For Love and Family

“It’s okay. The man of the hour is still awake and champing at the bit to meet you,” the rancher said in that lush, masculine voice she’d been hearing call her name in her dreams.

As if on cue, a little boy bounded down the stairs behind Hunter just then, shouting as he did, “Is she here? Is she here?”

“What’d I tell you about comin’ down those steps more slowly and holdin’ on to the railing so you don’t fall, little man?” Hunter asked sternly.

“I know,” the small boy grumbled half under his breath. “But is she here?”

Hunter still didn’t answer that. He turned back to Terese, propped the screen open with his backside and reached for her suitcase.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” he said. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Terese muttered as she crossed the threshold in front of him, catching a whiff of a light, heady aftershave that smelled like a pine forest.

The big man had been blocking a clear view of the little boy but once she’d stepped into the entryway Johnny was right there, in full sight, fidgeting with excitement.

“I’m Johnny!” the pajama and necktie-clad child proclaimed proudly.

Terese had no idea how his father had explained her so, as she drank in that first opportunity to set eyes on him in four years, she simply said, “Hi, Johnny. I’m Terese.” But there was a catch in her throat as a combination of emotions put moisture in her eyes and made her smile too big at the same time.

There he is, she just kept thinking as he held out a tiny hand for her to shake as if she were a visiting dignitary.

He couldn’t have been more adorable with that chubby-cheeked, freckled face, that turned-up nose and that fiery red hair that he’d done something with to make it stand at attention in front. And in that instant, Terese fell in love with him all over again.

She wanted badly to scoop him up and hug him, but of course she didn’t do that for fear of frightening him. She did probably hold on to his hand a shade longer than she should have.

“Nice to meet you, Johnny,” she said, finally letting go of him.

“What’s our deal?” Hunter asked then.

Terese glanced over her shoulder at him to see whom he was talking to and found him leaning a shoulder against the door he’d just closed, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his slacks, observing this meeting.

His question had been aimed at his son, though, and Johnny knew it because the little boy said, “I can show her ’round the house and have one short story and then I have to go to sleep.” It had been a recitation peppered with reluctance and it made Terese smile all over again. Especially when Johnny added, “Can our company read me the story?”

“Our company’s name is Miss Warwick.”

“Oh, no, please, I’m Terese,” she implored.

“Okay. It’s up to Terese whether or not she wants to read you a story. Maybe she’d rather get settled in,” Hunter told his son.

“I’d love to read the story,” Terese interjected.

“She’d love to read the story,” Johnny repeated for his father, making Hunter chuckle.

He raised his sculpted chin in the general direction of the house then. “Okay. Well, get to it, Mr. Tour Guide.”

A tour guide was exactly the persona the small child put on for her as he led Terese from the entryway to the living room that opened to the right.

“This is where we play games and watch TV,” Johnny said as if Terese wouldn’t know what the room was used for otherwise. “There’s not s’posed to be food in here since I spilled the orange juice on the couch and we had to turn over the pillow so nobody’d know.”

“Johnny…” Hunter groaned from behind them.

But Terese merely laughed again—both at the son giving away secrets and the father’s embarrassment. “You would never know by looking,” she assured, glancing at the gray tweed sofa that matched an over-stuffed easy chair.

They were positioned with an oak coffee table and a full wall of shelves and cabinets that, from what she could see, acted as an entertainment center, library and knickknack holder in front of them. Solid wood doors blocked the view of the contents of the lower cabinets.

“The kitchen’s this way,” Johnny said, heading through an open arch to the right of the living room.

It was a big country kitchen with an abundance of plain white cupboards and appliances and a large pedestal table with four barrel-backed chairs around it.

“This is where we eat—even at Christmas and stuff. My friend Mikey’s got another room where they eat on Christmas but we don’t.”

“That means there’s no formal dining room,” Hunter translated from where he’d stopped in the kitchen’s entrance.

“Ah,” Terese said.

“This is the mudroom,” Johnny informed her, pointing into the much smaller space that was off the kitchen. It contained a washer and dryer as well as a shelf with coat hooks and a bench beneath it. “My dad says it was named for me because I’m always comin’ in muddy and I need to take off my shoes in there before I track it everywhere else.”

“Good idea,” Terese confirmed.

“So if you get muddy feet, you can do that, too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Now we can go upstairs,” Johnny announced.

Terese followed him back into the living room, casting Hunter a faint smile when she glanced back to see if he was coming, too.

But he didn’t catch the smile because his eyes were too low. In fact, she thought they might have been on her rear end.

Had Hunter Coltrane been checking out her derriere?

She must have been mistaken, she told herself. But even so, she couldn’t help the little rush that went through her.

A little rush she tried to ignore.

They returned to the stairs Johnny had run down earlier and went up to the second floor.

“That’s the bathroom over there. Always knock first,” Johnny said, adding his advice by rote. Next he held one arm straight out and pointed a miniature index finger at another door. “That’s the guest bedroom for when somebody has a sleepover but doesn’t stay in the cabin.” The index finger moved slightly. “That’s my dad’s room.” Another move of the index finger. “And this one is mine!”

Terese couldn’t see into the guest bedroom because the door was closed, but she did catch a glimpse of a tall antique bureau and a king-size bed with a fluffy brown comforter in the room Johnny had said belonged to his father.

There was no time for more than that glimpse, though, as her nephew charged into his own room, clearly intending her to go with him.

“Come on, I’ll get the book for you to read.”

Terese went into the toy-cluttered room, but as she did, she once more cast a glance to Hunter. “You’re sure you don’t mind my doing the honors?” she asked, wanting to make sure she wasn’t stepping on any toes.

“It’s okay,” Hunter assured, leaning a single shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t say any more to Terese but aimed his attention at his son once again. “The necktie has to come off for bed.”

The little boy obeyed without an argument, brought the tie to his father and then situated himself to one side of the bed so Terese could sit on the mattress beside him.

“Green Eggs and Ham,” Johnny said when he handed the chosen book to her. “My dad is tired of it but maybe you’re not.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever read Green Eggs and Ham, so it will be a treat for me.”

Reading to him was a treat for her, but the book itself had little to do with it. Just the fact that Terese was sitting there with her nephew, participating in his bedtime routine, was something more special to her than either Johnny or his father could know.

She was sorry when she reached the last page.

As she closed the book, the little boy slid under the covers and said, “You’ll be here tomorrow, right?”

“I will be,” Terese confirmed.

“We gots ranch work to do but I’m gonna show you our barn and our barn cat and all the stuff outside that I couldn’t show you in the dark.”

“I’d like that.”

She also would have liked to bend over and give him a good-night kiss on the cheek or the forehead, but, as with the urge to hug him earlier, she resisted. Instead she said, “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” and traded places with Hunter to stand at the doorway while he tucked Johnny in, roughed up his hair and gave him the good-night kiss she hadn’t been able to.

“Sleep tight, big guy,” Hunter said once the ritual was accomplished.

“Sleep tight,” Johnny answered, already sounding groggy.

Hunter switched on a small bedside lamp and then joined Terese at the door, turning off the overhead light.

She stepped aside to allow him to go out into the hall but once he had she couldn’t keep herself from craning around the doorjamb for one more look at her nephew.

A wealth of emotions swelled in her and she had an odd feeling that he might once again disappear from her life if she left him behind.

But of course that was silly. She knew she was going to see the little boy again the next day. Reminding herself of that finally made her able to tear herself away from the door.

Once she had, Hunter motioned toward the stairs without saying anything and waited for Terese to precede him.

Not until they were at the foot of the steps did he say, “So that’s our boy.”

Our boy. That pleased Terese. “I wasn’t sure if he knew exactly who I was,” she said then, recalling her introduction to her nephew.

“I didn’t go into the details,” Hunter answered, explaining what he had told Johnny about her.

She didn’t mind her nephew thinking of her as only a friend of the family so as not to confuse him and she let his father know that.

“This way,” Hunter said in conclusion, “he’s just happy to have company.”

There didn’t seem to be any more to say on that subject so Terese felt free to voice the other question she’d been anxious to ask. “What about the blood test? Does he have hemophilia?”

Hunter nodded. “’Fraid so. But now that we know, we can deal with it.”

“Which is why you didn’t want him running down the stairs,” Terese guessed.

“Mmm. I’m probably being overly cautious right now because this episode last week kind of shook me, but yes, he needs to be more careful than most kids since it’s so easy for the bleeding to get out of control if he’s hurt.”

“Well, at least now you know where you can get him a refill,” Terese joked.

Hunter had been very quiet since her arrival but that comment garnered her a smile. A warm smile that softened his features and made her stomach flutter.

Hunter seemed to realize they were still standing at the foot of the steps and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? Or shall I just show you the cabin?”

It hadn’t struck Terese until then that Hunter was hanging back, making her visit only for his son and not participating any more himself than was absolutely necessary. Now that she realized it, she figured he’d prefer showing her where she’d be staying rather than having to socialize with her.

Which was probably how it should have been anyway, she told herself through the wave of disappointment she knew was totally inappropriate.

So, again thinking to give him what she assumed he wanted, she said, “I’m fine. I mean I don’t need anything to eat or drink. You can just show me the cabin.”

He didn’t argue. He just picked up her suitcase and led her out the back door.

Terese paused a moment to look around when she got outside. An industrial-sized light on the barn illuminated the entire area.

The grounds were divided into the plain dirt patch and fenced-in paddock that were immediately in front and to the side of the barn, and a small, grassy yard like any suburban backyard. There was a jungle gym waiting to be played on beneath a tall oak tree, a brick patio complete with a barbecue, several trucks and toys here and there, and, about eight or nine feet off the south side of the house, there was, indeed, a log cabin.

“The cabin was the first house here,” Hunter informed her as he led her down the brick path that connected it to what was now the main house. “My great-great-great-grandfather built it when he bought the land and he and my great-great-great-grandmother and their three kids lived in it their whole lives. There’ve been a few amenities added over the years—you have heat and electricity and plumbing now—but most of it is original and rustic. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’m afraid.”

The door was unlocked when they reached the cabin and Hunter opened it and flipped a switch that flooded the space with light. Then he waited for Terese to go in ahead of him and followed her in just enough to set her suitcase down.

He hadn’t been joking about it being rustic. The walls were log and mortar and it was a single open space that, while not cramped for one person, was impossible to imagine for five.

But there was a four-poster double bed, a dresser, an easy chair and a television, a café-sized table with two chairs, and a black woodburning stove that had probably been the only source of heat for the place originally.

“It’s rustic but nice,” Terese said, meaning it.

“The bathroom is through that door over there,” he said then, pointing it out. “There are some mugs and tea bags and cocoa and instant coffee. You can heat water in that microwave over there if you want any of that. But there’s no kitchen otherwise. I leave the mudroom door open, though, so you can raid the fridge even in the middle of the night if you get hungry. Otherwise, we’ll be eatin’ regular meals together.”

“I don’t usually raid the refrigerator at night, anyway.”

“Wish I could say the same thing. Anyway, we usually have breakfast around eight but I’ll be up and about doin’chores long before that, so if you hear anything, don’t think there are burglars or something, and don’t feel as if you can’t stay in bed a while longer. I’m usually up before dawn but Johnny’ll be sleepin’ later than that.”

“Before dawn? Really?”

“Rancher’s hours. It isn’t so bad. You get used to it,” he said. “So, anything else I can do for you or get you?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“All right, then.” Hunter took two steps to get back out the door and Terese went to the threshold behind him.

“I want you to know how grateful I am for this,” she said, not wanting him to get away without telling him that. “When I didn’t hear from you until Friday, I thought you might have had second thoughts.”

“I did do some thinking before I made the call,” he admitted with a half smile that was a little guilty and only more charming because of it.

“But you let me come, anyway,” Terese said, wondering where the almost flirtatious tone had come from when she hadn’t intended it.

“I think it’ll be okay.”

“I’ll do my best to make it okay. I know this can’t be something you’ve dreamed of.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said more to himself than to her.

Terese had no idea what that meant and didn’t feel as if she could question him about it. And since he didn’t offer an explanation, she continued with what she’d wanted to say. “I’ll be really careful not to overstep my bounds. I don’t have any illusions about being a part of your family and I know Johnny is your son.”

“I appreciate that,” Hunter said, his topaz eyes meeting hers.

“He seems like a great kid, though,” she said then.

“He is a great kid. But a pistol, in case you missed that.”

“I didn’t,” Terese said with a laugh. “It’s part of what I liked.”

“Me, too,” Hunter confided.

Something about that confidence gave Terese a sense that that hanging back he’d been doing was over, that they’d just shared something that broke down a wall of some kind. And she was glad.

Even though, as a result, her mind started to wander in a direction all its own and she began to compare this moment with Hunter at the door to the end of a date.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast, then,” he said after a moment.

“I expect to do my share so don’t think you need to cook for me or anything,” Terese said.

“I’ll be cookin’ one way or another. But maybe you could take a turn of your own,” he suggested with a hint of mischief to his tone.

Terese guessed what was on his mind. “You think I can’t, don’t you?”

He shrugged one broad shoulder and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. “Can you?”

“Maybe you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Oh, more of the flirting. What was she doing?

“Maybe I’ll just have to,” he countered. And unless she was mistaken, there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice, too.

But then he seemed to catch himself because he drew back almost imperceptibly and took another step away from the cabin door.

“I’ll let you get settled in,” he said.

Terese nodded. “Good night.”

“’Night,” he answered, turning on his heels and heading for the house.

But even though that hanging-back thing he’d been doing earlier had returned at the last minute, Terese was still fighting those images of this as the end of a date.

The end of a date when a kiss might have been possible…

A kiss from Hunter?

Even thinking about that was out of those bounds she’d just told him she would stay in.

But out of bounds or not, that was exactly what she was thinking about as she finally closed the cabin door.

Three

The next morning at eight o’clock on the dot Terese left the cabin. She’d been up for more than an hour by then, showered, shampooed her hair and braided it into a thick plait down her back. She’d dressed in one of the three pairs of jeans she’d bought for this visit—not the trouser-cut jeans she ordinarily wore, but the five-pocket kind—and a red turtleneck, also purchased when she’d shopped cluelessly for what to wear on a ranch.

She’d debated about going over to the house before eight to see if she could help prepare breakfast. But since her host had said eight, she’d thought that maybe he hadn’t wanted her there before that and had refrained. That didn’t change the fact that she was eager to get back to Johnny. And Hunter—although she really, really tried to keep the Hunter part of that at bay.

It was just that her mind kept replaying the end of last evening, and every time it did, eagerness to see him again slipped under her radar.

So as she walked along the brick path to the house, she once more reminded herself that this visit was about the opportunity for her to connect with Johnny. Hunter was nothing more than incidental to that goal.

Incidental or not, when Terese knocked on the mudroom door and a woman her own age opened it, a pang of something very unpleasant shot through her.

“You must be Terese,” the woman said warmly, pushing open the screen as if she were letting Terese into her own home. “I’m Carla.”

Carla.

Who was Carla?

“Hi,” Terese said, stepping inside as the wheels of her mind began to spin with questions not only about Carla’s identity, but whether she had been the reason Hunter had seemed eager to end the previous evening as soon as Johnny was in bed. Had Carla been due to come over afterward and spend the night?

Terese told herself that none of that was her business. Hunter Coltrane was a grown man—an amazingly handsome, masculine, sexy and no doubt virile grown man—and there was no reason he couldn’t or shouldn’t have female companionship. He was, after all, single and available.

She also told herself that there was no reason for her to feel so awkward suddenly about being there herself because nothing about her visit had changed just because there was now a Carla.

But she felt terribly awkward, anyway.

“’Mornin’,” Hunter called from the kitchen.

Terese would have liked to turn tail and run back to the cabin to hide until she could regain her equilibrium. Unable to do that, she forced a cheery face and followed Carla into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, answering Hunter’s greeting and wishing she could blend into the wallpaper.

“You don’t ever have to knock, you know,” he informed her. “Just go ahead and let yourself in. Anytime.”

Terese nodded, looking around the big country kitchen for Johnny. But he wasn’t there. It was only Hunter setting three places at the table and Carla, who had moved to the coffeepot.

“Can I get you a cup?” the other woman asked Terese, again as if she were right at home.

“Yes. Thank you,” Terese answered somewhat stiffly, taking in the sight of the pretty brunette with the dark eyes and flawless skin and a bust size Terese couldn’t even come close to measuring up to.

“How’d you sleep?” Hunter asked her then, apparently feeling no inclination to explain Carla’s presence.

The first thing that popped into Terese’s mind was that she’d probably gotten a whole lot more sleep than these two had. But all she said was, “Fine. That’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hunter said.

“Where’s Johnny?” she asked then, hoping she would feel less like a third wheel if her nephew would appear.

It was Carla who answered her question, though, by hollering for the boy as if it were something she did regularly. Then, handing Terese a mug of steaming coffee, she said, “He’ll be right down. Sugar and cream are over there.”

This was silly, Terese lectured herself as she took her coffee cup to the kitchen table that Hunter had set and had now left to go to the stove. She hadn’t come here with designs on Hunter Coltrane. She hadn’t come here with any illusions that they would form any kind of relationship that didn’t revolve solely around Johnny. So what if Hunter had a girlfriend or a significant other or whatever Carla was? Why should it make her feel so uncomfortable? So weird? So…

Jealous? Was she feeling jealous? That couldn’t be….

The mud room door opened again just then and Terese turned in that direction, wondering why Carla had aimed for the upstairs when she’d called Johnny if the little boy was coming in from outside somewhere.

But it wasn’t Johnny who joined them a moment later. It was a tall man with coal-black hair and a bushy mustache.

“Where’s my coffee, woman?” he demanded playfully of Carla, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up against his side.

“I’m pouring it right now. Behave yourself,” Carla chastised, nodding toward Terese before she said, “This is Terese. Terese, this is my Willy.”

“Willy works the ranch with me,” Hunter explained then. “Carla comes over when she has a little time on her hands and helps out with things around the house.”

Never had Terese felt the kind of relief she did at that moment.

“It’s nice to meet you, Willy,” she said, her cheeriness genuine this time. And probably out of proportion to the simple introduction of the ranch hand.

“John Paul Coltrane, get yourself down here now,” Hunter called in a booming voice as he set a platter laden with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages on the table.

“He’s doing something with his hair to look nice for Terese,” Carla confided.

Hunter grimaced. “Not that slicking up the front with soap again?”

“I think so.”

“He did that last night, too.”

“Well, I’m going up to clean the bathroom and I’ll send him down,” Carla said. Then, as she headed out of the kitchen, she added, “If I don’t see you again before I leave, Terese, it was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Terese said with more enthusiasm now that she knew the other woman wasn’t Hunter’s girlfriend.

“I’m headin’ out again, too. I’ll take this coffee to the barn with me,” Willy added, retracing his steps through the mudroom.

And suddenly the whirlwind that Terese had walked in on had passed and she was alone with Hunter.

And much happier than she’d been moments earlier.

Of course Hunter was oblivious to the turmoil she’d just induced in herself, and he merely motioned toward one of the barrel-backed chairs for her to sit down.