by Leigh Riker
He hoped she wasn’t just saying her appointment was only a checkup. He hoped nothing was wrong with her.
For Nicky’s sake.
* * *
BLOSSOM SET ANOTHER can of peaches on a pantry shelf. She hadn’t had time yesterday to unload everything. She ducked back into the kitchen for the last bag of nonperishables. Maybe tonight she’d ask Logan to grill steaks while she baked potatoes and cooked green beans, the meal he’d asked for. The traditional men’s favorite should be simple enough that she wouldn’t mess up.
At the window she glanced out to see a sleek sedan sail down the driveway toward the main road. Another visitor she didn’t recognize. Whoever it was must have been here on business because no one had come to the house.
At least it wasn’t Ken.
Humming to herself, she rummaged through the grocery bag.
A second later the back door flew open and Logan walked in.
She took one look at his face and thought, Uh-oh. His dark brows were drawn low, his mouth set. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he said, “My ex was just here. She wasn’t happy that Nicky showed up with Grey the other day.”
Blossom had quickly learned to keep a full pot of coffee available at all times. He came and went and sometimes so did Willy or Tobias.
“Don’t you have visitation rights?”
“Yeah, but she makes it hard to see him and it’s upsetting to Nicky whenever I have to leave again. He was only three when Libby and I split up. Sometimes I doubt he remembers me that well.”
“That wasn’t my impression.” Blossom saw the flash of pain cross his face again. He wasn’t angry, as she’d first thought. “I think he misses you very much. I did when my father was away, and after losing your parents, you should understand... I’m sure he wants you to be part of his life.”
“That won’t happen,” he said, taking a careful sip of the hot brew, “until I can go to court—and sue Libby for joint custody.”
“How would that work? If she’s here and you’re in Wichita?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” he admitted. “I may have to settle for summers and holidays. We’ll see. I need my promotion first to afford lawyers. I’m still paying off the last suit.”
“You lost,” she said. “Based on what?—if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Libby convinced the court that Nicky might be in danger if he stayed with me. The ranch was no place, she said, for a little boy. There are too many things that could happen here—which I can’t argue with. The same message, basically, that she delivered today.”
“So you need to get back to Wichita.”
“Yeah.”
“I could take care of things while you’re gone,” she offered. “Sam doesn’t mind my cooking and we get along well.”
Logan blew on his coffee. “Can you also run a ranch? Give orders to Willy and Tobias? Deliver calves if need be? Treat an abscess or sew up a cat?”
Blossom bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him about last night in the barn with Willy. Nothing had really happened except that she’d almost panicked. She’d left the kitten with some fresh bedding in an empty stall for the night. “I guess not,” she said, feeling as she always did when Ken criticized her.
“And the Circle H can’t run itself. Could you really control Sam on your own? The better he feels, the sooner he’ll be falling down the stairs trying to prove he’s a hundred percent again.” He added, “The doctor said he may have the balance problem, and some fuzzy thoughts, for a while.”
“Oh.” He’d reminded Blossom of her conversation with Sam. A safer topic, she hoped. “I forgot to tell you. The other day your grandfather confused me with your ex-wife.” Her face warmed. “He thought you and she—or me, in that case—should have another couple of babies.”
“God, no,” Logan said. “I mean, nothing against you or even Libby. But you think he’s that confused?”
“Only for a moment,” she said. “I thought you should know, though.”
Blossom dug into the grocery bag once more, in part to hide the heat in her face. She didn’t welcome this constant awareness she had of Logan not as her temporary employer but as a man. She was in no position to start another relationship she couldn’t handle. And one Logan probably didn’t want.
Beside her, he dipped into the bag and then handed Blossom a can of green beans. “Put this stuff wherever you want it. My grandmother never liked any of us meddling in her pantry. I’ll unpack the rest.”
In the next second, she knew that was a mistake.
Logan held up the smaller bag from the Baby Things shop. She’d forgotten the tiny cap was in with the groceries. “This yours?”
“Yes. Thanks,” she said, trying to take it from him.
But Logan held on to the bag. He peered inside with a pointed look.
“One of your errands in town?” he asked, as if he also knew she’d gone to the Mother Comfort agency.
“My...friend is having a baby.” Blossom looked away.
To her relief he didn’t pursue the matter.
Instead, he said, “I think there’s still some of Nicky’s baby stuff in the attic. Libby kept his clothes in real nice shape. You’re welcome to them.”
For your friend.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BLOSSOM DROVE INTO town by herself on Friday—finally, her first payday, and the day after Logan had seen the bag with the baby hat. Leaving her old sedan parked behind the red Mustang that belonged to Shadow Moran, she headed into the Mother Comfort Home Health Care Agency again.
To her disappointment, Shadow presented her with a check. Blossom stared at it for a moment, feeling the regular thud of her heart speed up.
Shadow looked apologetic. “I talked with my accountant. Dispensing cash messes up our system so I’m not willing to make an exception. I’m sorry, Blossom.” Shadow didn’t meet her eyes. “I hope this won’t be a problem for you.”
Well, it is. Blossom’s pulse was beating like a trip hammer now. Her hand trembled on the paper check. “I don’t have a bank account here.”
“I’d be happy to recommend my bank. I can steer you to the person I deal with there. She’s quite good. Friendly, too,” Shadow added, as if that would make all the difference to Blossom.
“I’d rather not, but thank you. I know you tried.”
Shadow leaned back in her chair to study Blossom. “I understand. You don’t expect to be here long, so why put down roots? I get that.” She thought for a moment. “So... I know. There’s one of those payday loan sites on Sycamore Street around the corner off Main about four blocks down. The cowboys use it all the time. You can cash your check there.”
Blossom frowned. She couldn’t take that chance either. Logan had told her the ranch hands were often itinerant workers, and it appeared she was one of them now. But soon after she’d left Philadelphia, she’d let a friend who would worry about her know where she was staying. Ken had called Tammy, intimidated her—he was good at that—and Tammy had given up Blossom’s location at the time. If Tammy hadn’t warned her, he would have found her. Dragged her home.
Within hours of Tammy’s call she’d sold the Lexus, which Ken would probably report as stolen. Twenty minutes after handing it over to a private buyer, no questions asked, Blossom had been on the road again in a different car. Like a cowboy moving on to another ranch, another job.
She turned away from the reception desk.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “Thanks again. Goodbye, Shadow.”
She hadn’t reached the door when Shadow stepped out from behind the desk.
“Wait.” She hesitated before laying a hand on Blossom’s forearm. “I’ve talked with Logan. We agree. You’re running away from someone. Aren’t you? I can understand why you wouldn’t want to confide in Logan becaus
e he’s your employer. But why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?”
Blossom shook her head. “Really, I’m fine. I like to stay loose, that’s all.” She looked pointedly at Shadow’s hand. Her mouth had gone bone-dry. “I appreciate your interest but I need to go now. I promised I’d be back in time to make Sam’s lunch. If I don’t hurry, he’ll be out of his bed and down the stairs. He’s not steady enough yet.”
With a frown, Shadow stepped back. “I won’t keep you, then.”
Blossom tucked the check into her bag. She lowered her head and slipped through the door onto the sidewalk. Then she stopped and pointed toward the other end of Main Street. “The payday loan place is that way?”
“You can’t miss it,” Shadow said.
Blossom had no other choice. She would have to cash the check. Then she’d drive back to the Circle H to pack her things. She could be on her way again long before Logan came home from his outing today with Nick.
“Come back anytime,” Shadow called after her.
But Blossom would be gone, and neither Logan nor Shadow could tell Ken where she was going. They wouldn’t know.
Neither did she.
* * *
“I WON’T BE gone long,” Libby told Logan. She’d met him at the local strip mall on the outskirts of Barren as if they were two spies about to exchange information.
“I have all day.”
“Thanks. We’ll see how this goes.” She’d already transferred Nicky’s booster seat to Logan’s truck for the drive back to her house later and was turning toward her car. Nicky had walked away to inspect something on the sidewalk.
Logan hardly knew her these days. In the past three years Libby had reinvented herself. She’d been a rancher’s wife when they were married, but since the divorce she’d built her own business. Logan didn’t quite understand what she did, but it had something to do with people’s estates. She’d recently opened an office in Barren. Now she was always in a hurry.
She turned around again. “You have my cell number so if anything—”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Libby.”
“I hope not. But just in case—”
“I already have Doc’s office, home and cell numbers, too.”
But Logan was clearly out of his element. He hadn’t spent much time with Nicky in the past three years, which made him feel even more guilty than he already did about the flood.
Maybe this would work out, and Libby would learn that he was a capable parent after all, not the daredevil pilot in her mind who risked his life at every opportunity. Who’d risked Nicky’s life, too.
He held out a hand to Nicky, who’d discovered a big bug on the sidewalk and hadn’t heard much of their conversation. “Come on, buddy. Let’s eat.”
“Pancakes?”
“Whatever you want.”
Nicky chose the nearby IHOP. They sat in a booth with a big selection of syrup bottles on the table, and Nicky ordered a blueberry stack.
Logan studied the picture in the menu. “You sure you can eat all that?”
Nicky raised dark blue eyes that matched Logan’s. Only his son’s eyes held some underlying emotion he couldn’t quite read. Maybe Nicky was remembering his visit to the ranch with Grey. He didn’t answer Logan’s smile with one of his own.
“I love pancakes.”
“So do I.”
After that, while they waited for their meals, the conversation lagged. Logan didn’t know how to talk to him. He fidgeted with his knife and fork, asked about school—any adult’s usual question for a kid, especially one he didn’t know well—and Nicky’s plans for summer (which wouldn’t include Logan) and, finally, about his friends.
“I have a bunch,” Nicky said, his eyes lighting up as the waitress served their breakfast. He picked the strawberry syrup then poured it on thick. “But I also got a girl friend—not a girlfriend,” he added. “She’s more like the boys.”
“A point in her favor,” Logan said, fighting a smile.
The following silence made him twitch. He and Nicky had been best buds, practically inseparable, until Libby left and filed for divorce. Now he hardly knew what to say. He hadn’t met any of Nicky’s current friends. He didn’t know what he liked other than pancakes—which he’d learned only moments ago.
Logan focused on his plate of waffles with bacon and home fries. But his stomach tightened at every bite, and he soon gave up trying to eat. The way Nicky was shoveling in his pancakes, he’d probably get sick. Then Libby would have more ammunition to use against him. He had to make this work or it wouldn’t happen again.
“So.” He laid aside his fork. “Now we’ve got all that out of the way, I miss you, buddy,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I guess.”
“I mean, really miss you.” He started to reach for Nicky’s hand but drew back. The words almost stuck in Logan’s throat. “You miss me?”
“A little.” Nicky’s face had shut down. He took another huge mouthful of pancake. Because he didn’t want to talk? Or he remembered Logan’s coldness at the ranch?
He was casting about for something brilliant to say when a man walked up to their booth. Nicky glanced up and grinned.
“Hi, Mr. Caldwell.”
“Hey, Barney,” Logan said. They shook hands. “Join us, if you’d like.”
It was rare not to run into someone you knew—or had known, in Logan’s case—whenever you came to town. He hadn’t seen Barney in years.
“No, I’m on my way back to the bank.” He eyed Nicky’s almost-empty plate then Logan’s full one. The syrup had pooled in the butter on his now-soggy waffles. He hadn’t touched the potatoes or the bacon. “Surprised to see you here.”
The rumor mill in Barren was apparently open for business. As vice president of loans at the Cattlemen’s Bank, Barney usually got wind of things first. “I’m staying at the ranch while Sam’s laid up.”
Barney clicked his tongue, making Nicky giggle.
“Heard about his accident. He’s getting pretty old to run that place.”
“Maybe so.” That was one of Logan’s worst fears. What would happen to the Circle H if Sam couldn’t manage it again? Sawyer wasn’t here and Logan wouldn’t stay. “Well. Thanks for stopping by.”
“You get a chance, come on in. We’ll talk.”
Logan tensed. He didn’t need a loan—unless Barney wanted to lend him money for a lawyer. “About what?”
“The ranch could use some renovations. Last time I drove by even your sign was hanging by a thread. I’ve got a home equity line of credit with the Circle H on it.”
“I’ll talk to Sam,” he said. And he needed to fix that sign.
Barney lifted a hand. “I’ll leave you, then, with your boy.” He smiled at Nicky. “I know how precious that time can be.”
No, he didn’t. The banker was a lifetime bachelor—no wife, no kids.
Logan got the message. He was an absentee father.
The story would be all over Barren by nightfall. Neglect pays a visit. Barney’s sighting would have tongues wagging for days. Logan watched him go.
“You finished, Nicky?”
“One more bite.” He wolfed it down. “Mr. Caldwell was nosy.”
Logan almost grinned. “You bet.” He had to make the most of this outing. Make it a real success. The problem was, how? He glanced out the window at the strip mall. “What do you want to do next?”
Nicky shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Logan spied a store that might be of interest. “The toy shop’s right over there. Let’s do some shopping.”
As soon as they cleared the main doors to the store, Nicky took off and so did Logan’s pulse. Afraid he’d lose sight of him, he set off at a jog, already feeling the effects of trying to ke
ep up with a six-year-old boy. Or was Nicky that eager to get away from Logan? Where did he get all that energy?
Logan wasn’t complaining. After all, Libby had let him take Nicky for part of the day—to help her—as long as he didn’t set foot on the Circle H.
Nicky had spied a large floor display of child-size vehicles that looked like a real car dealer’s lot and was running from one to the next. A red convertible. A blue race car. A yellow Jeep. A shiny black monster pickup that closely resembled Logan’s own truck. Nicky went right to it.
“Look at this one! Wow!”
His cheeks had flushed with obvious excitement. His small hands shook as he tried the horn, and even kicked the tires. “Can I get this?”
“I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Why not?”
Mommy wouldn’t like it. Yet he couldn’t say that. He might have lost custody of his only child—temporarily—but he’d never bad-mouth Nicky’s mother. Or use his son as a pawn in his testy relationship with Libby.
“Why don’t we find a soccer ball instead?”
Nicky’s mouth set. “I don’t want a ball. I want this truck.”
Logan suddenly wished it wasn’t spring. There was no snow or ice on the ground or a blizzard in the forecast. His best argument that a truck would have no use outdoors for months wouldn’t hold water. “You’re going to start soccer pretty soon. We could practice today.”
“You’re not a soccer man. You’re a pilot.”
Logan had brought him a set of gold wings on his last visit.
“I used to play soccer,” he said. “Come on, let me show you my moves.”
Nicky didn’t budge. He climbed into the truck then sat there, fiddling with the dials on the dashboard. Logan had to admit, the battery-driven, motorized toy was impressive. If he was Nicky’s age, he’d want it, too. In fact, he had the real thing.
“Please?”
Logan pushed aside his misgivings. He checked the price tag. Ouch. But the truck would be cheaper than a custody suit, and Nicky’s birthday was coming up. He saw no harm in buying the pickup for him—except for Libby’s probable reaction. He didn’t have a better argument after all than “Your mother would say no.”
