“I wouldn’t have let you. I had a solid grip on the rope.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I am sorry. Mostly.” Mischief glinted in his brilliant blue eyes, and a corner of his mouth twitched.
“Is this what cattle ranchers do for sport?”
He shook his head, his earnest expression reminding her of Luke when he explained his actions following one of his antics. “I like roping. Always have. I’ve roped a lot of things, but never a pretty woman—until now.”
Pretty? Even if he was teasing, the possibility that he might mean it chased away the remnants of her anger. She smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m flattered.”
“You’re different from any woman I’ve ever known. You have a ready laugh, and you don’t make a fuss when I—” He averted his gaze and kicked at the ground. “I don’t know why I’m rambling. It’s not important.”
It was to her, but she knew from experience Spencer wouldn’t say any more. Once he put the stopper in the bottle, she couldn’t get another word out of him.
He turned away and coiled the rope. “Thank you, Tess.”
For what? For packing up his late wife’s things so he didn’t have to? For making inroads with his son? For finding a way for father and son to spend some time together?
Once again he left her guessing what he’d meant. But one thing was clear. He’d reached out to her. Not in an ordinary way, but in his own extraordinary way.
A tingling sensation stole over her, unexpected but not unpleasant. Perhaps she could help this family travel the path from their pain-filled past to a promising future, after all.
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