at Cole’s work, say some appropriately complimentary words, then head home to that bath and book that seemed to keep getting further and further away.
Several miles north of town, Cole finally put on his left-turn signal and pulled into his family’s ranch. She wondered what it had felt like to him when he’d returned home after several years on the rodeo circuit. When he’d left right after high school, his father had been alive and his younger brother had still been at home. Now it was Cooper out riding the circuit, so Cole had come home to only his mom.
Devon’s heart went out to Barbara. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her to lose the man she’d loved for so long, to suddenly be alone on a ranch that used to be filled with her family. Though Devon had never seen Barbara being anything other than smiling and quick with a kind word, there had to have been a lot of sad, dark, lonely days for her.
After they’d both parked, Devon hesitated a moment as Cole slid from his truck. She’d swear his jean-encased legs had gotten longer in the time it had taken to drive from town. Deciding she wasn’t going to get any less antsy sitting in her car, she got out and followed Barbara into the house, trying not to think about Cole behind her.
She almost snorted at herself. What was there to be worried about? It wasn’t as if he was checking out her curves. She wasn’t a fan of clothing that clung too tightly. Plus, didn’t guys love gorgeous blondes or long, leggy brunettes, and not someone who looked like she was the hair twin of a certain flame-haired, bow-wielding princess?
The moment she stepped inside the house, a gray, long-haired cat nuzzled against her legs.
“Looks like you already have Jasper’s seal of approval,” Barbara said.
Devon knelt and petted the cat, causing him to begin purring so loudly she laughed a little. “You’ve got quite the motor running, Jasper.”
“He thinks you’ll give him treats if he does that,” Cole said as he walked past her. “I wonder where he gets that idea.”
Devon looked up in time to see Cole give his mom a pointed look.
“I admit I spoil him, and I’m not sorry. Besides, you’re the one who gave him to me. You’re complicit.”
Devon smiled at their banter, but a part of her heart ached that she couldn’t have this with her mom. She loved her mother, but it was so difficult to be around her. But from her mother’s point of view, she wasn’t at fault for that fact. So Devon kept her distance as best she could and tried not to think about the tiny ember of hope that still burned deep inside her that one day her mom would chill out some and they could have a real, nonadversarial relationship.
“Come on in the kitchen, hon,” Barbara said, making a motion for Devon to follow her. “I just made some lemon squares earlier. Would you like one while I make dinner?”
“I’ll hold off for now, thanks. And you don’t have to feed me. I can just stay for a few minutes, then head out.”
“Nonsense. You already drove all the way out here. Might as well stay and eat. It’ll be nice to have company for dinner. I think Cole gets tired just staring at my mug at every meal.”
“I doubt that.”
“Regardless, please say you’ll stay.”
Devon hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay, but tell me what I can do to help.”
She ended up cutting thick slices of homemade sourdough bread as Barbara prepared fresh chicken salad. Despite Devon’s hyperawareness of Cole on the other side of the room pulling dishes from cabinets and setting the table, her mouth watered at the thought of the upcoming sandwich. She hadn’t eaten much for lunch, and the homemade food looked delicious.
“I’m sorry we don’t have anything more substantial,” Barbara said as she removed a jar of pickles—likely canned from her garden—from the fridge. Next came a container of potato salad, also homemade.
“Are you kidding? This all looks wonderful.”
Barbara chuckled. “You, my dear, are easy to please.”
Devon didn’t miss the quick glance Barbara sent her son’s way. Barbara had given her an escape hatch from her mother’s matchmaking attempt, but was she trying for the same thing, albeit with a lighter, kinder touch?
Devon’s nerves ratcheted up a notch when they all sat down at the table and she found herself across from Cole. She had three choices: keep Barbara engaged in conversation throughout the entirety of the meal, focus her attention on her plate or risk being lured into Cole’s blue-eyed gaze.
“So, how’s your store doing?” Barbara asked.
Good, a safe topic.
“Really well, thankfully. I’m coming up on the two-year anniversary of my opening, so I’m thinking about having some sort of special event.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Barbara turned her attention to Cole. “Did I tell you that Devon has her own farm where she raises goats and sheep?”
“You might have mentioned it.”
The way he said it made Devon wonder if Barbara had talked about her with Cole more than once. Though that thought was unnerving, she didn’t mind it in the way she did her mother’s persistent meddling. Maybe because she suspected that Barbara would stop any futile attempts at matchmaking if Devon asked her to.
“What do you do with the animals?” Cole asked.
That he actually sounded interested surprised her. “I use the wool to make yarn, which I color with natural dyes and put in my shop. I use the milk from the goats to make soap.”
“That stuff is a miracle for my skin,” Barbara said as she smoothed her fingertips over the back of the opposite hand.
“Sounds like you enjoy it,” Cole said to Devon.
She did, and it touched her that he was able to pick up on that. “I do, much to my mother’s chagrin.”
Now, why had she said that? Hadn’t they been witness to enough of her mother’s disdain already?
“We all have to follow our own paths,” Barbara said. “Would I have chosen a career for both of my boys that took them far away from home for months at a time and put them in danger? Probably not. But I know how much it meant to them, same as your farm and shop do to you.” Barbara patted Devon’s hand where it rested beside her plate.
An unexpected lump formed in Devon’s throat. How lucky Cole and Cooper were to grow up with such a mother. They might not have been wealthy, but they’d been rich in the ways that mattered most.
The three of them fell into a conversation about all the changes in Blue Falls over the past few years and specifically about the Arts and Crafts Trail as they finished up their dinner.
“Cole, show Devon what you’re working on,” Barbara said.
Cole looked across the table at Devon, and she wondered how many women had fallen for that face, those eyes. Who could blame them?
“Are you interested?” he asked, his tone making
