The Cowboy's Valentine. Donna Alward
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a second time, retrieving her last suitcase and an overnight bag.
She wished he’d just left it alone. She didn’t want to be beholden to him for anything. Ever.
He stomped in again and put down the bags. “Your hatchback was unlocked. I saw the bags through the window, and...”
“Thank you, Quinn. I was just going to get them. I appreciate you bringing them in.”
Her polite voice seemed to take him off guard and he stared at her for a moment. “You’re welcome.”
The civil exchange made for an uncomfortable silence between them. A log snapped on the fire and he raised his eyebrows. “You built a fire?”
“It was a little chilly in here. I thought I’d make some tea, get settled, that sort of thing.”
“Right.” He lifted a finger to his hat. “Well, I’ll be off. I’ll be in the horse barn if you need anything, and by the time I take off for the day, Duke will be back.”
“You have to pick up Amber at day care,” she supplied, smiling a little. It was hard not to smile when thinking about the little chatterbox—even if it did cause a pang of sadness in Lacey’s heart. It was totally unfair that Amber was left without a mother and Quinn without his wife. By all accounts, Marie Solomon had doted on her child and been a perfect mom. Something Lacey would never be.
“Yeah. Anyway, I’d better go. Work won’t do itself.”
She shut the door behind him, then scooted to the office window and watched him walk across the yard, long strides eating up the distance between the house and the barn. He’d touched his hat, such an old-fashioned, mannerly gesture, that she was momentarily nonplussed. She wasn’t sure they even made men like that anymore. Certainly Carter had never been like that. Not unless there’d been an audience, and then he’d been all chivalry and sweetness. But when they were alone? The walls went up between them again. By the time they’d divorced, she’d been relieved—even if she did still blame herself for how it all went wrong. She’d held on too tight, fought too hard and driven him away.
Then again, there was a limit to Quinn’s chivalry. He hadn’t offered to carry her bags upstairs, had he? Just put them inside the door and expected her to get on with it. She was glad. She was a big girl and could look after herself. Including making a few trips up and down stairs to transport her luggage.
She was huffing and puffing by the time the last bag was settled in what she assumed was the master bedroom. The heavy pine furniture was solid and sturdy, the quilt on the top she suspected was homemade—perhaps by her grandmother, Eileen? She was a little sad that she didn’t know, that the connection to the Duggan side of the family had faltered so much after Lacey’s father’s death. All in all, this was her new temporary home and she felt like a square peg in a round hole.
But she’d make the best of it. She always rallied after being kicked around, and this time was no different. She sat on the bed, fell back into the soft covers, and stared at the ceiling, wondering exactly where she should start.
* * *
QUINN HAD KNOWN she was arriving today. He’d thought it would be later, that he’d finish his work in the house and be gone outside by the time she arrived and they could avoid that awkward first meeting. Lacey Duggan had every right to be at Crooked Valley—she owned a third of it.
It was the fact that she didn’t value it that got under his skin. She’d rather sell the place and be rid of it entirely. The only reason she hadn’t pushed for that solution to the inheritance dilemma left by her grandfather, Joe, was that Duke had come home first and wanted to make a go of it. The whole family looked at Duke as some hero...a military vet with a permanent hearing disability who stepped in when everything went wrong.
Quinn had been skeptical, but he’d liked Duke right away. Humble and not afraid to admit he didn’t know what he was doing. Willing to learn and work. Ready to lead.
But Lacey? That woman had waltzed in here at Thanksgiving and come right out and told Duke that he should unload the place. As if it and the people who worked it and loved it meant nothing.
Things had to be really desperate for her to agree to move in for a while.
He opened the front door to Sunshine Smiles Day Care and let his troubles drift away. It smelled like sugar cookies and fruit punch and there were happy squeals coming from the playroom. He smiled at the young woman at the front. “Hey, Melanie.”
“Hey, yourself. Amber’s helping clean up from after-school snacks. I’ll get her.”
His daughter was the light of his life. She attended preschool for half days and spent the balance of the day at the day care. There were times he felt guilty about the amount of time she spent with people other than a parent, but it couldn’t be helped. Being a single dad was a hard job. He’d had to get good at things like pigtails and bows. There’d been a lot of tears before he got a handle on the tiny elastics and learned how to make a bow so that the ribbons didn’t sag and droop. Marie had always done the little girly things. She’d known Amber’s favorite colors, foods and preferred toys, sang to her at night and read her favorite stories. It wasn’t that Quinn hadn’t been involved—of course he had. But Marie had been the anchor. The details person, the one who held them all together.
He still missed her every damn day. And not just for the details and day-to-day jobs he’d had to assume. He missed having someone to laugh with, missed hearing her breathing when she slept, her voice when she called out for him to do something, the way she ran her hands through his hair. He was damned lonely and struggling to get through every day.
“Daddy!”
He smiled suddenly as Amber came charging out of the playroom. “Hey, princess! How was school?”
“It was good. We gots to paint pictures of our favorite thing to do in winter.”
He knew what hers was, but he asked anyway. “And what did you paint?”
She twirled in a circle. “Skating!”
Quinn’s skating expertise was limited to hockey skates and a pond scrimmage now and again. This year Amber had wanted to learn, so for Christmas he’d bought her little white figure skates and signed her up for weekly lessons at the rink in town.
“Nice,” he commented, reaching for her backpack while she shoved her arms in her coat. “Come on, let’s go home and get some supper on.”
She was jamming her hat on her head as she peered up at him. “Can we go see Duke and Carrie? I want to show them my picture.”
“Maybe another time.” Quinn swallowed, thinking about Lacey being at the house by herself tonight. She’d looked sort of...lost, he thought. It didn’t really matter that he wasn’t overly fond of her. Losing your job was stressful, especially when you didn’t have a backup plan. She’d been making ends meet on a mediocre salary. He knew how upset he’d be if he lost his job and had Amber to support.
Maybe he was being too hard on Lacey.
“Please, Daddy? I haven’t seen Duke all week.” She pouted prettily as she took his hand and they walked to the door.
“Duke was still out in the pasture when I left. He might not even be back yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He helped her buckle into her booster seat in the backseat of his truck and then got in and started the engine. “Hey, pumpkin? Do you remember Lacey, Duke’s sister? The one that was here for Thanksgiving and Christmas?”
He looked in the rearview mirror. Amber was nodding vigorously. “The pretty lady,” she announced. “With the long red hair. Like Ariel.”
Quinn blinked. He wasn’t sure that Lacey looked like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, but there was no question that she had gorgeous hair—when she didn’t have it all pulled off her face and shoved into a tail or bun or braid. He’d only seen it down once,