Ms. Parks’s left eyebrow lifted almost to her hairline. “This was in public school, I imagine?”
“Yep.” Jen held the loaded spoon out to Meg. “There’s a lot more to learn in public school than just academics.” She waited as Meg took the spoon and placed it gingerly in her mouth. “I learned that lunchroom ladies are moms, sisters and daughters, too. That most teachers care about other people’s children as if they were their own. And that some kids you’d never thought you’d like can end up being the best friends you ever had.”
Margaret’s mouth curved up and she said, “Wis is uh beft swuff evah.”
“Margaret,” Ms. Parks gasped. “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”
“Buh i’ is,” Margaret said, lifting the spoon in an obvious request for more.
Colt laughed, picked up his spoon and held it out, as well. The deep rumble tingled over Jen’s skin, dancing in her chest and bringing a wet sheen to her eyes. She blinked rapidly, filled both their spoons, then her own, and even offered one to Ms. Parks.
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on,” Jen teased. “Just try it.”
Surprisingly, she did. The sound of pleasure that followed indicated she approved.
The next few minutes passed in companionable silence as they assembled sandwiches and filled their bellies. Colt ate three, and when Margaret asked for a second one, he put his half-eaten fourth sandwich aside to make her another.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking the sandwich from him with a gooey, crumb-laden smile.
“You’re welcome.” Colt’s grin couldn’t get any wider.
Jen sneaked her napkin to her cheek and wiped her eyes before anyone noticed. Such a foolish thing to do—tearing up like a baby when Colt and Margaret were the ones who needed a good cry.
“All right, Margaret,” Ms. Parks said, standing. “It’s time for homework then bed.”
“But I want another—”
“You’ve had two and that’s quite enough for a little girl.” She ushered Margaret from her chair.
“If she wants to stay and have another sandwich, she can.” Colt’s tone hardened as he watched Margaret trudge slowly across the room.
“It’s up to you, of course,” Ms. Parks said. “But considering the long day she’ll have tomorrow, I think it’s best that she get a good night’s rest. Don’t you?”
Colt’s expression fell at the reminder of the funerals. He nodded.
Ms. Parks waited until Margaret was out of earshot, then said, “I understand what you’re both trying to do and no one appreciates it more than me. That’s the first genuine smile Margaret’s had in ages.” She bit her lip and lowered her voice. “I’m paid to supervise and advise Margaret. Not love her. But I do. And I can’t, in any good conscience, step aside and allow you to fill her heart with hopes of things that will never happen.”
“I have every right to visit Margaret,” Colt said. “I’m her brother.”
“In name only.” Ms. Parks fidgeted. “Forgive me, but I wasn’t under the impression that you planned to stay.”
Colt released a ragged breath, his eyes dropping.
“Please understand,” Ms. Parks continued. “None of what you’re teaching Margaret right now will do her any good in the life she’ll soon lead. It will only be a disservice to her. As I’m sure you already know.” She hesitated, then whispered on her departure, “I’m sorry, Mr. Mead. I truly am.”
Colt dragged his hand over his face then slid his palm around to knead the back of his neck. “I think it’s time to call it a day.”
His voice sounded strange. Heavy and unfamiliar, as though it belonged to a different man.
“Colt.” Jen wrapped her fingers gently around his forearm. “I’m here if you want to talk. It might help if—”
“I’m tired.” He pulled away and stood, tossing his napkin on the table. “Good night.”
He ambled out, his steps slow and defeated.
Wet heat streaked down Jen’s cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe her face. Just let the steady stream continue. She’d cried more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in three years put together. And Colt had yet to shed a tear.
Jen pushed her chair back and stood, taking in the empty room around her. It was impossible to imagine Colt or Margaret having a good childhood here. The loneliness of the place hung on them like a thick shroud, and it was beginning to fall over her, as well.
This wasn’t a home. And no matter how much her heart bled for him, Colt wasn’t hers. The sooner she put this weekend behind her and returned to the circuit, the better.
* * *
THERE WASN’T A wet eye in the church. Not a single tear was shed during the funeral, and Colt wasn’t surprised. That was the way John W. Mead wanted things done in his world.
“John Mead will be missed as much for his philanthropy as for his strength of spirit.” The preacher paused, shifting behind the pulpit and sweeping his gentle eyes over the first pew. “Those who knew him best can be proud of his generosity to others. So many have benefited from John’s charity and goodwill.”
Colt bit back a scoff. His father’s checks were easy to cut, always signed by secretaries. They allowed for greater tax write-offs. And no one, including his family, had ever really known John W. Mead. He never let anyone close enough.
But there was no need to split hairs at this point. They’d already sat through an hour of services for Rachel, and were on the second one for his father. Besides himself and Margaret, Jen and Ms. Parks were the only people seated in the family pew. And the strain of the day was beginning to take its toll.
He dropped his head and gripped the edge of his seat, the rough upholstery of the pew abrading his fingertips. Margaret’s pale hand, one-third the size of his, lay flat on the seat beside his thigh and shook slightly.
A heavy weight pressed on Colt’s chest. He ached to reach out, place his palm over the back of her small one and squeeze. To still her nerves with solid strength and help her feel less alone.
Because that was exactly what she was. Alone. With no knowledge of how much her gurgling toddler laugh had comforted him all those years ago. Or how relieved he’d always been as a teenager to see her at the end of each school day. Her rambunctious demeanor had been the only bright spot in that dark mansion.
I don’t remember.
Meg’s—Margaret’s—words returned, dropping like a stone into his gut. She didn’t remember him and he wouldn’t be around long enough to remind her. He’d packed his bags first thing this morning, loaded the truck and mapped out the fastest route back to the circuit. His plan hinged on driving away the moment the funerals ended.
Only he hadn’t counted on the news he’d received from Tammy when she’d called to check on him.
“Colt.” Jen’s soft lips brushed his ear as she tugged gently at his wrist.
He glanced up, taking in her worried expression, then noticed everyone was standing. Clearing his throat, he released his hold on the pew and stood. Jen took his hand in hers, then wrapped her free one around his biceps, squeezing firmly.
The gesture was calm and kind. An act of one friend supporting another. But it reignited all sorts of emotions within him, ones he’d only ever felt with Jen. The kind he couldn’t define or understand.
It’d be so easy to lean into her. To pass this pressing weight to her and absorb every bit of supportive comfort she offered. But he couldn’t. Not when Margaret stood silent at his side, expression empty and posture aloof. An exact replica of his father’s demeanor, void of any traces of the affectionate girl Colt once knew.
The pallbearers gathered around the caskets and the procession began. Another hour passed at the cemetery. By the time Colt’s small group exited the limo and climbed the steep front steps of the Mead estate, his sister had l
ost her last bit of color. She fiddled with the black bow at her waist as she followed Ms. Parks across the foyer toward the hall.
“Margaret.” Colt struggled to force her name past his constricted throat, the syllables echoing off the marble walls. “Would you like to sit with me for a while?” He shrugged, his tense shoulders screaming in protest. “Or we could take a walk?”
She stopped, then glanced over her shoulder, blond curls and thick lashes drooping. “Ms. Parks said you’re probably leaving soon. Are you?”
Colt hesitated, glancing at Jen, who stood by the closed doors of the front entrance. She looked at him sadly but pointedly.
His body sagged and he moved to the window, staring out at the long driveway and trying to still the trembling in his limbs. “Yeah.”
“Then we won’t have time to, will we?” Margaret’s quiet voice barely reached him.
Time. That’s what it all amounted to. The hours it took to make the drive here. The days he’d sacrificed to attend the funerals. And the years of obligation that would pile up if the papers sitting on his father’s desk remained unsigned.
Colt dug his fingertips into the windowsill, pressing hard against the wood until his nail beds turned red. Taking responsibility for Margaret on a permanent basis was out of the question. There was no room in his life for a kid and he didn’t have the first clue how to raise one.
But how could he walk away again with no attempt at reconciliation? Remain as much a stranger to his sister as John W. Mead had been to him? A relative in name only?
Each one of Margaret’s fading footsteps ripped another hole in Colt’s chest. A familiar ache began to seep from the pit of his gut, the kind he’d felt ever since he’d left her behind seven years ago. It coursed through his veins, stealing his breath.
“I can make the time.” He froze, unable to believe the declaration had left his mouth.
“She’s gone, Colt.” Jen stepped to his side and rubbed his arm. “It may be for the best, anyway. It’s a long drive to the next competition, and if we don’t leave soon, we won’t make it.”
“I need to stay with Margaret. Just for a little while longer.” He reached up, stilling Jen’s hand and peering down at her. “What if you sat the next race out? Or two or three, for that matter?”
Her dark eyes clouded with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
He drew in a deep breath and took her hands in his. “I spoke to Tammy this morning. Checked the stats. You’re ranking eighth.”
Jen’s brows rose, pink lips curving slightly. “Eighth?”
He nodded. “Right now, you’re qualifying for Finals. You and Tammy both. She won last night and is ranking ninth, right behind you and well above the top fifteen cut for Vegas.”
“Vegas?” Jen whispered.
“Vegas, Red.” He licked his lips. “You can afford to take a break.” Her expression dimmed and he held up a palm. “Margaret’s school is on spring vacation and she’ll be alone until classes start back up if I don’t stay with her. It’d just be for a week.”
“One week?” Jen frowned. “This trip was only supposed to be for a couple of days, Colt. That’s all Tammy asked me for and that’s all I promised.”
“I know. But I’m the one doing the asking now.” He put his shoulders back and forged ahead. “I might’ve taken care of Tammy when I got out of here seven years ago, but by doing that, I left Margaret behind. That guilt has followed me for a long time. I don’t want that feeling hanging on me again. I need to get rid of it.”
Jen sighed, her expression gentle. “But how would a week help? Don’t you think it’ll be harder for you to leave her after another week than it would now?”
A strange feeling of unease moved over him. Colt dismissed it, shaking his head and firming his features.
“No,” he said. “It won’t. I know I’m not fit to take care of her full-time. Would never want to. But I can be here for her now. I can help her through all of this and show her another way to live.”
“Colt—”
“I can give her better memories. Ones she can carry with her when she moves on. That way when she comes of age, she can choose for herself which life she wants to lead. Like I did seven years ago.” He stepped closer, trying to lighten the pleading note in his voice. “I can’t do it on my own, though. I need your help.”
“I don’t know how I’d be of any help. I barely know her.”
“That doesn’t matter. You’ve made more headway with her in one day than a nanny who’s been with her for months. You proved it last night, pulling that smile from her. Hell, Ms. Parks said so herself.”
Jen drew back, shaking her head. “One smile doesn’t make me an expert on kids. And this place isn’t good for anyone. I can’t stay here any longer, Colt.”
“You won’t.” He firmed his tone. “We’ll leave here today just as planned.”
“And go where?” She splayed her hands. “You can’t wander from motel to motel like you normally do, not with a nine-year-old in tow.”
“I’ll take care of that. I’ll call in a favor.”
“This is... I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ve got to get back to the circuit. A weekend was one thing, but a whole week—”
“You’re ranking so high right now, you’ve got plenty of cushion. It’ll take the rest of ’em that long just to catch up with you.”
Jen laughed, the sound abrupt and derisive. “I doubt that.”
“Seven days, tops,” he insisted. “Diamond will get a well-deserved break. You’ll have extra time to train. And Margaret and I will be able to get to know each other again. That way she’ll feel comfortable coming to me in the future if she ever needs me.” He moved close, cradling Jen’s face with his palms. “This is me asking. Not Tammy. I need your help and I could really use a friend right now.”
The curves of her cheeks blushed beneath his thumbs and her lush lips parted on a shaky inhalation. Her eyes met his and softened.
His throat burned. Damn, he was begging. But it didn’t prevent him from whispering, “Please, Red.”
Her full lashes fluttered shut as she blew out a heavy breath. “Only for one week. If my ranking drops before then, you have to promise you’ll get me and Diamond back to the circuit—no matter what.” She opened her eyes, expression determined. “That’s a nonnegotiable.”
“You got it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead then stepped back quickly, ignoring the pleasurable sensation in his belly and the sudden desire to hold on to her.
Jen looked away. Her drawn expression indicated regret had already set in.
Colt flexed his fingers to ease the ache running down his arms and choked down the words fighting their way up his throat. The ones urging him to take it back. To pack up and get out while he could. Instead, he dragged his phone from his pocket and dialed. It rang twice before someone answered.
“Well, hell,” a deep voice said with a chuckle. “Must be my lucky day, hearing from you.”
Colt managed a smile. “Dom.” Dominic Slade. A former bull rider. Known as champion to the world, though Colt knew him as best friend. A good man. One Colt trusted above any other. “Got time for an old friend?”
“Of course.” Dominic’s laughter faded. “You all right, man?”
“Yeah.” Colt dragged in a breath and steadied his voice. “I need a favor.”
Dominic responded immediately. “You name it.”
Chapter Five
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Jen winced, pressed the cell phone closer to her ear and sneaked a glance at Colt in the driver’s seat. He cut his eyes her way briefly, then refocused on the road. A quick peek in the rearview mirror revealed Margaret sleeping soundly in the back of the extended cab, just as she had since leaving the Mead estate hours earlier. Thank goodness.
Tammy’s voice was pitched higher as it came across the line. “You’re ranking eighth. That’s not a given for Finals this early,” she stressed. “There’s still months to go before we officially make the cut, and you can’t sit on the sidelines and expect to hold your position.”
Jen rubbed her forehead, feeling as though it was midnight rather than four in the afternoon. “I know. But it’s only for seven days.”
“Seven days?” Tammy’s voice was still strained. “Might as well be seven years. Things move so fast out here, you’ll fall behind before you know it.” Her tone lowered. “This is my fault. I should never have talked you into going in the first place. That’s why you feel like you have to do this.”
“That’s not true,” Jen whispered, turning to look out the passenger window.
The landscape passed by in a blur of green, wide fields separated by thick woods stretching endlessly. Each mile took them deeper into Georgia country and away from the circuit.
Why had she agreed to Colt’s request?
Tammy sighed. “How’s Colt doing?”
Jen stole a glance at him. His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel and he blinked slowly, his eyes heavy.
Jen’s chest ached. Now she remembered why she’d given in.
“Okay, I guess,” she murmured. “It’s going to take some time.”
“I’m glad you’re there for him,” Tammy said. “And for Margaret. I really am. I just worry that if you don’t get back soon, you won’t make the cut. You’ve worked so hard for so long, Jen. I’d hate for you to...”
Jen closed her eyes briefly, her own fears finishing Tammy’s sentence.
I’d hate for you to lose it all. End up a small-town nothing like everyone predicted, mopping the floor of The Greasy Spoon every day and surviving off a few dollars’ worth of tips. Living in a cramped house filled with more hungry mouths than working hands. Exactly like Jen’s mother, Nora, had.
Nora Taylor, a widow and overworked waitress, had dismissed her daughter’s ambition to become a world champion barrel racer despite Jen’s repeated success at rodeos near their hometown. Her outlook on life was as weary and bleak as the abandoned house rotting next to theirs.
The Bull Rider's Cowgirl Page 6
