course. It’s all in the past. Kid stuff.” As a boy, he hadn’t argued with his parents’ insistence that he continue to compete the moment the latest cast was removed. He’d even enjoyed parts of the competition. Most of all, he’d craved his parents’ attention, and that was the only reliable way to get it. But then his favorite horse had broken a leg during a competition and had to be put down. He’d lost the fire to compete that day, realizing he’d only been doing it for his parents. More than anything, he’d wanted to go home and commune with the land and his horses.
Time to change the damn subject. “What do you do in San Antonio?”
She blinked at the quick change of subject, then said, “I’m a translator. Before I married I worked in New York at the United Nations.” She toyed with the Eiffel Tower charm on her simple silver necklace. “My husband worked at the stock exchange. We dated for a year, got married, moved back to his home state of Texas...” She shrugged. “Now I help translate novels for foreign editions.”
Ah, the necklace and T-shirt made sense now. “What languages?”
“Spanish, French, German.”
“Wow,” he nodded, eyebrows lifting, “that’s impressive.”
She shrugged dismissively, her hand sliding back to her neck, stroking the Eiffel Tower charm. “Words are my thing just as horses and running a business are yours.”
Words were her “thing,” yet she had a virtually nonverbal son. “When you said you’re a city girl, you weren’t kidding. Do you miss the job?”
“I don’t regret a thing,” she said between bites of cobbler. “I’m lucky to have a job that enables me to stay home with my son. I don’t have to worry about making the appointments he needs.”
“What about help? Grandparents?”
“My parents help when they can, but I was a late-in-life baby for them, unplanned. They’re living on a shoestring budget in a retirement community in Arizona. My ex’s parents come up with different options, ranging from some cult miracle cure one week to institutionalizing him.”
“You should have their support.” Since weeklong camps had started in the spring, he’d seen how stressed many of the parents were, how near to breaking.
“I have great friends and neighbors. I told you,” she said firmly. “No pity party.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded.
She stared down into her cobbler, the silence stretching out between them. Finally she looked up. She stirred a spoon through the ice cream on the side. “Do you always deliver dessert to the campers?”
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with a deeper meaning he couldn’t answer. Sure, he was here for his grandmother, but he would have been here anyway.
He settled for answering honestly. “You’re the first.”
“Oh.” The lone syllable came out breathy, the wind lifting her hair.
He reached to catch a lock, testing the fine red threads between his fingers before stroking it behind her ear. Her eyes went wide, wary, but with a spark of interest he couldn’t miss. For a long moment that stretched, loaded with temptation and want, he considered kissing her. Just leaning in and placing his mouth over hers to see if the chemistry between them was as explosive as he expected.
But that wariness in her eyes held him back. He had limited time with her. One mistaken move and he wouldn’t have the chance to make it right before she left.
He angled back, pushing to his feet. “I should let you turn in. Morning comes early here.”
She blinked fast, standing. “Thank you for the dessert.” She stacked the containers and backed toward the door with them clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “I assume I will see you tomorrow?”
“You most definitely will.”
* * *
It was only dessert. Only a touch to her hair.
And just that fast, she was tied up in knots over a man she’d met this morning. A cowboy.
God, she felt like a cliché.
Nina stood at the sink and scraped the last bite of gooey dessert down the disposal before tossing the disposable container in the trash. And God, it would be so easy to stand here at the sink and watch Alex through the window as he walked away. She’d only known him for a day. She wished she could just call it physical attraction, but she’d enjoyed talking to him. Even liked the way he could let peace settle for moments, as well.
Maybe she was simply starved for adult interaction. Her only time with other grown-ups centered on Cody’s doctors’ appointments or therapies. Even his play group focused on children with special needs. She wanted to give Cody every opportunity possible. But she couldn’t deny her life was lonely no matter what she’d told Alex about having friends back home. The only interaction she had with others was volunteering in Cody’s preschool program. Some said she should use that time for herself, and she tried. But it was easier said than done.
This week truly was a relaxing gift for her and Cody. She dropped onto the fluffy fat sofa. The cabin was cozy, comfy. A pink and green quilt—Texas two-step pattern on a brass bed. The whole place was an advertisement for Lone Star relaxation without being hokey. A colorful rag rug was soft under her feet. The lantern-style lamps and overhead light were made to resemble a flicker flame.
She should really finish unpacking and get some sleep.
Her well-traveled luggage rested on a pinewood bench. But her mind kept swirling with all the dreams she’d once stored in that case. She’d taken that suitcase with her to college, then New York City. The stickers all over the vintage piece advertised countries she’d dreamed of visiting. Warren had bought her a new set after they married, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw the old ones out. After her divorce, she’d donated the honeymoon designer luggage to charity and reclaimed her old “dreams for the future” set. Those changes had felt like a reclaiming of her values and hopes.
Her cell phone chimed, interrupting her swirling thoughts. She leaned from the sofa to grab her purse off the coffee table. Her stomach leaped at the possibility that Alex might be calling. He had access to her number from her registration.
She glanced at the screen. Disappointment jabbed at her. Then guilt. She should be thankful her friend Reed was checking in on her. She and Reed had met at a play group for their children. A nice guy, a single father of a little girl with Down syndrome. His partner had left him over the stress of having a special-needs child. Nina understood the mark that betrayal left. They helped each other when they could, but they both had such very full plates.
“Hello, Reed.” She propped her feet on the coffee table. “You’re up late. Morning’s going to come early for you getting Wendy to the bus stop.”
Reed owned a bistro and took his daughter to work with him when she wasn’t in school. Little Wendy loved the activity and charmed the customers.
“I’m not the only one up late,” her friend teased back, his Northern accent so different from a particular cowboy drawl. “Did you lose your phone? I’ve been calling for a couple
