Jackson Hole Valentine (19 page)

By the look in his eyes and his hesitation, Meg knew he wanted desperately to head upstairs to check on Charlie himself. But while Cole was able to negotiate stairs, it was still a slow process. They both knew she could reach the boy in half the time. Which meant they could be on the road more quickly and Charlie could be home in his own bed that much sooner.

He thought for a second then nodded. “I’ll get the coats and meet you at the front door.”

Meg turned toward Lexi.

“Could you please take me to my—” she paused “—to Charlie?”

Meg had almost said “to my son.” Though it had been only several weeks that she’d been fulfilling the mother role, she realized that’s how she thought of Charlie now.

Her boy.

Her son.

Like countless mothers before her, she would willingly go to the ends of the earth to protect him.

From anything.

Or anyone.

Chapter Thirteen

C
ole had just taken a sip of apple cider when he heard Meg’s footsteps on the stairs.

He twisted his body and glanced over the top of the sofa. “How is he?”

“Asleep,” she said with a weary smile, her arms filled with laundry. “Let me put his clothes in the washer and then I’ll join you.”

Cole had sat in the back of the SUV on the way home, talking to his son and trying to distract him. Thankfully Lexi and Nick’s home was just down the road, so the trip went quickly.

With Kate’s approval, Rachel had given Charlie some acetaminophen for his headache and fever before they’d left.

Cole had thought Charlie was feeling better until the boy stepped into the kitchen and upchucked everything he’d eaten all over himself, the countertop and the floor.

When Charlie began crying and apologizing, all at the same time, Cole’s heart had overflowed with love. Even as he’d reassured his son “no harm, no foul,” he wished Charlie would quit worrying that he and Meg would leave him.

While Meg took Charlie upstairs to clean him up and put him to bed—reassuring him with each step—Cole busied himself cleaning the kitchen. He may have gagged a couple of times, but he’d gotten it done. Once the onerous— not to mention odorous—task was accomplished, he’d heated up some apple cider, plopped a cinnamon stick in each cup and taken the cups into the living room.

Meg’s voice sounded from the doorway. “Promise you’ll let me know when you hear the washer alarm go off.”

Cole looked up. Sometime between when she’d headed upstairs with Charlie and came back down with the laundry, she’d changed into an oversize T-shirt and sweatpants and pulled back her hair into a ponytail.

Though he’d thought she’d been the most beautiful woman at the party—he especially loved the way that soft sweater had clung to her curves—she appealed to him just as much now. Perhaps even more. Which made no sense at all.

“I don’t want to forget to put Charlie’s clothes in the dryer,” she continued.

“Forget the laundry. It’s time to party.” Cole gestured to the mugs. “Hot apple cider for us. Once you assure me that our boy is fine.”

A look that he couldn’t immediately decipher crossed Meg’s face. “
Our
boy?”

“Charlie,” Cole clarified, though he wasn’t sure what other child she thought he’d be asking about.

“Of course,” she said with a tremulous smile. “The Tylenol kicked in, so his temperature is down.”

“I didn’t even know we had a thermometer.”

“I found a new one still in its packaging in the medicine chest,” Meg explained, then grimaced. “Unfortunately it’s one of those old under-the-tongue ones.”

“At least it works,” Cole murmured, not about to let on that he hadn’t known there was any other kind. “Okay, so the fever is better. How is he feeling?”

“Well, his throat is still sore but he fell asleep easily. And…no more vomiting.”

Cole grinned. “Stellar news.”

“Made me happy.” Meg put a finger to her lips. “I think I’ll sleep in the other twin bed in his room tonight. I want to make sure I hear him if he needs anything.”

Cole thought of his mother. Her blood had flowed through his veins, but she’d always acted as if it was a huge imposition if he’d so much as asked for a sip of water when he was ill.

Charlie is lucky to have Meg for a mother.
The thought was as reassuring as it was disturbing.

“I can get up with him tonight,” Cole said. After all, sooner or later, there would be times when he would be the only one available to meet Charlie’s needs. He couldn’t afford to get too comfortable having Meg around.

“I already called the night shift,” Meg said with a teasing smile. “How about you take care of him tomorrow when I’m craving a nap?”

Cole nodded, ignoring the relief rushing through his veins. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Now that that’s settled…” Meg took a seat on the other end of the sofa. A sound of contentment slipped past her lips as she sank into the soft cushions. “I have to tell you, I am so ready to relax.”

Her eyes lingered on the cup of steaming cider he’d placed on the coffee table for her. “You sure know your way to my heart.”

“You deserve it,” he said.

Cole smiled when she immediately lifted the mug and took a sip.

Slipping one leg beneath her, she settled back on the sofa. “We both deserve it.”

“True. But you’re the one who took charge of Charlie this evening.” Although Cole had wanted to care for his son, he knew she was best suited for the job. While his leg was much improved, getting a sick little boy into the shower and washing him up would have been difficult.

“I actually had the easy part,” Meg said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “You had—” she grimaced “—to clean up the kitchen.”

“You’re right,” he said with a decisive nod. “I deserve an extra cinnamon stick for taking on that lovely task.”

Her laughter washed over him, as refreshing as a soothing tonic. Cole sank back into the leather cushions and decided if he ignored the fact Charlie had gotten sick, it had been a good day.

If Charlie was going to become ill anywhere, Cole was glad it had happened when the boy was surrounded by doctors and nurses Cole trusted. Having Travis check him out and David verify the symptoms matched a virus that was making its rounds in the area had reassured Cole it wasn’t anything too serious.

Now his son was in bed and hopefully would get a good night’s sleep and feel a whole lot better in the morning.

Which meant Cole and Meg had time to unwind. The cider tasted as good as it smelled. The crackling fire took any chill from the air. And, even in running pants and a T-shirt, Cole was comfortable.

“What kind of music is that?” Meg propped one stocking- clad foot up on the rustic coffee table.

“New age stuff.” Cole waved a hand. “I thought about putting in a different CD but the melody is growing on me.”

She cocked her head and listened for a few seconds. “You’re right. Reminds me of a Gregorian chants CD I own, except with instruments. Definitely soothing and restful.”

Cole had a feeling it wasn’t simply the music from the lute Meg was reacting to, but the golden glow from the lamplight which complemented the warmth of the fire. The potpourri she’d brought home last week from the store also added to the ambience.

He’d teased her when she’d filled festive Christmas bowls and told him she was going to scatter them throughout the house. Now, the scent of peppermint mixed with cinnamon filled the air. Somehow, his house had begun to feel an awful lot like a home.

“I’m sorry we had to leave the party so abruptly,” Meg said, taking another sip of cider. “You didn’t even get to sample any of that scrumptious food Lexi made.”

“I have to admit I had my eye on the poached salmon.” Cole raised his cup to his lips but didn’t take a drink. “Other than that, I didn’t mind leaving. I’ve never been much for parties.”

Meg chortled. “Don’t give me that. In high school you had a reputation for being quite a party animal.”

Cole tightened his fingers around the mug’s handle. “Let’s just say I never missed an opportunity to go where food was being served.”

“Food?” Meg’s eyebrow lifted. “What did that have to do with anything?”

It had everything to do with it, Cole thought. In fact, tonight, seeing the bountiful buffet table had brought back memories of those lean years. But they were in the past. No longer did it hurt to recall them.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the liquid refreshments that drew you to those high school parties?” Meg asked with a teasing smile. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

“I rarely drank back then.” Cole shrugged. “I couldn’t afford to get caught and kicked off the team. Plus seeing how booze ruled my stepfather’s life made me determined to not go down that same road.”

“Well, I never got invited to the parties, so drinking wasn’t an issue for me.” Meg laughed. “I think Travis made up for me. From what I heard, he did a good job representing the family at those kind of events.”

Cole simply smiled.

“Are you hungry?” she asked abruptly. “There’s some leftover chicken salad in the fridge. I could make us a sandwich.”

While Charlie hadn’t appeared impressed by the tarragon chicken salad Meg had made yesterday—asking for PB&J instead—Cole had thought it was terrific.

“Sure. But I can—” He started to push himself up from the sofa, but Meg waved him back down.

“Let me,” she said. “It’ll only take a sec.”

Before he had a chance to protest she was already on her way to the kitchen. It seemed like she’d barely left when she returned with a sandwich for each of them and some fruit. Cole realized he must be hungrier than he’d initially thought, because the chicken salad on nine-grain bread and the cut-up apple slices with fruit dip looked like a feast.

“Wow,” he said, taking the plate she handed him. “Very nice. Thanks.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re easy to please?”

Cole thought for a second then shook his head. “Only you.”

He was still chewing when Meg placed her sandwich back on her plate.

“Why did you go to parties for the food?” she asked. “That doesn’t make sense to me.”

Cole slowly swallowed and didn’t immediately respond.

“This is probably me worrying about nothing, but when I was getting the food together, I realized you’d made a statement and I just glossed over it. I think I do that a lot.”

Two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks.

Cole knew he could make up something that answered her question but told her nothing. Or he could tell her the truth.

“Food matters,” Cole said, “if you don’t have enough to eat.”

“Not enough to eat?” Meg pulled her brows together. She’d asked a simple question and he’d given her a riddle. “Why wouldn’t you have had enough to eat? Your stepdad had a job.”

Meg knew that for a fact. She’d seen Wally stocking shelves at the big-box store out on the highway with her own two eyes. She and Cole had been seeing each other at the time and she’d recognized the grizzled mountain-of-a-man as his stepfather. Instead of speaking, she’d walked on by and acted as if she didn’t know him.

Now, looking back, she realized that had been rude. Of course, if she was ever granted a “do-over” on her teenage years there would be a lot of things she’d do differently. Knowing the man he’d become, Meg was sure Cole felt the same way.

“You’re right. Wally did have a job. When he decided to show up, that is.” Cole’s eyes were dark and unreadable in the dim light. “But any money he earned went for booze and cigarettes and gambling, in that order. Having food in the house for two kids who weren’t even his wasn’t a necessity for him.”

“Oh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I—”

“Don’t.” He reached over and took her hand. “I didn’t tell you about my past to garner sympathy, only so you would understand.”

His hand was warm and testosterone wafted off him in waves. Meg could have sat there all night, holding his hand, looking into his eyes, but all too soon he pulled his fingers away and sat back.

“I’d like us to get to know each other better.” He dipped an apple slice into the fruit dip but didn’t immediately bring it to his mouth. “To do that we have to be honest.”

Meg experienced a jolt of déjà vu. Hadn’t they already had this discussion? Yes, she was positive they had. “You’re right. The better things are between us, the better it will be for Charlie.”

Cole placed the uneaten apple slice back on his plate and turned slightly to face her. “It’s not Charlie I’m thinking of....”

The air turned heavy with longing and Meg found herself drowning in the blue of his eyes. She reached out her hand and his warm fingers closed around hers again. This time she had the feeling he wasn’t going to let go. Which suited her just fine.

“Cole,” Meg began, not sure what she meant to say. But it didn’t matter because one of the two cell phones on the coffee table chose that moment to go off.

She heaved a resigned sigh and met Cole’s gaze.

“Is that yours?” she asked. “Or mine?”