“The bathroom is through that door over there,” he said then, pointing it out. “There are some mugs and tea bags and cocoa and instant coffee. You can heat water in that microwave over there if you want any of that. But there’s no kitchen otherwise. I leave the mudroom door open, though, so you can raid the fridge even in the middle of the night if you get hungry. Otherwise, we’ll be eatin’ regular meals together.”
“I don’t usually raid the refrigerator at night, anyway.”
“Wish I could say the same thing. Anyway, we usually have breakfast around eight but I’ll be up and about doin’chores long before that, so if you hear anything, don’t think there are burglars or something, and don’t feel as if you can’t stay in bed a while longer. I’m usually up before dawn but Johnny’ll be sleepin’ later than that.”
“Before dawn? Really?”
“Rancher’s hours. It isn’t so bad. You get used to it,” he said. “So, anything else I can do for you or get you?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“All right, then.” Hunter took two steps to get back out the door and Terese went to the threshold behind him.
“I want you to know how grateful I am for this,” she said, not wanting him to get away without telling him that. “When I didn’t hear from you until Friday, I thought you might have had second thoughts.”
“I did do some thinking before I made the call,” he admitted with a half smile that was a little guilty and only more charming because of it.
“But you let me come, anyway,” Terese said, wondering where the almost flirtatious tone had come from when she hadn’t intended it.
“I think it’ll be okay.”
“I’ll do my best to make it okay. I know this can’t be something you’ve dreamed of.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said more to himself than to her.
Terese had no idea what that meant and didn’t feel as if she could question him about it. And since he didn’t offer an explanation, she continued with what she’d wanted to say. “I’ll be really careful not to overstep my bounds. I don’t have any illusions about being a part of your family and I know Johnny is your son.”
“I appreciate that,” Hunter said, his topaz eyes meeting hers.
“He seems like a great kid, though,” she said then.
“He is a great kid. But a pistol, in case you missed that.”
“I didn’t,” Terese said with a laugh. “It’s part of what I liked.”
“Me, too,” Hunter confided.
Something about that confidence gave Terese a sense that that hanging back he’d been doing was over, that they’d just shared something that broke down a wall of some kind. And she was glad.
Even though, as a result, her mind started to wander in a direction all its own and she began to compare this moment with Hunter at the door to the end of a date.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast, then,” he said after a moment.
“I expect to do my share so don’t think you need to cook for me or anything,” Terese said.
“I’ll be cookin’ one way or another. But maybe you could take a turn of your own,” he suggested with a hint of mischief to his tone.
Terese guessed what was on his mind. “You think I can’t, don’t you?”
He shrugged one broad shoulder and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. “Can you?”
“Maybe you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Oh, more of the flirting. What was she doing?
“Maybe I’ll just have to,” he countered. And unless she was mistaken, there was a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice, too.
But then he seemed to catch himself because he drew back almost imperceptibly and took another step away from the cabin door.
“I’ll let you get settled in,” he said.
Terese nodded. “Good night.”
“’Night,” he answered, turning on his heels and heading for the house.
But even though that hanging-back thing he’d been doing earlier had returned at the last minute, Terese was still fighting those images of this as the end of a date.
The end of a date when a kiss might have been possible…
A kiss from Hunter?
Even thinking about that was out of those bounds she’d just told him she would stay in.
But out of bounds or not, that was exactly what she was thinking about as she finally closed the cabin door.
Three
The next morning at eight o’clock on the dot Terese left the cabin. She’d been up for more than an hour by then, showered, shampooed her hair and braided it into a thick plait down her back. She’d dressed in one of the three pairs of jeans she’d bought for this visit—not the trouser-cut jeans she ordinarily wore, but the five-pocket kind—and a red turtleneck, also purchased when she’d shopped cluelessly for what to wear on a ranch.
She’d debated about going over to the house before eight to see if she could help prepare breakfast. But since her host had said eight, she’d thought that maybe he hadn’t wanted her there before that and had refrained. That didn’t change the fact that she was eager to get back to Johnny. And Hunter—although she really, really tried to keep the Hunter part of that at bay.
It was just that her mind kept replaying the end of last evening, and every time it did, eagerness to see him again slipped under her radar.
So as she walked along the brick path to the house, she once more reminded herself that this visit was about the opportunity for her to connect with Johnny. Hunter was nothing more than incidental to that goal.
Incidental or not, when Terese knocked on the mudroom door and a woman her own age opened it, a pang of something very unpleasant shot through her.
“You must be Terese,” the woman said warmly, pushing open the screen as if she were letting Terese into her own home. “I’m Carla.”
Carla.
Who was Carla?
“Hi,” Terese said, stepping inside as the wheels of her mind began to spin with questions not only about Carla’s identity, but whether she had been the reason Hunter had seemed eager to end the previous evening as soon as Johnny was in bed. Had Carla been due to come over afterward and spend the night?
Terese told herself that none of that was her business. Hunter Coltrane was a grown man—an amazingly handsome, masculine,
