Page 14 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“But…” Her protest sounded half-hearted, and Camille had a feeling that Zoe knew she was getting off lightly.
“No. You can do research on the computer, you can sketch ideas, you can read small-engine repair manuals, but that’s it.” He looked suddenly tired. “I just want a week where I don’t have to worry about you or the ranch exploding. Give me that, please?”
“Okay, Dad.” Zoe’s voice was resigned. With a last, longing look at the parts arranged on the worktable, she headed for the door.
“Bye, Zoe,” Camille called after her, receiving a wave and a small smile in reply.
The door closed behind the girl, and silence settled over the shop, making Camille itchy. This was the first time she’d been alone in a nonpublic space with Steve, and it was very different from her high-school daydreams. Sending him a quick, nervous glance, she saw he was still staring at the door his daughter had gone through, his expression sad.
“Are you okay?” Camille asked tentatively, feeling like she was intruding on his private thoughts.
Letting out a sigh, he turned toward her. She wasn’t surprised he was rubbing the back of his neck again. This seemed like a situation that would call for it. “Not really. Never thought parenting would mean feeling guilty for stopping your kid from blowing herself up.”
“My grandma got off lightly,” she said, studying the blackened lawn mower engine Zoe had been experimenting on. “She was just afraid I’d burn the house down.”
He stared at her, his preoccupied expression replaced with one of startled fascination. “That’s getting off lightly?”
“Sure. Less shrapnel that way.”
A laugh boomed out of him. She remembered how rare a sound it had been back when they were growing up, and how utterly contagious. Camille realized that she was smiling just from hearing it, even all these years later. “Right,” he said. “Not sure if that’s better or not.”
She shrugged, pleased at being the cause of his amusement—and not in a mortifying way for once, thank God. It was getting easier to talk to Steve. His calm, easy acceptance allowed her to relax, knowing that she could talk freely without him thinking she was strange. “Maybe you could help her build it.”
“I try to help—well, supervise—as much as I can. So do my brothers, now that we’ve moved back here. This time of year, though, everyone’s busy, and when there’s a fire call, I have to go. Zoe tries to be patient, but when she gets an idea…”
Camille understood the driving force that inspiration could be. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d rushed out to the workshop at two in the morning when some new project popped into her head. Studying Steve, she tried to think of something helpful to say, but she couldn’t think of any possible solution, although she could feel for both Zoe, the inspired creator, and her beleaguered single father. Still, she didn’t want this conversation to end. Not yet. “Were you a firefighter when you lived in the mountains?”
“Yeah.” He smiled slightly, obviously proud of his job. “Here I’m a volunteer, since there aren’t any paid openings. It actually works better for now, with the kids still adjusting to the new place and all the work there is to do around the ranch.”
“So…” Pushing away the too-tempting memory of Steve in bunker gear, she tried to fish for another one of those wonderful laughs. “You’llbe the one showing up when I finally manage to burn down my workshop, then?”
Before he could respond, the door to the office swung open with enough force to bang the knob against the wall. Camille jumped, and Steve turned to face the sound, stepping in front of her as he did so. She felt a warm, melting sensation in her belly at the protective move. It reminded her of what had happened when she was a freshman in high school and he was a senior, and again just a few days ago. There weren’t many people who’d protected her in her life, but Steve seemed to be making a habit of it.
“Ryan,” Steve said, making his brother’s name into both a reprimand and a greeting, even as he relaxed.
“Camille. There you are,” Ryan said, sounding relieved at first. As his gaze moved back and forth between her and his brother, he began to frown. “Hey, Steve. What’re you two doing in here? I’ve been looking all over the ranch for you, Camille. Thought you were going to wait for me in the office.”
She shrugged a little, not liking his proprietary tone. Just because he’d twisted her arm until she said she’d stay didn’t mean she was a skid steer he could park and return to at his leisure. “I was talking to Zoe, and then Steve found us.”
“Zoe.” He clapped a hand over his eyes. “I left her waiting in here, didn’t I?”
“She went ahead without you,” Steve said coolly, although there wasn’t any accusation in his voice. Camille figured he knew his daughter would find a way to work around his supervision rules, even with the most dedicated uncles.
“Sorry. I’ll talk to her.” His hand dropped back to his side. “Did she blow anything up?” Steve nodded wordlessly toward the blackened lawn mower, and Ryan moved closer to get a better look. “Nice. How’d she do that?”
“She’s experimenting with mixing fuels,” Camille said.
Although Steve winced, Ryan looked impressed. “Smart. I told you to have dumb kids. They’re easier.” He moved over to where Camille and Steve were standing and maneuvered to stand between them. He gave his brother’s shoulder a teasing shove, and Camille surreptitiously shifted a little to the side, away from Ryan. For some reason, standing close enough to Steve to smell his distinctive scent—peppermint and evergreen and a tiny bit of horse—didn’t bother her, but she needed a bit more of a personal bubble with Ryan.
“How do you know?” Steve asked. “The only kids you’re around are mine, and they’re all smart.”
Ryan waved off his brother’s objection. “Everyone knows dumb kids are easier.” Not waiting for a response, he turned to Camille, shifting closer and eating up the space between them again. “Ready for lunch?”
“Lunch?” Steve repeated before Camille could think of the best way to politely decline. Ryan had been aggravatingly persistent during the past few encounters, and she was running out of excuses. All she could think of was telling him she needed to feed her cat again, and that was only half a step up from telling him she needed to wash her hair. Maybe she’d have to be blunt to the point of rudeness with Ryan, though. Her stomach twisted at the thought. She hated confrontation and hurting people’s feelings, and she had an uneasy feeling that she’d have to do both before Ryan would give up the idea of…whatever it was he wanted to do with her.
“I’m taking Camille to my cabin for lunch,” Ryan explained, confirming Camille’s suspicions that it would take one of Zoe’s explosions to break through the hard shell of his ego and get him to accept that she wasn’t interested. She wondered what had caused his sudden fascination. They’d lived in the same town for years, and he’d never looked at her twice before.
She gathered all her gumption and straightened her shoulders. “Sorry. I don’t have time. Thank you for the offer, but I need to go now. Bye.” Before he could argue, she marched toward the office door. “Bye, Steve.” She didn’t let herself slow or look back, knowing Ryan would pounce on any slight sign of hesitation.
