Page 24 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
Camille met his gaze. “Worse. Words cannot describe how awful it is.”
He regarded her with a hint of suspicion. “Didn’t that bother you? Making something bad?”
“Of course.” She gave a small shrug. “That’s life as an artist, though. Not everything is meant to be seen by others. I’ll have lots more failures. I just have to appreciate when something does turn out okay.” She realized that all four kids and Steve were listening to her intently, and she cleared her throat, a little thrown by their attention. “You’re an artist, right?”
His face reddened as he ducked his head, suddenly looking more like a kid and less like a serious, angry adult. “I draw and paint, but I’m not really an artist.”
“You did the snow sculpture outside, right?” she asked.
He gave her a quick glance before dropping his gaze to the counter again. “Yeah.”
“It’s wonderful and so detailed. It looks like the horse is going to come to life and gallop across the yard.”
Micah looked pleased for a fraction of a second before his expression dropped into its usual grim lines. “You can come over to the house and see some of my drawings.”
Startled by the invitation, Camille didn’t respond immediately, and he started to turn away. “Oh, I’d love to, if we’re done…?” She trailed off, her voice rising in question as she looked over at Steve. Last time, Ryan had dragged her to the office for the check, but she had a feeling that he’d been extending her visit, so she wasn’t sure what the actual requirements were. So far, this product drop-off had been much more enjoyable than last week’s. If she could be promised just to hang out with Steve and his surprisingly charming children, without having to elbow her way through customers she didn’t know or fend off Ryan’s heavy-handed come-ons, she’d be willing to visit the Springfield ranch every day.
Steve was focused on Micah, looking pleased and a little surprised. He turned toward Camille with a broader smile than she’d been prepared for, and her head began to spin. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll bring your check to the house.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”
“Oh, I…” Her mind went blank. When Ryan had asked her out, she’d just wanted to run in the other direction, but the idea of eating with Steve and his kids was surprisingly appealing.
“You should have lunch with us,” Zoe said, and Maya nodded encouragingly, bouncing on her toes in excitement. “It’s Micah’s turn to cook, and he’s really good. So is Uncle Nate. If Will was cooking, on the other hand…” She pretended to gag.
“Hey!” Will protested, making Zoe and Maya laugh.
An unsmiling Micah said, “You should stay.” Camille noticed that Steve gave his son another surprised glance before refocusing on her. Despite her worries that she was seeing interest in Steve that wasn’t actually there, she was almost certain that he wanted her to have lunch with them. In fact, everyone was staring at her with varying degrees of hope.
“Okay,” she said faintly, feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Good.” Steve smiled at her again, and his honestly pleased expression made her insides warm. Turning to Will, he said, “I’ll help you price these. Nate should be in here soon to watch the store while we have lunch.”
“I hope he hurries up,” Will said with put-on grumpiness that quickly dissolved into a grin. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Maya teased before she grabbed Camille’s hand and towed her toward the door. “Your superpower is the ability to eat your way out of trouble.” She squeezed Camille’s fingers.
Surprised but touched by the girl’s easy, affectionate gesture, Camille gave Steve and Will a little wave over her shoulder as Zoe asked her sister, “How would that work, anyway? I mean, the only way he could eat his way out of trouble would be if there was a volcano that spewed pudding rather than lava.”
“It’d help if someone dropped enormous pancakes on Will’s lair, too.” Maya dropped Camille’s hand and turned around so she could face the others while walking backward toward the main house.
“Maybe the supervillain is made out of food,” Micah suggested. Even now, his expression was completely serious, which made the whole thing even funnier.
Tipping her head to the side in thought, Camille asked, “Aren’t we all made out of food? Not that we’d especially want to chow down on other people, but we’re food for something.”
“Like sharks.” Maya took the turn in conversation gracefully. “Or bears.”
“So, what if Super Will could eat through anything?” Zoe suggested. “Like, it didn’t have to be food at all. That’s his superpower, that he could eat metal and wood and plastic and not die.”
“I like it,” Camille said. Their conversation was so similar to one she’d have in her head—or with Lucy—that she had to smile. Who knew her nerdy soul mates would be Steve Springfield’s kids? “That’d be an excellent superpower. No one would be able to hold him, since he could eat through handcuffs and prison bars.”
“How long would it take him, though?” Micah’s frown was still in place, but it looked more thoughtful now. “Would it be instant, like the cartoon Tasmanian Devil, or more like how long it takes a mouse to chew its way through the grain-room wall in the barn?”
“Instant might be too much,” Zoe said as they climbed the front steps. Right now, the wide porch was barren and snow frosted the railing, but Camille could picture how homey and perfect it would look in the summer, scattered with comfortable wicker chairs and a swing. “If he can eat throughanythingin a second, then how would anyone stop him? He’d have too much power.”
“He could be stopped,” Maya argued, opening the door. A rush of warm air flowed out, filled with a spicy food smell that made Camille remember she hadn’t eaten yet, except for a small chocolate Santa early that morning after she’d given up on sleep. With thoughts of mysterious noises, she’d had a restless night and had woken up for good before the sun was even thinking of rising. “Someone could pull his teeth out.”
“Or wire his jaw shut,” Micah suggested as they all piled into the entryway. Camille looked around with interest as she pulled off her coat and hung it on one of the wooden hooks that lined the wall. Shoes and boots of various sizes were tucked under a bench that ran along the wall, and she placed her own boots in an open spot in the row. It was such a small thing, adding her footwear to theirs, but it still made her chest warm. The conversation with the kids, the little line of shoes—they made her feel like she was part of their family, even for just a short while. All her life, she’d never really fit in anywhere outside her workshop, but this family had made a place for her.
“If his teeth and jaw are strong enough to eat through metal or concrete, it’d be really hard to pull out his teeth or keep his mouth closed,” Zoe argued, leading the way into a huge open kitchen.
