A Cowgirl's Secret - By Laura Marie Altom Page 0,45
to his car.”
Safely in the living room, Luke asked his escort, “They this territorial about other things?”
Laughing, Daisy said, “As far as I can tell, they don’t like sharing cookies or deviled eggs, either. If you have a hankering for brussel sprouts, you should be safe.”
“Good to know. Thanks for the intel.”
Outside, serenaded by the cicadas’ rise-and-fall song, Luke was again struck with the notion that he didn’t want the night to end. His quiet cabin didn’t hold its usual appeal.
“I never asked what brought you by,” Daisy said.
“I heard through the grapevine that you got your house. Wanted to congratulate you.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Her faint smile contained layer upon layer of meaning Luke wasn’t equipped to decipher. Why couldn’t women be as easy to read as horses? “I was pretty jazzed.”
He asked, “When do you close?”
“End of the week. For the deal I got, I’m paying cash from my trust. Without loans, it’s a simple transaction.”
Looking to his boots, then back to her, he asked, “Once you’re in, think I might be able to help?”
“Sure.” A light breeze caught her hair, floating it back from her face. Superhuman restraint was the only thing keeping Luke from grazing his fingertips along her cheeks to sweep those loose strands behind her ears. “Kolt and I will need every willing body we can find.”
“Good. I want to be there—for both of you.”
“While I’m grateful for the offer,” Daisy said, “I’m also a little suspicious. What happened to your solid stance on staying away from me?”
Good question.
“Look,” he said, hands crammed in his pockets, “I’ve never claimed to be perfect. Occasionally I say things I probably shouldn’t. I’m not saying I’m ready to settle down with a white picket fence, but what could it hurt if we spend time together—like a family?”
“Don’t…” Daisy’s smile faded. “It’s not fair for you to insert yourself into every aspect of our lives without commitment. Now that you’re a part of Kolt’s life, he’ll expect you to stay.”
“Which is exactly what I’m offering.”
“No.” She smacked her palm against the hood of his Jeep. “What you want is to play house, but I’m not interested. More than anything, I crave a lasting relationship, a man to hold me in the quiet of night, but I’m not desperate. Not nearly ready to beg for a man’s crumbs.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Taking his keys from his pocket, Luke rounded to the driver’s side of the car. “First, I never offered anything—let alone, crumbs. Second, this has nothing to do with you and me, but with me and my son. I have a right to spend time with him.”
“Of course you do.” Tears pooling in her eyes told him he didn’t have a right to toy with her heart. But he failed to see how hearts even entered into it. Was this one of those cryptic woman things?
“Thank your mom for dinner,” he said.
Daisy crossed her arms as if hugging herself.
“Sharing Kolt doesn’t have to be complicated,” Luke said. “You’re making a bigger deal out of it than need be.”
“Just go.” She turned away from him to wipe her eyes.
For the life of him, Luke couldn’t figure what Daisy wanted. She was the one who’d left him. She’d kept his son a secret for ten years. From where he stood, he was the injured party.
“Please, Luke…”
Bracing his hands on the edge of the car’s roof, he said, “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m offering all I have to give.”
Turning her back on him, she marched up the front porch stairs.
“Real mature, Daisy! We’re having a conversation here!”
She entered the house and closed the door behind her, audibly ramming the dead bolt.
Luke kicked his tire.
Honestly, the woman hadn’t matured one iota since turning fourteen. He was sorry for what Henry had put her through—more than he could ever adequately convey, but that didn’t give her the right to play with him like this.
One minute, her smile put him on top of the world. The next, her pretty pout kicked him to the gutter. Where did that leave him? The last thing he needed was drama.
What did he need?
After this latest encounter with Daisy? A good, stiff drink.
Chapter Twelve
“No way are you and my grandson spending so much as a single night here until at least the roof is fixed.” Friday afternoon, Georgina stood in the living room of Daisy’s new home, decked out in rubber boots and gloves, looking as if her family were in danger of an imminent dust-bunny attack.
“I