Single Dad Cowboy

by Brenda Minton

  He ran water in the kitchen sink and tested to make sure it was warm. Cash cried a little as Dylan settled him in the water.

  “I know, this isn’t our normal bath place, is it, kiddo. But let me get you cleaned up and I’ll get you a cracker. Maybe that’ll help.” He remembered he’d gotten crackers when he was sick. And ginger ale. Though he couldn’t be sure if that’s what he should give a toddler.

  His mom and dad had gone to a retreat in Missouri so he couldn’t call and ask. He doubted he would have called even if they’d been home.

  As he wrapped a towel around Cash, he reached for the phone and dialed Heather. She would be awake and wouldn’t judge. But Heather didn’t answer. Harmony did. He glanced at the phone and groaned because he had called the wrong H name.

  She laughed. “I remember calls like this. The kind you make and then regret. I was usually not sober when I made them.”

  “I’m completely sober. And I was trying to call Heather.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve got a sick kid and I was trying to call Heather to see if I should give a toddler ginger ale.”

  “Cash?”

  “Yeah. I think the rug is history.”

  She laughed again. He loved that laugh. He thought about telling her but Cash leaned over and lost what was left in his stomach on the kitchen floor.

  “I’m not much of a baby expert, but I think ginger ale would work. But you should probably call Heather and make sure. If you need me, call.”

  “Thanks, I will.” He ended the call and carried Cash back to the sink and the sprayer. He didn’t know if it was okay, but hey, he was a guy. He stood the little boy in the sink and sprayed him off and then wrapped him in another towel and cuddled him close.

  “It’s going to be a long night, Cash.”

  Cash sobbed against his shoulder. “Daddy.”

  Two times in ten minutes. No, he hadn’t prepared himself for that. But the little boy with arms clutching his neck wouldn’t take no for an answer. As far as Cash was concerned, there wasn’t another daddy in the world.

  Dylan hugged his little boy.

  He hadn’t really been able to wrap his mind around that fact. Cash and Callie had been Katrina’s kids. He’d been the guy agreeing to take them so she could have peace. But each day brought the three of them closer, making them a family. Dylan, Cash and Callie.

  They were his kids. And he was their daddy. He didn’t doubt that someday there would be a mom, too. But when the time came, it would be his choice, not everyone in town who thought they knew what was best for him and his two kids.

  After putting a fresh diaper on Cash, Dylan sat in the recliner with the sick kid. He forgot about calling Heather. He didn’t call Harmony back. He curled up with his boy and sang songs he remembered his mom singing.

  Sometime during the night, after a few more episodes of sickness, he dozed off. He woke up close to dawn when Callie climbed up in the chair with them. She whispered close to his ear, “I don’t feel good.”

  Dylan groaned and held her close. His kids. He smiled and told her it would be okay. The three of them dozed off again. For some crazy reason he had a dream that Harmony was there, that she’d kissed his cheek and told him he was someone special.

  Were dreams supposed to smell like summer sunshine and flowers?

  Chapter Eight

  Harmony showed up early the next morning to check on Dylan and the kids. She’d worried about them all night. She’d thought about driving over when he called. But she hadn’t. She’d sat at home telling herself that Dylan didn’t need her. He didn’t want a woman in his life. He wanted a woman around only to keep family and friends from matchmaking. Their relationship was a matter of convenience.

  What was more, she had reminded herself, she didn’t need Dylan in her life. Not really. She didn’t want a man to feel as if he had to take care of her. And she didn’t want to let anyone else down. Not even herself.

  And yet, with all of that good advice, she’d fed her horse and headed to Dylan’s. The old farmhouse was a single story, two rooms wide and several rooms deep with a porch that ran across the front. She held onto the rail as she eased herself up the steps and across the wood porch. Peeking through the window she spotted Dylan stretched out in the recliner, a kid under each arm.

  The front door was unlocked so she slipped inside the house, holding a finger to her lips when Callie awoke and saw her. Even from a distance Harmony could see that the little girl’s cheeks were pink and her eyes a little glassy.

  Dylan didn’t move. He was sprawled out, in jeans, a T-shirt and bare feet, his hat tossed on the floor next to the chair. She stepped quietly across the room, drawn to the sweetest scene she’d ever witnessed, this man and these kids. Callie dozed back off. Cash moved restlessly and curled against Dylan’s side. Harmony touched the little boy’s cheek and wasn’t surprised that he felt hot against her hand.

  Caught off guard by the moment, Harmony kissed Dylan’s cheek and told him he was sweet. She couldn’t resist, not this cowboy with his dark hair in loose curls, messy from having worn that hat of his and a dark shadow of whiskers across lean, suntanned cheeks.

  In his sleep he smiled and said something about her being sweet, too.

  As she stepped back, Callie’s eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a fearful O. The little girl scrambled out of the chair and headed for the bathroom. Harmony followed through the kitchen and dining area, which was as far as Callie could make it.

  “I’m sick,” Callie cried after she’d gotten sick. “I’m really sick.”

  “Oh, honey.” Harmony held out her arms and Callie flew to them. Harmony picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. “We have to get you cleaned up.”

  “It’s yucky.”

  “Yes, it is. But we’ll get you clean and maybe we can find something that will make your tummy feel better.”

  She doubted Dylan had ginger tea. Harmony’s mom had always given them ginger tea when they’d had stomach viruses.

  “I’m going to be sick again.” Callie wiggled out of Harmony’s arms.

  Okay, Harmony could do this. She closed her eyes, remembering her own mother with a cold washcloth, pressing it to Harmony’s neck and then wiping her face as she pulled back her hair. When had it all changed?

  She knew, though. It had changed with wrong choices, wrong friends, and the pain of her birth mother’s rejection.

  She shook off the memories and reached into a cabinet for a washcloth. After running it under cold water she turned to find Callie sitting on the floor. The little girl looked up at Harmony, big blue eyes popping out of a pale face. Her bottom lip trembled and big tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I miss my mommy.”

  Harmony eased to the floor and pulled Callie close. She wiped her face and whispered that everything would be okay.

  “I know you miss her, Callie. I’m sorry, honey.”

  Callie climbed into her lap. “I don’t like being sick.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  They sat there that way for a long time. Harmony wanted to move. Her legs ached and her back throbbed. Certain parts of her anatomy felt a little numb from lack of circulation. But Callie had fallen asleep in her arms and it seemed like the bathroom might be a safe place to hang out with a sick child. She leaned against the tub and closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep as easily as the little girl in her arms.

  Eventually she heard movement in the living room. Cash cried and Dylan spoke softly. Then there were footsteps as Dylan walked through the kitchen.

  “Callie?” He called out softly.

  “In here with me.”

  “You?” He sounded confused.

  Harmony wiggled up, having slid down a little with Callie still in her arm
s. Moving helped get the blood flowing again.

  “Me, Harmony.”

  He peeked around the corner. His hair had a rim where he’d worn the hat too long. His hazel eyes still looked sleepy. Cash had his arms around Dylan’s neck.

  “Dylan, I think he’s going to be sick.”

  “Why would you...” But he didn’t wait. He moved fast and positioned the little boy in front of the appropriate target. And he did get sick. “Oh, man, this stinks.”

  “How are you feeling?” she asked Dylan.

  “I never get sick.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Harmony shifted Callie. “I would get him a cool washcloth. I’m not sure why, but I figured it’s better than nothing.”

  “I need to get them some kind of medicine.”

  “For the fever maybe, but for a stomach bug there isn’t much you can do to help them other than ginger ale or tea.”

  Cash turned back around, rubbing his face on Dylan’s leg and crying a little. Dylan picked him up and took her advice about the washcloth. He smiled down at Harmony but she thought the gesture didn’t quite settle in his eyes.

  “A guy should have to take a test for this kind of responsibility. No one should just hand it to him and tell him he can be a parent.”

  She started to tell him he could do it, but stopped herself. He didn’t want to hear that he could do it. She got that. She remembered the first time they’d made her stand after surgery. Everyone had cheered her on, told her she’d be back on her feet in no time. She’d known it would take time. It wouldn’t all just fall into place.

  “It won’t be easy.” She picked words she thought he expected and words she knew to be true. “But these kids don’t care if you always get it right, Dylan. They love you.”

  “Thanks, Harmony.” He let out a long sigh and smiled down at the boy in his arms. “I’m going to put Cash down and I’ll be back to help you.”

  “That’s good, because I’ve been sitting here a long time and I was starting to wonder how I’d get up if you didn’t wake up soon and find me.”

  He winked. “I wouldn’t leave a good woman down.”

  He came back a few minutes later. She shifted Callie so he could lift her. He picked the child up and headed for the door. “Don’t move, I’ll be back.”

  She waited. She hadn’t planned to, but getting up seemed overrated at the moment. When he peeked back in, he smiled and stepped into bathroom.

  “I didn’t expect compliance.”

  “Sometimes I keep the stubborn me in check.”

  “Good to know.”

  She reached for his extended hands and he pulled her to her feet, and then they stood there for a moment. It took that minute for her to feel as if she could take a step.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.” She sniffed a little. “I hate to tell you this...”

  “Yeah, I know, I stink.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re not too rosy yourself.”

  They walked toward the kitchen and the moment eased something inside her. Even with the pain, even with the future uncertain, she could joke. She could laugh again. It almost felt like being whole.

  Harmony hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Even before the accident she’d been in pieces, trying to figure out how to get her life back. She’d had sober moments when she’d remembered the girl who had dreamed of being a teacher, being a wife and mom. She’d remembered thinking that someday she would come back to Dawson, because she’d been happiest here.

  But addiction had always reclaimed her, making her forget that person who wanted more.

  Dylan’s phone buzzed. “My mom.”

  Harmony moved away from him. Without asking, she headed for the kitchen and the coffeepot. She washed her hands using a lot of soap and a lot of hot water before reaching for the glass carafe of the coffeemaker. Dylan followed. As she made coffee he leaned a hip against the counter and talked to his mom. He winked at Harmony as he told Angie Cooper that the kids had a stomach virus and, no, she shouldn’t come over. He had it handled. And then he admitted that Harmony was there, helping.

  She poured water into the coffeemaker, trying not to think about the implication of his confession to his mother. She wondered what Angie Cooper would think. Would she worry, the way mothers do, that her son might be in a relationship with the wrong person? Would she worry that Harmony might break his heart?

  He ended the call. Harmony switched the coffeepot on and turned to face him. “Are we lying to people?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Lying?”

  “There’s a fine line between helping each other and letting people think we’re a couple. I really can’t lie, Dylan. I’ve done too much of that in the past, and part of my recovery is about being honest.”

  “I get that.” He stepped close to her and she pushed him back. “What?”

  “You stink, remember? And I really can’t...”

  The list was long. She couldn’t lie. She couldn’t lose someone else. She couldn’t lose herself. Why had she said anything? He waited for her to finish.

  But he didn’t push. “If you don’t mind holding down the fort, I’ll get cleaned up.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes as he walked away. She couldn’t let herself fall in love with Dylan Cooper. But then, hadn’t she always loved him? Maybe love was too strong a word. She’d been infatuated. She’d loved his country-boy swagger and his confidence. That wasn’t really love. She’d had a crush. Love was deeper than those high-school feelings that she’d forgotten over time.

  Love happened when you saw into a person’s heart. Love went beyond the stolen kiss or a heart that seemed to skip beats. Love happened.

  She couldn’t let love happen.

  * * *

  Dylan walked back into the kitchen a short time later, cleaned up and ready to start the day that should have been started hours ago. Harmony was sitting at his dining-room table with a cup of coffee between her hands and her long, curly blond hair hiding her face. He poured himself a cup and joined her at the table.

  She smiled up at him and he realized she’d been crying. Because of him? He’d had some crazy ideas in his life, but he was starting to see that the craziest one might have been the day he told Harmony they could help each other out.

  “You okay?” He sat and watched her pretend to sip her coffee.

  “I’m good, just...” She shrugged one shoulder and then looked back down into her cup of coffee.

  “Man, Harmony, I’m sorry.” He didn’t quite know what to do with her so vulnerable. How did he help her get back to the person she used to be? “Can I help?”

  She laughed a little, the kind that came at the end of a woman’s tears. He knew it well. He used to try to make Katrina laugh. When everything was going wrong, he would hug her and then tease her about something crazy.

  He missed her, his friend. He thought about the two little kids in his living room, growing up without her.

  “We could get married,” he said, then cleared his throat. “That was about the craziest thing I’ve ever said.”

  Did he have to go and make it worse by tossing out a halfway proposal to someone he hadn’t known in years?

  Her eyes widened, tearstained and a little puffy. Her nose was red, too. Some females just couldn’t cry pretty.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Why would we get married? I’m not even sure if I like you, let alone love you and want to spend my life with you.”

  “Okay, really, you don’t have to trample my feelings that way.” At least she was no longer upset. He listened for a minute, to make sure the kids were still sleeping. “It was a moment of weakness, thinking about Callie and Cash losing their mom and being stuck with me. What
in the world was I thinking, Harmony? I’m twenty-seven, and a year ago, having a couple of kids was the last thing on my mind.”

  “I never thought I’d be the girl fresh out of rehab. Life happens, it takes us by surprise, and then we find out who we really are.”

  “I’d like to think I’m a good enough person to do this.”

  She reached across the table and he took her hand in his. When she smiled, it took him by surprise. There was a flash of the old Harmony in that smile, the cowgirl who had acted as if she could take on the whole world.

  He remembered her on a horse after the last barrel and heading down the home stretch, hair flying and a happy smile on her face. She’d won more than she’d lost. He’d always thought that was Harmony Cross, not the girl in Nashville living a crazy lifestyle.

  Her hand squeezed his and it yanked him back to the present, and to those dark blue eyes that were studying his face.

  “You’re more than good enough, Dylan. You love those kids, and that is going to make up for everything you think you can’t do.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” She smiled with confidence, in him.

  In that moment, looking at her the way she was now, the grown-up version of the girl he’d kissed once on a dare, he thought maybe he hadn’t been kidding when he asked her to marry him. He had to figure out his new life as a dad. She had a lot to get through in her life. Neither of them needed complications.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, a truck rumbled up the driveway. He heard it coming, then heard a trailer rattle to a stop. He walked to the front door just as Jackson walked up the steps whistling a country song and looking like a guy who had everything in his life worked out.

  Dylan pushed the door open and Jackson grinned and walked inside. “Is that Harmony’s car out front?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Then you two are serious and not just playing everyone? Because I would have bet the farm on this all being subterfuge.”

  What in the world was he supposed to say to that? Dylan stared at his older brother, just long enough to look guilty. Finally he got it together. “I didn’t know you knew the word subterfuge or how to use it in a sentence.”