“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in lieu of a greeting as he pushed open the screen. “I’m the chairwoman for the committee that gave this dinner tonight and I just couldn’t seem to get away.”
“It’s okay. The man of the hour is still awake and champing at the bit to meet you,” the rancher said in that lush, masculine voice she’d been hearing call her name in her dreams.
As if on cue, a little boy bounded down the stairs behind Hunter just then, shouting as he did, “Is she here? Is she here?”
“What’d I tell you about comin’ down those steps more slowly and holdin’ on to the railing so you don’t fall, little man?” Hunter asked sternly.
“I know,” the small boy grumbled half under his breath. “But is she here?”
Hunter still didn’t answer that. He turned back to Terese, propped the screen open with his backside and reached for her suitcase.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” he said. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” Terese muttered as she crossed the threshold in front of him, catching a whiff of a light, heady aftershave that smelled like a pine forest.
The big man had been blocking a clear view of the little boy but once she’d stepped into the entryway Johnny was right there, in full sight, fidgeting with excitement.
“I’m Johnny!” the pajama and necktie-clad child proclaimed proudly.
Terese had no idea how his father had explained her so, as she drank in that first opportunity to set eyes on him in four years, she simply said, “Hi, Johnny. I’m Terese.” But there was a catch in her throat as a combination of emotions put moisture in her eyes and made her smile too big at the same time.
There he is, she just kept thinking as he held out a tiny hand for her to shake as if she were a visiting dignitary.
He couldn’t have been more adorable with that chubby-cheeked, freckled face, that turned-up nose and that fiery red hair that he’d done something with to make it stand at attention in front. And in that instant, Terese fell in love with him all over again.
She wanted badly to scoop him up and hug him, but of course she didn’t do that for fear of frightening him. She did probably hold on to his hand a shade longer than she should have.
“Nice to meet you, Johnny,” she said, finally letting go of him.
“What’s our deal?” Hunter asked then.
Terese glanced over her shoulder at him to see whom he was talking to and found him leaning a shoulder against the door he’d just closed, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his slacks, observing this meeting.
His question had been aimed at his son, though, and Johnny knew it because the little boy said, “I can show her ’round the house and have one short story and then I have to go to sleep.” It had been a recitation peppered with reluctance and it made Terese smile all over again. Especially when Johnny added, “Can our company read me the story?”
“Our company’s name is Miss Warwick.”
“Oh, no, please, I’m Terese,” she implored.
“Okay. It’s up to Terese whether or not she wants to read you a story. Maybe she’d rather get settled in,” Hunter told his son.
“I’d love to read the story,” Terese interjected.
“She’d love to read the story,” Johnny repeated for his father, making Hunter chuckle.
He raised his sculpted chin in the general direction of the house then. “Okay. Well, get to it, Mr. Tour Guide.”
A tour guide was exactly the persona the small child put on for her as he led Terese from the entryway to the living room that opened to the right.
“This is where we play games and watch TV,” Johnny said as if Terese wouldn’t know what the room was used for otherwise. “There’s not s’posed to be food in here since I spilled the orange juice on the couch and we had to turn over the pillow so nobody’d know.”
“Johnny…” Hunter groaned from behind them.
But Terese merely laughed again—both at the son giving away secrets and the father’s embarrassment. “You would never know by looking,” she assured, glancing at the gray tweed sofa that matched an over-stuffed easy chair.
They were positioned with an oak coffee table and a full wall of shelves and cabinets that, from what she could see, acted as an entertainment center, library and knickknack holder in front of them. Solid wood doors blocked the view of the contents of the lower cabinets.
“The kitchen’s this way,” Johnny said, heading through an open arch to the right of the living room.
It was a big country kitchen with an abundance of plain white cupboards and appliances and a large pedestal table with four barrel-backed chairs around it.
“This is where we eat—even at Christmas and stuff. My friend Mikey’s got another room where they eat on Christmas but we don’t.”
“That means there’s no formal dining room,” Hunter translated from where he’d stopped in the kitchen’s entrance.
“Ah,” Terese said.
“This is the mudroom,” Johnny informed her, pointing into the much smaller space that was off the kitchen. It contained a washer and dryer as well as a shelf with coat hooks and a bench beneath it. “My dad says it was named for me because I’m always comin’ in muddy and I need to take off my shoes in there before I track it everywhere else.”
“Good idea,” Terese confirmed.
“So if you get muddy feet, you can do that, too.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Now we can go upstairs,” Johnny announced.
Terese followed him back into the living room, casting Hunter a faint smile when she glanced back to see if he was coming, too.
But he didn’t catch the smile because his eyes were too low. In fact, she thought they might have been on her rear end.
Had Hunter Coltrane been checking out her derriere?
She must have been mistaken, she told herself. But even so, she couldn’t help the little rush that went through her.
A little rush she tried to ignore.
They returned to the stairs Johnny had run down earlier and went up to the second floor.
“That’s the bathroom over there. Always knock first,” Johnny said, adding his advice by rote. Next he held one arm straight out and pointed a miniature index finger at another door. “That’s the guest bedroom for when somebody has a sleepover but doesn’t stay in the cabin.” The index finger moved slightly. “That’s my dad’s room.” Another move of the index finger. “And this one is mine!”
Terese
