by Cindy Kirk
“Forty franchises in seven states.” Cole took a sip of coffee. “If everything comes together the way it should, Jackson Hole will be number forty-one.”
“You’re going to open one here?” Meg didn’t know why she was so surprised. The economy in Jackson was booming and cowboys and skiers loved their coffee.
“Your omelet, sir.”
“Looking that way,” Cole answered, flashing the waitress a smile that had been winning him hearts since grade school.
When the college-age girl batted her long lashes in response, Meg stomped firmly down on an unwelcome surge of jealousy. Why should it matter to her who Cole flirted with? He could give the woman his phone number for all she cared. Except, of course, that such an action would send Charlie a bad message.
But just like at the grocery store, the fact that the waitress was pretty and definitely interested didn’t seem to matter to him. He merely added Tabasco to his eggs and returned to the conversation.
“I’m looking at the possibility of living part of the year in Austin, where my corporate offices are located, and part of the year in Jackson Hole.” His gaze turned to Derek Rossi, a former professional baseball player, seated to his right. “I understand that, like Nick and Lexi, you and your wife don’t live here year-round. How is that working for you?”
“It’s difficult,” Derek admitted. As an expert sports commentator for a major network, Derek spent much of the baseball season on the road. “Rachel and I would prefer to live here. That’s not a possibility at this time. The hardest part is working around Joy’s school schedule.”
“That’s the same struggle we face with Addie,” Nick chimed in. “Thankfully our girl is very social. She has friends in Dallas as well as friends here.”
“Even so, we know it’d be easier on her to be in one home or the other,” Lexi added, and Rachel, Derek’s pretty blonde wife, nodded her agreement.
Cole took a bite of his omelet and chewed, a thoughtful look on his face. “According to the provisions of the will, I need to stay in Jackson Hole at least through the school year. Because of that, I’m planning on delegating a few more functions to my management team. Loosening that control will be a good first step if I decide to move here permanently.”
“Thankfully, with the internet, you can stay connected wherever you live,” Nick said. “But I can tell you right now you’re going to miss those football Saturdays in Austin. There’s nothing here that compares to that game-day atmosphere.”
The conversation shifted to college football, a subject on which all the guys at the table seemed to have an opinion.
Meg picked at her waffle, unable to shake a feeling of unease. It wasn’t until the waitress brought the check that she realized what was troubling her.
Cole had spoken of his future plans as if he was Charlie’s sole guardian. He hadn’t mentioned her involvement at all. It was as if she didn’t exist, or matter.
What arrogance, to not even consider her feelings or her plans. To simply assume she would go along with whatever he decided was best.
Earlier, Meg would have asserted that she and Cole had made great strides in their working relationship over the past few days and were on the same page regarding Charlie’s welfare.
Now it seemed that in the course of one meal, they’d somehow taken a giant leap backward.
By the time they picked up Charlie from Sunday school, the snow that had laid down an additional blanket of white overnight had resumed falling. Worse yet, the wind had picked up, whipping the flakes against the windshield and limiting visibility.
Cole released the breath he’d been holding when Meg finally pulled into the garage. He took a second to massage his quads before unfastening his seat belt and stepping out of the vehicle. Though he didn’t feel he needed the crutches anymore, he was beginning to realize how much stress they’d taken off his leg. And how much the cold made his leg ache.
Since Charlie hadn’t gone to breakfast with them, once inside Meg heated up soup and made the boy a sandwich. Afterward, she surprised Cole by asking him to read to him while she cleaned up the kitchen.
Cole had to admit that when Meg shoved a stack of books at him, for a second a panic rose inside him. In that instant he was back in school. Making a joke when a teacher asked him to read aloud. Struggling to understand test instructions. And always, though he never showed it, feeling stupid.
He glanced at the books in his hand. Knowing his history, why had she asked him to read?
Still, it was okay. Thanks to his uncle, after all those years of not understanding the reason for his difficulty reading, he’d finally gotten a diagnosis—dyslexia—and the help he’d needed. Instead of barely getting by, like he had in high school, he’d graduated from college with honors. Along the way he’d tried to make up for all he’d missed.
That’s why it was important to him that Charlie love books and become a good reader.
“Which one should we look at first?” Cole spread the books out on the coffee table, amazed at all the bright covers and quirky titles. “I don’t know how you’re going to choose. They all look good.”
Charlie studied them for several seconds then pointed at a yellow book with a monkey on the cover. “That one.”
“Curious George’s ABCs.” Cole read the title as he picked it up.
“My teacher read it to us in class.” Charlie’s voice reverberated with eagerness. “Curious George is always getting into trouble. He’s a funny monkey.”
“I bet he is,” Cole said, smiling.
“You never read it?” Charlie scrambled to sit beside Cole on the sofa. “My teacher said he’d read all the Curious George books by the time he was our age.”
Cole thought for a moment, contemplating how to explain to his son that he hadn’t read a book for pleasure until he was in college. “I didn’t read much as a kid—”
“I don’t, either,” Charlie said immediately. “I don’t like books.”
“I love them,” Cole responded. The last thing he wanted was to turn Charlie against reading. “Where else but in books can you spend time with a pirate? Or a ninja? Or a funny monkey learning his ABCs?”
Charlie’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you said you didn’t read books.”
“My dad had difficulty reading and he didn’t like books in the house.” Cole hesitated. Should he tell Charlie that he’d also had trouble with his letters? Or was that too much information for a small boy to process?
He was still debating in his head how much to divulge, when Charlie spoke.
“We’re learning so many new words now and it’s hard.” A shadow briefly passed across the child’s face. “My teacher says it will get easier.”
“It will.” Cole offered the boy an encouraging smile. While it hadn’t gotten better for his dad, back then no one knew what dyslexia was, much less how to work around it. When Cole had been a boy, it hadn’t been much better.
Banishing the unpleasant memories, Cole picked up the book and flipped it open to the first page, then glanced at Charlie. “Shall we see what Curious George is doing?”
Charlie snuggled up against him. “Yeah.”
“Are you cold?”
“Nope.” Charlie rested his cheek against Cole’s arm. “Uncle Cole.”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“You’re not going to leave me, are you?”
Cole’s heart twisted. Until now he hadn’t realized the depths of the little boy’s fears. “Nope. You’re stuck with me, buckaroo. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about Aunt Meg?”
With those blue eyes—so like his own—focused on him and shining with blind trust, Cole hesitated, not sure how to answer. While he didn’t want to lie—
“I’m not going anywhere, either, honey.”
At the sound of the feminine voice, Cole turned. Meg stood in the doorway to the kitchen, still wearing the blue wrap dress she’d worn to church. She wiped her hands on a red-and-white-checkered dish towel, the picture
of domestic bliss.
“Of course, Uncle Cole and I probably won’t always live in the same house,” she added.
Cole knew there was no probably about it.
Charlie’s brows pulled together in distress. “Are you going to get a divorce?”
Crossing the room, Meg took a seat in the chair opposite the sofa, her eyes looking more green than hazel in the light.
“Do you really want to get into this now?” Cole murmured, his tone making it clear he preferred to wait.
“Yes,” she said in a soft but firm tone. “Yes, I do.”
Her gaze locked with his before she turned her attention to the boy, who was now sitting up straight as a soldier on the sofa.
“Charlie.” Meg leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs, her smile open and friendly. “Do you know what it means when a couple gets a divorce?”
“Dana Murray’s parents got divorced. They don’t live together anymore,” Charlie said, clearly warming to the topic. “Dana’s dad has a girlfriend and her mom is really mad. She hates him. Dana hates him, too.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate him.” Cole felt a pang of sympathy for Dana’s father, a man he didn’t even know. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Charlie hated him.
“Yes, she does,” Charlie said. “She—”
“What’s happening between Dana’s parents has nothing to do with how they feel about her,” Meg said. “What’s between her mom and dad is grown-up stuff. I’m sure it makes her sad that her daddy doesn’t live with them anymore. But that doesn’t mean she and her daddy can’t enjoy spending time together.”
“But her daddy didn’t even come to conferences,” Charlie said.
Cole raised a brow. “Conferences?”
“I assume Charlie is talking about the parent-teacher conferences they have at school.”
“My mommy and daddy came.” Charlie nodded his head up and down. “Afterward, we all went out for ice cream.”
“Well, even when Uncle Cole and I don’t live together,” Meg said, “we’ll still come to your conferences together.”
She glanced at him for confirmation and Cole reluctantly nodded.
Tears filled Charlie’s eyes and his gaze sought Cole’s. “Don’t live together? You are getting a divorce from Aunt Meg.”
The words came out on a wail. If the boy wasn’t so distressed, Cole might have felt the urge to laugh. To get divorced implied you first had gotten married. He and Meg? Not a chance in hell.
“We’re not getting a divorce, buddy.” Cole gentled his tone and took his son’s hand in his. “Aunt Meg and I are friends.”
The statement was a stretch, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“We’re only living in the same house now because I need help with my knee,” Cole continued. “And because Aunt Meg hadn’t found a place of her own yet.”
“That’s right,” Meg said. “Hopefully once Uncle Cole is better, I’ll be able to find a little apartment not far away.”
Charlie wiped his runny nose against his shirtsleeve, tears clinging to the tips of his lashes.
“You’ll have a bedroom at your uncle Cole’s place and one at mine.” Meg’s smile appeared forced. “Two bedrooms of your very own. Won’t that be fun?”
Charlie’s jaw set in a stubborn tilt and he whipped his head from side to side. “I like it here. I want all of us to live here together.”
The boy’s eyes might be filled with fire, but the trembling of his bottom lip gave him away. Cole realized that in their desire to be honest with the child, they’d caused him needless worry.
After all, Charlie wouldn’t be shuttled back and forth between two houses; he’d be with him. With his father. But too much had already been said on the topic. Changing the subject seemed wise.
“I like it here, too.” Cole spoke in a hearty tone, hoping Meg would pick up on it and play along. “My bed is so comfortable that it’s difficult for me to get up in the morning. In fact, right now I’m thinking about sinking into that soft mattress and taking a nap.”
“Naps are for babies,” Charlie asserted, though Cole could see the lines of fatigue around the boy’s eyes.
“No one ever told me that,” Meg said. “I take naps all the time.”
Cole pretended to yawn. “I think I’m going to stretch out on that big bed of mine and rest my eyes.”
“Maybe we could all rest our eyes for a few minutes?” Meg said.
“I’m all for it.” Cole forced an extra-hearty tone.
“I’ve an idea.” Charlie bounced up and down on the sofa. “We’ll all take a nap together on Uncle Cole’s bed. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cole caught the look of startled surprise that skittered across Meg’s face. Because the light had returned to Charlie’s eyes, Cole shoved aside his own misgivings and grinned. “Great idea, son. What do you say, Meg? Care to join me in bed?”
Chapter Eight
Meg kept her arms firmly plastered to her side and tried to tell herself that lying on top of Cole Lassiter’s bed was no big deal.
After all, Charlie was between them and she had on all her clothes. Not to mention the California king went on forever. You could easily have five people on it and they’d never touch. Which was good because touching Cole was the last thing on Meg’s mind this afternoon.
She’d heard the challenge in his voice when he’d asked if she wanted to join him in bed. He’d been taunting her. Confident she’d turn him down. Which she wouldn’t have had trouble doing if it hadn’t been for Charlie and the pleading look in his eyes.
Talking about her and Cole going their separate ways and sharing custody had been an error in judgment. Charlie had lost his parents only weeks ago. To even mention more change to the boy at this time didn’t make any sense.
Cole realized it, too. She knew that’s why he’d started talking about naps. And why the three of them were now lying on his bed with the shades drawn.
Meg closed her eyes. She’d almost drifted off to sleep when Cole murmured something to her, something she couldn’t quite hear. Hoping he didn’t expect to have a conversation with Charlie already asleep between them, Meg pushed herself up on one elbow.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his eyes were shut and his lips now silent. She hadn’t realized that he talked in his sleep. Of course, that was understandable considering they’d never spent the night together.
Even when they’d been sneaking around seeing each other, she hadn’t known all that much about him. Oh, she’d known that he loved animals and had a sense of humor in sync with her own. She knew he had a lot of friends and rarely said an unkind word about anyone. He’d even befriended Chip before championing the underdog was cool. Still, what made him tick had remained a mystery.
Other than the time he’d confided that he had difficulty reading, he’d shared very little personal information. The fact that he’d graduated from college and started his own successful business made her wonder if the confession had been merely a ploy to make her think he was sharing something of importance with her.
She’d believed him. Had worried about his reading difficulties. And, though Cole had sworn her to silence, she’d even sought the advice of her father—an English teacher at the local high school—on how to help someone who’d reached seventeen without being able to read well. Her father had asked who this person was, but all she’d told him was “a friend,” not wanting to betray Cole’s confidence.
It hadn’t mattered. Within days of his confession, in fact the day after he’d taken her innocence in the backseat of that old Chevy, he quit calling. When she saw him in school he walked by as if she didn’t exist.
Being young and foolish and convinced she was in love, she’d waited a couple of days before tossing aside her pride and calling him. She’d realized it was over when he didn’t call her back. Then her folks had died.
Her world had suddenly been turned upside down
. She’d desperately needed someone to hold her close and tell her she would survive…and she’d still hoped that person would be Cole. But he hadn’t shown his face at either the visitation or the funeral. Considering all they’d shared, his absence had been a slap in the face.
She collapsed back against the pillow and closed her eyes, letting sleep steal her away from the memories she wished she could forget....
Meg told herself to wake up, but the dream was so compelling she couldn’t leave it, not yet. Cole had come to her.
With a contented sigh, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Her head fit perfectly against his chest, just under his chin. Having him so close was a dream come true.
She loved the way he smelled, a woodsy mixture of cologne and soap and maleness that brought a tingle to her lips and heat percolating low in her belly.
His hand flattened against her lower back, drawing her up against the length of his body. Meg pressed herself more fully against him, the action bringing back memories of when they’d made love.
The man now holding her in his arms had been the first to kiss her, to touch her, to make love to her. But once wasn’t enough.
She longed to once again run her hands over his body, to feel the coiled strength of skin and muscle sliding under her fingers. She wanted him to touch her in the same way, wanted to feel the weight of his body on hers. Wanted to feel him inside her.
She planted a kiss at the base of his neck, his skin salty beneath her lips.
“Are you sure this is wise?” The words seemed to come from far away.
Of all the times for her conscience to make an appearance. Even in a dream, participating in a fantasy wasn’t always wise. But she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Being in Cole’s arms felt so right.
She wound her arms around his neck and lifted her face.
He folded her more fully into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as his mouth covered hers in a deep, compelling kiss. Dreamily, Meg stroked his thick hair. He tasted as sweet as spearmint candy from The Coffee Pot.
