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Devon’s heart went out to Barbara. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her to lose the man she’d loved for so long, to suddenly be alone on a ranch that used to be filled with her family. Though Devon had never seen Barbara being anything other than smiling and quick with a kind word, there had to have been a lot of sad, dark, lonely days for her.
After they’d both parked, Devon hesitated a moment as Cole slid from his truck. She’d swear his jean-encased legs had gotten longer in the time it had taken to drive from town. Deciding she wasn’t going to get any less antsy sitting in her car, she got out and followed Barbara into the house, trying not to think about Cole behind her.
She almost snorted at herself. What was there to be worried about? It wasn’t as if he was checking out her curves. She wasn’t a fan of clothing that clung too tightly. Plus, didn’t guys love gorgeous blondes or long, leggy brunettes, and not someone who looked like she was the hair twin of a certain flame-haired, bow-wielding princess?
The moment she stepped inside the house, a gray, long-haired cat nuzzled against her legs.
“Looks like you already have Jasper’s seal of approval,” Barbara said.
Devon knelt and petted the cat, causing him to begin purring so loudly she laughed a little. “You’ve got quite the motor running, Jasper.”
“He thinks you’ll give him treats if he does that,” Cole said as he walked past her. “I wonder where he gets that idea.”
Devon looked up in time to see Cole give his mom a pointed look.
“I admit I spoil him, and I’m not sorry. Besides, you’re the one who gave him to me. You’re complicit.”
Devon smiled at their banter, but a part of her heart ached that she couldn’t have this with her mom. She loved her mother, but it was so difficult to be around her. But from her mother’s point of view, she wasn’t at fault for that fact. So Devon kept her distance as best she could and tried not to think about the tiny ember of hope that still burned deep inside her that one day her mom would chill out some and they could have a real, nonadversarial relationship.
“Come on in the kitchen, hon,” Barbara said, making a motion for Devon to follow her. “I just made some lemon squares earlier. Would you like one while I make dinner?”
“I’ll hold off for now, thanks. And you don’t have to feed me. I can just stay for a few minutes, then head out.”
“Nonsense. You already drove all the way out here. Might as well stay and eat. It’ll be nice to have company for dinner. I think Cole gets tired just staring at my mug at every meal.”
“I doubt that.”
“Regardless, please say you’ll stay.”
Devon hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, but tell me what I can do to help.”
She ended up cutting thick slices of homemade sourdough bread as Barbara prepared fresh chicken salad. Despite Devon’s hyperawareness of Cole on the other side of the room pulling dishes from cabinets and setting the table, her mouth watered at the thought of the upcoming sandwich. She hadn’t eaten much for lunch, and the homemade food looked delicious.
“I’m sorry we don’t have anything more substantial,” Barbara said as she removed a jar of pickles—likely canned from her garden—from the fridge. Next came a container of potato salad, also homemade.
“Are you kidding? This all looks wonderful.”
Barbara chuckled. “You, my dear, are easy to please.”
Devon didn’t miss the quick glance Barbara sent her son’s way. Barbara had given her an escape hatch from her mother’s matchmaking attempt, but was she trying for the same thing, albeit with a lighter, kinder touch?
Devon’s nerves ratcheted up a notch when they all sat down at the table and she found herself across from Cole. She had three choices: keep Barbara engaged in conversation throughout the entirety of the meal, focus her attention on her plate or risk being lured into Cole’s blue-eyed gaze.
“So, how’s your store doing?” Barbara asked.
Good, a safe topic.
“Really well, thankfully. I’m coming up on the two-year anniversary of my opening, so I’m thinking about having some sort of special event.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Barbara turned her attention to Cole. “Did I tell you that Devon has her own farm where she raises goats and sheep?”
“You might have mentioned it.”
The way he said it made Devon wonder if Barbara had talked about her with Cole more than once. Though that thought was unnerving, she didn’t mind it in the way she did her mother’s persistent meddling. Maybe because she suspected that Barbara would stop any futile attempts at matchmaking if Devon asked her to.
“What do you do with the animals?” Cole asked.
That he actually sounded interested surprised her. “I use the wool to make yarn, which I color with natural dyes and put in my shop. I use the milk from the goats to make soap.”
“That stuff is a miracle for my skin,” Barbara said as she smoothed her fingertips over the back of the opposite hand.
“Sounds like you enjoy it,” Cole said to Devon.
She did, and it touched her that he was able to pick up on that. “I do, much to my mother’s chagrin.”
Now, why had she said that? Hadn’t they been witness to enough of her mother’s disdain already?
“We all have to follow our own paths,” Barbara said. “Would I have chosen a career for both of my boys that took them far away from home for months at a time and put them in danger? Probably not. But I know how much it meant to them, same as your farm and shop do to you.” Barbara patted Devon’s hand where it rested beside her plate.
An unexpected lump formed in Devon’s throat. How lucky Cole and Cooper were to grow up with such a mother. They might not have been wealthy, but they’d been rich in the ways that mattered most.
The three of them fell into a conversation about all the changes in Blue Falls over the past few years and specifically about the Arts and Crafts Trail as they finished up their dinner.
“Cole, show Devon what you’re working on,” Barbara said.
Cole looked across the table at Devon, and she wondered how many women had fallen for that face, those eyes. Who could blame them?
“Are you interested?” he asked, his tone making it sound as if he’d be surprised if she said yes.
“Yeah. I’ll admit to being curious.”
“Excellent,” Barbara said. “You two go on. I’ll take care of all this.” She gestured toward the dirty dishes.
“Let me help,” Devon said.
“Nah, I’ll have this done by the time you reach the barn.”
Devon didn’t feel she could argue more or her nervousness about being alone with Cole might become obvious. Why had she agreed to look at his sculptures? Oh yeah, she really was curious.
She smiled when Cole held the door open for her, unable to prevent the thought that he looked even more scrumptious when he was being chivalrous. But as they walked side by side toward the barn, she told herself to stop thinking that way. What was the use? What she could do was think of him as a friend. It would probably be nice to have Cole Davis as a friend. And really, who couldn’t use more friends?
“Sorry if you feel we roped you into more than you bargained for,” Cole said.
“No, not at all. I was thankful for the life preserver.”
As he opened the barn door, the look on his face made him appear as if he wanted to say something else.
Devon stopped and faced him. “What?”
“Is your mom that...persistent all the time?”
“In a word, yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
His apology, when he’d done nothing wrong, took her aback. But then it clicked that he was simply sorry she had to deal with that kind of pressure.
She shrugged. “Nothing new.” She pointed inside. “So, let’s see these sculptures your mom has been raving about like you’re the Michelangelo of Blue Falls.”
Cole snorted as he accompanied her inside. He flicked on the overhead lights as they walked into the barn. The first thing she saw was a beautiful roan horse that looked their way with large, dark eyes, a reminder that this was a working ranch even if Cole dabbled in art as a hobby.
“Who’s this handsome fella?” she asked as she approached the stall and rubbed along the silky smoothness of the horse’s jaw. It was obvious at a glance that Cole took good care of his horses.
“This here’s Duncan.” He scratched the horse between the ears.
“Duncan?”
“Named after Duncan, Oklahoma, where I won my first pro rodeo.”
“Ah. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Duncan.”
The horse sniffed at her hand then rubbed his head against her.
“He’s a big flirt,” Cole said.
“I can see that.”
“Come on.” Cole motioned for her to follow him. “My work area is back here.”
Devon did her best not to admire Cole’s physical attributes as she followed him to the back corner of the barn, where he’d knocked out the dividers between a few stalls to create a bigger space. In the middle of that space was a sculpture of a rearing horse, mane flying. It took a second look for her to realize that the whole was made up of many pieces that used to be parts of other things.
She stepped up close and slowly made her way around the horse. An old, rusty, metal tractor seat, chains, a muffler, truck rims and countless pieces she couldn’t identify shouldn’t be able to come together to make something so beautiful, but they did.
“It’s stunning,” she said, in awe of the obvious talent she would have never thought to attribute to Cole.
“That’s overstating it a bit.”
She shifted her gaze from the horse to Cole. “No, it’s not. Not everyone could do this. Heck, not everyone could even think this. If I were to see this stuff separately, there’s no way I could imagine how to put it all together to come up with something like this.”
Cole leaned against the side of the stall and crossed his arms, showcasing just how incredibly nice and tanned and strong those arms were. Yeah, she might have a thing for men’s arms.
“Well, we must be two really talented individuals then because my idea of soap is grabbing it at the grocery store.”
She shuddered, making him laugh. Her heart filled with puppies and rainbows and sparkly unicorns. Why did he have to have a sexy laugh, too? Didn’t he know she was trying to be friends, nothing more? Of course, he didn’t.
Devon shushed the conversation going on in her head and turned to look at some smaller finished pieces that sat along the back wall. A small bison, a cowboy sitting on a fence, even a starfish. She pointed to the starfish.
“This one reminds me of that game, ‘which of these is not like the others?’” She turned back toward him to see his expression dim for a moment.
“Reminds me of a vacation we had when Cooper and I were kids. Only time we went to the beach. I remember walking along holding my dad’s hand and we found a starfish. Mom still has a picture of me squatting down in the sand next to it with the goofiest grin on my face.”
Devon smiled at the image in her mind. “How did you get started doing this?”
“Would you believe rodeo?”
She turned more fully toward him. “Not connecting the dots here.”
He pushed away from the side of the stall and propped his hand atop one of the posts. “I was riding in a rodeo up in Wyoming and had some time to kill. Went to a local museum, and they had this kind of sculpture out front. A whole herd of bison. I thought it was neat, and the idea stuck with me. When I retired, I thought I’d give it a try in my spare time.”
She wondered if he was using the sculpture work to fill a void. “I was surprised when I heard you retired. You seemed like you really loved riding bulls, though personally I think it’s insane.”
Cole laughed. “You and my mom, both.” He shifted his gaze to the metal horse. “It wasn’t by choice. But my old body couldn’t take it anymore.”
His old body? From what she could tell, his body was perfectly fine. More than fine. Superfine.
Oh, stop it.
He appeared to notice her confusion. “Was thrown too many times. Doc told me that if I didn’t want to risk being paralyzed the next time I hit the dirt, I’d better hang it up.”
Sickness coiled in Devon’s stomach at the image of Cole in a wheelchair. For a man like him, it might kill him. At least kill the person he was, how he identified himself.
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” He stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the metal horse’s neck. “But I stay busy so I won’t think about how I thought I had a few more good years of riding in me.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that doesn’t work as often as you’d like.”
He looked at her with a surprised expression, eyes slightly wider, then gave a single nod. “But at least I’m still walking, right?”
She could tell he was making light of the situation when probably, deep down, he hadn’t fully come to terms with it yet. She couldn’t imagine how brokenhearted she’d be if she were to lose the farm and the shop. But they weren’t the type of friends who bared all their emotions to each other. At least not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Yay for mobility. Allows us to run away from our matchmaking mamas.” As soon as she said it, she wished she could rewind time a few seconds.
But Cole laughed. “You picked up on Mom’s intent, huh? Sorry about that. She’s got a hankering for grandkids and hasn’t accepted that she’s not going to get them from me.”
His words caused a sadness to settle on Devon. Not that she thought the two of them were going to make babies or anything, but he seemed so certain. His assertion had a finality to it that didn’t invite argument. It seemed a shame not to carry on his family line and those magnificent genes.
“You don’t like kids?”
He shrugged. “They’re fine, but I’m never getting married again. And if I had kids, I’d want to be around for them, not part of a broken family. I’d want them to have what I did growing up.”
She envied his fond thoughts of childhood. When she looked back, what overwhelmed her were feelings of inadequacy and trying to find ways to make herself feel better and less alone.
Devon resisted the urge to ask about Amy, what had happened. She didn’t even know his second wife’s name. Maybe Cole was right to steer clear of marriage after that track record, but something about that thought didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t have any real basis other than he seemed to be a nice guy and loved his mom, but Devon thought Cole Davis might make someone a good husband. But the right someone.
Like you?
No, not me.
