The Cowboy's Unexpected Family

“Flip the mattress.”

“You should have asked for help.”

“I never needed help before. But I’ll ask Lucy to help me. You don’t need to do this.”

“I was…I was surprised to see your door open.”

“There’s only so long I can stay locked inside when there’s work to be done.” She grabbed the sheets on the floor at her feet and headed out of the room.

She wasn’t proud of herself, but she nearly ran from him, thinking he wouldn’t keep up, but he did.

That cane is an act, she thought darkly.

“Sandra—”

He followed her all the way into the laundry. She wondered if he’d ever been back there.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do, Walter.”

Without looking at what was in the washing machine she started shoving the sheets in, cramming them in. She opened the door for the detergent and without measuring she dumped in the powder.

His fingers touched her arm and she dropped the soap.

“Good lord, Walter look—” Frantic, tears burning behind her eyes, she knelt to gather the granules in her hands, but he stopped her, his hands cupping her elbows, forcing her to stay upright.

But he couldn’t force her to look at him.

“Forget what I said,” she whispered. “Please.”

“I can’t.”

“A.J. would never forgive me for this—”

“A.J. is dead, Sandra,” he whispered. Carefully, as if she were a glass sculpture he was setting up on a table, he moved his hands away, afraid she would wobble and crash.

But Sandra Alatore never wobbled, or at least she never had before the other day when she told Walter about A.J. And now she felt as if she were always off balance.

“I don’t know if what you said is true, and I don’t really know if I care. It doesn’t change how I felt about A.J. Doesn’t change who he was for me.”

Her eyes flew to his, surprised to hear him say that. She wished she could be that forgiving. That accepting.

“But I care about you and how…how that must have been for you.”

“A.J. was a good man, a good father. I was blessed in many ways.” She tried to get out of the laundry room but he shifted sideways and stopped her.

“Sandra you don’t have to pretend with me.” A sad, sweet smile split his craggy face. Lifting it somewhere toward handsome. “I know better than anyone what it’s like to be in a bad marriage.”

“It wasn’t bad. It just—”

“It wasn’t what you wanted.”

Oh sweet Lord, it was so hard to say the words. It was one thing to think them, but to let them leave her lips, it felt like nothing would be the same.

She nodded, a coward.

“Do the girls know?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“I don’t want to change the way they think of their dad.”

“That’s…noble.”

“It’s necessary.” His poor face was as red as a taillight and she did not want to talk about this anymore. “Do you want some aloe? For your sunburn?”

He winced. “Would it help?”

“Yes. Come, I have some in the kitchen.”

She felt him at her back as she walked through the dim, silent house. Suddenly she was all too aware of how alone they were. The ranch was empty. Jack and Mia weren’t even at the little cottage. It was just them for miles.

Stop, she chided herself. You are thinking like a teenager.

But it didn’t stop her skin from burning where he touched her. It didn’t stop her from asking questions she had no business asking.

Who is this man? Why do I feel this way for him?

The Walter who’d emerged from his room weeks ago was a different Walter than the man she’d lived with for so long. He was older, yes, in many ways, his body more frail. But his eyes...for the first time his eyes were young. Lit with a fire she’d never seen. Never even dreamed of seeing. And he was smiling. Not a lot, but some.

And a sunburn? Why was that so endearing on a man as tough and as hard as Walter? Why did that make her heart twist and her stomach hatch butterflies?

That kiss on her wrist a week ago. Why did that still ache? Why could she still feel the scrape of his beard against her skin? The dry press of his lips?

In the kitchen she used her scissors to snip off a piece of aloe from the plant on the windowsill, and she turned to hand it to him only to find him on the far side of the room, the kitchen counter between them.

“Here.” She held the aloe out across the white counter but he just stared at her.

“I’m worried about you,” he said.

She laughed. “Worried? About me?” Her voice cracked on the last word. People didn’t worry about her. She worried about everyone else and she didn’t know what to do with the weight of his concern.