by Janet Dailey
“Now there’s a safe subject. For what it’s worth, between what the ranch sells and what we take to Hank’s lot, it’s doing fine. We should clear enough cash to fix up the house and have enough left over to cover the ranch expenses till spring.” He looked down at the sandwich Tracy had set in front of him on a plate, with a linen napkin. “Wow, this looks good.” He took a bite. “And it tastes like heaven. You do make a killer cheese sandwich, lady.”
“I’ve got cold beer. It’s good with grilled cheese.” She took a can of Bud Light out of the fridge, popped the tab, and set it next to his plate. Then she sat down across from him.
“I could get used to this.” He looked across the table, his eyes meeting hers, holding her gaze for a beat too long. “But something tells me I’d better not take things like this for granted.”
Tracy tore her gaze away. “Another good idea,” she murmured.
“I know you’ve resisted my repaying you for your help. But at least let me bring you one of our trees. This place could use a little Christmas cheer.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Tracy felt the chill in her own voice. “But I gave up on Christmas after Steve died. It just didn’t seem worth celebrating alone.”
“I understand.” At least he wasn’t pushing the tree idea. “But how about dinner, or even lunch, no strings attached? There’s a nice place on the way to Cottonwood Springs. Good steak and ribs.”
“Yes, I know it. Logs and a big fireplace. Steve and I used to go there. It was our favorite place.”
A shadow of frustration passed across his face and vanished. He was really just trying to be nice, Tracy told herself. Maybe she was being rude.
“Then here’s an offer you can’t refuse,” he said. “The day after tomorrow is Saturday, the day of the weekly brunch at the bed and breakfast. Francine’s cooking is sheer artistry—all you can eat, eggs and pancakes that literally float off the plate. I was planning to take Clara. We’d love to have you along as our guest.”
Tracy had heard of the Saturday brunch at the B and B, as it was called. It was a popular gathering place for the whole town. Maybe that was why she’d never gone. She was a judge. How many people—those who’d been in her court—would see her and feel uncomfortable? Or was she just making an excuse because she didn’t want to go alone?
“So how about it?” Rush asked. “Just brunch in a friendly place, with Clara along. No strings.”
“That won’t stop the gossip when people see us together,” Tracy said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
Leaving the sandwich unfinished, he shoved his chair back from the table. “Tracy, I don’t give a damn about the gossip,” he said. “All I want is to do something nice for you. If that’s too much of an imposition, I’ll forget it.”
She’d pushed him too far, and for no good reason, Tracy realized. He wasn’t even asking her for a date, just breakfast with him and his daughter. The least she could do was apologize and say yes.
“No, it’s all right,” she said. “It’s a very nice invitation and I’ll accept it. It’s just that being a judge in a small town . . .”
“This is the twenty-first century. You’re not going to get a scarlet A on your chest if you have breakfast with a respectable man and his daughter. And you don’t need to keep punishing yourself because you lost a husband you still love. I just want to be your friend, that’s all, Tracy.”
She glanced down at her hands for a moment, knowing the next move was up to her.
“Thank you for that trip to the woodshed,” she said. “I could use a friend. Now please finish your lunch.”
He moved his chair closer to the table once more. “Thanks. This is too good to go to waste. For what it’s worth, the same goes for you.”
“No comment.” She lowered her gaze a moment to hide the hated blush. “What time should I be ready on Saturday?”
“The place gets crowded around nine o’clock. How about eight-thirty? That should give me time to finish the chores and have Clara ready.”
“Good luck getting her into her new clothes. She’s still in her princess gown.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She’s a darling little girl,” Tracy said. “I can tell she still loves you. According to her, Andre doesn’t give her much attention.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know Andre very well, but he strikes me as something of a narcissist. Everything’s about him. Now shut me up before I get carried away.”
“What about her mother?”
“The two of them just went off on a cruise and left Clara with the hired help—over Christmas. Something about working on their marriage. I think that says it all. I tried to get visitation rights, but the two-bit lawyer who was all I could afford told me it was a lost cause. That’s why I want to make the most of this surprise visit. I can’t count on seeing her again until she’s eighteen. As things stand, all I can do while she’s here is give her a few happy memories.”
When Rush had finished his lunch, Tracy carried his plate to the sink. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t get involved in Rush’s problems. But his situation was more than unfair. It was tragic. Maybe there was nothing she could do. But at least she could research Arizona child custody laws in case there was some loophole Rush’s second-rate lawyer had missed.
She wouldn’t tell Rush what she was doing—not unless she found a real breakthrough. Otherwise, getting his hopes up would only be cruel.
Rush had risen from his place at the table. “You’ve put in a long morning helping me out. I should probably get Clara and give you a break. How long has she been asleep?”
“Maybe forty-five minutes. Is that enough time for a good nap?”
“It used to be. Show me where she is. I’ll wake her.”
“She’s on my bed. You know the way.”
“Yes, I do, thanks to your cat.” He strode down the hall. When Tracy caught up with him, he was standing in the open bedroom door, as if hesitant to step inside. As Tracy looked past his shoulder she saw Clara asleep on the bed in her princess dress, partly covered by the quilt. Her eyes were closed, her lashes like dark velvet against her porcelain cheeks, her mouth a small pink rosebud.
“Now there’s a sleeping beauty,” he said softly. “I’m just grateful she’s not old enough for Prince Charming.”
“She’s beautiful,” Tracy said. “For now, her daddy can be her Prince Charming.”
Or you could be mine if things were very different. Tracy willed the thought from her mind.
At the sound of voices, the little girl opened her eyes. “Hi, Daddy,” she said.
“Hello, princess.” Rush walked to the bed and picked her up. “Ready to go home?”
“Uh-huh. But first, put me down. I want to show you something.”
As soon as her feet touched the floor, she was pulling at his hand, leading him on down the hall to the laundry room, and opening the door.
“Look, Daddy! Look in that big box!” She pulled him over to the box. Rush pretended to be surprised.
“Wow! Aren’t they something!”
“I gave them all names,” Clara said. “The babies are Midnight, Ginger, Tiger, and Snowflake. I love Snowflake best of all.”
“What about the mother?” He gave Tracy a questioning glance.
“She has a name, too,” Tracy said. “So, I guess that makes her officially my cat. Tell him what it is, Clara.”
“I named her Rainbow ’cause she has all the cat colors,” Clara said.
“Rainbow.” Rush reached into the box and stroked the mother cat’s head with a fingertip. “That’s a perfect name.”
“Tracy says that the kittens will need new homes soon. Do you think I could have Snowflake?” The hope in her big brown eyes would have melted a heart of granite. Tracy saw the sadness in Rush’s gaze as he shook his head.
“I wish I could say yes, honey,” he said. “But you can’t take a cat home to Phoenix because Andre is allergic. And if we tried to keep
Snowflake at the ranch, I don’t know how well he’d get along with Bucket. That dog can be pretty rambunctious, even if he only wants to play.”
Clara sighed. “Will you think about it, Daddy?”
“I’ll think about it, but thinking might not be enough.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the window. “Look! More snow! Who wants to go home and play in it?”
“Me!” Clara was easily distracted.
“I’ve got an idea,” Tracy said. “Why don’t we put on your new snow clothes here, before you leave? Then you’ll be all dressed for the weather. Come on, you can choose what you want to wear.”
“Yay!” She bounded into the living room where the shopping bags had been left and began dumping everything on the couch. After she’d chosen what she wanted, Tracy helped her change into a pink turtleneck shirt with a cat on the front, a blue fleece vest, and jeans. While Rush helped her with her socks and snow boots, Tracy folded the leftover clothes, including the princess costume and sneakers, and put them back in the shopping bags.
In her new outfit, Clara twirled like a miniature fashion model. “Do I look like a cowgirl now, Daddy?” she asked Rush.
“You look like the prettiest cowgirl in Texas,” he said. “Now let’s get your new parka and your mittens on, so we can go home and play in the snow.”
“You’ll need to get the booster seat out of my car,” Tracy reminded him. “The doors are unlocked.”
“Thanks for remembering. I’ll do that when we go outside,” he said.
Clara let him help her into her coat and pink kitty mittens. But she seemed distracted, as if she had something else on her mind. “Daddy,” she said at last. “There’s snow right outside. If we play here, Tracy can play with us. I bet she’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tracy?”
Tracy had been looking forward to curling up on the sofa with a cup of hot herbal tea and a good book; but how could she say no?
“Tracy?” Rush gave her a knowing look. “If you feel like you’ve had enough—”
“No, it’s fine. Go on out the kitchen door to the backyard. I’ll get my coat and boots and join you.”
* * *
Rush transferred the booster seat from Tracy’s car into the Hummer. He and Clara were pelting each other with handfuls of powdery snow and laughing when Tracy came out onto the back porch. Rush was glad to see her. Having lived most of his life in Arizona, he had a lot to learn about playing in the snow.
Not to mention that she looked stunning in her scarlet wool coat and knit cap, with snowflakes swirling around her.
“I want to make a snowman!” Clara called out to her. “Can you show us how?”
Tracy came down the porch steps to join them. Picking up a handful of snow, she blew on it, scattering the flakes into the wind. “For snowman building, and things like snow forts and snowball fights, you need the kind of snow that sticks together,” she said. “This snow is too fluffy. But I can show you some other games to play. Have you ever made snow angels?” She paused, glancing at their puzzled faces. “Watch. I’ll show you.”
She was already a snow angel, Rush thought. Her cheeks were becoming flushed with cold. Wind fluttered tendrils of golden hair around her face as she tromped to a fresh patch of snow, turned back toward them, grinned, and toppled over to land flat on her back.
For an instant, Rush was alarmed. Then he heard her laugh. “Just watch.” She moved her arms up and down and her legs in and out, making a pattern in the snow. “Wow,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “I haven’t done this since I was in grade school! Now, somebody has to stand at my feet and pull me up.”
Still laughing, she reached up for him. He caught her gloved hands, anchored his feet, and easily pulled her up. There, where she’d lain in the snow, was the imprint of a round head, sweeping wings, and a long skirt. “See?” Tracy said, “A perfect snow angel.”
Clara clapped her hands, jumping up and down. “I want to make one, too!”
“Okay, I’ll help you. Take my hands and lean back.” Holding the small, mittened hands, Tracy eased the little girl onto her back in the snow. “Now, go for it!”
Clara had watched Tracy, so she knew what to do. She giggled, sweeping the snow with her arms and legs.
“Ready?” Tracy asked.
“Ready.” She let Tracy pull her up. “Look!” she pointed, laughing. “It’s a little snow angel. Like me.”
“You did a great job. Are you cold?” Rush asked her.
“Kind of. But it was fun. Now it’s your turn, Daddy. Make a big snow angel.”
Rush hadn’t planned on this. He was taller and heavier than Tracy or Clara. He would fall hard, and the snow wasn’t deep enough to cushion the landing. But there was no way out except to be a good sport. As Clara and Tracy cheered him on, he found an undisturbed patch of snow and took a deep breath.
“Timber . . .” he shouted, as he keeled over backward and crashed like a fallen tree to the snowy ground. Slightly dazed, he lay still for a few seconds, watching the snowflakes swirl out of the pewter sky.
“Make an angel, Daddy!” Clara urged.
Rush moved his arms and legs, pushing away the cold snow with Clara laughing and cheering him on. “A little more! That’s perfect, Daddy!”
Rush lay still. “Now, which one of you is strong enough to pull me up?” he joked.
“Hang on.” Leaning over him, Tracy held out her hands. Rush gripped them as she braced her feet. Tracy might not be strong enough to lift him, but Rush knew that if he tried to help by getting his legs under him, that would spoil the snow angel for Clara.
Tracy met his eyes and nodded. Yes, they had to give it a try.
“Here goes,” she said. “One . . . two . . . three.” On the count of three, she flung her full weight backward, straining to pull him to his feet. He was partway up when her boots slipped on an icy spot. She lost traction and might have toppled onto her rump if he’d let go, but his firm grip pulled her the other way. She pitched forward, landing on top of him. They collapsed together in the snow, laughing.
From somewhere beyond his sight, Clara was shrieking with laughter. But Rush’s awareness was fixed on Tracy—her womanly curves pressing his body, her lovely lips so close to his that, if they’d been alone, he would have been tempted to kiss her.
Her hat had fallen off, freeing her hair to tumble around her face. Snow sparkled on her lashes; laughter danced in her hazel eyes.
Damn, but she was beautiful!
Rush knew that he wasn’t ready to fall in love. He had too many unhealed wounds for that. But he wanted her—wanted her with a hunger he could feel in every part of his body.
And there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do about it.
She rolled her weight off him and rose to her knees. Snow clung to her hair and her clothes. “I’m afraid there’s not much left of your snow angel,” she said, brushing away the snow almost too energetically.
“That’s fine with me, as long as you’re all right.” He scrambled to his feet, heedless of the pattern in the snow. “Did I hurt you?”
“No . . . not at all.” She sounded shaken. Had the fall scared her, or had she felt the same stirrings that he had—and been unsettled by them?
But never mind. Either way, he’d be a fool to assume anything.
“Do it again, Daddy!” Clara clapped her hands. “Make another snow angel!”
“Not on your life!” He picked her up, swung her high in his arms, and set her down as she giggled.
“Hey, your dad’s snow angel doesn’t look that bad,” Tracy said to Clara. “Look at it. The skirt is a mess where he had to get up, but the head and wings are fine. I’ll bet you and I could fix it. Want to try?”
Rush watched them work, patting and furrowing the snow. The two of them seemed so comfortable together, laughing and talking. Tracy would make a wonderful mother, he found himself thinking.
It had occurred to him to wonder why she had no children from her marriage. Maybe it was because
she’d wanted to focus on her legal career. But that was none of his business.
The finished angel skirt was nothing to brag about. Mostly they’d just made it bigger. But Clara seemed satisfied, and that was all that mattered.
“All done, Daddy,” she said, surveying their work. “Now we’ve got three angels—a mom angel, a little girl angel, and a big, messed-up dad angel. A family of angels.” The way she looked from Rush to Tracy sent a message that couldn’t be missed. Lord, was his little girl matchmaking too?
“I think that’s enough snow games for now,” Tracy said. Something told Rush she’d gotten the same message.
“We need to be going,” he said. “Clara’s getting cold. We’ll just get her things from the house and be on our way.”
“Can I say good-bye to Murphy and Rainbow and the kittens?” Clara asked.
“If you hurry. Stomp the snow off your boots so you won’t track it into Tracy’s kitchen.”
“Okay!” She dashed for the house.
Tracy fell into step with Rush as they followed her across the yard. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “She loves it here. I’m afraid she’ll be begging me to let her come back.”
“That would be fine,” Tracy said. “She’s delightful. We had a great time together.”
“Are we still on for breakfast on Saturday?”
“I suppose so. I may be saying that against my better judgment, but I’m a woman of my word.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have fun.”
They entered the house to find Clara standing next to the box, holding the white kitten. “Be a good kitty, Snowflake.” She kissed the kitten’s velvety head. “Remember that I love you.”
Rush swallowed the lump in his throat as he gathered up the shopping bags. “Come on, Clara, it’s time to go,” he said. “Put the kitten down and say thank you to Tracy. We’ll see her Saturday morning when we go to breakfast.”
Clara gave the kitten one more kiss and lowered it into the box with the others. “I’m coming, Daddy,” she said. “Thank you, Tracy.”
