Page 31 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“Wouldn’t we all?” Steve asked, making Will huff out a laugh. “Any plans for next weekend?”
“Not…yet.” There was a slight hesitation that made Steve look at his son sharply. He stayed quiet, knowing Will would tell him. “There’s someone I sort of…well, want to get to know better.”
“Hmm.” Steve tried to keep his voice noncommittal even as he groaned inside. He’d known this was coming, though. Will would be fifteen in April, and he’d always been a popular, good-natured kid. “How are you thinking about going about that?”
“I know the rules, Dad,” Will said, back to sounding like his usual self. Steve figured he was lucky to be going through this with Will first, since his older son’s straightforward and easygoing attitude would hopefully let him coast relatively drama-free through puberty. He had a feeling that Micah would have a harder time. “No dating one-on-one until I’m sixteen. We can do group things, though, right?”
“Yes, as long as I okay each groupandeach event.” After Will made an agreeing grunt, Steve asked, “What are you thinking about doing this weekend?”
“I don’t know.” Will sounded a little defeated. They reached the fence and followed it to the trees. The scent of pine and cedar surrounded them, and Steve inhaled. Even when he’d lived in the mountains, the smell had always made him think of the ranch. Although he’d loved Simpson and hadn’t minded living in Monroe, something inside him had clicked into place when he’d returned to Borne and the ranch where he’d grown up. He’d just been thinking of a place where his kids would be safe when he’d decided to move back here, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to return to the ranch.
“Want to have some friends come here? You could take them on a ride and then have a bonfire. Ryan wants to burn the junk wood that’s left from the old barn…the stuff he can’t reuse or sell to Camille.” He was a little proud of himself for not hesitating over her name. For some reason, he found himself stumbling over his words around her.
“Maybe.” Will’s tone turned teasing. “Speaking of Camille…”
Steve stayed silent, glad that the darkness covered his expression. Apparently, he hadn’t sounded as unaffected as he’d hoped.
After a moment or two, Will spoke again. “What’s going on between you two? It’s obvious you’re into each other.”
It was obvious? “Will…” he said.
“C’mon, Dad. I told you about Taylor.” Steve winced at the touch of hurt in Will’s voice. It seemed so wrong to be discussing his love life—well, hispotentiallove life—with his fourteen-year-old son, but it wasn’t right to keep his kids shut out of it, either, since it would affect them, too. He’d always tried hard to be honest with everyone, especially his children, but he’d never had to deal with this situation before. On the rare times after Karen’s death that he’d dated someone, things had never gotten serious. He didn’t want to introduce a woman into his kids’ lives when he knew she would be transitional. They’d suffered enough when their mom died; they didn’t need more loss.
“Dad.”
“There’s not much to share.” It was true, but his chest squeezed with disappointment at hearing the words out loud, forcing him to add, “Yet.”
“Yet?” Will jumped on that gleefully, as Steve knew he would. “Are you going to ask her out?”
Steve adjusted his hat and the headlamp as a prickle of sweat made his forehead itch. “If I did, how would you feel about it?”
“I approve,” Will said immediately and enthusiastically, making Steve laugh. He loved this kid. “So would Zoe and Maya. Micah might be upset, though.”
“Why?” Steve frowned, disappointment hitting him again. He’d thought that his younger son and Camille had bonded over their art. At dinner the night before, Micah had been positively effusive about how she’d helped him fix one of his drawings.
“I think Micah’s halfway in love with her himself,” Will said teasingly, and Steve reached over and gave his son’s shoulder a reproving push, shoving him off-balance. With a laughing yelp, Will recovered, racing forward so that he was several strides ahead. Allowing his stride to stretch, Steve quickly caught up to Will, and he realized that if he’d had a mirror handy, he’d see a big, dopey grin on his face.
They ran in silence for a few minutes, and Steve felt a rush of anticipation. Talking about it with Will had made the idea of dating Camille more real—actually possible, rather than just a daydream.
“If you like her, Dad,” Will said, sounding completely serious, “you should ask her out. She’s nice, and she obviously likes you.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Steve asked, the question escaping before he could stop it. “If you kids get attached, and then she’s gone… I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt either, Dad.” His voice was so kind that Steve was struck again by what a great person Will had turned out to be. “But we—all of us—want you to be happy. Sometimes, you just gotta take the risk.” His tone lightened, changing to teasing. “Can’t believe I have to tell this to a guy who runs into burning buildings.”
With a playful growl that masked the ache in his chest, Steve chased his laughing son.
* * *
Camille groaned at the knock on her workshop door.
She’d been working pretty much nonstop since five that morning, and she’d managed to get the last of the website orders finished and packaged. It was still almost two weeks before the twenty-fifth, but past years had been so frantic at the last minute that she’d moved up the arrive-by-Christmas deadline this year. Now she was glad, since it gave her the opportunity to concentrate on her new wholesale client. To her chagrin, her face warmed just thinking about Springfield Ranch.
It’d only been two days since she’d last been there and had lunch with the family, but she’d already thought about them—well, okay, mostly Steve—way too much for her peace of mind. She couldn’t seem to control how her daydreams wandered to him as she worked. The more she was around him, the more she fell for him. She knew Steve had flaws, but they only seemed to add to his appeal.
The knock came again, yanking her back to the present, and she turned off her music.
“Stupid,” she growled at herself as soon as the workshop went silent. That had been a rookie mistake. Now whoever was out there would know she was here and that she’d heard them knocking. Resigned to talking to her visitor, she stood up, and her muscles protested having been locked in one position for so many hours.
