouring. This might be an even heavier rain than the storm that had blown through the day they first met.

At least one person in the truck wasn’t amused by the situation. “Does this mean we can’t golf?” Evan’s voice quivered with disappointment.

“Well, it would be difficult to knock a ball into a hole that’s full of water,” Hannah said. “It would float right back out.”

“No worries, Super-Ev. Do you know what a plan B is?” Colin rolled to a stop at a red light, then turned to flash the boy a reassuring smile. “When your first plan flops, you devise a backup. I promised your mom a fun afternoon, and we’re not about to turn around now.”

“That’s good,” Hannah whispered, “because the road behind us may be washed out.”

He smirked at her. “Quiet, you. Evan, ever been bowling?”

She was surprised when he nodded eagerly because she couldn’t remember having ever taken him to a bowling alley.

“Uncle Todd has a bowling video game.”

She had a few choice words for Uncle Todd—this time last year, Evan hadn’t even been aware of what video games were. Now they found their way into his daily conversations.

“Great,” Colin said. “Imagine that but with real pins and balls.”

The bowling alley was down the street from the hardware store, where Colin had been making regular trips. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot on a rainy Friday afternoon. But the ones present had taken up the front row. The only empty spaces close to the building were reserved for handicapped parking. Hannah asked her son not to jump in every puddle between the truck and the front door, one of his favorite pastimes. It was a measure of his excitement for their outing that he didn’t even pout.

As they all unbuckled, Hannah reminded him not to open his child-size, superhero umbrella in the backseat. “Wait until right before you step out of the truck, okay?” She also kept a regular umbrella under the front seat of the truck, but she and Colin would have to share it. The thought of standing that closely to him made her pulse flutter.

He got out first, taking the umbrella from her and quickly crossing to her side of the truck, sheltering her and Evan as they climbed down.

Colin had showered after working in the pasture all morning—downstairs, as all the upstairs bathrooms were off-limits until after the plumbing inspection on Monday. He didn’t smell like anything more exotic than soap and deodorant and himself, yet she still had to fight the urge to huddle closer and inhale deeply. His simple masculinity was far more enticing than any overpowering, lab-created scent designed to attract women. If cologne companies could bottle him, they’d make millions.

Colin opened the door, and Evan scampered inside first, wrestling with his umbrella to get it closed.

“Here, honey. Need some help?” Hannah offered.

“I’ll get us a lane,” Colin said. “Should I ask for gutter bumpers?”

“Bumpers?” she echoed. It had been a long time since she’d been bowling. And she’d never been especially good at it. “I remember gutter balls.”

He chuckled. “They have something they can lay down in the gutters so that the ball doesn’t consistently end up there. To keep certain bowlers from getting too frustrated and not having any fun,” he said with a pointed look at Evan.

After a moment’s consideration, she shook her head. “Let’s start without the bumpers.” Nobody was perfect. The important part was to keep trying, and she thought that was a valuable lesson for her son. Then again, they were here to have fun, so if it looked as if he was becoming traumatized by the experience, she was willing to revisit her decision.

Evan turned out to be completely fascinated by the concept of a place where they took your shoes and made you wear different ones. While he wiggled his toes in a pair of brightly striped, ugly bowling shoes, Hannah searched for the smallest-size ball she could find him.

“I like that one!” Evan pointed at a neon orange ball with green swirls. It was fourteen pounds. She immediately had visions of taking her kid to the E.R. for a broken toe.

“Maybe when you get a little bigger. Here, try this one.” It looked as if the lowest weight the alley stocked was six pounds.

Colin was already entering their names into the automated scoreboard system. “You want to go first?” he asked Evan. He typed in Super-Ev. “Lots of great athletes have nicknames. What should your mom’s be?”

“Birthday Mommy!” His voice carried.

An elderly man two lanes over called to the manager, “Hey, Bert! You do that singing thing like waiters at restaurants? We got a birthday over here.”

Bert grunted. “This look like a restaurant to you?”

“You got nachos and beer. Close enough.” The man waved to Hannah. “Many happy returns.”

Once Super-Ev, Birthday Mommy and Cowboy Colin were all displayed on the overhead monitor, Colin took Evan to the side, on the carpet instead of the slick floor, and demonstrated the pendulum motion used in bowling. Evan’s first attempt on the lane was, unsurprisingly, a gutter ball, but his second one managed to bump the pin on the far left. It wobbled for a full thirty seconds, then finally fell. Evan let out an ear-splitting whoop of triumph. Hannah knocked down the six middle pins and knew she didn’t have a prayer of picking up the split.

Apparently, Colin was as good at bowling as video football. He got a strike right away, followed by another on his second turn. “If I get three in a row,” he told Evan, “that’s called a turkey.”

But his third turn yielded only a spare.

“Oh, what a shame!” Hannah said to her son. “He didn’t get his goose.”

Evan giggled. “Turkey, Mommy.”

“No.” She pointed at the computer monitor, feigning confusion. “
Birthday
Mommy, remember?”

She half feared Evan would get bored since he got only one turn for each of their two, but he was having a blast. The two of them made silly jokes and laughed at the cartoon “replays” that showed on the monitor after each of Colin’s strikes. And Evan was mesmerized with watching the ball return. He regarded it with awe, as though it were a futuristic transporter device.

Music played through overhead speakers, and when a song came on that she hadn’t heard in years, she ducked down, taking Evan’s hand and spinning him in circles on the carpet.

Colin laughed. “You’re up, Evan. Maybe I can cut in?”

Hannah assumed he was kidding. The man had once gone seventy-two hours without smiling. He’d acted as if her standing on her kitchen counter would lead to a full-body cast. He seemed to lack the requisite absurd streak needed for dancing to a 1980s hair-band ballad in a bowling alley populated with retirees. She let out a squeal of combined shock and delight when he grabbed her and dipped her dramatically.

Behind the counter, Bert applauded them.

After they finished and went to return their shoes, Bert offered them a second free game in honor of Hannah’s birthday.

“Not like I’ve got a long line of people needing that lane,” he said with a shrug.

“Can we stay, Mommy?”

“It’s fine with me. We have plenty of time until dinner.” She knew Colin had made a brief run to the store earlier, but he’d shooed her from the kitchen before he put the groceries away. In keeping with his plan-B philosophy, she thought to herself that if whatever he was cooking didn’t turn out, there was always peanut butter and jelly.