The Colorado Fosters

That was his goal: to open a camp of sorts, for boys who didn’t have real homes, where they’d learn to ski, go on hikes, sit outside around a campfire. Somehow, and he wasn’t quite sure how, he wanted to show these kids what Russ and Elaine had taught him—that life kept moving, changing, morphing from one thing to another. Bad now didn’t mean bad later. And he couldn’t figure a better way than sharing his love of the outdoors.

Being outside, whether working or playing, had often helped Gavin feel that he was a part of something bigger, better, than whatever was going on in that moment. He’d like to pass that feeling—belief—on, if he could. And no, he didn’t have all the details or specifics worked out, but he would. In time.

That was the promise he’d made to himself when he’d received the check from Russ’s estate, when he’d read the letter Russ had written to him.

Turned out, the Demkos had wanted to adopt him, along with the other boy who’d been staying with them, and had actually tried to sort through the red tape before Russ’s job had taken them to Massachusetts. Bad luck that they’d run out of time before they’d run out of red tape, forcing them to give up. Bad luck, as well, that Gavin’s mother had chosen that exact moment to get her act together long enough to go for another chance at raising her son.

A chance she’d ruined within months. She’d had more chances, later, down the road. All of which had amounted to a big, fat pile of nothing. Just like always.

But that letter from Russ—the sheer fact of knowing that the Demkos had wanted him as their legal son—had arrived in the nick of the time. Gavin had been in Aspen, fighting with himself over a decision. And that letter. Well, Russ’s words had once again altered his view of himself, of what he wanted out of life, and had pulled him off the disastrous path he’d come too close to taking. So yeah, he owed Russ and Elaine. Owed them the best he could give.

More than that, he owed himself.

Lost in the past as he was, in his hopes for the future, Gavin didn’t realize when someone else stepped into line behind him. It was the voice that filtered into his thoughts. A female voice, warm and sultry, and somehow effervescent, that broke his concentration. For a beat, he stood there and soaked in that voice, let it seep into his soul and calm his ragged emotions.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” the female said again, louder this time, more insistent. He half turned to see who was speaking and to whom, because while he’d been mistaken for many things, not a one of them had ever been a “ma’am.” Thank God for that.

Ah. Haley Foster. The sweetheart of Steamboat Springs, live and in person. He knew who she was, of course, from the sporting goods store he’d tried to get a job at, but also by reputation. In this town, the Fosters were well liked, well respected and very much involved in … well, it seemed like just about everything. And while he didn’t know for sure, he thought Haley was the baby of the family. Her brothers, from the few times Gavin had seen them, appeared to be older.

But who knew? He’d never been that great at guessing age. If he were to take a stab, though, he’d put her on the lower end of the twenties. Maybe midtwenties, but surely no older.

Something inside sort of tightened as he appraised her. Her long, auburn hair was up in one of those contraptions only females knew how to use, forming a loose knot that wasn’t completely doing the job it was meant for. Escaped tendrils framed her face in a messy yet no less appealing sort of way. Her eyes, a riveting combination of smoke and willow and fog—green but not all-the-way green—were aimed at the woman he’d somehow spooked.

“Ma’am,” she repeated. “Are you in line or …?”

The woman, apparently catching on that she was being spoken to, tilted her chin in Haley’s direction. “Yes,” she said. “Of course I’m in line.”

Haley widened those riveting eyes of hers in a darn good imitation of surprise. “Oh. Um, you do realize that you’re not actually standing in line, though. Right? I mean, I thought you were just looking at the menu, the way you’re so far off to the side like that.”

“I’m in line,” the woman repeated. “Sorry for your confusion.”

“Confusion?” Shaking her head, Haley gave the distance between the woman and Gavin and assessing glance. “Nope, not confused. In fact, I would say you’re a good foot or so off from actually being in the line. Maybe more.” She nudged—nudged—Gavin’s arm. “Wouldn’t you say that’s about a foot? More or less?”

And damn if he didn’t have to work hard not to laugh out loud at the woman’s expression. “Easily a foot. More or less,” he confirmed.

Without another word, the woman eased herself into line. And Haley … well, she winked at him, and muttered something about ignorance he couldn’t quite make out under her breath.

He knew it was dumb. He knew it didn’t mean a damned thing. But the fact was, the sweetheart of Steamboat Springs, Colorado, had just done something only two other people in his life had ever before done. She’d stood up for him. And that made her different.

What was that word Russ would use to describe Elaine? Gumption. That was it. “Boy,” he’d say, usually after Elaine had rightly torn into his hide about one thing or the other, “that woman’s got gumption, and a woman with gumption is a helluva lot more important ten, twenty, thirty years down the road than anything else she might have once had. Remember that.”

And yep, he’d remembered. Now, looking at Miss Haley Foster and the spunky, satisfied grin she wore, it was easy to see that she was damn near overflowing with the stuff, with gumption. Before he went and said something to that effect, or something equally ridiculous, he gave her a quick nod and faced front again.

Not being able to see her didn’t wipe the look of her out of his head, though. He felt her, too, in every ounce of his body, deeper than bone. Not so different, really, than the warmth of the sun saturating into his skin. Natural. Life-affirming. Real.

He let those words tumble around for all of thirty seconds before booting them out. She was a woman he didn’t know—not really—and she didn’t know him. So nope, she hadn’t stood up for him, she’d asked a damn question. That was all. And comparing her physical presence to the friggin’ sun? Where had that idiotic thought come from, anyway?

Didn’t matter. None of it.

What did matter was obtaining Lola’s assistance. Gavin returned his focus to that and started mentally rehearsing his speech again, all the while pretending that the warm buzz cascading over him, through him, had nothing to do with the female standing behind him.

Not one damn thing.

Gavin’s flannel-shirt-covered back, every long and broad muscular inch of it, was so still, Haley couldn’t determine if the man was even breathing. Disappointment, sharp and strong, cut into the anticipation that had been fizzing and popping in her blood. What had she thought would happen? That they’d strike up a conversation because she’d confronted the standoffish woman?

Yes, actually, that was what she had thought.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at that long, broad back. Considered tapping his arm and just start talking. Ask him a question. Mention how nice the day was, how it was slowly warming up outside. Find out if he was a coffee or a tea drinker, or … Okay. Something less boring. Something less … predictable. Maybe she should just faint dead away at his feet and hope he’d pick her up and carry her off to wherever he lived and … and … have his way with her?

Really? She shook her head, tried to erase the image, but the darn thing refused to vanish. Warmth flooded her cheeks and dripped down her neck. A tight ball of heat gathered in her stomach, low and heavy and almost throbbing in its intensity, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d last experienced that particular sensation.

Desire. Longing. The need to be touched.

And wow, wasn’t it just awesome that she’d have this experience now, here in the middle of the freaking coffee shop, over a man she barely knew, after the briefest, most innocent of encounters? Pitiful. Embarrassing. Maybe even a little sad.

But also … interesting? Yes, that, too.

The line moved again while she pondered, considering the complexities and the simplicities of the signals her body seemed hell-bent on sending her way. A chemical response, surely, since she didn’t know Gavin. She didn’t know where he came from, what his goals were, what his favorite foods were. She knew he skied, considered himself able to teach others how to ski. She knew he’d moved into the area sometime before December.

And that was the sum of her knowledge.

So, okay. A chemical response. Nothing more, nothing less. Her eyes traveled the length of him, from his untucked charcoal flannel shirt, to his denim-covered legs, to his heavy leather hiking boots. Easy to see all were clean. Well-worn, too. The jeans, the shirt, they fit his body as if he’d been wearing them, had worked and played in them, for so long that they’d formed to his shape. No other man would be able to wear those jeans and that shirt quite so well.

She looked up and up, and up some more. His hair was straight, except for the slight wave at the ends, and fell a few inches below his collar. Either he’d put off going to the barber or he was in that awkward growing-out stage. Probably the former. She tried to determine the accurate word for the color of his hair. Brown did the job, she supposed, but it wasn’t nearly enough. In her mind, brown in and of itself was a flat, drab shade, holding little depth, little light, little of interest. But Gavin’s hair was filled with light. It was thick and lustrous, rich with hues of chestnut and coffee, chocolate and cinnamon, and the odd golden strand here and there.

So, no. Brown didn’t begin to cut it.

Beautiful, maybe. And she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if that straight line of beautiful hair was as soft to the touch as it looked.

Sad and pitiful, for sure, to be gawking at a stranger’s hair and wishing she could touch it. Haley shook her head and forcibly pulled herself out of her inane thoughts. Maybe Suzette had been right all along. Maybe a date with Matt the teacher was exactly what she needed.

The line moved again, and the standoffish woman gave her order. For whatever reason, Lola didn’t drop into her normal banter, just asked what type of milk the woman wanted and prepared the cappuccino. The woman accepted her coffee, paid and stepped away quickly, without so much as a glance in either Gavin’s or Haley’s direction.

And that also struck Haley as sad. Why, though, she couldn’t say.

Gavin approached the counter, stopped and turned to face Haley again. This time, she noticed his eyes. Good Lord, the man had a gorgeous set of peepers. Again, she had to search for the right description. They were gray, except they weren’t. And they were blue, except not really that, either. She sighed. Mostly gray with the barest hint of blue. If a name for that exact color, in that precisely right combination of gray and blue existed, she didn’t know what it was.

Beautiful would have to suffice there, as well.

“Your turn,” she said, trying desperately to stop staring into his eyes.

“Actually,” he said in a low drawl that made her skin tingle, her pulse hum, “you should go first. I might be a few minutes. Need to talk with Lola about a … Well, you should go first.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” If she went first, she’d have to walk away, and she wasn’t quite ready to walk away. “You’re ahead of me. That’s the way lines work.”

He squinted his eyes, looked as if he were going to argue, but in the end just shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Faced front again, and set the clipboard on the counter. When he spoke, it was in that deep rumble, so low she had to block out every other sound in order to hear him.

“I’ll take one of those hazelnut lattes, large,” he said. “And I was hoping you might have the time to hear me out on something. If not now, I can wait. Or come back another day.”

“How long you needing?” Lola asked, her tone friendly and curious.

“Not long. Shouldn’t need much, I don’t think.”

Nodding, Lola went to the espresso machine, saying, “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

“Right. Okay.” His spine straightened another fraction and he released a breath. “Well, I’m not sure if you knew this, but for the past year, more really, even before officially moving here, I’ve been working real hard on learning the area and getting all the required licenses. So I can guide folks on hikes and white-water rafting trips, and maybe some climbing—” He paused, drew in another breath. “I have everything in order now. For the summer season, and winter, too, for next season. Skiing and such.”

“That’s an accomplishment, all right,” Lola said. “Good for you.”

“Thank you. So now that I have all the paperwork set, I’m in need of customers, and I don’t really know a lot of the locals yet. Which is why I’m here. I thought I’d check in with you, maybe see if you would be interested in—”

“Me?” Lola inserted with a chuckle. “If I had even a quarter of a mind to go white-water rafting or hiking, I’m sure you’d make an excellent guide. Truth of the matter is, those days are about a decade behind me.” Still chuckling, she steamed the milk while the machine pumped out a double shot of espresso. “Sweet, though, you’d think to ask, and I appreciate it.”

“Ah … Well, see. I didn’t mean it exactly in that fashion, but I don’t believe you’re ever too … or rather, that it’s ever too late to enjoy nature,” he said, stumbling around his words. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

It was, Haley decided, very cute. Sweet, even, both his nerves and his earnestness.

Lola grabbed a bottle from the rack of flavored syrups and gestured for him to continue.

“It’s like this,” he said with a small cough. “I made up some … flyers, I’d guess you’d call them, and I was wondering if you might keep some here. Maybe put in a good word for me. In case any of your customers ask about guides or want some pointers or …” He trailed off, pushed the clipboard toward Lola’s side of the counter. “I guess that’s about it.”

Gavin’s entire body tensed as he waited for Lola’s reply, and that, along with the thread of hope she’d heard in his voice, softened her heart into a pile of goo. This mattered to him. And for some reason she didn’t have the answer for, it suddenly mattered to her, too. She shifted to the left, just a tad, and craned her neck to get a better view of the clipboard.

And when she saw the pages clipped there, her gooey heart sank straight to her toes. Oh, dear. While there wasn’t anything acutely wrong with the flyers Gavin had made, they were … basic at best. His name, the services he offered and contact information. Everything was spelled correctly, everything was easy to read. But there also wasn’t anything there, in her mind at least, that would propel a would-be customer to choose Gavin’s services over the multitude of others available in the area. And there were many, many such companies.

Her family’s sporting goods store, for one.

Lola finished preparing Gavin’s coffee, returned to the counter and, after handing him his cup, picked up the clipboard. Now, Haley tensed, waiting and hoping right along with Gavin. Lola wouldn’t say no to such a simple request, would she?

“Your white-water rafting certifications include both the Colorado and the Eagle Rivers?” Lola asked in an easy, conversational tone. “And I take it you’re more than passing familiar with Fish Creek Falls and Rabbit Ears Peak, feel comfortable with the trails?”

“Yes, to all of it,” Gavin said. “Fully state-certified.”

“Hmm. You going to start taking folks up in hot-air balloons, too?”

“What? Um.” Leaning over the counter, Gavin looked at the clipboard, as if thinking that something about hot-air balloon rides had suddenly materialized. “No. Just the hikes and the rafting right now. Maybe climbing, some camping if the interest is there. But I don’t know anything about hot-air balloons, haven’t ever been in a hot—”

“I’m teasing,” Lola said with a boisterous laugh. “And I haven’t been up in one, either.”

“Teasing.” He sort of wagged his head as if the idea of that was beyond him. Also cute and sweet. Sad, too. “Right.”

“What about referrals? And equipment? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy enough to pass on your information, but folks are likely to ask.” Lola gave him a measured look. “And when they do, it would be good if I could answer.”

Without considering the whys, Haley threw herself forward. “Gavin is getting his equipment from us, Lola. From the store. We’ve worked out sort of a … partnership. And you can use my name as a referral. All of us Fosters, actually. We’ve all been working with Gavin, you see, helping him settle in and, well, he’s an excellent guide. Just excellent.”

“Is that so? I’m surprised your mother didn’t mention anything.” The corners of Lola’s lips twitched, and Haley figured she knew the real reason Margaret Foster hadn’t mentioned this partnership with Gavin Daugherty. Because one didn’t exist. Yet. “I’m also surprised you didn’t add that bit of information on these flyers, here, Gavin. Might want to—”

“That’s my fault!” Again without thought, Haley grabbed the clipboard, holding it tight to her chest. “I was supposed to get the flyers and brochures and his website and everything prepared, but I spaced out. Gavin was getting everything moving along.” Now she turned toward Gavin. “I’m really sorry I’ve been so slow. Give me another week, tops.”

Eyes narrowed in speculation, Gavin reached for the clipboard. Haley clutched it tighter and eased her entire body backward. Something akin to surprise filtered into his gaze. “I … No apology necessary, Miss Foster. I am perfectly capable of handling this aspect of our … partnership without your assistance. If I could have my clipboard, please?”

“No. I insist. Really! Besides which, it would help to keep this. For reference, as I’m working on the new copy.” Lola, she saw, was watching them with a fair amount of amused curiosity. Great. She’d probably be on the phone to Haley’s mother within the hour. She thrust her mug toward her, saying, “I would love another chai tea. Please?”

Lola squinted her eyes but nodded. The second she turned away, Gavin whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help.” Oh, dear Lord, what had she gotten herself into? Cole was surely going to kill her when she tried to convince him to go along with a plan she’d barely conceived of. Still, she wasn’t prepared to back down just yet. “I can help. If you’ll let me.”

He worked his jaw, the muscles clenching and unclenching as he looked at her. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” she repeated. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His entire expression hardened in disbelief. “People don’t generally offer to help a stranger for no cause. Not without wanting something in return.”

“I am. I want nothing, and in case you haven’t noticed, I am a person, so I’d say you’re wrong on that front.” Why was she arguing this? If he wasn’t inclined to accept her offer, she should let the matter drop. But just like the woman she had to confront, Haley couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this drop. “Just say yes.”

A shot of blue slid into the gray of his eyes, changing them into yet another color she couldn’t name. With a quick shake of his head, he held out his hand. “My clipboard. Please.”

She debated refusing, but really, hadn’t she made enough of a fool out of herself? Before handing it over, she ripped off the topmost page, which she then shoved into her purse.

“Sometimes,” she said, “people just want to help for the sake of helping. If you change your mind, you can usually find me at Foster’s Pub and Grill. I mostly work in the back, in the office, so if you don’t see me, just ask for Haley.”

“I won’t change my mind.” He closed his eyes for a millisecond, muttered under his breath. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know you. I prefer to tend to my own business.”

She nodded, held her shoulders straight. “Okay. The offer stands.”

After another long, steady appraisal, he said, “You’re something, Miss Haley Foster. Definitely something.” He pulled two fives out of his pocket and placed them on the counter. To Lola, he said, “For mine and hers. And I thank you for your time.”

And with that, the mountain man all but marched out of the Beanery, still appearing to be a man very much prepared for a fight. When was she going to learn? She had a habit of doing this, of sticking her foot in where it didn’t belong, where it wasn’t wanted.

“Gee, that didn’t go well,” Haley murmured, accepting the tea from Lola.

“I know what you were doing, and it was sweet of you, but this man … he’s got all sorts of rough edges, kiddo. And I’d estimate that he’s not accustomed to sweetness.” Lola patted her hand and offered a smile. “Very sweet of you, though.”

“You weren’t fooled for a second, were you?”

“Your mom pretty much spills all there is to spill about you kids, so no, not fooled.”

“I tried, I guess.” Another thought occurred to her. “Can you not mention this to my mother? Or anyone else? Um, specifically anyone with the last name Foster?”

“I suppose I can do that.” Lola chuckled. “None of this is my business, now is it?”

“Thanks, Lola.”

The line was lengthening again, so Haley returned to the table she’d shared with Suzette. Rough edges? Not accustomed to sweetness? She knew Lola hadn’t meant to spur her forward with those two comments, but dammit, how could she not try harder?

Chemical response notwithstanding, she liked Gavin Daugherty. Maybe in spite of his rough edges, maybe because of them. She didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t altogether care at the moment. She liked him. And her heart was still a pile of goo.

Sighing, Haley retrieved the flyer from her purse and stared at it, thought about how she should back off and listen to her head for once, and not her heart. That would be the smart thing to do, the practical thing to do. That would be what her brothers would insist she do.

Unfortunately, she mostly ignored her brothers when they insisted she do anything. And listening to her head over her heart? Paying attention to boring old logic instead of her gut? No. She wasn’t very good at those, either. So, really. Why would she start now?

After another minute’s consideration, she decided there were plenty of valid reasons to follow the path of logic, to think instead of feel. But she wasn’t going to.

Logic be damned.

She looked through the window, considered her options, and without another second of hesitation, thrust her arms into her jacket and beelined it toward the door. If she were lucky, she’d be able to catch up to Gavin before he handed out any of those flyers.

After that … Well, she guessed she’d just play it by ear.

Chapter Three

Mind circling with questions, Gavin strode toward his battered pickup truck, berating himself for almost giving in. For that mere second of belief that someone who didn’t know him would actually want to help. He knew better, but dammit, that second of belief had felt good.

More than that. It had felt … possible.

Asinine, that. Why would Haley Foster want to help him, a man she didn’t know, a man who wanted to start a business that could very well cut into some of her family’s income? Didn’t make a lick of sense, and anything that held zero logic raised every one of his red flags.

In his truck, he tossed the clipboard on the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. Dammit. He’d been in such an all-fire hurry to leave that he hadn’t left any of the flyers with Lola. So he’d have to go back, but not now. Likely not until he’d found the words to explain that there wasn’t a partnership with the Fosters, that there hadn’t been one to begin with and that no, he had no idea why Haley had claimed otherwise.