Page 65 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
For some reason, that struck her as almost as touching as the kids’ statements—until she saw him eyeing Steve’s pile of bacon and then turning his expectant gaze to her. The lump in her throat turned into a choked laugh, and she shrugged. Grabbing a piece of bacon, she handed it over to Joe, who gave her a slight, Micah-like nod and the bacon a tiny, triumphant grin.
Maya started giggling, which set Camille off, and then everyone at the table—except for Joe and Ryan—started laughing. Camille knew it was the tension relief that everyone needed, rather than a reaction to something actually funny, but it did its job. Everyone relaxed, the conversation turning to other less emotional topics as they finished their breakfast and started cleaning up.
“Okay,” Steve said, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. “Will, Micah, and Zoe, your bus will be here in fifteen minutes. Maya, you have twenty-five, so you’re on lunches since the others will be rushing. Micah, after school, plan on helping me and Buttercup move that downed tree in the north pasture and then fixing the fence it took out.”
The three older kids scattered to get ready, and Maya started a packed-lunch assembly line with Joe and Nate’s help. Mumbling something about an appointment, Ryan rushed off. He’d been unusually quiet all through breakfast, and Camille hoped things wouldn’t be weirder than normal between them.
Steve helped her finish loading the dishwasher, standing a little closer than absolutely necessary, but Camille didn’t mind at all. After accepting his apology, her mood had bounced back up to pre-family-meeting levels, and she couldn’t wait for the next time they were alone together.
Micah was ready a minute or so before his siblings, so he was double-checking the contents of his backpack at the table when Camille approached him.
“Is what you said earlier the reason you have tree-and-fence duty this afternoon?”
He glanced up, looking surprised. “It’s not a bad thing. Dad knows I like working with Buttercup.”
“Good.” She shifted as he lowered his gaze to his books and folders. Giving in to impulse, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him in a side hug. “Thank you for having my back earlier. I promise I’ll do the same for you if you ever need it.” She started to pull away, worried that the quick embrace might have made him uncomfortable, but he leaned into her side, surprising her into holding the hug longer. Emotion tightened her chest, and she blinked rapidly, batting away any potential tears. She had a moment of enormous gratitude that she had a chance to be in this sweet kid’s life—in all of their lives. It wasn’t until he started to shift away that she withdrew her arm, schooling her expression so she didn’t reveal how deeply touched she’d been by his simple acceptance of her hug.
Zipping up his backpack, he gave her a sideways look. “You’re willing to call Dad the d-word for me?”
“Yes. The d-word, the s-word, the a-word, the c-word if he’s being really rude, and even the m-word,” she promised.
He paused, his gaze distant with thought.
“Let’s go, Micah!” Will said, blasting by him into the entryway, Zoe close behind.
Micah picked up his backpack and headed after them, but he stopped in the doorway and looked at Camille over his shoulder. “Oh!Thatm-word.” He actually grinned, and the smile lit up his face. “I can’t wait to see that.”
“See what?” Steve asked as Micah left, looping an arm around her waist. Her first instinct was to stiffen, but then she realized that they were now alone in the kitchen, since Maya was upstairs getting ready and the remaining two uncles had taken off once the packed lunches were completed. She melted back into him, enjoying their brief moment of privacy.
“Oh, it might not happen.” The thought of Micah’s happy expression made her smile.
“Camille,” he said after a slight pause, and she looked up at him, instantly wary at the hesitation in his voice.
“Yes?” She almost didn’t want to hear whatever he was going to say, since she was pretty much maxed out as far as dramatic moments went.
“I’d like us to be together.” He cleared his throat, sounding so nervous that, if he hadn’t had both arms around her, she was pretty sure he’d have been rubbing the back of his neck. “If that’s what you want, too.”
She relaxed, the words running through her like liquid sunshine, warming her everywhere. “Yes. I do want that. And I want to be with your kids, too. I’m not so sure about your brothers, but they don’t live with us, so I should be fine with limited contact.”
His laugh sounded relieved and so, so happy. “That is exactly the way I feel about them, so this should work out beautifully.”
She hugged his arms against her middle, smiling. Maybe it wasn’t just a daydream. Maybe real life actually could be this wonderful.
Chapter 17
The farmhouse was dark, except for the light in the room where Camille was staying. He stayed in the shadows along the back of the store, watching as she looked out the window, her cat cradled in her arms. The night was clear and cold, the moon bright, making him feel exposed.
Headlights panned over the pasture as a truck turned into the driveway. He stepped back, his coat brushing the siding, wanting to disappear even more in the darkness. The truck rumbled past, heading for the pole barn. Although the vehicle didn’t slow, he still felt exposed as the headlights lit up the cluster of buildings.
Once the truck disappeared inside the pole barn, he glanced up at Camille’s window again, but she was gone. The kitchen window was illuminated with a buttery-yellow light, and then the porch lamp turned on. Camille stepped outside, wrapping her long sweater around her, her arms crossed over her stomach in an attempt to stay warm.
She bounced on her toes as Steve crossed the yard, his gaze focused on her as his lips turned up in a smile. He was still wearing his bunker coat, and the reflective strips lit as he bounded up the porch steps.
Their kiss was brief, their lips meeting for only a few seconds before they pulled apart and looked into each other’s eyes. Steve opened the front door, standing back so Camille could enter first, and then they were inside the house. The kitchen light went off and then, a few minutes later, so did the one in Camille’s room.
The house was dark and still, but he kept watching from the shadows, hands curling into fists at his sides.
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