A Cowgirl's Secret - By Laura Marie Altom Page 0,19
happened to you?” was the first thing from her son’s mouth as he climbed into the car.
A glance in the rearview mirror showed that Daisy didn’t look much better than her new office. Dust smudged her right cheek and chin and her ponytail resembled an old straw broom. Laughing, she said, “I found an office.”
“You look like it attacked you.”
“Love you, too,” she said with a poke to his belly. “How was camp? Any better?”
“I guess.” He slid on his seat belt. “We had to sit in a circle and tell people where we live. I told them San Francisco, but the camp lady said I had to be from here. Well, when I told the other kids I live at Buckhorn Ranch, you should’ve seen their eyes. It was like I was famous, or something. They were all, like, asking what it was like and five kids want Uncle Cash’s autograph.”
“Around here,” she said, trying not to lose it while navigating between SUVs and minivans, “the Buckhorn name carries a lot of meaning. Your grandfather not only found oil, but raised more cattle than anyone else in town. When I was your age, he and Grandma hosted huge summer picnics, inviting the whole town.”
“Why doesn’t she do that anymore?”
“Times are different, I guess. Life around here used to be much simpler. There weren’t so many other distractions like video games and home theaters. We used to do a lot more activities together.”
“Sounds fun.” From his T-shirt pocket, he took a green-apple piece of Laffy Taffy. “Want a bite?”
She leaned over and nibbled off a candy sampling.
“How come our last name is Smith, but everyone else in our family is named Buckhorn?”
Daisy’s stomach roiled. One more thing to add to her growing to-do list—changing both of their names. Or would Luke want Kolt to take his surname?
“And how come everyone’s always calling you Daisy, when your real name’s Julie?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m sick of you always saying that.” Arms crossed, lips pressed into what was rapidly becoming his customary frown, he asked, “Can we get ice cream?”
“Maybe once we’re done with the movers.” After parking in her assigned spot behind her new building, Daisy ushered Kolt up a short flight of stairs leading to the rear entrance. After a brief elevator ride, they’d reached her office where the three-man crew folded packing blankets.
“Ma’am,” the man in charge said to Daisy, “we’re about finished up if you’d like to inspect the furniture and last few boxes for damage.”
“Um, sure,” Daisy said as Kolt began playing his PSP in the reception area. The task took longer than expected and by the time she’d finished, Kolt had fallen asleep. His hair had grown out and she swept a lock free from his eyes.
Though Daisy knew she’d had no choice but to finalize her business with the movers, this was the sort of thing that’d happened too often in her old life. Now, she hoped to be able to put Kolt first. In the same regard, whether Kolt wanted to or not, he had to spend time with his father.
Daisy wanted that, but she also wanted Luke to know the truth about why she’d left town. With Henry temporarily at the Oklahoma City stockyards, she hadn’t been worried about a chance encounter with him, but she was very much concerned with Luke’s opinion of her. For Kolt’s sake, she wanted the three of them to feel as much like a family as possible. Obviously, that wouldn’t happen until Luke not only understood her reasons for keeping Kolt from him, but forgave her.
Chapter Six
“What a nice surprise.” Luke opened his door to find Daisy and Kolt on his porch. “I’ve missed you,” he said to his son. As for Daisy, the jury was still out on what he felt for her. Most days, his opinion changed hourly.
“Yeah,” Kolt said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, refusing to make eye contact. One hand was shoved in the pocket of cargo shorts, the other held a black PSP.
“I’ve given up working on my new office and just picked up Kolt from camp. Anyway,” Daisy said with forced brightness, “I thought we’d stop by.”
“I’m glad.” He flattened himself to the door while both she and his son brushed by. Even the other afternoon when she’d worn shorts, they’d been dressy. Today, in dirt-smudged jeans and an equally filthy T-shirt with her hair a fingered-through mess, she looked as hot as usual, but more approachable. “Can I get