First Time, Forever

She felt some of the stiffness leave her and she laughed. “A thousand, I think.”

“Ma’am, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Quit calling me ma’am!” Why did her tone have to be so querulous with him? “Please.”

“All right.” He waited.

She blushed, as if she had just turned sixteen and not thirty-four. “Kathleen.”

“Well, Kathleen, I’ll bet your dance card is full right up for the next year or so.”

“Pardon?”

“They all ask you out? The bachelors of Hopkins Gulch?”

“Oh. A few of them. I don’t do that. Go out.”

“You don’t? Why not?”

Why not? There was no Howard to be loyal to anymore. What kind of woman was loyal to a man for five years after he’d broken up with her? A dolt, that’s what kind.

“I don’t think it would be good for Mac.”

“How’s that?”

“In my experience—” admittedly limited, though she didn’t say that “—romance seems to be distinctly upsetting.”

“Distinctly upsetting,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I’d have to go along with you on that one. By the way, does Mac really have allergies? To horses?”

“No. Did he tell you that?”

“Deathly, according to him. One whiff of horse and immediate anaphylactic reaction. Said he forgot his kit at home. Like a beesting kit, only a horse whiff kit.”

She was staring at Evan trying to hide her horror. When had her nephew become such an accomplished liar? She didn’t even know Mac knew the word anaphylactic.

“I take it,” Evan said at her silence, “it would be quite safe to have him feed the horses tomorrow?”

“Quite safe,” she murmured.

“If he comes.”

“He’ll come.”

“I’ll be here at five-thirty, then.”

“All right.”

He turned and walked away. She was fascinated by the way he walked, loose-limbed and confident, like a man who owned the earth.

“So, what should I call you?” she called after him.

He stopped and looked back at her. “This is a pretty casual kind of place. Evan would do fine.”

“Thanks, Evan, for looking after his shoes.” Was she actually trying to keep him here? If she didn’t watch herself, she’d be inviting him in for supper in a minute.

He gave her a lopsided grin that chased the shadows from his face and made him look charming and boyish and about a hundred years younger than she.

“Did you really pay two hundred dollars for those shoes?”

“Not quite,” she said, “but close.”

He shook his head incredulously. “Why?”

“They’re magic shoes,” she said with a sigh. “They were supposed to make him happy.”

“If you got that in writing, I’d take them back.” He turned then, went down the walk and got into his truck.

She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from stopping him one more time, asking him if he’d like to join them for spaghetti.

It wouldn’t be a date. Not even close. Just a neighborly kind of thing.

Not wanting to look pathetic, she did not watch while he drove away.

She went into the house just as Mac came out of the shower, toweling his head. The freckles had darkened across his nose, and his cheeks were full of color from the sun.

“I really hate that dust hopper,” he told her. “I worked hard enough today that I shouldn’t have to go back.”

“Well, you do,” Kathleen said, glad that her resolve had been strengthened by her talk with Evan.

“He worked me really hard, and didn’t give me enough to eat or drink. I think there are laws against treating kids like that.”

“There are laws about damaging people’s property,” she said sternly. She tried to get him to think positive, just as the book said. “Tell me one good thing that happened to you today.”

He scowled at her. “There wasn’t one.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me about the calves.”

“They’re really stupid and they stink. Just like his kid.”

“His kid?” Kathleen asked, stunned.

“Yeah. He has a little boy named Jesse. He’s nearly three and he wears diapers. Is that normal?”

“I’m not sure.”

“He doesn’t talk much, especially when the Gestapo is around.”

“Who doesn’t talk much? And what Gestapo?”

“The baby doesn’t talk much. And the Gestapo is the dust hopper you think is so cute.”

“I never said I thought he was cute.” She was sure she was going to blush and give herself away, so she turned quickly. Over her shoulder she said, “Don’t call him that again. Gestapo. That’s dreadful.”

“Well, so is shoveling for no pay. That kid can’t say r. Is that normal?”

“I don’t know.” Why was it making her feel so inadequate that she couldn’t answer his questions? Making her feel as if she had missed something. A baby of her own. Another dream Howard had stolen from her. If she waited until Mac was grown up, another six years at least, wouldn’t it be too late then? She’d be forty!

“It doesn’t seem normal. He says wabbit for rabbit. Could I say r?”

“I don’t ever remember you not saying r.”

“That’s good because it sounds really stupid.”

“Where’s Jesse’s mom?”

“She died in a caw.”

“Oh, Mac.”

“It really stinks, doesn’t it, when mom’s die and leave their kids? At least he has a dad who cares about him, even if he is the Gestapo.”

Spoken carelessly, it failed to hide his pain. He was still grieving the loss of his mother, even though it had been nearly five years now. And his father. Kathleen felt a nameless fury. He’d never even seen his son. Abandoned her sister and his unborn child as soon as he’d learned she was pregnant.

And of course, then there had been Howard, who had told her, shortly after her sister’s death, “It’s Mac or me.” Not quite in those words, of course. Howard was always so good with words. Educated. Sophisticated. Things that had impressed her once.

“I care about you, Mac,” she said firmly. “I love you more than a leopard loves its spots.”

Mac couldn’t resist the game. “I love you more than a toad loves its warts.”

And suddenly the anger melted from his face, and he was just her sweet little boy again. And he said, “Did you make me spaghetti for supper?”

“Just for you.” Why did that sound like a lie?

He smiled. “I love you more than a pizza loves pepperoni.”

It seemed to Evan that all of life really turned on a hair. He glanced in the back seat, where Jesse was fast asleep in his car seat. A little puddle of drool was forming on the tiny Western shirt Jesse had spotted at the Outpost several days ago. It had been on a mannequin, and Jesse had stood in front of it, silent, his eyes large with wanting. It had broken Evan’s heart that he didn’t ask. He’d bought it for him anyway. Now he was having trouble getting the shirt off his son long enough to put it in the washer.

He looked back at the long ribbon of road and thought, a choice made here, a split second there, and everything changes.

He’d met Dee at a rodeo, she a top-rated barrel racer in sequins and tight jeans, he a not so highly rated bull rider with quite a bit more nerve than talent. She had short blond curly hair and huge brown eyes, and a tiny china doll figure that belied the power she showed on a horse. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was also the only woman he’d ever met who could match him drink for drink, who could party all night and go all day. Maybe he should have taken that as a danger sign, but he hadn’t.

Now, he wondered sometimes, if he’d gone to a different rodeo that day, or stayed at home, or had a flat tire, or taken a wrong turn, maybe he would have never met Dee. Maybe that little life in the back seat would have never happened.

All of life turned on these split-second decisions that a man had no hope of recognizing at the time he made them.

And here he was again.

His life turning on a hair.

If he hadn’t been in town yesterday, his life wouldn’t be intertwining with hers, with Kathleen Miles. If Mac had snapped off a different antenna, everything would be, well, different.

He wouldn’t be driving home to his empty house, thinking about the smell that had been wafting out her open porch door. Something mouthwatering. Italian. And thinking about that U-haul out front, still as full as it had been yesterday.

“Evan, don’t even think about turning this truck around,” he ordered himself.

Just as firmly he told himself he was not thinking of Kathleen Miles romantically. Not at all. He was a man who had learned his lessons about romance. What had she said?

Oh, yeah. Romance was distinctly upsetting. Apparently she had learned her lessons, too.

So, why, if he had learned his lessons, had he been absolutely compelled to ask her if she’d been asked out? He knew she would have been. Those guys that had lined up three-deep at the café window yesterday would have lost no time in getting over to the Outpost to check her out today.

Her response to them was none of his business. None. Still, there was no denying he felt happy that they had all struck out with her.

Not, he thought darkly, that Sookie Peters was going to take no for an answer. Kathleen was too beautiful. Sookie would be back over at the Outpost tomorrow, probably with a little bouquet of flowers, and lots of sweet talk. Kathleen didn’t date? That wouldn’t be a problem for Sookie. He’d think of a way for it not to be a date.

In fact, Sookie probably wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. He was probably at her place right now, unloading that U-haul, and getting himself invited in for a homemade dinner. That wouldn’t be a date, would it? No, sir, that would just be being neighborly.

Dinner. Evan tried to think what he had at home that would qualify and hit all four food groups at the same time. Frozen pizza. Canned stew. Before Jesse he would have thought a food group was the fries next to the burger on his plate. But that lady lawyer in Swift Current had told him, when Dee’s parents had been acting as if they were going to challenge him over guardianship, that he would have to be really aware of things like that. Nutrition. Child psychology.

He suddenly felt achingly lonely and overwhelmed.

“Don’t you dare turn the truck around,” he said to himself. “You can’t just show up at a woman’s house at dinnertime, hoping she’ll feed you.”

In exchange for unloading her U-haul, the other voice said indignantly.

The kind of thing a white knight might do, except a real knight wouldn’t expect dinner.

Sighing, recognizing all life turned on a hair, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it, Evan Atkins slowed, stopped and turned his truck around.

He told himself that she looked like the kind of woman who might know a thing or two about potty-training.

Chapter Three

“Oh,” Mac said, through the screen. “It’s you. Auntie Kathy, Colonel Klink is here. And he brought Mr. Stinky Pants with him. Is Mr. Stinky Pants alive?”

“Yeah, he’s just sleeping.” Evan could feel his son’s warm breath against his shoulder.

“Hi,” Evan said, when she appeared at the door. Did she look pleased to see him? Even after that introduction?

“I’m sorry,” she said, tossing an annoyed look back at Mac. She had a tea towel over her shoulder, and her hair was falling out of her ponytail and curling around her face. “Where does he come up with this stuff?”

The smells coming out that door were even more heavenly than before.

“Hogan’s Heroes,” Evan guessed. “Late night.” He knew all about late nights.

“Is this your son?” A good sign. Not, What are you doing back here?

“Jesse,” he said, “otherwise known as Mr. Stinky Pants.”

She smiled and came out the door and looked at Jesse’s sleeping face. She reached out and touched a blond curl.

“He’s gorgeous,” she said, her voice rich with tenderness, “He’s just like a little angel.”

A man could not be jealous of his three-year-old son. It was not permissible. Especially when he was not here about romance, heaven forbid. Simply being neighborly. Or a knight, however one wanted to look at it. Still, a man would probably go a long way to have a woman look at him with that kind of bone-melting sweetness.

“I was thinking if you had a place I could lay him down, I’d haul that stuff in from the trailer for you.”

“Oh,” she said, and blushed.

Who would think a woman that age could blush? He tried to figure out her age. Older than him. Mid-thirties, maybe. One of those women who aged with uncommon grace, her body full and ripe, her face kind, her dark eyes steady and serene. Why was it women thought they needed to be forever young when he found this so appealing?

Women liked him. That had been a fact of his life for as long as he could remember. But it always seemed to be a certain kind that was attracted to him—young, full of breathless giggles and chatter, dyed blond hair and shirts that showed off their belly buttons. Women who didn’t blush, and who seemed to like the word cool best out of the entire English language, who wore red, red lipstick and chewed gum. An evening with a woman like that left him feeling so empty and exhausted he’d pretty much given up on it. Especially now that Jesse was home.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.