He leaned against her art table, avoiding her stacks of supplies. “What do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “Mainly, why you never want to spend the holidays with them?”
* * *
A part of Coop wanted to think her question was simple enough. But when it came to his parents, nothing was simple unless you accepted them for who they were. He’d done that a long time ago.
“Come on, let’s sit on the sofa and I’ll tell you about them.”
“Okay.”
Together, they sat down. To be on the safe side, since she was too desirable for her own good, he sat at the other end of the sofa. He took a sip of his coffee and said, “I think my parents are swell people who after nearly thirty-five years of marriage still love each other deeply.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t be wrong if I were to say they were obsessed with each other. I was told by both sets of my grandparents—who are deceased now—that it had been that way from the first, when they’d met at Harvard. Dad was from Laredo, Texas, and Mom from Laramie, Wyoming.”
She lifted a brow. “Laramie?”
“Yes, and before you ask, the answer is yes. She named me after the city where she was born. She loved it that much and tried getting my father to move there after they were married. But he was a Texan through and through. He’d come from generations of ranchers, but he gave up that way of life, deciding not to follow in his father’s, grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s footsteps as a rancher. He was the suit-and-tie kind. After college, he and my mom lived in Austin and started a business. Less than a year after graduating from college, the two of them were married. I was born three years later.”
“No wonder your parents were so understanding about allowing you to have the career you wanted. They’d faced the same challenge.”
“Yes, but my paternal grandparents weren’t as understanding. They thought Dad was throwing away his legacy. Especially since my father was their only child.”
He paused to take another sip of coffee. “I’m told that my mom’s pregnancy with me was difficult. At one point, they thought she would die. My father was even told he might have to choose to either save his wife or his child. He picked his wife. But a top specialist arrived and assured my father he could save us both. He did. However, I think I was still a stark reminder to my dad of how close he came to losing Mom.”
Bristol frowned, and he thought it was cute. “Surely, he didn’t hold you responsible and mistreat you in any way.”
“No, not at all. Dad was good. However, my parents’ relationship took a turn. They were always close, but I think nearly losing Mom freaked Dad out. After that he was determined to spend every moment he could with her...for the rest of their lives. They take more trips than I can count every year, and they have a tradition of spending the holidays together somewhere—usually with friends in England. Like I told you before, I’ve never spent the holidays with my parents. I’ve always spent them with my grandparents on their ranch. And trust me, I had no complaints. My grandparents were the greatest. I loved being out on their ranch.”
“Did you ever feel resentful of your parents for not spending time with you?”
He knew it was hard to understand his relationship with his parents, but for her he wanted to try to explain. “It’s not that my parents never spent time with me, Bristol, because they did. They were very active in my life while growing up and there were a number of trips we took together.”
He took another sip of coffee. “Thanks to them, I saw most of the world before my sixteenth birthday. There was never a time I didn’t think my parents loved me. However, I always knew they loved each other more.”
“And you didn’t have a problem with that?”
“No. I had friends whose parents didn’t even like each other, couldn’t stand to be in the same room together. Some of their parents divorced as soon as they finished school and my friends knew they had been the glue that held their parents’ unhappy marriages together. That wasn’t the case with my parents. There was never any doubt in my mind that Dad and Mom loved each other to the moon and back.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, then he added, “When they thought I was dead, they went bonkers. I think they got even closer, if such a thing is possible with them. When I was found alive, they refused to let me out of their sight at first. They even questioned if I should continue being a SEAL. I knew they were worried, but I wasn’t used to all the attention, at least not from them. I couldn’t wait until I finished my recuperation period to return to work.”
She spun her cup in her hands and asked, “What happened to your grandparents’ ranch?”
“They willed it to me, although they were fully aware of my career as a SEAL. But my grandparents also knew I would manage the ranch as well as become a SEAL. For the ranch, I hired the right people to take care of it until I retire from the military, which will be in about six years. Some of the men working at the ranch for me used to work for my grandparents and can be trusted.”
She nodded. “What kind of ranch is it?”
“It was always a cattle ranch but thanks to Bane’s family, the Westmorelands, I’ve added horses. Several of his family members own a horse breeding and training company. They needed another holding depot before shipping the horses off to be trained. That’s where my ranch comes in. So, I guess my ranch is a horse ranch, as well.”
“Do you go there often?”
“Not as much as I would like. When I do go there it’s mainly to check on things. My men have everything pretty much under control.”
“I’m glad.”
A part of him believed she was, which made him say, “I want to show you and Laramie my ranch one day.” He would tell her that much. He wouldn’t tell her yet that he planned to make it his primary home for whenever Laramie visited.
She smiled and he felt a stirring in his stomach. “I’d love to see it, Coop. I know Laramie will, too. He loves horses.”
“Then it’s settled. I will take the two of you there after the holidays.” Standing, he said, “I’ve kept you from your work long enough.”
She smiled, standing, as well. “I’m okay. I was about to come to a stopping point anyway.”
“You do this every night? Paint while Laramie sleeps?”
“Not every night. Just whenever the urge hits.”
Funny, she should mention urges. At that moment, he was swamped with another urge. “Speaking of urges, Bristol,” he said, setting his cup aside.
“What about them?”
“I feel one coming on myself.”
She smiled. “You want to try your hand at painting?”
He chuckled. “No. It’s not an urge to paint.”
“Oh? What kind of urge is it?”
He
