by Jillian Hart
“Right. How’s your dad—”
That was all she heard because she’d found her son standing in front of a dark-haired, wide-shouldered man who was down on both knees. Hunter. What were they doing together? She launched onto the lawn, leaving Brooke behind and the door wide open. Halfway across the lawn she noticed a few drops of blood on Hunter’s hand as he tipped her child’s head back and pinched the bridge of his little nose. Her poor boy.
“You took that blow like a man.” Hunter’s gruff compliment rumbled kindly, carried to her on the breeze. “That had to hurt.”
“I’b tuff.”
“So, I see.” Hunter dabbed at Simon’s nose with a tissue, mopping up the little bit of blood. A travel-sized box sat on the grass next to his knee.
“I hafta take care of by bob.”
Faster, she told her feet, but time had screeched to an inexplicable stop like it did right before doom happened. Was she the only one who noticed they shared a high forehead, sloping nose and a carved chin?
“Your mom’s blessed to have you taking care of her,” Hunter dabbed at drying blood, wiping it off Simon’s fingers with his free hand. “Sounds like you’re the man of the house.”
“Dat’s right. Ab I still bleedink?”
“Simon!” Millie skidded to a stop, adrenaline kicking through her veins. “Thanks, Hunter, but I can take over.”
“Good, because that’s about all I know. I’m no medic, but I’d say this is minor. He’ll be scoring goals as soon as lunch is over.” A hint of a grin, a nod of encouragement and he released his hold on Simon’s nose. “Keep your head tipped back, okay? You play an awesome game of soccer, buddy.”
“Danks, neighbor.” Simon glowed at the compliment, responding to Hunter in a way that made the fear coiling in her stomach ratchet a notch tighter.
“No problem, kid.” Hunter rocked back on his heels, rising to his six-plus feet. His shadow fell across her, blocking the sun’s warmth.
When his gaze locked on hers, she shivered. Did he know? Did he suspect? Had there been an unspoken instinct he’d felt when he’d gazed into Simon’s eyes and recognized his son? But thankfully Hunter said nothing. Good news was the bleeding had stopped. “How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Okay. I’b sorry.” Simon’s apology shone in his eyes.
“By glasses.”
That’s when she realized he wasn’t wearing them. She smoothed a shock of hair off his forehead. “It’s okay. We’ll get another pair.”
“I found the doctor.” Brandi jogged into sight, pale with worry. “Millie, I’m sorry! I watched him like a hawk, I promise you, but it happened so fast.”
“It would have happened if I’d been here instead.” Goose bumps broke out on her arms, aware of the man watching her. He’d retreated to lean against the pickup beside his brother, arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes shuttered, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.
“Let me take a look.” Dr. Moss tromped up, his gray hair wind-tousled. Still the same doc with his plaid shirts and friendly smile that put anyone at ease. “Millie, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Aren’t you retired by now?”
“Sure, but duty calls. Hi, there.” The older man knelt in front of the boy for a quick examination. “I used to treat your mom when she was little.”
“Cool.”
The weight of Hunter’s gaze raked over her. Was it her imagination or did she feel his condemnation? It took all her courage to meet his gaze boring into her. What was he going to do? What was he going to say? Miserable, she bowed her head watching the doctor check for a broken nose, shake his head and pat Simon on the shoulder.
“You’ll be fine. Take it easy until after you eat. Millie, he’s clotted just fine. There shouldn’t be any problems, but if that bleeding starts up again, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Her skin prickled with awareness as Hunter launched off the side of the truck toward her. Every movement he made shot through her like judgment.
“Mbomb?” Simon danced in place, pure little-boy energy. Nothing could keep him down for long. “Are you mbad? When we get to Grandpa’s house, I can glue ’em.”
The kid worried too much. She smoothed down his tousled hair, not that it would do any good; that shock of his cowlick stuck straight up again.
“We’ll drive into Bozeman when we get a chance and get a new pair. No worries.” She swallowed hard, aware of Hunter taking the broken pair of glasses from Brandi and disappearing around his truck. If only she could forget the image of Hunter kneeling before her son, taking care of him with kindness warming his words.
That was very fatherlike. Never in her wildest dreams had she been able to picture him as father material. Back then, he’d been sometimes cold, often quick to shut down his emotions and push away those who cared about him.
“Millie?” Footsteps rasped beside her in the grass. When she looked up, Jerry from the volunteer fire department gave his Stetson a hitch. “See your boy’s all right. That was quite a goal you scored there, young man.”
“Danks.” Simon’s eyes glowed. “I got lucky. Got in a good, clean shot.”
“You sure did. My son Jonah is over at the barbecue waiting for you. If it’s okay with your mom?”
“Absolutely.” She squeezed Simon’s shoulder. “Have fun, kiddo. Stay where I can see you.”
“Wait.” Hunter strolled into her line of sight, his jaw clenched tight as if in anger. He held out Simon’s glasses, repaired with a strip of adhesive tape he must have found in Luke’s truck. “Now you can see where you’re going.”
“Thanks, Hunter.” Simon’s smile went up in wattage two hundred percent. “I like to see my food before I eat it.”
“That’s a good plan.” Strain snapped along Hunter’s jawline. “A word of advice. Hit the dessert table right away. If you wait, you’ll miss the best stuff.”
“Got it. Are you comin’, Mom?” The boy took off, walking backward, only a few drops of blood on his shirt a clue that he’d been a soccer casualty.
“I’ll be right there soon.” She waited until her son, Brandi and Jerry were out of earshot before she dared face Hunter. She tried to ignore the rat-tat-tat of her pulse in her skull and faced him head-on and honestly, the way she wished she could have ten years ago. “I really need to explain—”
“Forget it. I know what you’re going to say.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, pacing away from the truck, where Luke stood in the bed, shoveling sawdust into a pile on the ground. “I’m guessing you never figured on seeing me alone with your son.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“The kid was hurt. Whatever you think of me, I’m not going to stand by and do nothing, especially for a child.” A muscle ticked along his iron jawline, a sign of his struggle to hold his emotion.
Here it comes. She steeled her spine, bracing for the first blow. They were alone, just the two of them, huddling at the edge of the grass where tall trees cast them in shadow. “Hunter, maybe I should have—”
“I need to talk to you about the dairy.” He squared his shoulders, all business. “Luke’s leaving town for a week or so with his girlfriend.”
“This is news.” The change of subject surprised her, but she went with it. “And you’re actually letting him go?”
“Don’t see how I can stop him.” Hunter’s grin could still make her heart thump.
“Oh, I get where this is going. With Luke gone, you’ll be shorthanded milking your herd, so you won’t be able to help Milton and me. It’s not a problem.” The words rushed out, driven by relief. “Don’t worry. The milk check should come next week, so we’ll be able to hire back—”
“No.” He leaned in, towering over her, so close she breathed in the scents of sawdust and hay clinging to h
is shirt. “Luke had the idea of training Brandi to come help you out. She needs the income for college, so you’d be helping her out.”
“That’s not what I expected you to say, so give me a minute here. I’m a little speechless.”
“Don’t have to say anything.” He swallowed hard, but that didn’t do a thing to dislodge the wad of emotion apparently stuck in his throat. “Don’t even thank me. Truth is, I wasn’t always good to you when we were together. I regret that.”
“I regret a lot of things, too.” She bit her bottom lip, looking forlorn. That just went to show what a rotten boyfriend he’d once been. Hurting her had never been his intention. Truth was, he’d been so determined to be tough and not to give in to love that he hadn’t realized what he was doing, unable to see how much he’d hurt her.
He could see it now. He’d spent his entire life pushing people away so no one could get close. Shouldn’t be a big surprise that it worked. There was no do-over button he could push. His only option was to try and do better. He grabbed the shovel leaning against the side of the truck. “I’m not that fond of kids.”
“I know, you’ve told me many times.”
“But I like yours. He’s a lot like you.”
“Really?” Worry crinkled across her forehead, like maybe she expected him to say something harsh about her child.
Not going to happen. It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids; more like he was afraid he would be a bad father, the way his dad had been for him. “Sure. He’s got your sense of humor. Your dark hair. That can’t-stop-me attitude. Your love of team sports.”
“I guess so.” Her gentle gaze found his and held, looking deeply into him. Sympathy flitted across her face, as obvious as if she’d said the words.
She felt sorry for him? What for? Or was it because she could see all the ways he hadn’t changed? The barricade around his heart stood fortress-strong, as immovable as ever. That’s the way it would stay.
“Mom!” A distant voice traveled across the grounds. “I got a plate for you.”
“I’d better go.” She darted away, eager to leave. “See you around.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged, her look of sympathy lingered, getting to him, even when he joined Luke in the truck bed. Sawdust flew, the pile on the ground grew and he kept sneaking glances across the lawn at Millie, sitting with her son and his sisters. At Millie, laughing and beautiful.
Sympathy for him? Ridiculous. There was nothing to feel sorry for. He was right where he wanted to be in his life. Single was exactly the way he wanted it.
* * *
“Millie, it’s a good thing you’ve done, coming back for your dad.” Lee Paulson, a neighboring rancher, moseyed up to the picnic table. Time had put more lines in his face and a little gray in his hair, but his brown eyes were still good-humored. “Not that Whip deserves it.”
“He’s dying. It’s time to put our differences aside.” She poured lemonade into her plastic cup. “Thanks for coming to help put out the fire.”
“Not a problem. We’re neighbors. We’re both dairy farmers. Helping out is what we do around here. Just glad we could knock it down before the whole structure went. Of course, Hunter was the one who saved the day.”
“I’m trying not to think too hard on that,” she quipped. Hunter’s good deeds toward her were adding up. She grabbed Lee’s cup from him and filled it. “I hear your Ethan and Natalie are in high school.”
“Yep, they’re all grown up. To think you used to babysit for ’em. They’re around here somewhere. Probably playing baseball with the youth group kids.”
“If I don’t run into them, tell them hi.” She handed him his cup.
“Will do. See ya around.” He tipped his Stetson and ambled away.
Nice to see him again. There were good memories in this valley, too, and even better people.
“I didn’t believe the rumors, not at all, not until I saw you with my own eyes.” A red-haired woman took a brownie from a baking dish and tucked plastic wrap back into place. Cissy Larson, they’d grown up together. “You really are here. I thought you were gone for good.”
“No kidding, but plans change.” She glanced at the loose cluster of kids in front of a makeshift starting line. Simon had paired up with Jonah, waiting for Brandi to tie their legs together. His nose was just fine, although his glasses sat a bit askew. “It’s that never-say-never thing. I said never to coming back and here I am.”
“You should have heard the tantrum your daddy threw when you left.” Sympathy glinted in Cissy’s caring gaze. “He had to hire two men to do the work you did for him for free. I couldn’t stand to look at him after I heard that. I’m trying to feel Christian charity for him, but it’s not easy.”
“Believe me, I know. How have you been?”
“Good. I married Billy a few years after you left. I’m Cissy Taylor now. We have three little ones. The baby is sleeping with her daddy.” Cissy nodded across the grounds to a green plaid blanket and an older version of Billy, the high school football player, holding his sleeping daughter in one arm. “The preschooler is racing around keeping Grammy on her toes, and our oldest is gearing up for the three-legged race.”
“So’s mine. He’s the one in the blue shirt.”
“Millie, he looks just like you. Those cheeks. Those big beautiful eyes. Remember how you used to wear those reading glasses?”
“I still do.” A sigh escaped her. So, people saw what they expected to see. No one but her father had known she’d been pregnant when she’d fled town. “Your little girl is the one in the purple shirt.”
“How did you guess? It wouldn’t be the red ringlets, would it?”
“She looks just like you. Gorgeous.”
“You’re the same, Millie. So good to have you back. Oh, the baby’s waking up.” Cissy raised her hand in a just-a-minute sign to her husband, taking a few hesitant steps. “Don’t think we won’t talk about Hunter either. Can you believe him? Never married. Some say he’s been pining for you all this time.”
“Pining? For me?” No way. Impossible to imagine it. “He’s the one who ended everything.”
“That’s not what everyone says.” Across the way, Cissy’s baby started to cry. “Now I really have to go. We’ll talk later. I’ll call you.”
Millie watched her girlhood friend scurry away, remembering there had been good times spent in this town.
“Get ready!” The minister’s voice boomed above the happy sounds of conversations and laughter ringing across the grounds. With toes up to the masking tape starting line, a row of paired-up kids bobbed and danced, eager to be on their way. “Get set! Go!”
Off they went, staggering awkwardly. Simon and Jonah found their rhythm and pulled into third place. Cissy’s girl and her partner went tumbling, laughing as they hit the ground. Cheers rose, encouraging everyone on.
“Hey, your kid’s pulling into second.” Hunter’s baritone. Hunter’s gait on the grass sidling up behind her. He seized the pitcher’s handle. “I checked on your dad’s truck. It’s blocked in worse than before. Too many folks ran out to make a quick run home or to the store and parked on the street.”
“And here I wanted to give your keys back.” Her attention remained firmly on the race. Simon and Jonah were neck and neck with the leaders, trying to pass, but the finish line loomed ahead. There wasn’t enough time. The race was over.
“Mom! Second place!” Simon’s happiness lit him up.
“Yay! Woo-hoo! Good job!” She cheered, proud as her son politely congratulated the first-place winners.
Other parents called out congratulations, too, parents she recognized because she’d gone to school with them. Anne Roland, who’d apparently married her high school sweetheart, James, whose son was accepting a third-place prize. Kathi Olenz standing hand in hand with her husband; they’d
dated in school, too.
Everywhere she looked were families. Hunter was the only single man with no family ties and no one to love. Did he like being alone? Were there times he regretted his solitary life? Again, the image of him kneeling before Simon, pinching the boy’s bleeding nose, flashed into her mind. But a moment of kindness didn’t change things.
“See ya around, Millie.” He saluted her with his glass of lemonade, walking away.
Chapter Eight
“That was fun. So totally fun.” Simon bounced in the passenger seat of the borrowed truck and popped a bite-sized candy bar into his mouth.
Yes, the sugar was definitely at work. “I’m glad you had a great time, kiddo.”
“And Hunter’s truck is supercool.” He eyed the controls to the sound system and ran his fingers over the plush upholstery. “Did he really used to be your boyfriend?”
“Long ago, yes.” And that’s all she wanted to say on the subject. “You scored a lot of candy in the penny hunt.”
“And lots of candy money.” Simon’s hand covered his pocket, where his treasure gave a muted jingle. “Hmm, I wonder what I’ll buy.”
“Something good, right?” She wheeled into the driveway, the groceries behind the seat rustling as they shifted around. She’d stopped on the way home, took twenty from her meager savings account at the ATM and tried not to think about their precarious finances.
“Right, or maybe ice-cream bars.” Simon opened the door and hit the ground with a two-footed thud.
It did her good to hear him so happy. She opened the door, let the country air breeze over her and hauled a sack of groceries off the floor. Simon circled around to her, arms out, and she handed him the lightest bag.
“So, where does Jonah live?” He tromped alongside her.
“The farm on the other side of the river.” She spied a shadow hunched on the porch swing, the home-care nurse looking wrung out. She knew just how Dad could make a person feel. “Simon, please put the bag in the kitchen.”
