Rescuing the Texan's Heart. Mindy Obenhaus
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He took a deep breath, mentally chastising himself for being so selfish. Gramps had never been too busy when it came to Cash. So why couldn’t he show the old man the same courtesy?
A sharp right curve on the Million Dollar Highway and Cash glimpsed the town that he’d once hoped to call home. Nestled in a bowl among southwestern Colorado’s majestic San Juan Mountains, Ouray was like no place else. Gramps always said it was heaven on earth. And, after all these years, Cash still agreed.
So why had it been so long since his last visit?
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
Work. Work that was in Dallas, not Ouray.
No point in dwelling on what could never be.
But you’re here now.
Only because his mother was caring for his two-year-old niece while his very pregnant sister was sentenced to bed rest. Yet that didn’t stop Mom from insisting Cash take her place. All because Gramps had been dealing with a little bronchitis. Of course, the man was ninety. And when Mom got insistent, neither Cash nor his dad stood a chance.
Clouds gave way to the early-afternoon sun illuminating the businesses that lined Main Street. The corners of his mouth twitched. The rows of colorful Victorian buildings still held the charm of a bygone era when miners and gold were the lifeblood of this town.
Two blocks and a couple of right turns later, Cash eased the SUV to a stop in front of his grandfather’s house. The 1920s two-story didn’t look quite the way he remembered. Peeling green paint and a roof that had seen better days made the house seem neglected. Forgotten.
Kind of like your grandfather.
The thought jarred him. Had it really been ten years since his last visit?
He shifted the vehicle into Park and pulled the key from the ignition. What happened to him? There was a time when he would have leaped at the opportunity to visit his grandfather. Now it had taken coercion.
Exiting the SUV, he sucked in a breath of the freshest air he’d smelled in ages and lingered over the view. Ouray was the antithesis of Dallas. The closest things to mountains there were made of metal and glass. Man’s handiwork sure paled next to God’s.
He unzipped his jacket, the temperature warmer than he expected. Remnants of snow still clung to life in shady areas, while dirty mounds dwindled away on street corners. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. It was February, after all, and this was Colorado. There should be plenty of snow. Even an inch or two would appease his Texas heart.
“Scout...stop that.” Somewhere behind him, a female giggled.
Turning, he glimpsed a young woman crossing the patch of brown grass that was Gramp’s side yard. She held a foil-covered tray in each hand, while a small wirehaired pup playfully nipped at her shoes.
“Scout! You’re going to make me fall.”
The dog all but ignored the hint of reprimand in the woman’s tone and continued to dart in and around her feet.
That is, until it spotted Cash. The animal jerked to a halt.
Unaware, the woman stumbled over the dog, sending one of the platters airborne.
Ignoring the ache in his left knee from sitting too long, Cash rushed up the walk, intercepting the tray before it reached the ground.
The startled dog let out a high-pitched bark and lunged toward him.
The woman straightened. “Scout! No!”
Hoping to maintain an air of composure, Cash eased onto his good knee and held out his free hand. “Scout, is it?” He kept his voice gentle. “Well, hello there.”
The pint-size mixed breed sniffed his fist. Its ears went back and tail wagged.
Cash couldn’t help smiling. He missed having a dog. Life just hadn’t been the same since Mickey died last year.
“There you go.” He stroked the animal’s sandy-colored fur. “See, I’m not so bad.”
Standing, he met the woman’s gaze.
“Sorry about that, Cash.” Her pale blue eyes were unusually stunning. Especially against her tanned skin. The kind that could knock a guy right off his feet. She smiled. “Your grandfather said you were coming. Matter of fact, he hasn’t talked about anything else.”
The knife of guilt twisted.
He stared at the woman. “Taryn?” Eyes that striking were hard to forget. Even though she was only a kid the last time he’d seen her.
“That’s me.” She shifted from one foot to the other, tucking her short, golden-brown hair behind her ear.
“Wow. I haven’t seen you since you were what...twelve?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Try seventeen.”
Way to go, Coble. “Sorry.” He glanced at the tray in his hand. “Something sure smells good. This wouldn’t be for Gramps, would it?”
“It is.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Well, darlin’, allow me to assist you then.”
Her smile evaporated. She stiffened. “Suit yourself.” Turning on the heel of her rubber-soled shoes, she advanced up the wooden steps, leaving Cash to wonder if he’d offended her with the age remark.
Women. He’d never understand them.
He followed her, noting the large supply of wood stacked at one end of the porch. Surely Gramps hadn’t cut all that himself.
Taryn reached past the handle of a snow shovel for the bell, when the door opened.
“I thought I heard voices out here.” Gramps held the storm door wide. His white hair was as thick as ever and his green eyes brightened when he caught sight of Cash. “Come in. Come in.”
If first impressions meant anything, Cash’s mother was worried for nothing. The old man looked great.
Scout trotted inside first, as though she belonged, followed by Taryn and Cash.
The old house looked much better on the inside. The dark wood paneling in the living and formal dining space had been painted white, brightening the room considerably. Looked like Gramps had a new recliner, too. Seemed he wore one out about every five years or so. The floral sofa, though, still looked as new as the day Cash’s grandmother bought it.
“I thought you’d be at the ice park.” Gramps smiled at Taryn.
“No, not today.”
The old man shifted his attention back to Cash, his chest puffed out. “Did you know that Ouray is the ice climbing capital of America?”
“I did not.” However, he couldn’t help noticing that the console TV was still parked near the front window so it could be viewed from the kitchen.
“We even have a big ice festival. But that was last month.”
Cash always said his grandfather should be a spokesperson for the town. The old man never missed an opportunity to talk up Ouray.
“Pretty nice setup they’ve got over there, though.” Gramps inhaled deeply. “Smells like you’ve been baking again, young lady.”
Pink tinged Taryn’s cheeks. “It’s almost Valentine’s Day, Mr. Jenkins. Lots of people are baking.”
“So what’s your excuse the rest of the year?” The old man looked at Cash. “This sweet thing keeps me on baked goods that rival anything your grandmother would have made.”
Cash focused on the girl who had once followed him and her brother all over Ouray. “Beautiful and a great cook. That ought to make some man very happy.”
Those clear blue eyes narrowed for a split second.
“I’ll