Jackson Hole Valentine

He couldn’t believe he and Meg would be living under the same roof. It was like some twisted fairy tale. To think there had been a time when he’d have given anything to have her be the last person he saw at night and the first one when he woke up. That, of course, was before he discovered she couldn’t be trusted.

The ringing of the doorbell saved Cole from revisiting that awful time when he’d learned she’d betrayed him. The melodious chimes had launched into a second refrain by the time he made it to his feet.

He hobbled around the furniture, carefully avoiding the treacherous rugs. Excitement built inside Cole. Having the opportunity to be a father to Charlie was a dream come true.

Still, it had come at a high price.

Too high, Cole thought grimly. Joy and Ty had been like family—closer, really, than his own brother—and he felt their loss to the very core of his being.

He’d made it all the way to the edge of the foyer when the door opened and Meg and Charlie spilled inside, laughing and talking.

“I hope you don’t mind us not waiting.” Meg stomped on the rag rug, sending the snow on her boots flying across the marble floor. Tiny flakes of white ice crystals clung to her hair.

“I was c-c-cold,” Charlie said loudly, whipping off his Denver Broncos ski cap, his hair standing straight up. “I could see my breath and everything. If I’d waited much longer I’d ‘ave froze to death.”

The little boy’s expression was so earnest, Cole swallowed the laughter welling in his throat.

“Couldn’t have that.” Cole gestured to the coat closet off to Meg’s left. “If you’d like to hang up your—”

“I’d better keep mine on.” She slanted a glance at Charlie. “We’ve got some bags. I should bring them in before my car is covered with snow.”

“There’s a garage door opener on the side table,” Cole said. “It’s yours while you’re here.”

A garage door opener. A simple tool, nothing more. Then why did it suddenly feel so… intimate?

If it felt intimate to Meg, she gave no indication. She simply grabbed the control, dropped it into her pocket then turned to Charlie, who was unbuttoning his jacket.

“Leave it on, sweetie,” she said to the boy. “I’m going to need help carrying the bags into the house.”

“I don’t want to carry any dumb old bags,” the boy whined. “I wanna see my room.”

“You can see your room,” Cole answered before Meg could respond, “after you help Aunt Meg.”

Charlie’s face took on a mulish look. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it when Cole shot him a firm glance.

“Okay,” the boy said with a huge sigh.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Meg added. “I appreciate the help.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Cole asked Meg.

“Thanks for offering, but we’ll be able to manage.” For a second her smile was open and friendly. “Look at Charlie’s muscles.”

Beside her, the boy puffed with pride. “I’m real strong. I picked up this big punkin from our garden that even Daddy couldn’t lift.”

The sharp pain of loss sliced through Cole’s heart. As much as he’d wanted to take a bigger role in Charlie’s life, he’d never wanted it to come at Ty’s expense.

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