Wild West Christmas: A Family for the Rancher / Dance with a Cowboy / Christmas in Smoke River. Kathryn Albright
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Roach?”
“Oh.” Cody rubbed the back of his neck and then said. “Uncle Dillen, would you like some pie?”
His mouth watered as he shook his head. “That’s all right, son. Have at it.”
Colin grinned, showing he had a good deal of piecrust stuck to his cheeks. Alice dipped a lace-trimmed handkerchief into her drinking glass and mopped Colin clean. It was a gesture so maternal it made Dillen’s stomach drop an inch as the longing gripped him hard and low. She just kept surprising him. Why was she here? Was it only the boys?
Why else? You think just because you missed her every waking moment that she missed you?
“May I join you?” asked Dillen.
Alice motioned to the empty seat. He removed his hat and hung it on the spindle on the chair back, then tucked in beside Alice. He settled in the seat, and for just a moment he pretended he was the head of the household and they were all his. He let the fantasy linger a moment longer before letting it die under an avalanche of reality. He didn’t even have the scratch for a haircut, let alone a family.
The waiter arrived and handed Dillen a menu printed on thick cream-colored paper. Every single item on the sheet would have cost him a day’s wages. He set the menu aside and then assessed the empty plates, struck with the sudden fear that he’d have to pay for their meal. The shame of not having the funds to cover one lunch nearly drove him from the table. He actually rose when Alice laid a hand on his forearm.
“Where are you going?”
“I—I...” He had no earthly idea. His brain had stopped working the minute he saw that menu.
Dillen stilled as her fingers splayed over his sleeve, and he wished he’d taken off his coat so he could feel her touch. But it didn’t matter. Just sitting beside her, smelling her delicate perfume, brought it all back, that night, their kiss. Him being fool enough to think he could ever keep a woman as fine as Alice. Her being fool enough to believe her parents would welcome the likes of him to their family. Her hand slipped back to her lap and her cheeks flushed. Was she thinking of how he’d held her? How he’d told her he loved her?
“Is everything all right, Mr. Roach?” she asked.
“Fine,” he lied.
He would rather be back on that crazy three-year-old mustang crow-hopping across the pen than here beside her in this fancy-pants restaurant with those two boys looking to him for answers he didn’t have.
The waiter returned and asked what he’d like.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Coffee, black,” said Alice simultaneously. Then she turned to him. “Have you eaten?”
He hadn’t, not since the stale biscuit he’d had with bacon this morning, and it was now closer to dinner than lunch.
“I’m not hungry,” he lied again.
Alice made a face. “A ham sandwich with fried potatoes,” she said to the waiter.
“I can’t stay.”
That made her shoulders wilt. But she rallied, her gaze still on the waiter. “Wrap it to go, if you please.”
The man nodded and returned the way he had come. She waited until he had vanished to the kitchens before turning to face Dillen.
“You cannot stay?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“What happened at the station?”
“I made a mistake. The telegram you received? That was for a horse breeder. I was asking him to send two horses. Now I’ve got to go up to Cripple Creek to get the pair because he got the telegram saying I couldn’t take them. The one I meant to send to you.”
Cody’s legs went out from under him and he hit the padded seat hard.
Alice’s hand shook, making the teacup rattle on the saucer. “Did you say that you could not take them?”
“I just can’t take them right now. I need a little time. I’m sorry you came all the way out here.”
“Immediate delivery, you said.”
“Delivery of the twin Welsh ponies. They are the latest acquisitions for the Harvey spread, and I have to go fetch them now.”
Alice’s face grew pink as she regarded him for a long silent moment. “Yes, I see. How long will your errand take?”
“Overnight.”
“And then you can take them?”
Dillen was silent.
“I see.” Alice’s gray-green eyes shimmered, and her face looked long and drawn. She rose. Dillen followed her to her feet and retrieved his hat. Alice turned to the boys. “Your uncle and I need a private word. Please stay at the table. Cody, you are in charge.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Alice walked to the opposite side of the room, standing before the tall window, each pane frosted from the cold. The afternoon light showed the creamy perfection of her skin. Two pink patches glowed on her cheeks, and Dillen knew that Miss Truett was struggling with her emotions. Dillen felt like a dog as he slunk up before her.
“Mr. Roach, those two boys need you. You are their closest living relative and the only one they have ever met. Mr. Asher’s parents predeceased him and they had no other children. Then you send me a telegram to bring these boys immediately and so I have. Now you tell me this is all some dreadful mistake. I need to know, Mr. Roach, what your intentions are toward your nephews’ care.”
“I want to take them. It’s just...” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth—that he was a saddle stiff, a carnival hand, a no-account.
“When you conclude your purchase of horses, will you be able to take charge of them?”
He stared at her in mute indecision. He wanted them, but he also wanted what was best for them. He wasn’t it.
“Mr. Roach, do you not want them?”
“I want them. Of course I do.”
“Is it a matter of time, then? Do you wish me to stay for a few days to allow you to make necessary preparations?”
All the time in this wide world would not be enough for Dillen to provide a home for two youngsters. But Dillen looked down into her large, trusting eyes and saw that Alice really believed he could do it. Her sincerity and confidence took away some of the panic and he reined in his racing heart. Next thing he knew he was nodding yes. A little more time. Time for his brother-in-law’s great-aunt to reply. Time to find someone who could raise his sister’s children, time to disappoint Alice Pinter Truett once more.
“Very well. I’ll take a room here and see to the boys. How long will you require for your business?”
“Be back by tomorrow.”
“We shall expect to see you then.” Alice extended her slender hand, bare now that she was at her meal. Dillen clasped hold. Her skin was smooth and satiny. He used his thumb to stroke the soft skin on the back of her hand. Alice gasped and her green eyes went wide. But she did not pull away. Instead she lifted her free hand and stroked his face, allowing the pads of her fingers to caress the apple of his cheek before traveling over the coarse hairs of his close-cropped beard. Now it was Dillen’s turn to go still as her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers splayed as if to still his thumping heart.
“Come back soon,” she whispered, and then withdrew, her hands retreating, her expression changing from wide-eyed need to the deferential demeanor of a proper lady. But for an instant he’d glimpsed her again, the woman he had fallen in love with. The one he had kissed. The passionate, free spirit she had become when she was with him.
Which woman was she?
Dillen