A Cowgirl's Secret - By Laura Marie Altom Page 0,23
pocket.
“Uncle Cash said he’s gonna get me a knife, but I have to ask my mom first.”
The old guy nodded. “Always a good thing to ask your mom. When she was little, we used to play all the time. Now that you’re here, I’m sure she’d want me to be great friends with you.”
“That’s cool.” Kolt handed Henry his favorite sword. “Do you want to be the good guy or the bad guy?”
Henry took a long time to answer, but then smiled. “I want to be the good guy, you naughty little pirate. That way I can teach you the proper way to treat a gentleman.”
“Argh!” Kolt said in his best pirate voice. “You’ll never tame me.”
FIVE DAYS LATER AND Daisy still couldn’t stop thinking of Luke’s kiss. Clearing the air? Of what? Sexual tension? Had that indeed been his plan, it hadn’t worked—at least not for her.
More than ever, Luke was on her mind, but then so was Henry. So many old, frightening feelings coursed through her. Part of her wanted to work toward earning Luke’s forgiveness and possibly forging a family with their son. Another part knew that fairy tale would never happen. Henry wasn’t just in her nightmares, but living a couple of hundred yards from her bedroom in his tidy little house.
She had never needed Luke more.
But she also knew if he were one day to forgive her for hiding his son, as soiled as Henry had made her, she didn’t deserve to be with a man as good as Luke.
With Luke out of town, Daisy had managed to get her office cleared of clutter and mostly functioning, as well as getting Kolt enrolled for his upcoming year at Weed Gulch Elementary. School documents had never been an issue at his private academy. Here, however, Daisy had received more than a few weighty stares from one old crone in the office whom she was pretty sure had been working as a lunch lady when she had started kindergarten.
Most days Daisy felt as if the whole town were judging her. Condemning her for keeping Kolt from Luke. If they only knew her other dark secret, gossipy tongues would really be wagging. Everyone loved Henry. Would her family and Luke even believe her when she told them what the kindly man had done?
“Ready?” Kolt, dressed in brand-spanking-new Western wear purchased for him by his Uncle Cash, practically danced in front of the sofa where Daisy had been flipping through a real-estate magazine.
“Grandma’s still on the phone.” Patting the empty spot next to her, Daisy asked, “Do your boots feel okay? Nothing ruins a rodeo faster than tight or rubbing boots.”
“They’re good,” he said, demonstrating by wiggling his feet in front of him. “Wonder what my old friends would think?”
“’Bout what?” She smoothed the cowlick in his dark hair. For a moment, she felt as if her breath had been knocked out of her. How had she never before noticed the way Kolt’s hair stuck out at the same crazy angles as his father’s?
“My cowboy boots and hat and jeans. No one wears stuff like this at home.”
“This is your home now, and I promise, if you showed up at the summer rodeo wearing expensive high-tops, shorts and a T-shirt, you’d look like an alien from another planet.” She tickled his stomach. His laugh never failed to brighten her spirits.
“Sorry about that,” Georgina said, slipping on a silver-and-turquoise bracelet on her way into the living room. “Unavoidable damage control with loose-lipped Frieda Hilliard.”
“What’s that mean?” Kolt asked.
“None of your nosy beeswax.” Kolt’s grandmother clamped her hands over his ears while kissing the top of his head. Daisy guessed her mother had been handling more fallout in regard to her. “Did your brother and Josie already leave?”
Daisy nodded. “The girls were bouncing off the walls.”
“They are a handful,” her mother noted.
“More like crazy,” Kolt said, on his feet and practicing quick draws with his plastic revolver. In San Francisco, he’d been all about video games and not much else. Daisy loved how he’d once again started using his imagination since coming to the ranch. “Bonnie tried piercing my ears. Her mom caught her just before I died from that psycho girl stabbing me to death with a safety pin.”
“That’s awful.” His grandmother pulled him into a hug.
“I know,” Kolt said, aiming for the stuffed moose head mounted above the fireplace. “That’s why I wanted to ride with you and Mom and Aunt Wren and Robin. That baby bites, but usually