“Sure!”
“He’s in that paddock off to the side of the barn over there. We need to keep him away from the ladies at the moment. He’s not pleased.”
“Can I go over now?”
“Lead the way. But wait for me before you go up to the fence, okay? I’ll grab the apples.”
Cat took off with the dog at his heels.
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her wool peacoat, Justine watched them go. “I haven’t seen him like that…” She paused, thinking about it. “Well, maybe ever.”
Porter walked up beside her, and she told herself she was probably just imagining the heat coming off his body. But she most definitely was not imagining the smell of the soap he’d used that morning, maybe even his shampoo. And her belly tightened.
“I think it might be love at first sight,” he said.
“Oh…sorry?”
“Cat,” he said. “And this place.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Oh. Yes. For sure.”
“What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing!”
He smiled down at her. She wasn’t used to being teased. She knew she put out a certain vibe where men were concerned. Serious, a little brooding. After her dad had left her mother, she’d gotten very good at analyzing people’s motives, whether or not they were going to stick around, whether or not she should allow herself to care. That wariness had only grown over the years and had made it next to impossible to trust anyone with any degree of certainty.
She tucked her chin into her scarf. Even so, it felt good to be teased a little. Like warming her hands next to an open flame.
Porter began walking, and she fell in step beside him. Their shoes crunched over the gravel drive, and a horse whinnied from one of the pastures to their left, taking her focus off her pounding heart.
“So, I have to be honest,” Porter said, staring straight ahead at Cat, who was throwing a stick for Clifford. “I’m happy to see you again, Miss Banks.”
This was why her heart was pounding. This right here. She snuck a look at him, at his strong, handsome profile, and had to assume he talked to all women like this. He was a charmer. And she was falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.
She straightened her shoulders, determined to get her feet back on solid ground. “And why’s that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“Well, all I can say is that none of my teachers looked like you when I was a kid.”
At that, she stopped and turned to him with a smile. It was almost impossible not to smile around this guy. Which would only encourage the flirting. She could see it might be a never-ending cycle.
“Are you trying to get on my good side?” she asked evenly.
“Is it working?”
“I don’t know yet.” Lie. It was definitely working.
He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his boots, glancing over to make sure Cat and Clifford were waiting for them. They’d stopped to pick up another stick. Clifford barked twice before Cat threw it a country mile. He had a good arm.
When Porter looked back, his expression was more serious. He licked his lips. “Hey, I just wanted to run something by you while Cat’s out of earshot.”
“What’s that?”
“You said his dad was on the circuit.”
Her heartbeat slowed. Nobody had heard from Cat’s father, a young, wild redhead, for a few years now.
“He was,” she said. “The last Nola knew.”
“Well, I was thinking about it the other night. Brooks and I know several guys who rodeo. It’s a small world, and you make a lot of acquaintances in this business. I put two and two together… Is his name Calvin? Calvin Roberson?”
Justine watched him. “Yes…”
“I heard he’s traveling with a group of cowboys that are headed back here for the stock auction before Thanksgiving. It’s a big draw, and the friend I talked to said Roberson’s in the market for a new horse. He’ll be in Marietta in a few months.”
It wasn’t often that Justine was at a loss for words. She usually had something to say about nearly everything. But here, now, she was speechless. Cat’s father. The one who was so nomadic, he couldn’t be bothered to stay put and raise his own son, or make sure that Cat’s grandmother was holding up okay. Which she absolutely wasn’t.
She took a steadying breath. “Oh.”
“Is he not allowed to see Cat?”
“It’s not that he’s not allowed…” She let her voice trail off. When it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure what was allowed and what wasn’t. Nola hadn’t gone into Cat’s abandonment in depth, concentrating on the here and now, and the very real issue of getting him settled somewhere for the school year. For the second time that day, Justine was reminded of the fact that as soon as he got settled, he’d be looking at another upheaval again, when she moved to the UK.
“Listen,” Porter said, watching her closely, “I definitely won’t mention it to Cat. I just thought it was more an issue of you not being able to find him, that’s all.”
“It was. Kind of. But the truth is, it’s more than that. Cat’s desperate to see his dad again, but his dad doesn’t exactly seem desperate to see him.”
“You’re worried he’ll get hurt. It makes perfect sense.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t sweat it then. He doesn’t have to know.”
She frowned, considering this. “Even if we don’t tell him, he could find out from someone else. Marietta is a small town. Word is bound to get back to him eventually.”
She glanced over at Cat. He was now giving Clifford a belly rub, the dog’s tail sweeping back and forth in the dirt like a feather duster. The magical lure of the bull seemed temporarily forgotten.
“Then again,” she continued quietly, “if his dad comes through town, and he finds out that I knew and didn’t tell him, he’d never forgive me.”
“What do you think his grandma would say? Your friend?”
“I’m not sure. She’s got her hands full with treatments, and I know this would make her anxious. But I guess I’ll need to tell her. It’s not really my decision to make.” She paused when the breeze pushed a strand of hair over her eyes. Tucking it behind her ear again, she looked up at Porter. “But I’ll be honest, I don’t have any use for that guy. What kind of horse’s ass walks out on their son?”
A shadow passed over Porter’s face, and she wished she could suck the words back in. She remembered him telling her that his mom had run off. And of course, his dad had sent him to Montana to be raised by his aunt.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Of course you did. It’s true.”
“I know things like this aren’t always black and white,” she said. “Sometimes people have issues they can’t get past; sometimes they think their kids are better off without them. And there’s a lot of truth in that kind of thinking. I just…well.” She shrugged. “I have my own abandonment issues that tend to color my viewpoint. So, there’s that.”
They started walking toward the barn, but slower this time. Like neither one of them wanted to stop talking.
“Your dad?” Porter asked.
She nodded. “He left my mom when my little sister and I were in high school. It was awful. Sometimes I look at Cat and see how much he loves his dad, when I couldn’t even stand thinking about my own. It took a while to get over it. I didn’t speak to him for years. It was only recently that we made up, and my sister and I moved here to be close to him.”
“That’s a happily ever after.”
She smiled. “It’s a happy for now, I guess. Remember, I’m leaving next year.”
He kicked at the gravel with his boot. “And I was just starting to like you.”
“You don’t even know me. I can be a handful.”
Turning to her, he winked. “Do tell.”
Before she could fumble a reply, Cat waved from the paddock.
<
br /> “He’s ready for his apple!”
Sure enough, a giant red bull was standing at the fence, looking interested in whatever might be coming his way in the form of boys bearing fruit.
Porter waved back. “Be right there!”
“I really can’t thank you enough for this,” Justine said. “He’s so excited.”
“Well, talk to me after he’s mucked out his first stall. He might not be as excited then.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not afraid of work. Or getting dirty.”
Justine watched the boy bend to pet the dog at his feet, his red hair sticking up in the back. She breathed in the musky scent of the man walking beside her and felt the warmth of the autumn sun on the back of her neck. And felt more content than she had in a long, long time.
Chapter Four
“So wait a minute…” Porter’s dad said. He shifted from his spot on the dark leather sofa and set his beer on the table next to him. His leather pants kept sticking to the couch and making this god-awful squeaking sound. “What kind of fair is this again?”
Porter didn’t turn around. Just kept adjusting the collar of his white western shirt in the mirror. Griffin answered for him.
“It’s a science fair,” his brother said, nursing his own beer. “And Dad, can’t you put a blanket down or something? That sound. It’s like a cat giving birth.”
Eddie Cole ignored that. Instead, he leaned back and touched the chains nestled in his chest hair, as if making sure they were still there. “Can I come?”
At that, Porter did turn around. “What? No way. Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
Griffin laughed.
“Fine. I’ll change the pants. I’ll go incognito.”
“Dad,” Porter said, running a hand through his hair. He’d actually put product in it tonight. He couldn’t remember what the hell he’d been thinking. “You’ve never managed incognito in your life.”
“That’s not true. I went to the Stroll last year. Nobody noticed for half an hour.”
“And then you gathered a crowd outside Rae’s food truck,” Griffin said. “They nearly knocked it over trying to get pictures, remember?”
Porter smiled. He remembered. It had been Marietta’s first introduction to the over-the-hill rock star who would end up retiring within its city limits. Not long after, the Eddie Cole, the one with the famous Christmas hit from the nineties, had opened a music store on Main Street and things had died down a little. Not much, but a little. Even so, Porter had no doubt that if his dad showed up at Marietta Middle School tonight to see Cat’s science project, pandemonium would ensue.
His father crossed his leather-clad legs and rubbed Clifford’s belly. The dog was lying beside him, and automatically lifted his front paw for better access.
“Are you pouting?” Griffin asked.
“No. I just want to go, that’s all. I’ve heard a lot about this kid over the last few weeks. I think I’d like him.”
“That’s exactly why you need to stay as far away as possible,” Porter said, picking up his Stetson. The stupid gel Griffin had talked him into would only make his hat ring worse. If that was even possible. “You know if you came, it wouldn’t be about Cat anymore. It’d be about you.”
“Then again,” Griffin said, adjusting his dark-framed glasses, “what would we have done if David Lee Roth had shown up at one of our school functions?” Griffin was the polar opposite of his older twin brothers. An accountant, who could probably land a modeling gig, if he really wanted to.
“Not helping,” Porter mumbled.
Jamming his hat onto his head, he turned back to his reflection with a critical eye. He looked exactly the same as he did every day. The only difference was, his shirt was clean. Perfect.
“Why’d you put the hat on?” Griffin asked. “You just messed up your hair.”
“I never should’ve listened to you. I haven’t used gel since high school. Now it actually looks like I’m in high school.”
“Smells good, though.” This from their dad, who was now running his hand through his own shaggy blond hair.
Porter turned around. “You can smell me? From over there?”
“Don’t flip out,” Griffin said calmly. “You’re just used to smelling like horse. Tonight, you actually smell like you showered.”
Porter shot him a look.
“Seriously, though,” Griffin said, “Justine will appreciate it.”
A slow heat crept up Porter’s neck, and he resisted the urge to loosen his collar.
“I think you’re into her,” Griffin continued. “And you’re not used to being into anyone, so that’s why you went overboard on the gel tonight. I told you a pea-sized amount. Only pea-sized.”
Porter choked down a laugh. Funny because it was true. Not that there was any chance in hell he’d admit it to his little brother and his dad, who were both staring at him like he was standing there clutching a dozen roses, instead of the keys to his truck.
“Thank you for that insight, Doctor Phil,” he said evenly.
Griffin shrugged.
“So, are you two yahoos just going to stay in my house and drink beer in it all night without me?”
They looked at each other.
“Right,” Porter said. “Just let Clifford out before you leave, and don’t forget to lock the door.”
His father raised his beer in the air. “Have fun!”
*
Justine adjusted her Marietta Bobcats sweatshirt over her jeans and scanned the school library. It was a full house tonight—families and friends milling around the science projects that had been so carefully set up around the large room. It smelled like coffee and pumpkin bread. Little brothers and sisters peeked through the legs of their parents, while older siblings stood proudly by their work, explaining the process to anyone passing by.
It was a great turnout for a school function, which made Justine happy. But there was still one person who hadn’t shown up that she’d been hoping to see.
Swallowing hard, she looked over at Cat, who was showing the school custodian his da Vinci bridge that he’d built out of pencils. The idea had been to learn about gravity, force, and friction. And of course, to see how much weight it would hold. Cat looked serious and a little out of place in his brand-new polo and khakis that Justine had bought him for tonight. His red hair was combed neatly to the side, and he kept looking at the door, like he was expecting someone in particular. Which he was.
Justine glanced at her watch, trying not to obsess about it, but obsessing anyway. Since Cat had come to stay with her, she’d been slowly building an unrealistic bubble around him. Anticipating future pain and disappointments, and trying to avoid them as much as possible. Deep down, she knew that was a losing battle, of course. It was impossible not to be disappointed by life, by the people who drifted in and out of it. But the desire to shield him was still there, and as she grew more attached, the stronger it became.
“Wow,” said a soft voice behind her. “This is pretty amazing, sis.”
Smiling, she turned to see her sister Jemma standing there. She wore a Christmas sweater with tiny jingle bells sewn to the antlers. Of course she did. Jemma loved Christmas.
But it hadn’t always been that way. When Justine’s dad walked out, it had been right before Christmas, and she and Jemma had struggled with the holidays ever since. But living in Marietta was healing for them. Not only had they finally forgiven their father, but they’d also been reintroduced to the Christmas magic of their childhoods. It was hard not to go overboard in a town that made you feel like you were living inside a snow globe.
But then again, it was September.
Justine flicked one of the bells on Jemma’s sweater, and it tinkled merrily.
“I know,” Jemma said. “I know. But I can’t help it.”
“Nobody’s asking you to.”
“But I can feel your judgment.”
“No judgment here.”
“Uh huh.”
Justine grinned and pulled her baby sister into a hug. “You’re so sweet to come. Did you have to get off work early?”
“Just a few minutes. Where is he?” Jemma asked, looking around. “I know he’s got the best project here.”
“You’re not allowed to say that.”
“But it’s true. You know it’s true.”
“I’m his teacher. I know he’s brilliant. But so are all my students.”
Jemma poked her in the ribs. “Come on,” she whispered. “Just admit he’s the smartest.”
“Stop!” she whispered back.
“Miss Banks…”
They both glanced down at a little girl with unruly blond curls. She looked concerned. “My grandpa wants to know if the coffee is decaf. He said if it’s not decaf, he’ll be up all night.”
“You can tell him its decaf, Eugenia. It’s alright.”
The girl hurried off to relay this message to an elderly gentleman across the room.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Jemma said, shaking her head. “All these small people looking to you for answers.”
“Well, regular or decaf isn’t exactly rocket science.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It helps that I love them so much. It’s such a sweet age.”
Two little boys began shoving each other a few feet away. “He farted!” one of them cried. They both dissolved into laughter before a weary-looking woman, presumably their mother, yanked on their shirt collars to separate them.
“So sweet,” Jemma said.
“Middle school boys are just…easily entertained.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.”
Justine glanced at her watch again.
“He’s still not here, huh?”
She didn’t look at her sister. She was afraid if she did, Jemma would be able to read her like a book.
“No. I’m just worried about Cat.” True. Mostly.
They glanced over to where he stood across the room, all by himself now, as people filed past.
Justine sighed. “Poor little guy.”
“He’s tougher than he looks.”
“I know. But there’s so much to unpack there. I wish I could make it better for him.”
The Montana Cowboy's Heart Page 3
