Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,27
would simply be their cheerleader on the sidelines.
Thankfully it was a perfect day. Although the air was frigid, the sun was bright overhead and there was not a single wisp of wind. It didn’t take long for them to reach the attractive ranch house Cameron called home.
It was a nice place, with a long driveway lined with cedar trees. The house was white with grass-green shutters and trim. Neat and tidy, it appeared to be owned by somebody proud of where he lived.
As they pulled closer to the place, the pond appeared to the right, its icy surface glistening in the sun. “Awesome,” Matt exclaimed, eying the pond. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
The minute Mary pulled to a halt and shut off her engine, Cameron stepped out on his porch, as if he’d been watching for their arrival from the window.
Once again Mary’s nerves tap-danced through her veins. Clad in a pair of worn, well-fitting jeans and a red-and-black flannel shirt, with the sun sparking off his deep brown hair and a smile curving his lips, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him.
Matt exploded from the passenger seat like a rocket and headed toward Cameron. “Ah, the birthday boy and his mother,” Cameron said as Mary got out of her car. He clapped a hand on Matt’s back. “Twinkie and I have been waiting for you.”
“Twinkie?” Matt looked at him in surprise. “You have Twinkie here?”
By that time Mary had joined them on the porch. The smile Cameron gave her warmed her like a pot-bellied stove on a cold wintry night.
“I have Twinkie for now,” he answered Matt. “I’m looking for a good home for her.” He opened the front door and gestured them inside. “How about we start the day with a cup of hot chocolate?”
“Sounds good to me,” Matt said as he walked through the door and immediately encountered Twinkie dressed in a furry pink sweater. “Twinkie!” Matt dropped his bag on the floor and fell to his knees as the little dog leaped into his arms and slathered kisses on his cheek. Matt’s giggles filled the room.
“It looks like Twinkie and I have the same fashion sense for a winter play day,” Mary said as she took off her coat to display her own pink sweater.
Cameron smiled, his gaze sweeping over her. “Pink is Twinkie’s best color, and it looks like it’s yours, too.”
Mary’s cheeks warmed at his compliment, and she was grateful as he turned his back to her to hang her coat in the entry closet.
“Come on into the kitchen, I’ve got the hot chocolate ready to go.” Matt finally relinquished Twinkie and as Mary followed the two through the living room she couldn’t help but notice it was neat and clean, with furniture meant to comfort and embrace.
The kitchen gave the same impression, a bright, airy room decorated in yellow and white and with a large wooden table that was more fitting for a family rather than a single man.
“Please, sit,” Cameron said. He smiled at Mary once again, that charming, warm smile that made him oh so dangerous. “Even though Matt is the official birthday boy, today is also one where somebody is going to wait on you rather than the other way around.”
“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” she replied and sank down into one of the chairs at the table.
Matt sat in the chair on her left, Twinkie futilely attempting to jump into his lap. He looked at Cameron, who shook his head. “Twinkies aren’t allowed at the table,” Cameron said.
Matt giggled. “She really is so sweet.”
“I have a feeling Twinkie doesn’t know she’s a dog,” Cameron said drily. Twinkie barked as if in agreement, the sound as tiny as her little paws.
“How come you’re looking for a home for her?” Matt asked as Cameron moved to the stove where a saucepan emitted the heavenly scent of rich dark cocoa and warm milk. “I mean, I know about Dorothy, but why don’t you just keep Twinkie here with you?”
“Twinkie needs somebody who is at home more often than I am,” Cameron explained. “She needs somebody to take her out and play and give her lots of loving, and I’m not here enough to take care of her properly.” He removed the saucepan from the stove and poured the contents into three large mugs. “Now, enough about Twinkie, who wants marshmallows?”
For the next thirty minutes they drank the creamy, rich cocoa and talked about birthdays and