True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (11 page)

Dinner was like something out of his childhood. It had been a long time since he'd been a part of any large family gathering, even if it wasn't his family. Those first few years after Mom passed away, Dad hadn't made much an effort on holidays. Thack had always been invited to his grandparents' or aunts' and uncles' houses, but he'd needed to stay close to the ranch, to Dad.

Thack was more than a little humbled that Summer had allowed him to give Kate this. Kate ate it all up, the laughter, the noise, the food—truly a feast. She gobbled up two pieces of pie, and then when Mel's baby fussed, she asked if she could hold her.

While Rose and Summer were clearing the dining room table, Mel obliged, teaching Kate how to carefully support the newborn.

Dad and Cal talked, though it didn't seem to escape anyone's notice that Dad mostly talked and Cal just grunted in response.

Caleb intercepted a stack of plates Summer had begun to carry to the kitchen. “Out.”

Summer frowned. “But, I have to cle—”

“We are the cleanup crew. You are officially forbidden from this area until further notice.” Caleb glanced at Thack. “Keep her out of the kitchen, huh?”

“Oh, I—”

“Can I help clean up?” Kate asked, bouncing.

“Maybe we—” But before Thack could suggest going home, Kate was whisked into the kitchen.

Thack stood in the hall next to Summer, not knowing what to say or quite what to do. He should collect Kate and Dad and go, but…

Summer was frowning at the kitchen, and something about her expression made him want to soothe her. “The food was great.”

She smiled, but it wasn't that exuberant Summer smile. “Thank you. I wish they'd let me clean up. I don't know what to do with myself.”

He gestured at the TV behind them. “Well, you could always watch football.”

She chuckled. “I hate football. It's so violent. But, you can feel free to watch it if you like it.”

“I don't really…have an opinion. Never had much time to sit and watch a whole sporting event. Always seems to be something else to do. Or some kids' show to watch.”

“You're such a good dad.” Her gaze wasn't on him but on the corner of the dining room where her father and his father still sat.

No matter how perfect the evening had been, no family was perfect, and oddly, that was a good reminder. Thack didn't actually have to be perfect for Kate. He just had to be there and take opportunities like this so she could feel like a part of something.

“Thank you for this. I don't know how to possibly express how much it meant that Kate got to have a meal like this.”

Summer's gaze left their fathers and met his. Her eyes were a dark, empathetic brown with the faintest hints of green. Everything about her was soft and sweet, bright and warm. It was becoming an increasingly big problem.

“I was happy to do it. For Kate.” She chewed on her lip for a few seconds. “For you.”

Uncomfortable with that warmth in her gaze he hadn't quite figured out how to enjoy, Thack moved stiffly to the living room.

He scratched a hand through his hair. He wanted more things like this for Kate, big meals and happy families, and the kind of joy he and Dad couldn't give her being so isolated. He knew Kate was happy for the most part, but he also knew she could have more. He'd been a lonely teen with just his father and too much responsibility. Michaela had come along with her friends and her family.

It had been a bright spot in those days. Then he'd touched that brightness, and look what had happened.

He rolled his eyes at himself. Even if he wanted to wallow in that, he was slowly reminding himself he couldn't. Summer's presence had awoken something he'd lost in the past few years of desperately trying to keep Kate safe.

“I thought maybe…” Was he really going to ask for more help? After everything Summer had done today? But she was standing there, looking up at him expectantly. Maybe even hopefully. “The thing is, I need to start Christmas shopping for Kate, and last year Santa kind of royally screwed up.”

“Oh, yes, she was telling me all about that.”

“She was?”

Summer nodded, her mouth curving. “The other day she gave me the rundown. Purple instead of pink. I mean, how could you?” But she grinned so it didn't feel like scolding.

“How could
Santa
,” Thack corrected, smiling over the mix-up for probably the first time in a year. He'd felt like utter dirt that he'd screwed up something so simple, and as a result, Santa had disappointed his child.

“I need help.” When was the last time he'd admitted that? Out loud and to someone who actually could help. “Shopping. I thought maybe some morning you could come with me. I know what Kate likes, but sometimes the details of it all make no sense to me.”

“I'd lo—”

“It'd just be an extension of your job. You know, if you can fit it in, that is.”

She blinked, something in her expression hard to read. Almost like he'd said something wrong, flipped some dimmer switch on the brightness that was Summer.

“I'd love to. As a favor. Not as”—she made a face—“work. As a favor to Kate and Santa.”

Thack smiled. “Santa desperately appreciates that.”

Whatever had dimmed brightened again, and Summer laughed, that light, airy sound that never failed to make Thack's stomach feel like it was barreling down some twisty country road far too fast.

“I can't get into town next week,” he forced himself to say. “But how about the week after?”

“Whatever morning works for you.”

She was standing close again, right in front of him. He could smell that perfume she always wore, and he could hear the faint jangle of every piece of jewelry as it moved with her breathing.

He wanted to reach out and touch…something. A strand of hair, the dangle of her earrings, the line of bracelets on her wrist or the fringe on her shawl thing. He wanted to touch Summer and find out if everything was as warm as she looked, as warm as her name suggested she was.

He wanted.
Wanted
. It had been a long time since he'd let his guard down enough for that.

“Daddy! Ms. Mel let me help change a poopy diaper! It was disgusting.” Kate clattered into the room, gleefully talking about the contents of a child's diaper.

It should have eradicated that unsteady, confusing swirl of attraction and want and just plain enjoyment of the woman in front of him, but, sadly, it did not. Especially when Summer smiled and Kate leaned against her, talking animatedly.

No, that feeling lodged deeper, and he quite honestly didn't know how to address it. So, he listened to Kate's tale, he gathered up his family and said their good-byes, and he ignored the feeling as best he could.

But as he drove away from the Shaw house, he could see Summer in the rearview mirror, standing in the circle of light on the porch, watching them drive away.

“You're going to have to figure it out, Son.”

“Figure what out?” Thack grumbled, returning his gaze to the road in front of him.

“Just what it is you want.”

What he wanted? There was no point in
wanting
. Things got taken away, things weren't easy, and he did have a daughter to protect.

So what he maybe,
maybe
wanted…was a lot easier said than done.

Summer did her best to act totally normal and casual as she sat in the passenger seat of Thack's truck.

Kate was in the back talking nonstop about some art project at school, and the plan was to drop her off there and then go shopping.

Shopping together. Just the two of them. Every time Summer contemplated it, she felt like she was going to jitter apart. It was silly, of course. This wasn't friendly or more than friendly—it was simply work. He'd said that. Like an extension of her housekeeper duties. Not a favor or anything.

But no matter how often she told herself that, the jitters didn't dissipate. The wish that this really was a sign of friendship, a favor given was rooted firm and deep.

Thack pulled through the school drop-off line, and Kate popped out of her seat. “Bye, Daddy.” She leaned between the two front seats and gave Thack a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Summer.” And then she gave Summer an identically loud kiss before bounding out of the car.

Summer wasn't surprised anymore by Kate's enthusiastic displays of affection, but seeing one this way, next to Thack, made it feel something like…a family moment.

The three of them. She closed her eyes against the assault of emotions. Too many to name or analyze.

“Have a good day,” Thack called hoarsely as Kate pushed the door closed and skipped toward the school doors with the other kids while the teachers manned the drop-off line.

When Summer managed to glance at Thack, that unreadable green gaze was on her. So many complex emotions, ones that rivaled her own.

“I think people are waiting,” she offered gently.

“Right. Right.” He focused on the road and pulled out of the elementary-school parking lot, his eyebrows drawn together, his jaw clenched so tight.

She wished there was something she could say, but she could only imagine what he was thinking or feeling. She wondered if he'd felt that family vibe too, and whether it reminded him of his wife.

It hurt a little. That Kate didn't have a mother, that Thack might be thinking about another woman. All jumbled and probably wrong feelings to have.

“She really likes you,” Thack said, as if it only just occurred to him that Kate had grown attached.

“I really, really like her.” Which was true. She'd fallen in love with the exuberant little girl and her wild imagination. Regardless of who her father was, Summer loved Kate like a member of her own family.

“That's…good.” He focused hard on the highway that would take them to Bozeman and the appropriate big-box store with a wide variety of toys.

It would be a long ride if they didn't talk, or at least play some music or something, but Summer didn't know what to discuss when she felt like opening her mouth would only produce squeaks.

Squeak.
Alone.
Squeak.
With Thack
. Squeak.
Think you're really hot
.

“Oh, um, so, I wanted to let you know that if you need help putting up decorations, I'd be happy to.”

“I hauled up the boxes yesterday, but I have been stressing a bit about when I'll get it done.”

“Well, then let me help.”

“I don't want you to feel like you have to.”

“You have a real hang-up about that.”

He blew out a breath. “Hang-ups? I have a legion,” he muttered.

“Don't we all?”

“You seem very happy and well-adjusted.”

She laughed. She couldn't help it. “I mean, I try. I am happy.” She was. She'd found a whole new world in Montana, and it had given her that feeling of belonging she'd always hoped for. And yet, there were still deep-seated fears inside her and a bitterness she didn't know what to do with.

“But not well-adjusted?”

“Is anyone?”

It was Thack's turn to laugh. “That is an oddly comforting thought.”

They talked about Kate for the rest of the drive. She seemed like the safest subject, far safer than whether Summer was well-adjusted or not.

When they reached the store, Thack pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Here's her letter to Santa. Now I just have to remember to send it off to the Man Up North when I get home.”

“I'll help you remember,” Summer offered happily, grabbing a cart.

They went through aisle after aisle of toys and dolls, Thack studying Kate's list with an adorable amount of concentration. “How am I supposed to understand the difference between Princess Sonia and Princess Perfect Sonia?” he grumbled, looking from the paper to two almost identical boxes of dolls on the shelf.

“Well, the green box has perfect on the side.”

“They're both green boxes.”

Summer tried to swallow down the laugh, but she couldn't manage.

“I know, I'm hopeless. But none of these things stay the same. Clothes I can get. Books? Easy. I've mastered putting her hair back. I do not get dolls.”

Summer plucked the Princess Perfect Sonia box off the shelf. “Here we go.” She put it in the cart and couldn't quite help reaching out to touch his arm. “It doesn't have to be perfect.”

“She told you about Santa sucking last year,” he replied, pushing the cart toward the next aisle.

“She did, but in the grand scheme of things? When she's our age and looking back at every year that Santa came, she…” Summer swallowed, feeling unexpectedly emotional. Christmas had never been about her. Mom had either hosted some man while Summer had to sit in her room out of the way, or she'd been given “pretty” dresses to “show what a pretty girl she was.”

“I think, maybe not now, but when she's older, she'll understand how hard you worked, how much you cared, and that will beat any disappointment.”

“But you don't want your kid to be disappointed on Christmas or by Santa.”

“
You
don't.”

He stopped pushing the cart and gave her a curious look.

“There are parents who don't…” She didn't want to discuss the way her parents hadn't cared. It was hardly unique to her. Plenty of parents weren't meant for the job. “Anyway, what's next on the list? The art supplies?” She powered forward, not waiting to see if Thack followed. “Oh, this is perfect.” Summer plucked a light-up fairy wand from its perch on a hook. “This is what I'll get her.”

“You don't have to get her anything.”

“Of course I do. She's…” Summer didn't know how to finish that. How on earth could he think she wouldn't get Kate something, or that she shouldn't? She didn't get it. Didn't want to. “I'm going to get her a Christmas present. Honestly. How could I not?”

“I just—”

“Don't want me to feel obligated. I get it, Thack. What you don't seem to get is that it's not obligation to me.” She wanted to yell or stomp her feet or give him a little push or something, which was so unlike her and so…disconcerting.

She didn't want to be frustrated or angry with him, but he was making her feel both.

Sometimes the worst thing is someone you can't trust with your anger
. She tried to ignore those words and the thoughtful way the father who only acknowledged her when pressed had said them. She didn't want that in her head.

“You know, you don't say my name very often,” Thack said softly.

She blinked at him. “I…” She hadn't thought of that and was a little surprised he had. “I guess I didn't notice.”

“I do.” He cleared his throat. “So. Art supplies?”

She nodded, trying to absorb all that. All of the conflicting emotions battling it out in her stomach. Up to this point, she'd gone from irritated by him those first few times she'd met him to being blown away by the man he was, the father he was. Now, she thought, maybe for the first time she was realizing he was both those people. A complex man, a combination of all sorts of feelings and experiences and reactions.

Which led to the uncomfortable realization that she too was complicated and not one thing.

They picked out the art supplies, focusing on the task rather than all those pesky thoughts and feelings, and as they moved toward the front of the store with Christmas music piping through the speakers, Summer felt edgy and uncomfortable. Far different from the feeling she'd initially had this morning of being jumpy and excited.

She didn't want complex, hard thoughts. She'd run away from all that. Left it behind. Montana was supposed to be a fresh start and happiness, not confusion and questioning how well-adjusted she was.

They got everything they needed, and Summer talked Thack into some extra Christmas lights and a gingerbread house kit she could do with Kate one afternoon. The more she faked the cheer and the more she hoped she would feel it instead of the constricting tightness in her chest, the less she actually did.

They stood in the checkout line, and Summer hummed along with the speakers. “Joy to the World.” She wanted to feel that joy or peace or truth or something. Joy was being here, helping Thack create a great Christmas for the little girl she enjoyed so much. Peace was her caravan, being in charge of her own life. And truth…

What on earth was her truth? The question haunted her as Thack paid for the items, and she paid for the little wand for Kate. Her thoughts took up so much mental space that she wasn't even paying attention to Thack as they walked into the freezing air of the parking lot.

“Um, so I was thinking that…” He pulled open the covered truck bed and began to place the items inside. “We could…” He closed the trunk and adjusted his hat on his head, most expressly not looking at her. “We could go out to lunch.”

Summer froze. “Lunch,” she repeated dumbly. Lunch? The two of them?

“Unless you're busy, of course. I can drop you off at Shaw and—”

“No!” She tried to rein in her voice before she continued. “I'd love to go to lunch.” Because as confused as she was, she couldn't help but wonder if this invitation wasn't, well, what she'd been fantasizing about.

Because it had nothing to do with Kate or Christmas or working for the Lanes. He was asking her to lunch. Just her. There was no way she could turn that down.

* * *

Thack had no idea what he was doing. Not in inviting Summer to lunch and certainly not in sitting across from her at a table in a fairly nice restaurant. Sure, it wasn't fancy, but as it wasn't McDonald's, it was about the nicest place he'd ever been in.

Seriously. What the hell was he doing?

He'd made a specific effort to ask her out to lunch. Her. Nothing dressed up in a favor or doing it for Kate. This was about him. And her. Having lunch. Together.

He felt like one of the men turned to stone in Kate's stories—stiff and frozen and completely helpless.

So, they sat in awkward silence. Him too still while Summer fidgeted endlessly. It seemed an important contrast, though he couldn't work out what was important about it.

They ordered and sat. Silent. Silent. Awkward.

“This is ridiculous,” Thack muttered, leaning forward and resting his forehead on his palm, his elbow on the tablecloth pulling the water glass with enough force to spill some over the edges.

Summer laughed and some of the tension eased, because her laughter always felt like sunshine. Never snarky or mean, always joy.

“It's just lunch,” she reassured him. Or maybe she was reassuring both of them, because she didn't appear to be any better at this than he was. “Just conversation. Because we're, well, friends. Right? We're friends now?”

He stared into the warmth of her gaze—more hazel than either green or brown. “Right,” he managed to say.

Because being friends was important, and more, he thought maybe he needed that “friend” step before…

Aw, sweet pickles, the fact of the matter was that he liked her and was attracted to her, and he didn't know what to do with that anymore. Heck, he never had. Michaela had been the first girl he'd ever asked out, ever dated. She'd been it for him, simply because time had gotten away from them.

Then there hadn't been time. He didn't know how to dive into this whole hog. He didn't know how to flirt or date, so maybe friendship was a good first step.

“So, did you always want to be a rancher?”

He glanced at his hat sitting on the seat next to him. “I think so. It was always a foregone conclusion I'd help Dad run the ranch. There were a few years when I thought maybe I'd go be a rodeo star first, always with the plan to come back, but Mom got sick and passed away, and it… Well, it was never as important to me after losing her.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Everyone always is.”

“It's hard though, growing up with just one parent. But, for as much as you and your father can sometimes argue, it's obvious he's really supported you.”

Thack smiled wryly. “He has. It wasn't easy at first, after Mom. She'd always been his anchor or his balance or something, and he kind of fell apart there for a while. It was hard on him to lose her.”

“Hard on you both.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, never comfortable when people offered platitudes. He'd heard them since he was a teenager. One would think he'd get used to them, but all they did was remind him of what he'd lost. If he got mired too much in that, well, he'd turn into Dad. “When we found out Michaela was pregnant, Dad pulled it together. I needed him to.”

Summer chewed on her lip, and he knew he should tell her. He should tell her what had happened to Michaela, open up in that way he tried never to do, no matter how many times the therapist in those first few years had told him he needed to open up.

He didn't want to be open. He'd seen Dad opened up and strewn about after Mom, and he refused to be that. Especially six years after.

“That's all depressing stuff. What about you? Did you always want to be a…” Crap.

“Jill of all trades?” she offered with one of her sunny smiles that he was beginning to realize hid something. What, he wasn't sure, but they didn't have that warmth she so often gave him and Kate. “I… My mother was very strict, I guess you'd say. There really weren't many dreams she allowed me to have.”