“Is Dad dying?” Trey faced the group of tired, dirty, fire-battling friends and family just before dawn, and the sadness in his eyes tugged Angelina’s heart.
She chose her words with care. “Not from yesterday’s issues. It seems the cracked lower rib resplit and punctured his lung. That’s what caused him to need intervention. They’re confident they’ve got that fixed, aren’t they, Nick?”
Nick took a swallow of coffee and stood, cradling his mug. “Yes. But he needs to rest more to let the bones heal, and he’s not the greatest patient in the world.”
“Amen to that,” mumbled Hobbs. “Ornery old coot is what he is, just like me. I ain’t fixin’ to go to my own reward yet, so I’m not keen on seein’ Sam go neither. Bones heal, sure as shootin’. It’s this liver thing that’s got me wakin’ up, prayin’.”
“I noticed the yellow tinge to his skin,” Trey said. “What are they doing about it?”
Nick turned to Angelina. “Can you fill him in so I don’t sound stupid?”
Colt snorted, Trey grinned, and Nick almost smiled. Hobbs and McMurty settled back to hear the scoop.
“He’s got liver cirrhosis caused by hepatitis C and too much drinking back in the day.”
Murt shot a guilty look to Hobbs. Hobbs ducked his head, and she knew why. Sam had told her that he and the guys had gotten wasted many times when the boys were small.
“They’ve tried to arrest the progress of the disease, and that’s key,” Angelina went on. “If they can, he should do all right.”
“If they can’t?” Trey asked.
She didn’t mince words. “He’ll die without a liver transplant.”
“But we’re nowhere near that, are we, Ange?” Nick set down his coffee mug and tugged on his gloves, a signal to everyone that there was work to be done, sleep or no sleep. Last night’s wind hadn’t brought much rain, which had meant greater disaster to the town, but possibly less harm to the ranchers. Colt grabbed his gear while Angelina continued.
“I think we’re closer than we’ve believed the last couple of months.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “If it’s not reversing itself or being stopped by their intervention, then there’s no choice. Maybe the broken ribs are making liver healing harder or vice versa, but from the way he’s been the past few weeks, I think there’ll be some big decisions coming soon.”
“Do they have him on a transplant list?” Trey asked. Standing with his brothers he didn’t look much like Nick and Colt, but the strong jaw and steady gaze were similar. He might not be a biological sibling, but he couldn’t escape the Stafford blood.
“Not yet.” Angelina finished her coffee and stood as well. “But my guess is they will. When do you have to go back, Trey?”
He looked unhappy. “Tonight. I have two more winter tour dates. Then I’m done until next winter.”
“No summer tour?” Nick asked. He shook his head. “I needed a break.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be cutting an album?” Murt asked. “Annie read it in the weekly, and she was all excited about a new Trey Walker thingamabobber.”
“Do they still call them albums?” Colt asked as he grabbed his hat. “Even though they’re MP3s or CDs?”
“They do,” Trey said. “And there are lots of folks out there who still think a 33⅓ vinyl outranks a CD anytime, anywhere.”
“And they’re the kind who probably don’t appreciate microwave ovens,” Angelina remarked, throwing them a wry look. “Let me know if you guys decide to end your work day early in order to catch some sleep. I can have a midday meal ready.”
“Sleepin’ in the saddle sounds ’bout right, right now,” joked Hobbs. Then his expression turned serious. “You know, dealin’ with that fire last night near broke my heart. My mama had me baptized in that stone church. But seein’ you two”—he looked at Angelina and Colt—“haul them babies out of that burnin’ house…” His voice caught as he fought back emotion. “Seein’ kids like Brendan right there in the thick of things doin’ whatever he was told, then comin’ here to the big house where ‘our’ kids slept safe helped me. It give me a hope I haven’t had in a lot of years. Not lackin’ in God. My hope there’s done okay. But in us. In Gray’s Glen. And that felt mighty good.”
“Shut up, old man.” Murt gave Hobbs a horrified look and a gentle shove toward the door. “You’ll have us all kabobbin’ like a clutch of old hens with your talk of hope and crap like that. Let’s get to work.”
“I think it’s sweet,” said Angelina. “I think you’re right, Hobbs. It’s time we all worked together to make Gray’s Glen the town it should be.”
She felt Colt’s eyes on her but didn’t dare look at him. They’d turned some kind of corner last night, saving little lives, working together, sharing kisses on the run. She could still feel the grip of his fingers, strong and steady, wrapped around her palm, holding firm. The warmth of his embrace, the texture of his mouth touching hers. So perfect. So…
And when Colt didn’t follow the other men out the door, when he rounded that breakfast bar, slipped an arm around her waist, and drew her in for a sweet, long kiss good-bye, she didn’t think at all. How could she when the pressure of his mouth and the safety of his strong arms made her feel delightfully whole and fairly invincible?
“I’ll be back.” He whispered the words, his forehead to hers, his voice husky. Touched by Hobbs’s words perhaps. Or lack of sleep and smoke inhalation and amazing kisses…and then Hobbs’s words.
He left her with one last, lingering kiss to her temple, so tender and good it left her weak kneed. After the door shut firm behind him, she walked into the front room, sat, and hugged a pillow to her chest.
“Now I see through a glass, darkly…”
But what did she see? And who could she trust? Ethan had left her and their son without a backward glance. She’d lost her dad not long after. Her mother’s longing to go back to Seattle seemed in sync with the department’s invitation to welcome her back. So why let things get convoluted? Wasn’t simple better? Safer? Because she’d gone through the whole broken-heart thing and had no reason to repeat the debacle.
“Fear not,” Isaiah proclaimed often. She’d believed that when she accepted the badge of a policewoman—until life turned upside down.
The rooster’s crow heralded the approaching dawn. The big white Aracauna cross didn’t like strong winds. He’d cowered in his chicken house, waiting for the air to mellow, and now it had.
Footsteps sounded upstairs.
She sighed, tucked away troublesome thoughts, and returned to the kitchen. According to the latest reports, there would be no school again, probably for days. The town was blacked out, and the middle school would be a shelter until at least Wednesday. That meant more time with Nick’s girls and Rye’s brother and sister. Later in the day she’d take the long way around to the hospital. Sam would be chafing, wanting an update, wanting to come home. From the looks of the men, not one of them would be allowed through a hospital door until they’d showered and shaved and put on clean clothes.
She needed to talk to Sam alone anyway. He might be contentious and tough with others, but he’d taken good care of her and her family over the last two years. He’d become like a second father to her, and she’d tried to bless him in kind, but the stark truth had been cemented when Colt kissed her a little while ago—she couldn’t possibly stay here once Colt left for New York. Not when every corner and crevice would remind her of Sam’s oldest son and what couldn’t be.
Maybe her plan for a new start back in Seattle was exactly what she needed.
“Any wind damage on the west face?” Nick asked as Colt and Hobbs rode up alongside him.
“Shed’s gone.” Hobbs snorted. “The wind mighta done us a favor on that one. Nice insurance claim for an eyesore building past its prime.”
“That’s it? The west barn and yards are fine?”
“Whoever thought to put the stockyard on the east side of the barn deserves a raise,” said Colt. “The young seed bulls huddled up, and the barn broke the wind. They didn’t seem spooked at all.”
“Murt’s idea when we re-fenced.” Nick gave the mottled cattle dog a quick whistle. BeeBee darted around the far cows’ legs until they went Nick’s way. “It wouldn’t have worked so well in the open, but on the windward side of the hill it makes perfect sense.”
“We’ve got over three hundred market calves to deliver yet.” Colt backed Yesterday’s News out of the way. “What are the chances of cutting me loose in a week to help rebuild the town?”
Nick, Hobbs, and Murt exchanged looks. “Once we’ve dropped most of ’em, I think we’d be fine,” Murt said. “You got the urge to get handy?”
“I want to help.”
Nick sharpened his expression. “You remember how to drive a nail? Because I don’t expect you’ve practiced in a while.”
“Like riding a bike. Or a horse.” Colt urged Yesterday’s News up the hill. “Let’s get these gals moved. When we’re done I’ll ask in town when they expect to begin demolition and cleanup.”
“Rye said not till all the smolderin’s done,” Hobbs said. “So likely a few days. But maybe we could get a town meeting together and talk about what’s what.”
Colt looked at Hobbs. “What do you mean?”
“Three of them properties that burned were Stafford owned. Your dad bought up half a dozen places on Chelan Pass a bunch of years back. With him being sick and all, he might not want to rebuild.”
“Why wouldn’t he want to rebuild?” Colt asked. “Where would those people go if he doesn’t?”
When Hobbs looked anywhere but at him, Colt understood. “Because cold, hard insurance cash is more bottom-line friendly than rebuilding so people can get back into their homes.”
“I ain’t sayin’ he wouldn’t help. I’m just sayin’ that might make a difference.”
Hobbs was right. Hadn’t Colt made plenty of decisions the past nine years based on bottom line alone? He hadn’t bothered with neighborhood pleas, employees’ hard-luck stories, or outcries on Facebook. He’d forged ahead doing what needed to be done to maintain the financial integrity of his investors’ holdings.
He couldn’t hate his father for the very sin that felled the son. But Colt was determined to support the town with or without Sam’s financial assistance. On top of that, he didn’t intend to waste a whole lot of time sitting around a conference room talking about it. Staffords didn’t talk a thing to death. They acted. And right now, that was a good quality for the father to have passed on to his son.
“I can’t die yet.” Sam sat more upright as Angelina walked through the door to his hospital room that midafternoon. “There’s too much to do. What a stupid, bad time to get kicked around by a cow. And now the town’s in a ruckus, nearly burnt down—” He glared at her as if waiting for her to appease him.
She sat down next to him, took his hand, and bowed her head.
He sighed, impatient.
She squeezed his hand, and not all that gently either. “Knock it off. Listen to your heart, your faith, and your body.”
“My heart says I’m running out of time, my faith’s on an unpaved road, and my body’s pretty well shot,” he retorted.
“Ay yi yi.” She looked skyward as if seeking celestial intervention. “Has it occurred to you that God may have given you an amazing opportunity to help others in the form of this natural disaster?”
He rested against his pillows, considering her words.
“Your sons have gathered around you for the first time in almost a decade. They want to help you. And now the town’s been grievously hurt. Maybe God’s message is for you to sit back, heal, and let the younger generation rise to the occasion.”
“I don’t like sitting around doing nothing.”
“That’s apparent by the fact that you managed to pop a rib loose and deflate a lung. How do you expect your liver to heal if you can’t breathe?” she asked practically. “Last I looked, oxygen was a requirement. Not a choice.”
He sighed. “I know you’re right. But I want to be home. All three of my boys are here. That’s been a long time coming.”
“Trey has to leave tonight.”
Sam’s face fell, and the true emotion of the moment made her soften. “But he’s coming by to see you—”
“In case I kick the bucket while he’s gone,” mumbled Sam, aggravated.
“He’s coming to see how you’re doing,” she corrected and took his hand into hers again. “He told me that you sent him off to help last night. How you insisted you’d be fine.”
“I figured the town might need another strong back and pair of hands.”
“You were kind and generous and right.” Her assurance seemed to calm him. “He’s coming to say good-bye and to tell you he’ll return for a longer visit when his winter concert tour is over.”
“You think he will?”
“I know he will,” she said. “He said so, and he’s a man of his word. And really nice, by the way.”
“Maybe too nice.”
She shook her head. “There’s no such thing, Sam.”
“He hung in longer than he should have when his wife started using drugs again. Some things refuse to be fixed. I saw it with his mother and his father and others along the way. Sometimes you have to know when to cut loose.”
“A smart guy like you knows that addictions wear on the head, the heart, the health, and the soul. There’s nothing easy about overcoming them. You did some heavy drinking in your time. In light of your current circumstances, I would think you’d have more empathy.”
“Drinking was bad enough. Drugs?” He shook his head. “I never understood the risk. A person with half a brain could see the danger involved, so why do it?”
“Temptation comes in many forms.” She tightened her grip on his hand because she needed to broach a different topic he wouldn’t like. “You know I’ve gotten an offer from Seattle. I wanted you to know I’m seriously considering it.”
“You really want to leave?” Sam’s surprise was followed by concern. “Why? Is it money? Because I can pay you more. I’ll match whatever they’re offering. We need you here, Angelina.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I need you here.”
She knew this would be hard, but she hadn’t realized her heart would actually ache. “I loved my job on the force. I excelled at it, like my father before me.”
“I get that part,” said Sam. Reluctance deepened his tone. “But you’re good on the ranch too, Angelina. And that’s not a given around here.”
“I also love being on the ranch,” she said, “overseeing things, bossing around a bunch of somewhat clueless cowboys. And I love living here. It’s got to be one of the beautiful spots on earth, Sam.”
That earned her a slight smile.
“But it’s not what I was meant to do.” She sighed. “Responding to last night’s emergency made me realize that I worked hard to excel on the force because I wanted my dad to be proud of me.”
“And he was.”
“Yes. But I think if he were here now, he’d say, ‘Chica, what are you doing? Are you afraid to be who you are, who the good Lord meant you to be?’ ” She raised her eyes. “And he’d be right. I need to wear the badge again. I need to feel like I’m doing what God designed me to do. And I need to see to my mother’s happiness, to take her back to what she knows best. I’m all she has, and I can’t send her back alone, away from her only grandchild. That would be wrong.” She paused. “I won’t leave for a while. I’m going to see you through this sickness.”
“No need, I’ll be fine.”
Disappointment shadowed his face. Gruff, he pulled his hand away, but Angelina wasn’t ready to let him slip back into the dark den of anger he’d called home for so long. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, stubborn as one of those yearling bulls on the ranch.
“Get all mad and pull away from people. Isn’t that what got you into so much trouble with your sons? Each time one of them needed to get away, you made them pay.”
“I never claimed to be easygoing.” Sam squared his shoulders, then stopped when the gesture caused more pain. “Easygoing doesn’t build a legacy like the Double S, and it doesn’t put food on the table.”
“But it can help foster good family relationships.” She reached out and hugged him, ignoring his grumpy demeanor. “I love you, Sam. I love the Double S. But there are other responsibilities calling me. You understand that. And I want your blessing.”
“You can’t just roll into people’s lives, change them up with all your talk of faith and hope, then leave them. That’s not how it’s done, Angelina.”
“But isn’t that the strength of faith?” she asked him. “To weather change because we believe? By faith we stand firm.”
“Tell that to a group of hungry cowboys at the end of a long, hard day when the kitchen’s empty and the oven’s cold,” he grumped. After a moment he reclaimed her hand. “You’re not rushing into this? You promise?”
“On my honor. But it wouldn’t be right to keep this to myself, because it affects a whole lot of things.”
“Darn right it does. I haven’t had to worry about much of anything other than cattle and horses since you came on board, and that hadn’t been the case for a lot of years. But there’s something else I’ve learned these past two years, a lesson I forgot a long time ago,” he said. “To put other people’s happiness ahead of my own. I forgot it with Christine, and then it was too late. For a long while I just didn’t care.”
“You care now, Sam.”
“Yes.”
She squeezed his hand lightly and stood. “I’ve got to get back. Mami is cooking dinner, but I want to help Cheyenne with schoolwork. She’s Stafford stubborn, that one. And there’s an emergency town meeting tonight.”
“So soon? Why?” Sam frowned. “Something’s not right.” His brows furrowed as he went into thinking mode. “Tell the boys we need to be there. If there are decisions to be made, we need to be in on the ground floor.”
“What’s the matter with you people that you think rest is unneeded? The whole town could use a good night’s sleep, that’s what I’m thinking. And I’m guessing if someone’s pushing for a quick meeting, it could be because they know you’re in the hospital and won’t be in attendance.”
“And three of those properties are part of Stafford holdings. You’ll give the boys my message?”
“I will.”
“One more thing,” he said. “What about Colt?”
“What about him?” She kept her eyes and voice void of emotion—no easy feat.
“A blind person can see—”
“Don’t go there, Sam,” she warned. “Off limits.”
Being a Stafford, of course he refused to listen. “I’ve seen the way Colt looks at you.” His words put her right back in Colt’s arms that morning. “What if God’s plans take you in that direction? Do you listen? Or still go?”
“Dulce María, madre de Dios, ¿Qué estás pensando?”
He answered smoothly, “What am I thinking? That my son has come home. He cares for you. What better way to spend the time I have left than seeing a son happy? That’s my dream, my goal right now. I want to see each one of my boys happy before I die. I think that means you need to stay.”
“Stop trying to micromanage everything and everyone, okay? Colt’s got no intention of staying, and I have no intention of being left behind ever again.” She stood, slung her purse over her shoulder, and bent over him. “Don’t give the nurses a hard time and don’t cough. Or sneeze. Or laugh. Let your ribs rest and mend.”
“You’ll come tomorrow to get me?”
“Yes. And Trey will stop tonight on the way to the airport. So take a nap now. That way you’ll be awake when he comes through.”
“You’re bossy.”
“Which is why we get along. See you tomorrow.”
“Angelina! Kittens!”
Nick’s youngest daughter should have looked guilty when she drew Angelina’s attention toward the barn an hour later. Her comfortable expression meant sneaking into the barn while her father was distracted was becoming a new and bad habit, because a first grader shouldn’t be creeping into a cattle barn alone. Angelina hurried across the stone yard and followed Dakota into the barn. “You know you’re not supposed to come in here without an adult.”
“Cheyenne does it.”
“That doesn’t make it okay, sweetums. That just makes you both naughty.”
Dakota looked up, her face imploring. “I had to follow Callie, Angelina, otherwise I wouldn’t find the babies. I love them so much. They’re so cute.” She squeezed her little hands as if unable to contain the glee, looking too sweet and innocent for anyone’s good.
It was true that the barn cats were evasive when it came to their kittens. If a nest went unfound, they’d have a slew of feral cats running around instead of being adopted by happy country families. In that way Dakota had done well. “Where did she have them?”
“Back here!”
She followed Dakota to the far west corner of the second barn, and when they tiptoed behind some stored equipment, she caught Dakota by the shoulder. “You know your way around here way too well, ’Kota. You’ve been sneaking into the barn way more than you let on, haven’t you?”
The girl sent a guilty look her way. Angelina bent lower. “This is no place for a kid to wander. There’s dangerous equipment everywhere, there are huge cows that aren’t exactly the most easygoing creatures when pregnant or protecting a newborn calf. Your grandfather is recovering from three broken ribs right now from one of those angry mamas, and he’s an experienced cattleman. What if something happens to you?”
“I don’t touch anything,” Dakota protested. “I just follow the kitties. And sometimes I pet a horse. Or a baby cow. But I never go in the pens.”
“You mustn’t do this.” Angelina settled a stern look on her. “I can’t keep you safe when you’re out of sight behind closed doors. If you want to come and see kittens or calves or this year’s foals, come get me. I’ll bring you, okay?”
“Sure.”
Her quick answer sounded like token appeasement. Who would watch this daredevil child if she left? Who would see the seriousness of her desires to learn the ways of the ranch? Not her father. He was steeped in denial.
“There are two calicos and one stripey and one orangey. I don’t know which one I want to keep, but I think the stripey is my first favorite.”
“Oh. They’re so very tiny.” Angelina leaned over the straw bale and peeked at the new babies. “How precious.”
“I know.” Dakota’s small hand clasped hers. “I’m always the happiest when I’m out here in the barn, Angelina. I wish I could stay here forever.”
“Dakota! Where’ve you gotten to?” Nick’s voice bellowed from the ranch yard adjacent to the house.
Dakota sighed, unhappy. “Good-bye, Callie. I’ll come see you and the babies soon.”
“But not without a grownup.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?” Angelina stooped low. “Because otherwise you won’t be able to stay at Grandpa’s.”
Dakota’s eyes went wide, distraught, and her sadness made Angelina want to give Nick Stafford a good shaking.
Dakota had a natural interest in farming and horse work, and the Double S was part of her future legacy. Sure, she was little, but both girls had a curiosity and affinity for the ranch. In the heart of central Washington, most kids were playing rope-’n’-ride as soon as they could walk.
“There you are.” Nick folded his arms as they exited the barn. “What were you doing in there?”
“Looking at kittens.” She whispered the words in a sweet, tiny voice.
“She had them?” He turned his attention to Angelina as Colt approached on horseback.
“Four of them,” Angelina said.
“I wanted to pick mine. You did promise us, Daddy.”
He sighed, defeated. “I suppose it’s fine as long as you girls take care of it.”
“Them.”
“Them? What ‘them’?” he asked as Colt swung down from his horse.
“You promised we could each pick one,” Dakota said. She folded her arms to mimic his stance. “You remember, right?”
“I remember being hoodwinked. I don’t recall agreeing.”
“Well, it’s the right thing to do,” she said, very serious. “Unless you get me a horse, Daddy. Then Cheyenne can have the kitten.”
“Nice ploy, kid.” Colt reached down and bumped knuckles with her, then lifted his eyes to Angelina’s, and there was no missing his spark of interest. “Care to show me the kittens, Ange?”
“I expect you’re too tired for kittens right now.” She stepped around the two men and the horse. “We need to make the town meeting tonight, so I’m going to help Mami get an early dinner on the table.”
“I got your text about that,” Cole said as he loosened the saddle on the big chestnut gelding. He withdrew the saddle, settled it on the fence rail, and turned back to the horse. For just a moment he stood there, alongside his mount, chin down, as though he and Yesterday’s News were having a silent heart-to-heart. “Although why they’re meeting so quick is anybody’s guess.” He drew the reins forward and led the horse into the paddock as he spoke.
“We go together,” Nick said. “If Isabo doesn’t mind having the girls here. I want to see what the rush is when the ground is still smoking.”
“Your father is wondering the same thing and asked if you would both be there. As for watching the girls, I’ll check with Mami, but I’m sure it’s no problem. She’s enjoying their company tremendously.”
“There’s Stafford land involved and Dad in the hospital. How often do you get an opportunity like that?” Colt’s tone suggested there might be other agendas afoot.
“My guess is someone’s hoping we’re too busy to take notice,” Nick said. “It’s the perfect time to take advantage of our father when he’s too sick to stand his ground. So we’ll stand it for him,” he added. “I told Hobbs he didn’t have to go. He’s fine with sleeping now and taking the next watch on the mothers. Murt and Brock will help too, and Murt said Joe can sign on full time for the season. Then we can sleep tonight after the meeting.”
“I’ll go get cleaned up,” Colt said. “Nobody wants me at a meeting smelling the way I do. With the power still out in town, you and the girls will stay here tonight, won’t you?”
“Yep. Plan to.” Nick reached down and clasped Dakota’s hand. “But I’ll have to remind Isabo that these girls like to sneak into the barn.”
Guilt kept Dakota’s eyes averted.
“Maybe Brock can show Cheyenne and Noah the kittens,” Colt said.
“You think he would?” Dakota turned toward Colt and her face lit up. “After supper?”
“If he can’t, don’t go in there alone,” Nick warned. “You understand me, Dakota Mary Stafford?”
“Yes sir.”
Angelina flinched inside. She could rat the kid out, but her father already knew she’d adopted her sister’s covert missions as her own. Surely he knew that was partially his fault for making everything off limits.
Dakota raced ahead, her excitement an example of everything good about raising kids on a ranch. Rebirth, industry, fruit of the land, and the labor of human hands. So much of what was proclaimed in the Bible came from farmers and fishermen. Buying food from sterile modern grocery stores tended to distance people from the source.
Colt caught her hand. She turned, surprised. He held a clutch of white phlox, just beginning to open. “I found these on the south slope where they kind of appeared overnight, so I tucked a few in my bag. These little guys like sun but they don’t mind some shade, and they’re not fussy about dirt. I thought you’d like them.”
She didn’t just like the clutch of baby blooms in her hand. She loved them. The thought of the wildflower beds ready to blossom reminded her of running the creek banks as a child. She held the miniature bouquet, the softer spring breeze gently ruffling them. When she didn’t say anything for long moments, Colt rocked back on his heels. “Stupid, right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and as he started to take a step back, she shook her head and raised her eyes to his. “Not stupid. Beautiful.”
He noted the sheen of moisture in her eyes right off.
Colt might be able to handle a bunch of lying, cheating, conniving, suit-wearing Wall Street types, but he couldn’t handle a woman’s tears. Avoiding them made it worth staying single all these years, but when it was Angelina with damp eyes, he didn’t have the urge to run and hide until the tears passed.
Instead he just wanted to make things better. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” She swiped a hand to her cheeks, one at a time, and laughed through her tears. “I never cry.”
“I can tell.”
“I don’t,” she said, and he knew she was winning the battle by the increased authority in her voice. “Unless it’s a really good old movie I’ve seen a dozen times. In which case, all bets are off.”
“You like them.” He indicated the spring blossoms.
“I love them. I used to run the creek slope behind our house when I was young. I’d pick these for my mother, and every year she acted thrilled and surprised when I’d show up with a fistful of little white phlox.” She brought the bouquet up to her face and breathed. The sight of her long dark hair, the white collar of her turtleneck sweater, and the bouquet of white flowers made him think of weddings and pretty music and a beautiful bride, images he’d never entertained before. But he envisioned them now, watching Angelina.
Maybe Murt was right. Maybe he’d been brought here for something that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with life. But that frame of mind would mean a full one-eighty change of direction. Was he ready for that? Would he ever be ready for that? He wasn’t sure, but with Angelina standing before him, the thought of staying seemed downright nice. “You’re beautiful.”
She flushed. Looked down.
He reached out and brought her chin up. “So beautiful.”
“Colt…”
He should kiss her again. He was aching to do just that, but the harmony of voices from the kitchen meant supper was being laid out. “I’m heading up to shower. We can revisit this later.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she did look intrigued. He’d take that as a partial victory. He reached behind her and opened the door. When she walked in holding a bouquet of upland phlox, Nick, Murt, Brock, and Isabo exchanged glances. They all knew she didn’t find them growing in the yard. Which meant someone brought them to her.
She said nothing, but as she crossed the room to get a small vase, she hummed softly.
Isabo kept her eyes averted, pretending nonchalance. The men exchanged quick looks. Nick’s jaw went tight—remembering, maybe, when things with Whitney were good?
Colt didn’t know.
But when Angelina put the small round vase of white flowers on the shelf above the sink, the glow of the white blooms against the red-checked curtains brought him hope for more simple joys to come.