her kids.
Leah took a mug from the counter, filled it with water, which she forced herself to drink, then refilled it with coffee from the carafe on the counter. She didn’t begrudge the pain pulsing in her skull—it seemed fair retribution for the mistakes she’d made last night.
Getting tipsy at the Open Range Saloon and picking up a cowboy was not acceptable behavior for the mother of two small children. She was just thankful that her mother knew none of this.
“I’m thirty-two years old. Don’t you think that’s too old to be living with my mother?”
“Living with your husband is where you ought to be.” Her mom shot her a hard look, then returned her focus to her cooking. “But let’s not get into that argument again.”
“Let’s not,” Leah agreed. They had other things to fight about today. Starting with the house she’d rented.
“It won’t be easy raising two children on your own. And I have lots of room here.”
“I’ve already signed a one-year lease, Mom, so I’m committed.” Leah opened the dishwasher, intending to unload the dinner dishes from yesterday, but her mother had beaten her to it. She decided to set the breakfast table instead.
“Think of the money you could have saved.”
Her mother was nothing if not persistent.
“I’m okay for money, Mom. Jackson and I had quite a bit of equity in the house we sold in Calgary.” Leah set out the blue-and-white dishes that had been in her family for as long as she could remember. “He’s making monthly support payments for the kids, and once I get a few bookkeeping clients, I’ll be fine.”
“What are you going to do for furniture?”
Leah had brought the kids’ beds and all their toys from Calgary. Added to that their clothing and other personal effects, she hadn’t had room in the back of her truck for anything else.
She knew her mother had some of the furniture from the old guesthouse on the farm stored in her basement. At one time her grandmother had lived in the small cottage. After she passed on, her mother used the extra room for putting up guests and the occasional farmhand her dad hired during seeding and harvest times.
“I was wondering if I could borrow the bed and sofa from our old guesthouse?”
She half expected her mother to say no. But Prue Stockton wasn’t a mean woman. “You may have them, Leah, if you’re truly set on moving out. There’s a rattan table and four chairs that you’re welcome to as well.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”
Prue sighed. “Better wake the children. Breakfast is just about ready.”
Leah headed for the stairs to do as told. Her mother was right about one thing. She did have lots of room in this house. There were four bedrooms and a large bathroom on the upper story. Leah thought it was strange that her mother had moved into such a large place. But maybe a smaller bungalow had been too much of a shock after the sprawling farmhouse Prue had managed for almost thirty years.
Upstairs, Leah peered into the first door on the left, and wasn’t surprised to find Jill’s bed empty. She found the little girl in her brother’s room. She and Davey were sleeping side by side in the single bed, snuggly enclosed by the safety bars that Leah had brought from home.
Leah could never wake her children without first taking a moment to appreciate their sweet little faces in repose. They both had her dark hair and long, thick eyelashes. After a long, cold winter in Calgary, their skin was pale and she looked forward to getting them out for lots of sun and play in their new home. She stroked the side of Jill’s face, and her daughter’s eyes immediately sprang open.
“Why are you sleeping in here again, honey?”
“Davey had another nightmare.”
Leah didn’t know why Jill didn’t want to own up to the bad dreams. Nor did she understand why Jill chose to go to her brother for comfort, instead of her mom. But she felt it was wise to simply take Jill’s answers at face value for now.
“You’re a nice sister to take such good care of your brother. Now, why don’t you run to the washroom and clean your hands? Grandma’s making your favorite breakfast.”
“French toast? Yay!” Jill sprang out of the bed, jumping over the safety barrier with the ease of a natural athlete. Given that both her parents had been pros in the rodeo circuit, Leah supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.
“Toast?” Davey pushed his head up from the pillow then lifted his butt in the air—a maneuver that looked like a modified child’s pose in yoga. “I want fwench toast, Mommy.”
Though he was almost three, Davey’s speech wasn’t very advanced. He spoke in short sentences at best and had trouble with his rs. Leah wasn’t worried…yet. She figured the divorce and the recent move to Montana might be part of the problem. In time, she hoped Davey would catch up to the verbal ability of his peers.
“Let’s go to the bathroom first, honey.” He’d only been weaned from his bedtime diaper a few months ago. She’d expected he might regress after the move, but luckily he hadn’t.
Five minutes later both children were washed and sitting at the breakfast table. Leah knew her mother would prefer that the children were properly dressed, as well, but she was too much the doting grandmother to insist on it.
As she watched the children tuck in to their food, Leah couldn’t help but think of Colt again. She felt like such a fool for falling all over him last night. She’d actually thought she saw layers of depth in Colt that she’d never seen before. She should have known he wasn’t serious, that he was just messing with her.
He’d stopped the charade fast enough when he found out she was a mother. She still wasn’t sure what he’d objected to most. The fact that she’d “had” to get married because she was pregnant? Or just the fact that she had kids, and so had responsibilities that he didn’t.
At any rate, it was good that he’d revealed his true colors so quickly. Getting involved with a self-absorbed cowboy was one mistake she didn’t intend to repeat.
* * *
COLT WAS UP BEFORE dawn on Sunday morning, hauling oats and hay into the feeders, ignoring the protests of his rodeo-weary body. Pulled muscles and bruises, sprains and broken bones, came with the territory. Most cowboys worked despite their injuries. He had ridden with bruised ribs, sprained fingers, even a mild concussion, once.
He didn’t mind physical pain. On some level he welcomed it.
He’d hardly slept last night after leaving Leah. He’d behaved badly at the end and he knew it. But he’d been so damn disappointed. They could have been good together. If only he’d recognized that years ago, before she married another man—before she had children….
The sun was creeping up on the eastern horizon when one of the ranch hands came out to join him. Darrell was in his mid-forties, a steady family man who had been working at the ranch for as long as Colt could remember. Like Royce, Darrell was a man of few words. Most wranglers were.
“You’re out early.”
