Despite the chill, Colin stopped for a moment, taking in the view. The house sat on the apex of a shallow cul-de-sac in a chorus line of a dozen others similar in size, if not in shape or color. There’d been no plan to Whispering Pines, it’d just sort of happened, lot by lot, house by house. But scraping the outskirts of town the way it was, this lot at least had a decent view of the mountains, which probably made Dad happy. It’d been damn good of Granville to give them the house, after the doctors strongly suggested Dad retire. There’d been other provisions, as well. His parents would never starve or be homeless. Still, three generations of Talbots had grown up in the ranch foreman’s house, and it’d felt strange sleeping there—or trying to—last night by himself.
It felt strange, period, being here. Even though—
He jolted when the front door opened, although not nearly as much as his mother when she realized who was standing in her driveway. Her hair was more silver than he remembered, the ends of her long ponytail teasing her sweatered upper arms poking out from a puffy, bright purple vest. But her unlined face still glowed, her jeans still hugged a figure as toned as ever and the joy in those deep brown eyes both warmed him and made him feel like a giant turd. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, but—
“Holy crap,” she breathed, appropriately enough, and Colin felt a sheepish grin steal across his cheeks.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, and a moment later she’d thrown her arms around him—as much as she could, anyway, he had a good eight or nine inches on her—and was hugging and rocking him like he was three or something, the whole time keening in his ear. Then Billie Talbot held him apart and bellowed, “Sam! Get your butt out here, now!” and a minute later his father appeared, his smile even bigger than his wife’s. Then Dad practically shoved Mom aside to yank Colin into a hug that almost hurt.
“Don’t know why you’re here,” Dad mumbled, “don’t care. Just glad you are.”
Feeling his chest ease—because honestly, he’d had no idea how this was going to go down—Colin pulled away, shoving his hands in his back pockets. He’d always thought of his father as this giant of a man, towering over most everybody. Especially his sons. Now Colin realized he was actually a little taller than Sam, which somehow didn’t feel right.
“Me, too.” He paused. “It’s been too long.”
“Won’t argue with you there,” Dad said. Although despite that whole it-doesn’t-matter spiel, Dad was no one’s fool. Especially when it came to his sons, all of whom had pulled their fair share of crap growing up. And now it was obvious from the slight tilt of his father’s heavy gray brows that he knew damn well there was more to Colin’s return than a simple “it was time.”
“So, where are you staying?” Mom asked. Colin faced her, now noticing she had her equipment bag with her, meaning she was headed out either to a birth or at least an appointment.
“In your old digs,” he said with a slight smile.
“So you’ve seen Josh and them?”
He nodded. “But they didn’t know I was coming, either. Neither did anyone else. Zach or Levi, I mean. I’m...easing back into things.”
His mother got a better grip on the bag, then dug her car keys out of her vest’s pocket. “And unfortunately it’s my day at the clinic, so I can’t hang around. But dinner later, yes?”
Colin smiled. “You bet.”
Mom squeezed his arm, then said, “Oh, to hell with it,” before pulling him in for another hug. This time, when she let go, he saw tears. “You have just made my day, honey. Shoot, year. I can’t wait until tonight.”
“Me, too,” Colin said, then watched as she strode out to her truck with the same purposeful gait as always. Nothing scared that woman, he thought. Nothing that he was aware of, anyway.
“She’s busier than ever,” Dad said behind him, making him turn. “Happier, too.”
His twin brothers had been in middle school when Mom announced it was time she lived her own life, that she’d decided to become a midwife. And if for a while they’d all been like a pile of puppies whose mama had decided they needed weaning, right then and there, they’d all gotten over it, hadn’t they?
“Um...want something to drink?” Dad said, scrubbing his palm over the backside of his baggy jeans—an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, Colin thought. Mom’d said his father had lost weight after that scare with his heart, even if only because the doctors had put the fear of God in him. Apparently, however, it hadn’t yet occurred to him to buy clothes to fit his new body. “It’s probably too early for a beer, and I only have that ‘lite’ crap, anyway...”
Colin chuckled, even as he realized his own heart was stuttering a bit, too. True, he’d never butted heads with his father like his brother Levi had, but neither was there any denying that the day he’d left Whispering Pines for college he’d felt like a caged bird finally being set free. Nor had he ever expected any desire to come home to roost.
“That’s okay, I’m good.”
Nodding, his dad tugged open the door, standing aside so Colin could enter. The place was tiny, but as colorful and warm as the old cabin had been. Plants crowded windowsills with wild exuberance, while hand-quilted pillows and throws in a riot of colors fought for space on otherwise drab, utilitarian furniture. Interior design had never been part of Mom’s skill set—and certainly not Dad’s, whose only criteria for furnishings had been a chair big enough to hold him and a table to eat at—but there was love in every item in the room, from the lushness of her plants to how deliberately she displayed every item ever gifted to her from grateful clients.
Love that now embraced him, welcoming him home...even as it chastised him for staying away so long. But...
Colin frowned. “I would’ve thought if Granville was going to leave the ranch to a Talbot, it would’ve been to you.”
His father snorted. “First off, I wouldn’t’ve wanted it. Not at this point in my life. Which Gran knew. Second...” Dad’s mouth twitched. “He also knew exactly what he was doing, leaving it to your brother and his daughter equally.”
“Ah.”
“Exactly. Because sometimes fate needs a little kick in the butt.” Dad squinted. “So. What’s going on, son?”
Underneath his father’s obvious—and understandable—concern, Colin could still hear hints of the my-way-or-the-highway gruffness that’d raised his hackles a million times ever since he was old enough to realize there was a whole world outside of this tiny speck of it wedged beside a northern New Mexican mountain range. A world that needed him maybe, even if it’d be years before Colin figured out how, exactly. That hadn’t changed, even if...
And the problem with voluntarily reinserting yourself into the circle of the people who—for good or ill—loved you most was that there would be questions.
How truthfully Colin could answer those questions was something else again.
Chapter Three
Sucking in a slow, steady breath, Colin managed a smile. “Why am I back, you mean?”
Dad crossed his arms over what was left of his belly. But the fire in those fierce gray eyes hadn’t diminished one bit. “Seems as good a place as any to start. Especially since your mother and me, we’d pretty much given up on that ever happening, to be truthful.”
“I stayed in touch,” Colin said, realizing how pitiful that sounded even before the words were out of his mouth.
“When it suited you, sure.”
Even after all this time he still couldn’t put into words what exactly had driven him away. Which was nuts. But all he’d known was that if he’d stayed he would’ve gone mad.
“I had things to do I couldn’t do here,” he said simply.
After a moment, his father started toward the nondescript but reasonably updated kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee from the old-school Mr. Coffee on the counter. “Decaf,” Dad gr
oused, holding up the cup before taking a swallow and making a face. Then, leaning one roughened hand against the counter, he sighed. “Not gonna lie, for a long time it hurt like hell, after you left. That, on top of the crap Levi pulled...”
This said with an indulgent smile. Most likely because from everything Josh had said last night, his twin, Levi—who after a stint in the army was now back and married to the local girl he’d been secretly sweet on in school—and Dad had worked out their differences.
His father’s gaze met his again. “Although I honestly don’t know why I ever thought the four of you would stick around. That you’d naturally be as tied to the place as I was, and my daddy and granddaddy before me. No, let me finish, I’ve been waiting a long time to say this.” Frowning, he glanced toward the window over the sink, then back at Colin. “Then this happened—” he gestured with the cup toward his chest “—and I guess when they put that stent in my artery more blood went to my brain and opened that up, too. And I realized if you expect your kids to be clones of you, you’re not raising ’em right. You all have to follow your own paths, not mine. And I’m good with that.” One side of his mouth lifted. “Mostly, anyway. But you can’t blame me for being curious about what’s prompted the surprise visit.”
With that, it occurred to Colin his father hadn’t seemed all that surprised, really. So much for swearing to God. “Josh told you I was here.”
“He felt a heads-up wouldn’t be a bad idea. I didn’t tell your mother, though.” His father chuckled. “After all these years—and raising you boys—it takes a lot to pull one over on her. Couldn’t resist the opportunity to see the look on her face when you showed up. Although she will kill me if she ever found out I knew before she did.”
Somehow, Colin doubted that. Sure, his folks bickered from time to time, same as any couple who’d been married a million years. They were human, after all. But there’d never been any doubt that Sam Talbot still, after those million years, knew he’d struck gold with Billie, who’d known a good thing—or so the story went—the instant she’d clapped eyes on the tall, lanky cowboy when she’d been barely out of school herself, and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize what they had. Even if she didn’t let him get away with bubkes. It was all about balance with his mother, for sure.
Something Colin would do well to figure out for himself. And by himself.
Leaning against a pantry cupboard, he crossed his arms. “I got offered a book contract from a big publisher, for a collection of my photo-essays over the past several years.”
His father’s brows shot up. “Really?”
Colin nodded. “But I want to add some new material, too. So I need...” His mouth set, he glanced away, then back at his father. “I need someplace quiet to work. To sift through my thoughts about the subject matter.”
“Which is?”
He felt his chest knot. “The plight of kids around the world.”
Something flashed in his father’s eyes. Colin couldn’t tell—and didn’t want to know, frankly—what. “Refugees, you mean?”
“Among others. Children living in poverty, in war-torn countries, whatever. I want...” He swallowed. “The whole reason I take pictures is so other people can see what I’ve seen.”
“Sounds like quite an honor. That offer, I mean.”
“I don’t... That’s not how it feels to me. It’s more that—”
“It’s your calling.”
“I guess. A calling that came to me, though. I didn’t go looking for it.”
A smile barely curved his father’s mouth. “That’s how callings work, boy. They tend to clobber a person over the head. But your own place wouldn’t work?”
“College kids in the next unit,” Colin said, hoping his face didn’t give him away. Although he wasn’t lying. Exactly. “One thing they’re not, is quiet.”
His father’s eyes narrowed, as though not quite buying the story. Hardly a surprise, considering he’d survived four teenage boys. Then his lips tilted again.
“And you know what? I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or question its motives. I’m just glad you’re here. For however long that turns out to be. And I cannot tell you how proud I am of you.”
Holy hell—he couldn’t remember his father ever saying that to him. About anything. Oh, Dad would occasionally nod appreciatively over something one or the other of them had done when they were kids, but actually giving voice to whatever he’d been thinking? Nope.
Old man hadn’t been kidding about the blood flow thing.
“Thank you,” Colin said.
And there was the nod. Because clearly Sam Talbot was as surprised as his son. Then he took another sip of his coffee, his brows drawn. “Josh also said Deanna’s cousin Emily showed up with you.”
Colin smiled. “I think it’s more that I showed up with her. We were on the same flight coming in from Dallas.”
“Pretty little thing.”
“She is.” Although not so little, actually. And of course now that Dad had brought her up, those mad, sad, conflicted eyes flashed in his mind’s eye. No wonder, now that he knew the reason behind the ambivalence. In some ways it was probably worse for her, since she was younger. Fewer life experiences and all that—
“Well. Just wanted to touch base,” Colin said, pushing away from the counter. For a moment disappointment flickered in his father’s eyes—a previously unseen glimpse of a soft spot that rattled Colin more than he’d expected. Or was about to let on. “I need to get in some supplies before I can start work,” he said gently. “But I’ll be back for dinner, remember? Or we can go out, if you’d rather. My treat.”
The right thing to say, apparently, judging from the way Dad perked right up. “That’d be real nice, either way. Depends on what your mother wants to do, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll call around five, see what’s up.”
They were back outside by now, where that chilly spring breeze grabbed at Colin’s hair, slapped at his clean-shaven face. Patches of old snow littered the parts of the yard that didn’t get direct sunlight, reminders that up this far, winter wasn’t over until it said so...images that at one time would’ve been nothing more than benign reminders of his childhood. Now, not even the bright sunlight could mitigate other reminders, other images, of how cruel—for too many people—winter could be when home had been ripped out from under you.
“Sounds good,” Dad said, palming the spot between Colin’s shoulder blades. “When you planning on seeing your other brothers? Zach, especially—you two were so close as kids.”
Colin supposed they had been, although age and isolation—and being roommates—had probably had more to do with that than temperament. Zach had been the quiet one, the steady one...the obedient one. The one Colin could count on to not judge when he’d go off about not being able to wait to get out of Whispering Pines.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “After I get settled.” Although he supposed the sooner he got the reunion stuff out of the way, the sooner he could retreat into his work.
In theory, anyway.
Back in the rental car, Colin waved to his father as he pulled out of the driveway, then headed toward the only decent grocery store in town. He wished he could say he was looking forward to dinner that night. Except the problem with being around people who knew you—or thought they did, anyway—was the way things you didn’t want leaked tended to leak out. He’d put his parents though enough as it was, even if he honestly couldn’t say what he could’ve done differently while still being true to who he was. But for sure he wasn’t about to dump on them now, or give them any reason to doubt he’d made the right choices. If nothing else, he owed them at least a little peace of mind, assurances that he was okay.
And if he wasn’t...well, he’d figure it out. You know, like a grown man.
The store—all thre
e aisles of it, more like some dinky Manhattan bodega than one of those mega suburban monstrosities—was mercifully empty on this weekday morning. And surprisingly well stocked with a bunch of chichi crap Colin had little use for. He could cook, after a fashion—at least, he’d moved beyond opening cans of soup and microwaving frozen burritos—but he was definitely about whatever took twenty minutes or less from package to stomach. Give him a cast-iron pan, a couple of pots, he was good.
He was about to toss a couple of decent-looking steaks into his cart when he heard, from the next aisle over, the women’s laughter...the same laughter he’d heard at the dinner table the night before. Same as then, it wasn’t so much the pitch of the laughs that set Deanna and her cousin apart as it was...the genuineness of them, he supposed. As in, one was actually happy, and the other was pretty much faking it. Although whether for her own sake or her cousin’s, Colin had no idea.
Nor was it any of his concern.
They were talking about nothing of any real importance that he could tell. Not that he should be listening, but if they’d wanted privacy, yakking in a small store wasn’t the best way to go about that. He plunked the steaks in the cart, worked his way over to the pork chops. Yep, he could still hear the two of them. Because again, small store. What he found interesting, though—from a purely analytic standpoint—was how different the cousins’ voices were. Deanna’s voice was lighter, sparklier, whereas Emily’s was...
With a package of chicken legs suspended in his hand over the case, Colin paused, frowning as he caught another whiff of Emily’s voice, and every nerve cell, from the top of his head to places that really needed to shut the hell up already, whispered, Oh, yeah...
Then he blinked, the fog dispersed and there she was.
“Oh. Hi.”
One thing about grocery store lights, they weren’t known for being flattering. Meaning he probably looked like a neglected cadaver right now. And yet even without makeup—none that he could see, anyway—in a plain old black sweater and pair of jeans, her hair pulled back in a don’t-give-a-damn ponytail, Emily was...okay, not beautiful. But definitely appealing.
Falling for the Rebound Bride Page 4
