Pine Country Cowboy

He again picked up the coffee mug, scrutinized it, then rinsed it out a second time. “It’s awkward to bring up in casual conversation with a woman you’ve just met that you’re a carrier of the defective cystic fibrosis gene. Even harder to suggest it might be a good idea that she get tested before a relationship progresses too far.”

He’d tried that once with a classmate he’d become friends with after Melynda remarried—it hadn’t gone over well. But the truth of the matter was that if both partners were one of an estimated ten million who were carriers of the flawed gene—as had been he and Melynda—each time you got pregnant you had a 25 percent chance of having a child with CF.

He couldn’t lose another child like that again.

“I’m aware it’s a challenging situation,” Geri resumed with a gentler tone. “But I’m praying and so is the whole family, that you’ll find your Ms. Right. Soon. Sometimes when I pray, I feel such an expectation that it won’t be long.”

A smile twitched. “Even if I’m hiding in Canyon Springs?”

“It’s a long shot,” she teased back. “But like you said, God can do whatever He wants. Just promise me, Brett, that when your Ms. Right shows up you won’t sneak out the back door and hit the road running.”

Most of the women he’d met here in town were married, engaged or obviously not a good match for any number of reasons. Like Britney Bennett. Or they were tourists briefly visiting mountain country to escape the heat in other regions of the state or visiting family. Like Abby Diaz.

He’d heard at Camilla’s Café last night that Meg hadn’t come home from the hospital yesterday after all. Which meant Abby might still be in town today...

He leaned back against the counter, the scent of coffee in the making luring him closer to a waking state. His big sis wanted him to promise not to sneak out the back door and hit the road running, huh? “We’ll see.”

“Brett! You have to cooperate. You know God doesn’t strong-arm us into His will.”

Would not canceling his commitment to paint Joe Diaz’s garage today be considered cooperating? He didn’t have any designs on his friend’s sister, but Abby would only be here for another day or two at most. He still felt bad about ducking out on lunch yesterday. It wouldn’t hurt to check in on her.

“We’ll see,” he said again, tamping down an unexpected flicker of anticipation. “We’ll see.”

* * *

“Davy! Breakfast is ready!”

Abby poured a glass of milk for her nephew and set it on the kitchen table. Then she popped a striped straw into Davy’s glass and stepped back to view her handiwork. What would he think of the colorful table setting she’d thrown together? She’d woven a place mat from wide strips of yellow and lime-green construction paper and cut out the toast with a round cookie cutter to make a smiley face. A blueberry-eyed peeled banana now stood on toothpick legs.

Davy had been disappointed when Joe came home late yesterday afternoon only long enough to shower and head back for a shift of work. His mother hadn’t come home at all—the doctors wanted to keep her another night for observation. But maybe the whimsical breakfast table would start his day on a positive note and after school his mom would be home.

She could hear him bumping around upstairs, but she hadn’t let the dog in last night so that shouldn’t be the cause of his delay this morning. Is this how Meg always started her day? Trying to get out the door to work while rounding up a foot-dragging Davy? Nevertheless, Abby couldn’t help a twinge of envy. Meg was mother to an adorable stepson and soon to give birth to a baby girl. Would Jori have Joe’s smile? Meg’s eyes?

“Here I come!” Davy hollered, footsteps pounding as he clambered down the stairs. He dashed into the kitchen, then came to a halt in front of the table, eyes wide. “Is it your birthday or something, Aunt Abby?”

She laughed. “No. I thought you might enjoy an extra happy breakfast.”

“My toast has a jelly smile,” he pointed out as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Can I eat it?”

“Yes, you can eat it. I’ll dish up your oatmeal when you’re done with that.”

“Awesome. Is Brett coming to breakfast, too?”

She certainly wouldn’t invite Brett to breakfast, especially not after he’d turned down the invitation to lunch yesterday. She couldn’t decide if she was more disgruntled with him for not helping her out when she’d practically pleaded or with herself for looking to a stranger to ease tensions between her and Dad.

“What makes you think he’d be coming to breakfast?”

Davy leaned over to grasp the strings attached to the drapery rod and drew back the curtains of the French doors overlooking the patio. He pointed to the detached two-car garage at the rear of the spacious treed lot. “I saw him from my window upstairs.”

Sure enough, there was Brett, a cowboy hat topping his head as he hauled a ladder from the back of a gray pickup. What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be on his way to work?

“Maybe he’s hungry.” Davy took a bite of his toast. “Brett’s always hungry at the church potlucks.”

Abby looked down at the festive table, where she’d been about to join Davy. Toast. A banana. Soon-to-be oatmeal. Hardly enough to sustain a man the size of Brett.

She moved closer to the glassed door. “Where’s he going with that ladder?”

“Dunno.”

She watched a moment longer, then returned to the stove to stir the oatmeal. “Go ahead and eat. He won’t be expecting breakfast, and you need to finish getting ready for school.”

Davy took another bite of toast, then again leaned back in his chair for a better view of what was going on outside. “Oh, man, he brought Elmo.”

“Who’s Elmo?” She doubted a Sesame Street character had accompanied Brett but, if the sudden onslaught of barking was any indication, she could almost guess the answer.

“His black Lab. He and Camy are best friends.” Davy stood up. “Look at her. She’s going crazy to get out of her pen.”

Abby moved to the door once more, then looked up at the wall clock. Seven-fifteen. The neighbors probably loved the canine serenade, but the two young dogs did seem particularly pleased to see each other, tongues lolling as they cavorted on either side of Camy’s enclosure.

“Sit down and eat, Davy. You can’t be late for school.”

“I don’t want to go to school.” But he nevertheless slumped back into his chair. “Nobody would miss me if I stayed home and played with Camy, Elmo and Brett today.”

She again returned to the stove and dished up a bowl of oatmeal, then set it in front of him. “There are three more days of school left and these last days before summer vacation are always the most fun. I doubt Brett and Elmo will be here long. It looks like he’s dropping off a ladder for your dad.”

Davy didn’t look convinced.

They were finishing breakfast—Davy had only to eat his banana and he’d be done—when a knock came at the back door off the utility room.

“Brett!” Davy jumped up, but she reached out to stay him.

“Sit down, please. I’ll get it. You just eat.” Meg and Joe were trusting her with Davy. She couldn’t allow him to be tardy on the one day she saw him off to school. Not surprisingly, when she opened the door Brett stood on the back porch, hat in hand.

To her irritation, her heart beat faster at the sight of his cheerful smile.

“Mornin’, ma’am. Sorry for the ruckus a bit ago. I guess the pups were happy to see each other.”

“I got that impression, too, as I’m sure the neighbors did, as well.”

His eyes sparked with amusement. “I thought I’d better stop by and give you warning that Elmo and I’ll be around the property painting Joe’s garage today.”

Didn’t he have a job at the equine center? “So your dog’s good with a paintbrush?”

A dimple surfaced. “Probably as good as I am, sad to say.”

She glanced over his shoulder toward the building in question. Joe hadn’t mentioned Brett would be doing handyman work. From where she stood, the garage didn’t look like it needed paint. But what did she know? “So, you’re telling me this will be a ‘pardon me, ma’am’ day?”

He cocked his head in question.

“That’s what my mother calls it when you have a repairman popping in and out interrupting you. You know, pardon me ma’am but may I borrow a wrench? May I use your restroom? May I have a drink of water?”

Brett grinned. “I shouldn’t need any wrenches.”

But he’d be underfoot all day. She glanced again at the garage. Did it truly need sprucing up? “It’s nice of you to paint Joe’s garage.”

His eyes twinkled. “Not really. He’s paying me.”

Should she invite him in? Offer a cup of coffee to start his day? She couldn’t afford to have him engage Davy in lengthy conversation and risk making him late for school.

“Do you want my banana, Brett?” Davy called from the kitchen table, just out of the cowboy’s line of vision.

Brett’s amused gaze momentarily caught hers, then he called back. “Thanks. But I’ve had breakfast. That banana’s all yours.”

“I don’t like bananas.”

Great. He’d kept quiet about that.

“This one has legs, too.”

Brett raised a brow and she nodded.

“And eyes,” Davy added.

As Brett’s disbelieving gaze questioned her, Abby sighed and stepped back from the open door. “Come on in. You may as well see for yourself.”

Chapter Five

Brett toed off his boots outside the door. He’d been briefly to Duffy’s that morning only long enough to feed Cinnabar and didn’t want to track anything untoward into the house. But from the look on Abby’s face, it was clear he’d only been invited to step inside because of Davy’s bidding and he’d better not plan to linger long.

Following her trim, jeans-clad figure into the kitchen, he got the impression she preferred the events of her day to be well-ordered, like library books categorized by the Dewey decimal system. She was probably one of those who had her own personal reading materials grouped by author or subject and probably had them inventoried on a spreadsheet that noted publishers and copyright dates. While he was an avid reader, his books were stacked in no particular order wherever he found empty space. Dresser top. Back of the closet. Corner of the living room floor.

“See?” Davy pointed to an arch-backed banana with toothpick legs and raisin feet, then he poked the milk glass straw in his mouth and took a long swallow. “Aunt Abby made him.”

Brett placed his hat atop the refrigerator, then pulled out a chair from the table. He whipped it around backward, straddling it and crossing his arms along the back. A smile twitched as he took in the colorful breakfast trappings. “That’s some critter you have there. I’m impressed.”

“You can have it.” Davy scooted the plate toward him, then glanced at Abby. “I already ate the smiley-face toast and oatmeal. Do I have to eat the banana, too, Aunt Abby?”

She glanced up at the clock, a crease forming across her brow. “No, that’s okay. I didn’t know you didn’t care for bananas. You need to let me know what you like and don’t like so I don’t fix things you won’t eat.”

If he’d had any doubts before, that nailed it. Leaving a door open like that labeled her an amateur when it came to kid dealings. He could almost see Davy’s mind whirling. Likes: ice cream, hot dogs, pizza, French fries. Dislikes: spinach, green beans, peas—and bananas.

The boy pushed the banana plate closer to Brett. “My mom is going to have a baby.”

“So I heard.”

“I think everybody’s having babies, like at church and the grocery store and stuff. You can tell because the moms get big, big, big.” That matter-of-fact wisdom shared, Davy drank down the remainder of his milk before setting the glass onto the table with a clunk. “I’ll be right back, Brett. I have to brush my teeth. It’s a school day.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, then dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

With a grin, Brett reached for the leggy banana. “Observant kid. I have to admit it does seem like every other woman in town is in a family way. A Canyon Springs population explosion.”

Unfortunately, for the past few days every time he saw one of those moms-to-be, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the nine months he and Melynda had eagerly awaited the arrival of their precious Jeremy.

Abby glanced at him uncertainly. “You don’t have to eat the banana if you don’t want to.”

He studied it for a moment, the beady, unblinking eyes almost appearing to look back at him. “I think I’ll give it a try. I’ve never eaten anything quite like this. Special occasion?”

She shrugged, looking a tad sheepish. “I was trying to start Davy’s day on a bright note. He misses his mom, and Joe didn’t get to stay long yesterday.”

“I’d heard Meg’s return was delayed, that she’d probably be released this afternoon.”

Surprise lit Abby’s eyes. No doubt she didn’t yet recognize the effectiveness of the Canyon Springs grapevine.

“That’s what we’re hoping,” she said almost cautiously. “Her doctors want to keep an eye on her awhile longer.”

“Whatever it takes to ensure a safe delivery.” He pulled the toothpick legs from the banana and placed them on the edge of the plate, then motioned toward a chair at the table. “Have a seat, Aunt Abby.”

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