Her Cowboy Hero (The Colorado Cades) (6 page)

Since he couldn’t tackle a second coat until the first dried, he was at loose ends. And Hannah had invited him to help himself to some food. Though he’d been avoiding entering the house unless absolutely crucial, the thought of microwaving a bowl of spaghetti made his stomach growl. It wasn’t as if he’d be disturbing anyone. He crossed quickly through the living room, passing the high-backed couch and absently registering that the laminate floor looked pretty good. Hannah had replaced the carpet this week. She’d said she didn’t have money for real hardwood, but she wanted that homey, rural effect.

Her plan was to renovate the bunkhouse and common areas first—kitchen, living room, deck—so that she could open for limited business, then tackle the four upstairs guestrooms as incoming funds allowed. He understood the logic, but he wasn’t sure visitors would be able to enjoy a hearty lunch or read peacefully by the fireplace while construction was going on overhead.

His first sight of the kitchen impressed him even more than her replacing the floor on her own, minus his negligible contribution of cutting some pieces for her in the garage. Last time he’d been in here, she’d still been in the process of stripping wallpaper. Now the walls gleamed a pale yellow that looked like sunbeams, dotted with thin ribbons of royal blue. The only downside was that, against the shiny new wall coverings, the chairs and table looked even shabbier. But what did he know? She’d probably be home in an hour or so with a perfect set.

He’d spent the past few days marveling at her faith that things would always work out, but the interior of her house was proof that Hannah wasn’t operating on blind faith. She was busting her ass to make things happen. She was juggling orders from townspeople, raising Evan, tending the garden, redecorating... When did she sleep? How did she replenish her energy so that she had enough left to deal with her spirited son, an aged, cantankerous ranch hand and a newcomer who was so surly that he apparently hadn’t smiled a single time in three days?

The oregano-laced aroma of spaghetti sauce drew him from his musings and reminded him of his purpose. He was punching buttons on the microwave when he heard an odd thump. From somewhere above him? Maybe a critter on the roof or in the attic. But when the second thump came, he revised his opinion. That would be an awfully big critter.
Scarlett.
The dog was in the house somewhere, so—

Wait a minute. The dog was in the kitchen with him, sitting patiently next to the counter and watching with expectant brown eyes, drool forming at the corner of her mouth. Living with a kid, she was probably accustomed to plenty of food being dropped for her enjoyment.

“Hello?” Colin called. Maybe Hannah was back from her shopping expedition.

Curious, he retraced his steps to the living room. This time, he rounded the sectional sofa, which sat with its back to the kitchen, to get a better look. Henry was asleep on the couch, a DVD case covered with superheroes in his hand and a mostly empty bowl of popcorn kernels on his chest.

“Henry?” Colin shook the man’s arm. The babysitter muttered in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

Colin winced in realization. The thumping was Evan unsupervised somewhere in the house—hopefully in his own bedroom, where he was doing nothing more hazardous than circling toy trains over a plastic track. But the noise had sounded as if it came from above. He strode quickly toward the back hallway. What kind of shape were those upstairs rooms in? What items were stored there that might be equal parts fascinating and dangerous to a little boy? Having watched Hannah with her son, he doubted she’d intentionally leave anything like matches or power tools in plain sight or easy access, but—

“What are you doing?”
The shout erupted before Colin could contain himself, and he bolted toward the top of the stairs just in time to throw his arms around the kid and keep him safely on the landing.

Evan gave him one wide-eyed look of surprise, then burst into tears.

Okay, that probably hadn’t been the best way Colin could have handled the situation. He took a deep breath, making a concerted effort not to raise his voice again or shake the boy by the shoulders. It wasn’t unheard of for a child to attempt sliding down a banister, but
headfirst?
That would have been a terrible idea even if the railing weren’t rickety and led straight to a sharp-edged newel that looked capable of putting an eye out.

“Evan?” Henry’s voice came from below, groggy and filled with concern.

When Colin turned to answer, “He’s up here,” Evan took the opportunity to scamper around him and dart down the steps. During his escape, the ever-present train blanket fluttered from his shoulders and landed on the staircase. It was evidence of the kid’s panic that he didn’t return for it.

Colin met a shame-faced Henry at the bottom of the stairs.

“I screwed up,” the other man said. “We were watching a movie, and I guess I dozed.”

“No harm done.” What would be the point in Colin telling the man about how Evan had been about to take a dive down the balustrade? It had scared a year off Colin’s life, and Henry needed all the years he had left. “But I think I startled him. I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee. Would you mind starting a pot while I go have a talk with him, man to man? I reckon you know where Hannah keeps all the coffee stuff. She talks about you like you’re family.”

The man’s hunched shoulders rolled back as pride lit his expression. “Happy to brew some. But it’ll be good old-fashioned regular coffee. I ain’t using that fancy cappuccino thing she brought with her from Colorado Springs.”

Henry shuffled off to the kitchen, and Colin walked down the hallway. In the front areas of the house, perhaps because they were still being decorated or maybe because Hannah hadn’t wanted to make them too personal, he hadn’t seen many family pictures. But hanging on the long wall that ran between the stairs and the downstairs bedrooms were a dozen portraits in different styles and sizes. Most were of Evan, a few showed him with his mother, but the largest was Hannah and Michael’s wedding picture.

He didn’t
want
to look at it, didn’t want to put a face to the hero husband she’d lost. Didn’t want to look at the joy she radiated as a bride and think about how devastated she must have been to receive the news of Michael’s death. Why was it so hard to glance away? And why couldn’t he separate where her imagined pain stopped and his pain began? He’d had his own smiling bride, once, and thoughts of all he’d wanted for Natalie were like acid burning through him. If it had been within his power, he would have given her the world.
I miss you, Nat.
He hardly ever let himself think the words, but the truth of them was always there, beneath the surface.

If she were here, she’d know what to say to a startled four-year-old who’d just been busted. Natalie had been a people person. He could almost hear her in his head.
The kid thinks of you as a giant. Imagine how scary you must look to him.

At the end of the hall were two bedrooms opposite each other, with a shared bathroom between them. To the left, he glimpsed a neatly made queen-size bed with a pale purple and dusky-blue comforter. He abruptly turned away. On his right, there were sounds of sniffling. He followed them into a room decorated with primary colors that were bright enough for the circus. The sniffling came from inside a red-and-yellow pup tent in the corner of the room.

“Hey.” Colin knelt in front of the zipped flaps. “Can I come in?”

There was a pause on the other side of the nylon. “Y-you won’t fit. Too big.”

“Guess you’re probably right about that. Can you come out then? I brought your blanket.”

There was a metallic whirr as the zipper teeth parted. A skinny arm shot out. Colin handed over the blanket, and the arm disappeared back inside the tent. Hard to say whether this could be considered progress.
At least he didn’t rezip the door.

Colin peeked through the opening but didn’t stick his head inside, giving the kid his space. “What were you doing on the stairs?”

“I wanted to fly.” Evan twisted his blanket in his hands. “I know I can’t—not for-real flying—but I had on my cape and wanted to go fast.”

“You would have gone fast, but you probably would’ve fractured some bones in the process. That’s why I yelled, because I was so worried about you.”

“Yelling’s mean.” The sniffing started again. “You
scared
me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you scared me more.” The fool kid could have broken his neck. Colin’s stomach churned. “The thought of telling your mom that something had happened to you... She would be—” Emotion swelled in his throat, making it impossible to speak. But, really, what could he say? There were no adequate words for what parents suffered when they lost a child.

“Mr. Colin?” Evan’s voice was hesitant, but close.

Colin jerked his head up, realizing Evan had partially emerged from his sanctuary.

“Are you gonna cry?”

“What?” Surprised by the question, Colin raised a hand to his eyes, realizing his vision was beginning to blur. Dammit. He looked back at the curious little boy, but for a moment, he didn’t see Evan Shaw. He saw Danny’s face. Danny laughingly demanding to be swung high in the air. Danny, solemn as he nodded his understanding that the oven was hot and that he needed to stay back. Danny worn out after a Christmas carnival, asleep on his stomach with his little butt curved in the air.

That now-familiar suffocating sensation crowded Colin’s chest. He shot to his feet, wanting to put as much space as possible between himself and this room filled with all the bright adventure of childhood.

“Wait.” Evan followed him, and even though Colin’s goal had been to coax the kid out, now he wished the boy would stay away from him. “Do you need Trainket?”

The innocent, heartfelt gesture sliced through him. His throat felt as if it was on fire, but he managed to say, “Thanks, kid.” They stood there for long minutes, Colin clutching a grubby green blanket and Evan staring up at him, probably mystified by what could be so awful that it would make a mean old giant teary.

“Mr. Colin? Are you going to tell Mommy what I did?”

Keeping secrets was a bad idea. On some level, Colin knew that. It forged a bond between them that he wanted no part of, plus it might undermine Hannah as a parent. But he neither wanted to rat the kid out, nor scare Hannah with what could have happened. “How about I make you a deal? I’ll build you your own headquarters—all the great superheroes have a special place they can go.”

“Like my tent?” Evan interrupted.

“Bigger. And outside.”

“A tree house?” Evan was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Uh...no.” The risk of Evan being high above the ground was exactly the kind of thing Colin wanted to avoid. “But you’ll like it. It will be big enough to invite friends inside if you meet some other superheroes in kindergarten. But in return for me building Super-Evan headquarters and my not telling your mom, you have to promise not to try to use any superpowers until you’re at least six. No flying, and definitely
no
climbing on the stair rails, okay? Nothing like that. Deal?”

Evan stuck around for the two seconds it took to shake Colin’s hand and retrieve his blanket, then he went running to find Henry and tell him all about the proposed headquarters.

It had been Colin’s idea to put on a pot of coffee, but he wondered if Henry would notice if he didn’t actually drink any. He felt keyed up already, jittery with too many conflicting and unexpected emotions.

“Mommy!”

Hannah was back. He heard the murmur of her feminine voice, undercut with the gravelly rumble of Henry’s. Evan was louder than the other two, but except for that first shriek of greeting, Colin couldn’t make out the rest of his words. At first, Colin didn’t move—he’d been taking the second alone to regain his composure. But then it occurred to him that he didn’t want to run into Hannah at the back of the house, amid her son’s cherished belongings and in view of her gold-framed wedding portrait. It felt like crossing a line better kept between them.

They ended up nearly colliding just past the staircase. Hannah’s brow was furrowed, and he could practically see little question marks dancing over her head as if she were a comic strip character. How much had Evan told her? He was sure the boy had omitted any mention of his near swan dive, but what had he said about their chat afterward?

“Any success at the estate sale?” he asked, as if his roaming her house while she was gone were a completely normal circumstance.

Nodding, she bit her lip. “Possibly too much success. Now that I have some furniture and accessories in my price range, I’ve got a better idea of what the finished cabin will look like. I want to get started.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Well, there’s the matter of where you’re going to sleep once we begin renovations. If you’re sticking around?” she asked tentatively. “Evan said something about a clubhouse?”

Hell. He probably shouldn’t have said anything without getting the mom’s approval first. “Maybe I spoke out of turn. I was thinking that, if it’s okay with you, I could build him a playhouse before I go. Something in view of the garden, so he has a place to safely hang out while you’re working?”

Her liquid hazel eyes were pools of gratitude. “That would be
wonderful.
We were in such a cramped space in Colorado Springs that I thought all this fresh, open air would be good for him. I still stand by that, but I think it’s overwhelming, too. I’m constantly after him not to get too close to the pond or mess around in the rooms upstairs or go to the stables without supervision. It’ll mean a lot to a boy with Evan’s independent streak to have a place all his own. But I don’t under...” Was she afraid that if she pressed her luck by asking too many questions he might change his mind?

“My brother’s getting married in a little over a month,” he said. “After that, I have another job lined up, but I can give you that long. If you still want it. Plumbing’s not my thing, but I’m decent at carpentry and have helped reshingle a roof or two. I can take over a lot of the stuff with the animals, too, which should free up some of your time.”