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“Gotta keep the parents happy too if we want repeat customers.” He cut the spoon through the cobbler and scooped a bite, his electric blue eyes on her the whole time.
She shivered with awareness. And she wasn’t the only woman noticing. More than one mom cast an envious look her way.
“True enough. Well, um, thank you for checking on us...” Was this standard for all the customers? Something in his eyes told her otherwise. “I still don’t know your name.”
“Sorry about that. How rude of me.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Alex.”
He said it with an intensity that made her wonder if she was missing something.
Shaking off the sensation, she folded his hand in hers and held back the urge to shiver at the feel of masculine skin, delicious. “Hello, Alex, I’m not sure if you remember but I’m Nina and my son is Cody.”
“I remember,” he said simply. “But it’s still nice to meet you both. Officially.”
She eased her hand from his before she made a fool of herself. “You must be tired after a full day of work.”
“Truth be told, I’d have rather had more time outdoors rather than spend the afternoon at a desk.”
A desk? She’d assumed...well, there were lots of jobs on a ranch. She should know better than to judge by appearances. It was better to get to the heart, the truth, straightaway. She glanced at Cody. “My son has autism, if you didn’t already guess.”
This was usually the point where people said something about being sorry and how they knew a friend who had a friend who had a kid with autism, and then they left. And that was the reason she made a point to blurt it out early on, to weed out the wheat from the chaff. Life was mostly full of chaff.
He mixed some blueberries with the vanilla ice cream and brought the spoon to his mouth. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
“Most people are curious and I can’t help feeling the need to tell you before Cody has one of his meltdowns.” She wet her mouth with a quick sip of tea. “It’s easier when people understand why.”
“This camp is here to do what’s easier for him, not easier for us.”
His words surprised her, warmed her. “Thank you. That approach is rarer than you would think.”
“Since Stone put this camp together, we’ve all become more enlightened.” He dug into the crust covered in blueberries.
“This place is amazing, and it’s only day one. I can’t believe how much fun I had and how much I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.”
He eyed her over his raised spoon. “You sound surprised.”
“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way.” She picked at the knee of her jeans. “But I’m not much of a cowgirl.”
“Really? I never would have guessed,” he said dryly.
“What gave me away?”
“What didn’t?” He pointed to her feet. “New boots.”
“New shirt too.” She toyed with the collar. “I’m trying to fit in for Cody’s sake, but apparently I’m not pulling it off as well as I thought.”
“You’re here for your kid, helping him pursue his own interests. That’s nice, no matter what you’re wearing.” His eyes held hers, launching a fresh shower of sparks shimmering through her.
Then he blinked and stood. Regret stung over his leaving, which was silly because she was only here for a week. It wasn’t as if they were going to have any kind of relationship. Her focus should be her son. Just because this cowboy seemed down-to-earth and uncomplicated didn’t mean a thing. Not in the long run.
He glanced back over his shoulder at her, and her thoughts scattered.
“Nina, it would be a real shame for you to miss out on the Hidden Gem’s blueberry cobbler. How about I bring some by this evening?” He held up a hand. “And before you accuse me of being some cowboy Casanova with ulterior motives, we’ll stay out on the porch where you can hear your son if he wakes up. And the porch will be very public, so there’s no cause to worry about me making a move.”
“Does this kind of service always come with the camp registration?”
“No, ma’am. This is just for you.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you at nine tonight.”
* * *
He didn’t have a plan yet on how to persuade Nina Lowery to sell her stocks to him. He was going on instinct with her, except right now his gut didn’t want to maneuver her anywhere but to bed...or on a walk.
What the hell was his grandmother thinking bringing a woman and her special-needs son here under false pretenses? There were a dozen other ways this could have been handled, but all those honest means were no longer an option now that she was already here.
At dinner, he’d considered just coming clean with her right away. Then he’d seen her eyes light up when he’d come to sit with her. The next thing he knew, he was chatting with her, digging himself in deeper until it was going to be one heck of a tangle to get himself out. If he told her now, she would shut him down, which would be bad for his grandmother and quite frankly, bad for him. He wanted to get to know her better. Maybe if he understood her, he would know the best way to approach her.
He couldn’t deny that she was skittish. That much he knew for sure, sensed it the way he sensed when a horse was about to bolt.
Damn.
She definitely wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a horse, but he’d realized long ago, his instincts with animals served him well in dealing with people too. He needed to approach carefully, take his time, get a sense of her.
Learn more about her.
Then he would know how to proceed. And that didn’t stop the pump of anticipation over seeing Nina. He secured the two bags in his grip—the promised dessert.
He scanned the line of cabins that held the campers. Most of the buildings were two-bedrooms. He’d searched through the paperwork to learn she was staying in number eight. Katydids buzzed a full-out Texas symphony in the quiet night, allowing only muffled sounds coming from the lodge’s guest lanai. Guests had already begun to arrive for his cousin’s wedding. Between them and the campers, the place would be packed by Friday.
Spare time was in short supply. Alex stood at the bottom of the three steps in front of cabin number eight, eyeing the pair of rockers on the porch, exactly the same style as the ones on his family’s longer wraparound that held a half dozen rocking chairs and four porch swings.
Guilt pinched his conscience again.
His grandmother had always been a woman of honor and manners. He couldn’t figure out why she’d come up with such an underhanded test for him. It just didn’t make sense, and his grandmother had always been logical, methodical. Could the cancer be clouding her judgment in spite of the doctor’s reassurance otherwise?
But Alex wasn’t ready to lead the charge to declare her unfit. That was a step he simply couldn’t take. He would ride this out, play along and hope like hell an answer came to him soon.
He stepped up the wooden stairs, his boots thudding. He rapped his knuckles on the door, not wanting to wake Nina’s son. He heard her footsteps approach, pause, then walk again until there was no question that she stood just on the other side of the door. But it didn’t open.
Definitely skittish.
Finally she opened the door, angling outside and making it clear he wasn’t coming in. She wore the same jeans and boots from earlier but had changed into a formfitting T-shirt with “hello” in multiple languages. Her hair was free from the ponytail, flowing around her shoulders in loose red curls.
God, he could lose himself for hours running his hands through her hair, feeling it brush along his skin. “Cobbler’s warm and the ice cream’s still cold. Shall we sit?”
“Yes, thank you.” She gestured to the rockers, studying him with a wary smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He stopped. “Do you want me to leave?”
She glanced back over her shoulder, her hair swishing, enticing. “You’re already here and I wouldn’t want to deny you your dessert. Have a seat.” She gestured to the table between them. “I set out some iced tea.”
He thought of his talk with his grandmother earlier, the shared tea, so few moments like that left with her. “Sweet tea?”
“The kind that was waiting for me in the fridge, compliments of your staff.”
“Sweet tea is Southern ambrosia.” He placed the containers on the end table between the rockers.
“One of my favorite things about moving down South.” She cradled the glass in her hands, those long slim fingers drawing his eyes to her.
He cleared his throat. “What brought you to Texas?”
“How do you know I’m not from another Southern state?” She set her drink aside and took the container with her dessert, spooning ice cream on top.
“I saw your application.” He could confess that much at least.
Her delicate eyebrows shot up. “Is that ethical?”
“It’s not illegal, and I can’t deny I wanted to know more about you. I still do.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you. This time.” She ate a bite of cobbler, a sensual hmm vibrating from her as she closed her eyes.
Her pleasure sent hot lava through his veins.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t read much of your application.” But only because he’d been interrupted. “Just enough to make sure I got the right cabin so I can learn the rest on my own, asking you, getting to know you better while you’re here. Are your rooms comfortable?”
“The place is perfect. Hardly roughing it.” Smiling, she dug into her dessert with gusto.
“Hidden Gem works hard to keep authenticity to the experience while providing comfort. It may be a hobby ranch, but it’s not a resort.” He joined her in eating even though he’d had some earlier. Sharing the food with her here in the dark night was...intimate.
“I can see the special charm of the Hidden Gem. And hear it.”
“What do you mean?” He glanced at her, surprised.
“I can’t believe how peaceful this place is. That’s important for my son, keeping the stimuli manageable,” she said matter-of-factly.
“For his autism?” he asked carefully.
“Yes, it’s moderate.” She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve noticed his verbal impairment. He’s advanced academically, especially in areas of interest like art and reading. He’s only four, but he can lose himself in a book. Reading soothes him, actually...I didn’t mean to ramble.”
“I want to know more. I apologize if I’m being too nosy.”
“Not at all. I would rather people ask than harbor misconceptions, or worse yet, pass judgment without any knowledge.” She sagged back in her chair, dessert container resting on her lap. “I knew something wasn’t right from the start, but my ex-husband and his family insisted he was just colicky. Then his verbal skills lagged and he couldn’t initiate even the most basic social interaction with other children... We had to face facts. I had get help for him even if that caused a rift with my husband.”
Her maternal instincts, that mama bear ferocity, spoke to him. He admired the hell out of that, even as he realized his grandmother might well have underestimated how hard it would be to get this woman to part with those stocks unless she was 100 percent certain her son got the best end of the deal. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the support you should have from Cody’s father.”
“Thank you.” Her green eyes shadowed with pain mixed with determination. “Early intervention is so crucial. I had to be his advocate, even if the rest of the family wasn’t ready to accept the truth.”
He found himself asking, “And Cody’s father?”
“My ex-husband sent child support payments.” She set aside the foam container as if she’d lost her appetite. “But he didn’t want to have anything to do with Cody.”
“Sent?”
“He died in a motorcycle crash shortly after our divorce.” Silence settled like a humid dark blanket of a summer night.
“I’m sorry.” Such inadequate words for the mix of losses she’d suffered, not just through the death of her ex, but in how the man had let her down.
“I like to think with time he could have accepted his son and been a part of Cody’s life.” Her head fell back against the rocker, her red hair shifting and shimmering in the porch light. “Now we’ll never have that chance.”
Time, a word that was his enemy these days, with his grandmother’s cancer. “Regrets are tough to live with.”
And he would always regret it if he didn’t help ease his grandmother’s last days.
Nina shook her head quickly as if clearing her thoughts and picked up her dessert again. “Enough about me. I don’t mean to sound like my life is some maudlin pity party. I have a beautiful son who I love very much. I have a great, flexible job and no financial worries. Moving on.” She scooped up some berries. “Tell me about you? How did you end up working at the Hidden Gem Ranch?”
“My family has always lived here.” He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, especially after spending so much of his childhood and teenage years being dragged around the country by his parents to participate in rodeos. “I guess you could say I appreciate the quiet.”
“So you’re a professional cowboy? Rodeos and all?”
He’d lived a whole career by eighteen thanks to his mother’s obsession with trotting her kids out into competitive circles—him with rodeos and his twin sister, Amie, with pageants. “My rodeo days are long past.”
“Because?”
He shrugged. “Too many broken bones.”
She gasped. “How awful. Are you okay?”
“Of course. It’s all in the past. Kid stuff.” As a boy, he hadn’t argued with his parents’ insistence that he continue to compete the moment the latest cast was removed. He’d even enjoyed parts of the competition. Most of all, he’d craved his parents’ attention, and that was the only reliable way to get it. But then his favorite horse had broken a leg during a competition and had to be put down. He’d lost the fire to compete that day, realizing he’d only been doing it for his parents. More than anything, he’d wanted to go home and commune with the land and his horses.
Time to change the damn subject. “What do you do in San Antonio?”
She blinked at the quick change of subject, then said, “I’m a translator. Before I married I worked in New York at the United Nations.” She toyed with the Eiffel Tower charm on her simple silver necklace. “My husband worked at the stock exchange. We dated for a year, got married, moved back to his home state of Texas...” She shrugged. “Now I help translate novels for foreign editions.”
Ah, the necklace and T-shirt made sense now. “What languages?”
“Spanish, French, German.”
“Wow,” he nodded, eyebrows lifting, “that’s impressive.”
She shrugged dismissively, her hand sliding back to her neck, stroking the Eiffel Tower charm. “Words are my thing just as horses and running a business are yours.”
Words were her “thing,” yet she had a virtually nonverbal son. “When you said you’re a city girl, you weren’t kidding. Do you miss the job?”
“I don’t regret a thing,” she said between bites of cobbler. “I’m lucky to have a job that enables me to stay home with my son. I don’t have to worry about making the appointments he needs.”
“What about help? Grandparents?”
“My parents help when they can, but I was a late-in-life baby for them, unplanned. They’re living on a shoestring budget in a retirement community in Arizona. My ex’s parents come up with different options, ranging from some cult miracle cure one week to institutionalizing him.”
“You should have their support.” Since weeklong camps had started in the spring, he’d seen how stressed many of the parents were, how near to breaking.
