True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (5 page)

Thack closed his eyes and sank into the seat Kate had vacated. Sweet pickles. No,
sweet Jesus
. It was really irritating that he couldn't even swear in his own head half the time. But what was
really
irritating was his dad hiring this woman as an
assistant
, which the poor woman didn't seem to understand meant
tool for making his son miserable
.

And she worked at Pioneer Spirit. They wanted him to let her be around Kate when she worked at a rough-and-tumble bar as well known for its fights and police calls as it was for a quick drink with a buddy. “You work at Pioneer Spirit.”

“She
plays music
at Pioneer Spirit,” Dad offered, as if that changed everything. Oh, she didn't
pour
the drinks and break up the fights, she
sang
. Like there was a difference.

“A
bar
,” Thack repeated. He knew that once Dad got an idea in his head, he couldn't let it go, but this was getting out of control. This woman came in contact with the worst Blue Valley had to offer every weekend, and he was supposed to be okay with her being around Kate?

“Like you've never stepped into Pioneer Spirit,” Dad scoffed. “You know, one of the Rogers girls runs that place now, the one who was Michaela's friend. Oh, what was her na—”

“Enough.” Thack didn't yell. He didn't slam his fist into the table like he wanted to. He sat perfectly still and said it in a perfectly reasonable tone.

Maybe that's why Dad stopped so abruptly. Maybe he finally recognized that Thack was at his breaking point, and this didn't help. Mentioning Michaela helped even less.

Thack didn't stand. He didn't move. He didn't say anything else. He didn't trust himself to. Kate had probably snuck back down to witness the fireworks, and he wouldn't do that to her or to his father.

He was calm. He'd keep it contained because he had to.

“I'll go check on Kate,” Dad said gruffly. “Summer, I'll show you out.”

“I can find the way,” she said, heading for the door they'd come in. Dad nodded and went the opposite route to the living room and the stairs.

Thack still didn't move. He was afraid if he did, everything shuffling for space inside him would pour out into this empty kitchen and drown him.

“I'm…sorry.”

He startled at the female voice and lifted his head to see Summer still standing in the opening between the kitchen and the hallway. “You are?” he asked, because he couldn't quite bring himself to believe
she
was apologizing to
him
.

“Yes, I am.” She took a tentative step back into the kitchen. Toward him. “I didn't quite know what he had planned, and that was a bit of an ambush. I feel…bad.”

“So, you won't do it? You won't be his assistant or whatever nonsense he's spouting.”

She was silent, dropping her eyes and wringing her hands in the edge of the blanket thing she still had wrapped around her shoulders. “Well, truth be told, I kind of need a job. They don't need me at Shaw house much anymore now that Delia's there, and my job at Pioneer Spirit is only a few evenings a week. I've been looking around, but Mel just had her baby and—”

“You work at a bar.” Why didn't anyone else see a problem with that? She was going to be around his seven-year-old, and she worked in a rough bar in a rough town. She might look all fairy queen-ish, but looks were darn deceiving.
Damn deceiving. Damn, damn it.

Her eyes zeroed in on his again, and there was that…thing. Like a catch in his gut, something inside him not settling right. What
was
that?

“I
sing
at a bar,” she said resolutely.

“My daughter is seven. Impressionable. She…”

“Look, you can ask Rose. Rose Rogers, she runs the—”

“She runs the bar.”

“Right. Your dad mentioned…” She trailed off, clearly pained at the history she didn't know. “You know her. You can ask her about me. They're good people.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” They hadn't been
friends
or
good
people
when Michaela had died and he was left picking up the pieces. Why should that be any different now?

“What about Mel?” Summer demanded.

“What
about
Mel?” God, he was tired.

“Everyone trusts Mel. Ask her about me. You know she wouldn't lie.”

“Actually I don't know that, seeing as she's your sister.” Thack pushed away from the table. He had the breakfast dishes to clean and the morning chores to finish. But instead of leaving, Summer followed him as he gathered dishes and stepped to the sink.

“Right, but she just had a baby. Who she lets me watch, by the way. Surely you could trust someone like Mel, who's also a parent of a little girl.”

“Who you're related to.” He flipped on the tap.

Summer reached across him and slapped it off, the fringe edges of whatever the hell thing she was wearing drifting across his hands, an odd floral scent invading his space. She stared up at him, her dark brown eyes with just a hint of green imploring.

“Give me a chance. Please. You won't be sorry.”

His heart was doing an odd thick-beating thing in his chest, but he had to ignore it. He needed to ignore how close she stood, and the way she smelled like nothing in his life had smelled in a long time. Now was
not
the time for attraction. He was not attracted to
her
.

“It's not enough,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze any longer, having to clear his throat to keep talking. “Not when it comes to my daughter.”

She didn't say anything for a few humming seconds, still too close. This was not normal. Strangers didn't stand quietly this close together, not when all this air around them shouldn't be this thick or this fragrant.

Finally, she stepped away, which gave him leave to move and grab the skillet off the stove, but not because he needed space. He was a rock. An island.

Hard
.

Sweet pickles.
Christ.

“Your father is the one who hired me,” she said primly.

“He's free to do whatever the hell he wants. I'm free to make sure Kate is nowhere near you when you're around.” He dropped the skillet into the sink. “And that is that.”

It was his final word, and he was going to stick to it. No matter what.

Summer hiked back to her caravan, her whole day out of whack. Her entire
body
felt out of whack and
humming
with something.

Irritation probably. Yeah, it had to be irritation. Because it just…simmered along her skin like a rash.

She puffed out a breath, unlocking her caravan and collecting her yoga mat. Caleb had built her a little platform for her birthday so she could do yoga outside even if the snow was on the ground. He'd told her she was nuts, but he'd built it of his own accord. Every morning when she shoveled the snow off the platform and set up her makeshift yoga mat, she remembered his sweet gesture, and she smiled.

Because she had a brother who would do things like that, and what a gift that was. Even with the Thacks of the world trying to mess with her joy.

She went through her daily routine, failing to find any kind of center, which made her even more irritated.

At this point, she usually laced up her running shoes, Rose's birthday gift to her. Her entire life here was made up of stitched-together thrift finds and the gifts of her family and friends. She had never been happier, even in the days Mom had been particularly flush and they'd had a nice place to live.

It hadn't been worth the cost—a sunny smile followed by a cold threat.

Summer shook her head. She was messed up today, all dark thoughts and jumbled feelings. Running might help pound them away, but music soothed the soul. Besides, running in the snow wasn't exactly comforting. Practicing her set would be a better way of working through her irritability.

She climbed into her caravan and set up everything so that she could enjoy the warmth of inside but still look outside her door and see mountains and trees. That was better—she needed to focus on something away from Shaw, and definitely away from the Lane place. Just her, the mountains, and music.

She went through the softer folky songs that she preferred and Rose frowned upon before shifting into the country and the raucous songs that got the late-night crowd buying beer after beer. She played those more because Rose wanted her to than because she enjoyed them.

This morning? She let the anger and frustration course through her, riding on the howls of the cold, whipping wind and the threatening skies.

She finished the loudest, most full-of-swearing song she knew, and as she strummed her last chord, someone started clapping.

“That was quite a show.”

Summer let out a screech of surprise, tripping over her little stool and dropping her guitar so it clattered onto the floor. “Shit, Delia, you scared me.”

“Shit? Awfully early for you to be saying
shit
. You must be having a bad day.”

Summer moved her stool and guitar so Delia could enter the caravan. “Just…off-kilter.” She looked down at her sister-and-law and frowned. “What's wrong with you?”

“Who said something is wrong with me?”

But Delia had her fingers twisted together and her whole bearing was slumped, when usually she went everywhere with a kind of shoulders-back, screw-the-world stance. She climbed into the caravan with a reticence that wasn't at all usual for her.

Summer was still in awe of Delia. The woman had been through so much and never lost her strength or sense of fight. Summer had spent a lot of time in the past few months trying to emulate some of that.

“Tell me what's wrong,” she said, trying for authoritative. When Delia took a seat on the little bench connected to the caravan wall and rested her chin on her hands as though she was going to do just that, Summer scooted the stool closer.

This was serious.

“I think…maybe…possibly…I might be…” Delia looked around, as if people were lurking in the nonexistent nooks and crannies of Summer's home and trying to hear their conversation.

Apparently weird days were going around. “Might be what?”

“I think I might be…”

“Oh my God.” Summer clapped her hands over her mouth as it dawned on her, and then dropped them with a squeal. “You're pregnant!”

“Shh,” Delia said, waving her hands in front of Summer.

“Shh? We're inside.”

“You left the door open, and sound carries around here.” Delia blew out a breath. “I'm not sure. I need to get a test, but it's…possible. I mean, we weren't trying, but there was a night where—”

“La-la-la, no details.”

Delia smiled at that, but it quickly melted into a groan. “Oh shit, I don't know what to do. Do I wait it out? Do I get a test? Do I tell Caleb?”

“You haven't told Caleb?” Summer screeched.

“No, I haven't told Caleb. What if I'm wrong? And we haven't talked about this at all. And…what if I'm wrong?”

“Then, I'm guessing, you try, try again.”

Delia groaned and flopped forward, her chest now resting on her knees. “I'm not prepared for this, Summer. I'm still figuring out this whole ‘being someone's wife' thing I'm…so not ready.”

“You know what part of that whole wife thing you seem to be missing?”

Delia glanced up. “What?”

“Talking to the other person, duh!”

Delia groaned again. “Don't duh me, little girl.”

“Then don't be stupid, Delia Shaw.”

Delia sat completely upright at that. “You know I hate it when people accuse me of being stupid.”

“I do, but I also know you're a big softy, and I am not afraid of you
or
your husband.” Summer reached across the distance between them, squeezing Delia's hand. “It doesn't matter if you are or aren't. You still have to tell Caleb. You know that, or you wouldn't be here telling me. You'd be hiding it or getting a test.”

“But…” Delia swallowed, a nervous gesture so unlike her. “What if he's disappointed?” she whispered, the apples of her cheeks going pink with a blush.

Delia was blushing. Summer couldn't help but smile. She'd always believed in love, especially the true, lasting kind that made people partners in life, the kind that shared hopes and dreams and children. She'd needed to believe that was possible in the utter absence of it.

So, she squeezed Delia's hand tighter. It was nice to be the sounding board for this. To be someone's friend. Someone's…sister. “Disappointed by what?” she asked gently.

Delia shook her head, looking to the roof. “That I am,” she mumbled. Then her head drooped. “Or if I turn out not to be.”

“He loves you, Delia.”

“Well, I know
that
. Don't get all mushy Summer on me.”

“It's not mushy. It's the bottom line. It doesn't matter which one disappoints him or which doesn't, because he loves you, and as with a lot of the bigger challenges you two have overcome, you'll figure out a way to navigate whatever this is.”

“I
hate
when you're all smart and reasonable beyond your years.”

Summer grinned. “And yet here you are.”

“Here I am. And…thanks.” She squeezed Summer's hand back and tried to tug it away, but Summer held on a little tighter.

These moments of feeling like she really did belong here, that she'd built a forever-from-this-point family, were when she got so scared she'd lose it all and had to hold on tighter. “You need me, right?”

Delia cocked her head. “Do you want me to need you?”

Summer blew out a breath. That was the thing with people—everyone seemed to be holding something back. Some secret. Some insecurity. A hope, a dream, a fear. Everyone had all of these emotions brimming under the surface that they didn't or wouldn't let anyone see. Including herself.

She couldn't seem to completely trust herself to let all her feelings go, or that her family would accept them. But if someone could need her, really
need
her to be here, then those hidden things wouldn't matter. She released Delia's hand and forced herself to smile. “I guess it's just nice to be needed sometimes.”

Delia contemplated her in one of those moments where it felt like they had more in common than either of them realized or wanted to expose. “It is. But you'll come to find at some point that people needing you isn't the same as… You have to come to need something yourself, and not be afraid of letting people see what that need is.”

Summer smiled and nodded, pretending that made perfect sense, even though it didn't make any at all. She'd survived by not needing anything from anyone and being whatever she could be to others.

How could she let that approach go when it had gotten her this far?

* * *

Thack couldn't believe he was wasting his afternoon doing this. He should be making sure he had Kate's Halloween costume perfect. He should be lining up someone to fix the porch before the snow got impossible to work through. Hell, if he had half a brain at his disposal, he should be doing some early Christmas shopping.

He should go to the grocery store or run his weekly errands in Bozeman. He should be doing anything but knocking on Mel Shaw's door.

And yet that's exactly what he was doing.

Mel opened the door. In every interaction Thack had had with her in running neighboring ranches, she'd seemed poised, put together, in charge of everything. Today she looked tired, her hair sticking half out of a ponytail, and she held a wriggling bundle of tiny baby in her arms.

He barely remembered Kate as a baby, but the pang of those days, the ones so mired in grief, hit him with a force he didn't know what to do with.

“Thack. Hi. Um. Can I…help you?”

He had to take a deep breath to find some calm amid all the pain and fight to remember why he was here. “I would like you to tell me about your sister.”

“My sis… Oh, you mean Summer?”

“Do you have another one?”

She gave him one of those
This is not the Thack Lane that Blue Valley knows
looks, quickly followed by something worse. Pity.

Because anyone who got the tail end of Thack's temper was surprised, but then they remembered. Widower. Tragic. Poor Thack Lane. But it predated that. Really, it had started with Mom's battle with cancer throughout high school, followed so quickly by everything else.

So, since he'd been fourteen, everyone in town responded to him with surprise, then pity. The chorus of
been through a lot
followed him wherever he went, however much he smiled or didn't.

“For some insane reason, my dad has seen fit to hire Summer as some kind of housekeeper-slash-assistant, and I need to know with absolute certainty that she will not pose a threat or be a bad influence on my daughter.”

“Oh. You're worried about Summer?” When the baby in her arms began to fuss, Mel offered her a pacifier. She stepped back, gesturing Thack inside the kitchen with a nod of her head. “I wouldn't be. I'm not sure I've ever encountered a girl more desperate to…” She stopped short as if reconsidering her words. “Summer has a really good heart. I'm not sure there's a bad bone in that girl's body.”

“That's it?”

“Did you want more?”

“To trust her to be around my daughter? Yeah, I want a lot more.”

“Well, she'd be able to tell you more about her experience than I would. I only know she takes care of the Shaw house without ever complaining, even though Dad and Caleb are obnoxious people to live with. She's a great cook. Tidy. She'll do what's asked of her, and I can't imagine her being anything but adoring to your little girl.”

“How do you know all that?”

The baby began to fuss in earnest, and Mel glanced at the clock. “I don't know what you want from me, Thack. She's a good kid. If you're looking for an endorsement, I'm giving it.”

“No offense, but you defended Caleb for a lot of years. Why should I trust you?”

Everything about Mel's exhausted posture straightened. “Oh, because he's running Shaw—”

“Into the ground.”

“Not anymore. Look, you don't want to trust me? Don't. It doesn't matter to me.
You
came
here
to ask me my thoughts. There they are. You want to worry about someone, why don't you worry about keeping your daughter under control so she's not showing up at Summer's place?”

Thack glanced at the bundle in Mel's arms. Tiny and vulnerable, but the thing about babies was that you could keep them in their cribs. You could hold them and keep them completely safe.

Then they grew up, and you didn't have any control anymore. Safety was an illusion, and there were threats around every dang corner. “Thanks for your time,” he muttered, all at once needing to get out of there.

He turned on a heel and left the old Paulle place, now some kind of weird llama ranch. Why
was
he asking Mel's opinion? She'd left Shaw and married some ex-hockey player who raised llamas.
Llamas.

Summer was her sister. What had he been thinking? That he'd get a legitimate reason to tell Dad no? Or worse, a legitimate reason not to worry about Summer coming into their lives?

He climbed into his truck, determined to drive home. He was responsible for Kate's happiness, and Dad was just going to have to live with that. And so was Summer. So why he slowed down in front of Pioneer Spirit, why he parked in the lot in the back, why he walked toward the entrance he'd never quite understand.

Thack took a deep breath. Even with the chorus of
What are you doing?
running through his head, he couldn't turn away. He had to open this door, because the questions would eat at him until he found an answer.

He stepped into the dark of the bar. He'd been twenty-one when Kate was born, so he'd never spent much time in the place. Back when they were an on-again, off-again thing, Michaela had snuck in, under age, with all her ne'er-do-well friends.

Any time he'd tried to join that group, something bad had happened at the ranch. They'd lost two cows to an ice storm, or Dad had accidentally started a fire in his old woodshed.