One Night with a Cowboy - Sara Richardson Page 0,15

I’ve got you.” He pulled the boy into his arms, warmed by a sudden onslaught of pure relief. “Relax, Sport. I’ll get you back into the boat.”

“O-o-okay,” the boy sputtered, seeming to settle.

Securing him under one arm, Wes swam back to the canoe and helped the boy climb inside. “You okay?”

Ryan nodded slowly, his eyes wide and his teeth chattering. “I can swim, you know.”

Even with the lower half of his body still immersed in the mind-numbingly-cold water, Wes had to chuckle at the stubborn lift to the kid’s chin. “I’m sure you can, but swimming in glacier water is a little different. Isn’t it?” The shock of falling in was enough to subdue even the strongest swimmer. Wes knew from personal experience. His dad had pulled him out of the frigid water a time or two.

“Thanks for helping me.” Ryan stared at the floor of the boat.

“No problem.” Wes kept his tone light. He didn’t want the boy to be scared of him. Ryan was all right. That’s the only thing that mattered in this moment. “I’m going to swim back to get the kayak and then I’ll tow you into shore.”

There was that remorseful nod again.

Wes gave the boy’s shoulder a pat before swimming away. He returned on the kayak and hooked up the canoe’s bowline to his boat. “All set, Sport?” he asked, peering at the boy over his shoulder.

“Why do you call me Sport?” At least Ryan had stopped looking down.

The question stumped him for a few seconds. The name had simply come out of his mouth when he’d met the kid. “I guess…because that’s what my dad called me.” His dad had called him that many times when they were sitting right there in that canoe. The memory sliced through him with razor-sharp clarity, bringing on that familiar ache.

“My dad called me Ryan,” the boy said, breaking Wes out of the past. “Sometimes he called me Ry, but not very often.”

“Oh.” Wes rested the paddle across his wet jeans, letting the kayak gently tap the canoe. “Well…I don’t have to call you Sport if you don’t—”

“I like Sport.” A sudden grin brightened the boy’s eyes. “I’ve always wanted a nickname. My mom calls me Ry-ry.” He made a grossed-out face. “That’s such a baby name.”

Wes laughed. “Well, sometimes my mom still calls me Wessy, so I feel your pain.”

Ryan seemed to think that was hilarious. “Wessy?”

“Yeah.” He decided not to disclose that his mother had actually sometimes called him Messy Wessy when he was little. Even back then he’d had an affinity for getting dirty.

“My mom said I should call you Mr. Harding,” Ryan informed him. “That’s what she calls you.”

Was Thea serious? He didn’t think anyone had ever called him Mr. Harding. “You can call me Wes. And so can your mom.” He pointed at the kid with a serious expression. “Not Wessy. Wes.”

“Got it.” Ryan gave him a solemn nod. “And you can call me Sport. It makes me sound tougher.”

“I knew you were tough the second I met you,” Wes told him. A kid would have to be tough to lose his father so young and still have that grin. “So, what’re you doing out here all by yourself anyway?”

The boy lifted one shoulder in a guilty shrug. He wore an unsure expression to match. “My mom wasn’t awake yet. She’s been super tired and busy lately. But you know what they say—‘The early worm gets the fish.’”

Man, this kid was too cute for his own good. “Right.” Wes glanced across the surface of the lake. He couldn’t deny this was the best time to fish—early morning when the air was cool and the flies were landing. Only problem was, Thea didn’t seem like the type of parent who would be okay with her kid fishing in the middle of the lake by himself. Wes didn’t know her, but he could tell that much.

“I felt a bite right before I fell in,” Ryan said hopefully. “I think if I stay out here awhile, I’ll probably catch a humongous fish.”

Aw, hell. How did anyone ever tell this kid no? Louise’s amusement with his taking over responsibilities still bugged him, though. He was the head honcho here, and he had to act like it. “I’ll bet you could catch a humongous fish,” he agreed, not wanting to stomp out the hope in this kid’s expression. “But we’re both soaking wet. And I was coming to find you and your mom because breakfast is ready.”