by Lilian Darcy
“I heard the same thing, and if she fell in love with someone else, that might be some explanation for wanting out of her marriage. But whether it’s true or not, I don’t know. Dallas certainly never confided in me.”
“At least she didn’t try to take the boys.”
“I’d like to think she knew she’d get one heck of a fight from the whole family if she tried, but the truth is, I don’t think she wanted them.”
“You don’t think she’s just waiting to get settled somewhere else before she comes back to get them?”
He shook his head. “My understanding is that the divorce papers gave full custody of the boys to Dallas.”
“I don’t get that—a woman walking away from her children.”
And she knew that it wasn’t an isolated case. In fact, Sutter’s brother Clayton had experienced a similar situation. Although he hadn’t been married to the mother of his child—in fact, he hadn’t even known his girlfriend had been pregnant until Delia had showed up with the baby in her arms. And when Clayton had let her in the door, she’d dumped the baby in his lap and taken off, concerned about nothing so much as her own ambitions.
Clayton had lucked out, though, when he’d gone to Thunder Canyon and met Antonia Wright. Although she’d been pregnant with another man’s baby when they met, the two had fallen in love and married, giving his son, Bennett, and her daughter, Lucy, a more traditional family.
She hoped, for his sake and that of his children, that Dallas would also find someone else to love. But she didn’t hold out a lot of hope of that ever happening unless his surly attitude changed. In the meantime, she was pleased to know that the now-single dad was accepting the help that was offered by his family, because raising three active boys alone couldn’t be easy.
“If you think the boys want to make cookies,” she finally said to Sutter, “you can bring them over after lunch.”
* * *
Sutter had just picked up the boys from Dallas’s house when his cell phone rang. He recognized the number and immediately connected the call.
“I’m hands-free with kids in the car.” He issued the warning because his friend’s language was sometimes creative and colorful, and Sutter didn’t want to have to explain to his brother the how or why if his kids went home with new words in their vocabulary.
“Kids? Heck, Sutter. You’ve been gone even longer than I realized.”
“Funny, Reese. What’s up?”
“Doug Barclay’s been making noise—he’s got Dancer’s Destiny entered in the All American Stakes at Golden Gate Fields and he wants to discuss some concerns with you before then.”
“I’ll give him a call,” Sutter promised.
“I got the impression that he wants to see you.”
“Are there any problems with Dancer’s Destiny?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Then I’ll give him a call.” He crossed over the Sawmill Street Bridge. “Was there anything else?”
“Yeah, we’ve got four more orders for custom-made saddles. I’ve sent the details to Collin.”
“That’s great,” Sutter said. But he also knew it wasn’t the type of news that warranted a phone call, especially if Reese had already been in contact with the new CT of CT Saddles.
“And I was wondering if you had any idea how much longer you were going to be in Rust Creek,” Reese asked now.
“Not offhand.”
“But the election’s over, right?”
“The election’s over,” he confirmed. “And Collin’s starting to settle in as the new mayor, but...some other issues have come up.”
“All right,” Reese finally said. “I’ll tell Doug that you’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks. Hey, is Jenni there?”
“No.” His friend responded to the question almost before Sutter had finished speaking. “She’s, uh, she’s in the arena, working with one of the yearlings.”
“Okay. Tell her I’ll catch up with her later.”
“Sure.”
Sutter had barely disconnected the call when Ryder said, “Who’s Jenni?”
There was more than a bit of an edge to his voice that had all kinds of questions churning in Sutter’s mind, but he only said, “She works at my stables in Seattle.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Ew—girls are gross,” Robbie chimed in.
Sutter stifled a smile. “No,” he said in response to Ryder’s question. “Jenni isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Because Miss Dalton’s your girlfriend, right?”
Suddenly he understood the edge to his eldest nephew’s tone. Although Dallas had tried to keep the details of their mother’s abandonment from the kids, Ryder had likely heard rumors about his mother having a boyfriend. And as much as he hated to label his relationship with Paige, especially in any way that put boundaries around it, he decided that, under the circumstances, it wasn’t just wise but necessary.
“Miss Dalton and I have been friends for a long time,” he informed his nephews.
“You sent her flowers,” Ryder said, accusation in his tone.
“Did you kiss her?” Jake wanted to know.
“Ew,” Robbie said again. “Kissing’s gross.”
“How do you know?” his brother challenged. “How many girls have you kissed?”
“None.”
“Kissing is not gross,” Sutter said. “Not when it’s an expression of caring between two people who really like one another.”
“Jake likes Mikayla,” Robbie said.
“Do not,” his brother denied hotly.
“Do, too.”
“Do not.”
“Boys!”
They immediately fell silent.
He pulled into Paige’s driveway and shifted into Park, then he turned to face the three of them in the backseat.
“Girls are not gross and kissing is not gross, although when I was six, I probably thought so, too,” he admitted to Robbie.
He shifted his gaze to Ryder. “Miss Dalton is not my girlfriend, although she used to be and I’m hoping that she might one day be again.
“But for today—” he looked from one to the other, including all of them now “—I would appreciate it if you put any other comments or questions on this topic on hold until the drive home.”
And maybe by then he’d be one step closer to having Miss Dalton as his girlfriend again.
Chapter Ten
Paige had borrowed some aprons from the supply that Willa kept for her kindergarten class, and she made sure the boys were washed up and their clothes covered before she let them loose in the kitchen. She’d actually started baking the night before, making a couple dozen gingerbread cookies for Sutter’s nephews to decorate. Those were in a plastic container in the cupboard, in reserve for when the boys got bored or tired of helping.
Robbie was, of course, totally enthused. He was on his knees on a stool at the island, digging a measuring cup into the bag of flour before Paige even had a chance to ask them what they wanted to make first. Jake headed straight for the bowl of minimarshmallows and immediately set about trying to figure out how many of them he could cram into his mouth. When he finally stopped gagging, he was thirsty from all the sugar, so Paige got him a glass of milk. Robbie decided that he needed a drink, too, but he wanted juice.
Ryder declined her offer of milk or juice with a polite, “No, thank you,” then stood in the background, quietly waiting for instructions. She could tell that helping to bake cookies wouldn’t make his top-ten list of favorite things to do—heck, it probably wouldn’t make a list of the top one hundred—but he didn’t protest.
She decided to put Ryder in charge of measuring the liquid ingredients because he was patient and meticulous and less likely to spil
l anything. Jake was assigned the task of measuring the dry ingredients, and Robbie got to wield the spoon and mix everything together.
“I thought you were going to help with this,” Paige said to Sutter, who seemed content to stand back and watch the sloppily choreographed chaos in the kitchen.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “But my job doesn’t start until the first batch comes out of the oven.”
“What’s your job?” Jake asked.
“Quality control.”
“What’s that?” Robbie wanted to know.
“It’s a fancy term for someone who eats the cookies under the pretense of testing to see if they taste good,” Paige informed him.
“I wanna be quality control,” Robbie decided.
“Me, too,” Jake agreed.
“Everyone will get to sample the cookies,” she promised. “But we need to make them first.”
* * *
They made a lot of cookies. And when they’d done as much as they could do, Paige got out the gingerbread cookies and various colored icings and decorations. The boys were each given half a dozen gingerbread cookies to decorate however they wanted. Ryder went heavy on the black icing, claiming that he was making ninja gingerbread men. Jake was more interested in eating than decorating. Robbie liked the colored sugars and holiday sprinkles and his philosophy was the more the merrier.
True to his word, Sutter worked quality control, sampling at least one of everything. But Paige didn’t mind, because he didn’t hesitate to lend a hand wherever it was required. He stood at the stove and melted marshmallows for the crisp-rice squares, dutifully chopped pecans for the thumbprint cookies and unwrapped dozens of caramels for the caramel nut bars.
When the boys were finished decorating, Paige gave them each a plate with a couple of cookies and a glass of milk. She didn’t have a video-game system to occupy them, so they settled for watching a movie on television. Actually, Ryder played some game on his father’s old cell phone in front of the television while his younger brothers watched the movie and Paige continued to work.
She still had peanut-butter bars and shortbread and lemon-snowdrop cookies to make, but she was happy with the progress she’d made today. She hadn’t been sure if the extra hands Sutter had offered would be a help or a hindrance, and she suspected they’d been a little of both. But in the end, it didn’t really matter because she’d sincerely enjoyed spending the afternoon with all of them.
Unfortunately, being with Sutter and his nephews made her think about the children she’d thought they would someday have together. She still wanted to get married and have a family, but she’d resigned herself to the fact that it wouldn’t be with Sutter. Until spending time with him had that dream stirring again, and she knew that could be very dangerous. Because five years after Sutter had gone, she knew she still wasn’t over him. She wondered if his coming back now and becoming friends would make it easier or harder for her when he went away again.
She rolled her head, trying to relieve the stiffness in her neck. Sutter settled his hands on her shoulders and began to knead the tight muscles. She moaned in sincere appreciation.
“Feel good?”
“Incredible,” she admitted.
He dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “I could make you feel even better.”
The husky promise in his voice had all her female parts standing at attention, but because she knew there was little chance of him following through, she managed to tease, “Right here and now?”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, and sighed. “Are you ready to take a break?”
“I shouldn’t,” she said. “I still have so much to do.”
“Ten minutes,” he cajoled. “Come and sit down on the couch and watch the movie.”
“Because nothing puts me in the holiday spirit like rampaging dinosaurs,” she said drily.
She walked in at the scene where the brother and sister were hiding in the kitchen. She didn’t particularly like scary movies, and although she agreed that the velociraptors were pretty low on the evil scale in comparison to knife-wielding psychopaths in goalie masks, she gasped out loud when one of the dinosaurs charged at the girl and crashed into a metal cabinet.
Ryder didn’t look up from his screen. Jake glanced back at her and snickered, but Robbie climbed up on the couch beside her and snuggled close. Whether to offer her comfort or be comforted didn’t matter to Paige. Within minutes, he was half-asleep with his head in her lap. She brushed a lock of hair off of his forehead. It was soft and silky, his cheeks were still round, his blue eyes—when they were open—still filled with innocence and wonder. Since the Traub genes weren’t just evident but dominant in each of Dallas’s sons, it was easy enough to imagine that Sutter’s little boy might look very much like the one cuddled up against her. Robbie was fighting sleep, and perilously close to losing the battle until a roar from the screen had his eyes popping wide again. He shifted so that he was sitting up again, and stifled a yawn.
“Do you want me to see if I’ve got any books you might like better than this movie?”
He nodded.
Unfortunately she didn’t really have anything age appropriate for a six-year-old, but she found some paper and crayons and sat him at the island to color while she cut and boxed up her goodies.
He’d drawn a couple of pictures—a boy on a horse, a house with a dad and three boys. But then he seemed to run out of ideas or interest.
“Do you want to do something else?” Paige asked him.
Robbie nodded. “Can you help me write a letter to Santa?”
“Absolutely.” She closed up the box she’d finished packing, then sat down on the stool beside him.
“Dear Santa,” he began, and she dutifully put the pen to fresh sheet of paper.
“I hope you had a good year and have lots of snow at the North Pole. Thanks for the presents you brung last year. I liked the dragon-lair building set best, but the pajamas were okay, too.”
She fought back a smile as she carefully transcribed his words. But her smile faded at what came next, and an uncomfortable premonition filled her heart.
“This year for Christmas, I don’t want any toys. Please bring my mommy home instead.” He looked up when Paige stopped writing, his little brow furrowed. “You hafta write that.”
Instead, she put the pen down and turned to face him. “I don’t think Santa can bring her back, Robbie,” she said gently.
“Even if I don’t ask for nothin’ else?”
“Unfortunately, only your mommy can decide if she wants to come back. I know you miss her, but—”
“I don’t really miss her,” he interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. “I just thought if she came home, Daddy wouldn’t be sad anymore.”
“How do you know your daddy’s sad?”
“’Cuz he doesn’t laugh anymore.” He scraped at a drop of dried icing with his fingernail. “If Santa can’t bring my mommy home, can he bring me a new mommy?”
“I think Santa’s more accustomed to filling his sleigh with toys,” she told him. “And the elves count on little boys and girls wanting toys, because it’s their job to make them.”
Robbie sighed. “Then I guess I wouldn’t mind a deluxe neon alien-invasion spaceship.”
* * *
After the movie was finished, Sutter packed up the boys—and the cookies that Paige insisted on sending home with them—and drove back to the Triple T. He considered returning to town, but he didn’t want to push for too much too soon. He was confident that they would get to where he wanted to go. He just needed to be patient.
On the bright side, Sutter figured he was conserving electricity taking so many cold showers. In fact, he was just out of the shower, lounging on the couch with his feet up and a cold beer in his hand, when Dallas came in.
He gestured
to the bottle his brother was holding. “Got another one of those?” he asked.
“Got several,” Sutter told him. “Help yourself.”
Dallas did, and settled into an oversize chair, his feet stretched out in front of him.
“The boys settled in for the night?”
“Just,” Dallas told him. “They were so pumped up on sugar, I didn’t think they were ever going to fall asleep.”
Sutter lifted his bottle to his lips, drank deeply. “I suppose that’s my fault?”
His brother just shrugged.
“They had a good time today, and if they were a little hyper when they got home, well, they’re boys.”
“That’s what Mom said,” Dallas admitted.
“You called in the cavalry?”
“She invited us up to the house for dinner.”
As he knew she did every night. Ellie loved to cook for her sons and grandsons, and Sutter didn’t blame his brother for taking her up on the offer. After working on the ranch all day, Sutter had enough trouble figuring out what he wanted to eat, never mind trying to feed three hungry—and picky—boys.
“What was for dinner?”
“Pork chops, scalloped potatoes, corn and mac and cheese.”
Sutter’s stomach growled.
“You could have come for dinner, too,” Dallas told him. “I know Mom invited you.”
And Sutter had declined, as he did almost every day. The one exception was Sunday lunch, when he knew there would be enough family members around the table to defuse the awkwardness. “She did. I already had other plans.”
“With Paige?”
“With one of those handy microwavable trays that provides a complete meal, including dessert, in only a few minutes.”
His brother wasn’t sidetracked by his response. “It seems like you’ve picked back up with Paige Dalton again.”
“Why does it sound as if you disapprove?”
Dallas shrugged. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove—I’m just concerned that you don’t realize you’re wasting your time with her.”
