A Cowgirl's Secret - By Laura Marie Altom Page 0,54
her teeth from chattering.
Luke told the bundled-up boys they were calling it quits, and though they weren’t happy, they began the long return trip to the car with a minimum of whining, instead, running ahead, staging an epic snow battle with Kolt’s Frankenstein club and Jonah’s pirate sword.
At Luke’s Jeep, Daisy was surprised to find the words, I See You written in the snow on the back window. “Is that for me or your dad?” Daisy asked Kolt.
“Huh?” He was so busy walloping Jonah with his club, he hadn’t heard her question. Daisy pointed to the car. “Didn’t you write that?”
“No,” he said. “Am I in trouble?”
She shook her head. “You did write it on my car those other two times though, right?”
Hopping on the curb, he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I really have to pee.”
“Me, too,” Jonah said.
“Climb in, guys.” Luke had clicked the remote key button, unlocking the doors.
Inside, with the heater blasting not very warm air, Daisy felt as if she could’ve stood before a raging fire and still been chilled to her core. With the boys chatting in the back, she asked Luke, “If Kolt hasn’t been writing that message on my car and now yours, then who? Would Henry be that brazen?”
“It’s possible,” Luke said, making a right. “But why? He’s no dummy. Surely he realizes that if he so much as looks cockeyed at you, you’ll press charges. Maybe it was Betsy or Bonnie?”
“But they aren’t with us tonight.”
“True.”
Hands over her face, she said, “I don’t know what I’d do if this all started up again. I really don’t.”
“Relax,” he urged, rubbing her forearm. “This is probably a fluke coincidence. Trust me, everything’s going to be fine.”
A WEEK LATER, LYING ON A BLANKET beneath the big oak in his parents’ backyard, Luke was grateful for the sun’s return. What he wasn’t thrilled about was the way two of his favorite people were so incompatible.
His mother, still trying to make up for lost time with Kolt, was hosting yet another party. This time, a Saturday-afternoon fiesta. Odd, considering there were only a few weeks until Thanksgiving, but he’d long since learned, when it came to his mother and parties, to stay out of her way.
Too bad he’d forgotten to give Daisy the memo.
“Daisy,” his mother said, “while I appreciate you trying to help, I wanted the napkins fanned on the drink table.”
“I thought they might get wet from spilled ice over there, which is why I put them alongside the plates. Makes for a better traffic flow.”
Oh, boy…
On his feet, Luke hustled to get between them before either woman threw the first punch. “I think those napkins would look amazing right here,” he said, taking the pile and setting them alongside the forks. “What do you think, Kolt?”
The boy glanced up from his game to scrunch his nose. “Is it time to eat?”
“There you have it.” Luke put his arms around both women. “The deciding vote. I knew Kolt would side with me.”
While his mother glared, Daisy couldn’t hide her smile.
An hour later, the gathering was in full swing with all of the cousins and aunts and uncles cramming their pie holes with Mexican food. His family loved to eat—any occasion would do.
Luke took extra care to reintroduce Daisy to everyone and if they launched personal questions, he cut them off midstream. He cared for Daisy—deeply. While he might not be ready to say the words of commitment she longed to hear, no way would he let anyone hurt her again.
“Aren’t you the little gal who just bought the old Peterson place?” Uncle Frank held a taquito in one hand and a whiskey sour in his other.
“Yes, sir, I am,” Daisy said. She sipped at her tall-neck Corona.
“Back in the day, that old house was really something. Every bit as fine as your daddy’s ranch, but in a different way. Real hoity-toity fancy. You just holler if you need help.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your offer, and will put you at the top of my guest list for my first party.”
“I’d appreciate it. So would the wife.”
With his uncle ambling back to the buffet table, Luke leaned in close to Daisy, “See? My family isn’t all bad.”
“Did I ever say they all were?”
“Not in so many words,” he admitted, “but it seems to me you left pretty early the last time Mom hosted one of her get-togethers.”
“Can you blame me? Everyone acted as if Kolt was an angel, and I was