Second Chance Family - Cindy Kirk Page 0,11

feel. It was easy for Margaret to see Charlie playing with his plastic dinosaurs in front of a roaring fire or running up and down the staircase. Or God forbid, sliding down the banister.

But for Cole and his limitations, this home had to be a nightmare.

“How are you managing the stairs?” The question popped out of Meg’s mouth before she could stop it.

“I’m not.” Cole repositioned his leg on the ottoman by picking it up and moving it with both hands. “Thankfully everything Charlie and I will need is on this level.”

“You’re not driving yet.” It was a comment, not a question.

“I’ve found a good car service,” Cole said. “Very responsive.”

She wondered if he planned to use the car service to transport Charlie to school. Had he even begun to consider any of the dozens of things that had to be done to keep a household running? Duties and tasks which required two fully functioning legs? “I can’t imagine how you’ll manage—”

“How’s the apartment hunting coming?” he asked, cutting her off.

“It’s coming.” Margaret straightened in her seat and smoothed her plaid skirt with the palm of one hand. “I expect to find a place any day now.”

He smiled and it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds. “If anyone will try to make this work it will be you.”

A compliment? From Cole? Startled, Margaret wasn’t sure how to respond.

Thankfully Ryan stepped into the conversational void.

“We can get into those specifics in a bit.” The attorney lifted his briefcase onto the log-and-glass coffee table. “I’d first like to know what your respective attorneys had to say about the enforceability of the joint-custody stipulation in the will.”

“Way to jump right in there, Ry.” Cole shifted his gaze from Margaret to the attorney. “Before we get started, would either of you like a cup of coffee? Of course, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

Margaret started to say no but then the deep, rich aroma hit her nostrils. “It smells delicious.”

“It’s one of our signature blends,” Cole said. “Umakkamecrazy.”

Margaret’s brows slammed together. “I do what?”

Ryan laughed heartily. “How appropriate.”

She cocked her head, feeling as if she’d come late to a party and everyone knew the joke except her. “I don’t understand.”

“Cole owns Hill of Beans,” Ryan explained.

Margaret was familiar with the chain of coffeehouses. There was even one in Omaha, not far from her apartment. She shifted her gaze to Cole. “Is that what you do? Have a franchise in Austin?”

“Something like that,” Cole said.

“Actually, he owns the whole company,” Ryan said. “Tell her your success story. Local boy makes good and all that.”

Cole shot Ryan a warning gaze. “I’m not a trick pony that will perform on command.”

“Duly noted,” Ryan said, appearing not at all repentant. “Tell her anyway. It’ll be a good way to update her on what’s been going on with you since high school.”

Cole knew his friend too well. Ryan was like a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t move on until he got his way. Cole shifted his gaze to Meg.

“I earned a degree in entrepreneurship from the University of Texas then opened my first coffee shop shortly after graduation,” he said matter-of-factly. “We now have forty franchises in seven states.”

“But not one in Wyoming,” Ryan interjected.

A smile played at the corners of Cole’s lips. “Not yet.”

Meg’s heart dropped. Instead of finding the rags-to-riches story inspiring, all she felt was depressed. And scared. No wonder Cole had attorneys at his disposal and could afford to rent a house like this without batting an eye.

“I think I will take you up on your offer,” Ryan said to Cole. “I’d love coffee.”

When the attorney made no move to get up, Meg rose to her feet. “I’ll get it.”

Cole leaned back in his overstuffed chair like a sovereign on his throne. A rich king who could have anything he wanted…including a little boy who needed a mother.

A little boy who needs me.

The fact that after all these years it took only one look from Cole’s baby blues to make her heart skip a beat made Meg even angrier. At herself. At the situation. At him.

“Thank you,” he called out when she reached the doorway to the kitchen.

“No thanks necessary.” She turned and shot him an imperious gaze. “I don’t want to see you fall and have to pick up the pieces.”

Pick up the pieces. Like he was some loser who couldn’t pull his own weight.

Cole fumed as Meg disappeared into the kitchen, her boots clicking on the hardwood.

He resisted