For Love and Family (6 page)

Hunter raised his eyebrows to concede that. “Sure.”

“You were going to improve your stock? Or herd? Or whatever you call it?”

“Either would be right. And yes, that was the idea. There are some new breeds over there that look promising and I wanted to take a look at them, maybe negotiate for a bull. Northwest winters are nothing to sneeze at and anything I can do to make my herd stronger can help get more animals through the snowy months. Plus bigger cows translate to bigger profits at market. The trip and making a buy are things I've been saving for for about two years.”

“And you'd cancel the trip when you're just about to make it?”

Hunter merely looked out at his son again, as if that were answer enough.

“What if Johnny were with me?” she said as another thought occurred to her.

The rancher looked back at her, his face gilded by the fire's glow, throwing into greater relief the sharp handsomeness of his features. “What if he were with you?” he repeated.

“I'm just kind of throwing this out there, but, well, I'm already here. What if I stayed and took care of him? Would it make you feel better knowing that his constant companion was his own private blood bank?”

That morsel of levity made Hunter smile. “We're
talking about a two-week trip,” he said as if he thought that would change her mind.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I told you I'm on sabbatical and my time is my own. It isn't as if I
couldn't
stay that long.”

Hunter watched his son flinging rocks into the pond again. “I don't know…”

“Why don't you think about it?” Terese urged. “If it would make you feel better, you could still have Willy and Carla looking after him, too. Then he'd have three baby-sitters instead of two, and one of them could give him a refill if he needed it.”

“You wouldn't care if Willy and Carla were still in on it?”

“No, not at all. I'd still get to spend time with Johnny and that's the only thing I'm interested in.”

Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of anything that extended her time with her nephew. She'd come to the ranch knowing that she would likely overstay her welcome in a few days and worrying that that would be all she'd ever have with him. Now this seemed to give her an excuse to stay the full week and then have two extra weeks with him on top of it.

“Seriously,” she said. “I'd like to do it and you wouldn't have to miss a trip that's been two years in the making. Think it over.”

“I just might,” he said, as if the longer he mulled the idea the more he really was considering it.

Johnny ran out of rocks then, and both Terese's attention and Hunter's were drawn back to him when he knelt down on the very edge of the pond to run his finger in the water and make motorboat sounds.

“Hey, get out of there,” Hunter called to him. Then, to Terese he said, “Maybe we'd better take him home before he goes for a swim.”

Terese nodded and Hunter passed along the news to his son.

Johnny grumbled and complained but his father insisted he come away from the pond.

Then Hunter got to his feet and held out his hand to Terese to help her up.

It was clearly something he did out of reflex because the moment he realized what he'd done, he looked as if he'd surprised himself.

Certainly he'd surprised Terese with the sudden possibility of physical contact of any kind.

Before she could respond he pulled his hand back and jammed it into his pocket, muttering, “Oh, you don't need my help,” as he turned away from her.

But still Terese couldn't keep from thinking about it as she stood and joined Johnny in gathering things while Hunter put out the fire. She couldn't keep from thinking about the fact that he
had
been inclined to offer that hand. To make that physical contact. As if it might have been something he'd wanted.

She couldn't keep from thinking that if she'd been a little less surprised by it and a little quicker, she
could have taken his hand. She could have felt it close around her own. She could have felt the warmth of it. The strength of it. The texture of it.

And she couldn't keep from thinking that that would have been really nice.

In fact, as the three of them piled back in the truck and drove all the way home she couldn't keep from thinking how nice it would have been.

Johnny fell so soundly asleep on that drive back that he didn't wake up even when the truck stopped. While Hunter carried his son up to put him to bed, Terese stayed lost in her “what-if” musings and carried the picnic basket into the kitchen to empty.

She'd done that when Hunter came downstairs again and by then it was as if the entire thing had never happened.

“You didn't have to do that,” he said as she finished cleaning up the remnants of their dinner.

“I don't mind,” she assured him. “Did you get Johnny to bed?”

“He never even opened his eyes. The big crash after the sugar rush.”

“Combined with a pretty busy day,” Terese added, putting rinsed dishes into the dishwasher and steadfastly not looking at Hunter, who was returning condiments to the refrigerator.

“He did plenty of showing off for you, that's for sure.”

They both finished at the same time and that left no choice but for her to look at him as he stood
behind one of the kitchen chairs, clasping the barrel-back with both big hands.

“It's all right. I don't get all that many men showing off for me,” she joked.

“I don't know why not,” Hunter countered as their eyes met.

Terese couldn't come up with anything to say to that. Especially not while her eyes clung to his and her thoughts were all on that missed opportunity to have felt her hand in his.

But after a moment it was Hunter who broke the silence.

“You're probably about ready to drop from keeping up with the boy since early this morning.”

Terese wondered if that might be her cue to leave, even though it wasn't late.

“I could use a long soak in a bubble bath. And to brush my teeth,” she said pointedly.

Hunter laughed. “Well, eating that first marshmallow made Johnny's night, so maybe you can take some comfort in that.”

“Some,” she agreed.

There was another silence while Terese fostered a tiny hope that Hunter might ask her to stay awhile longer.

But when that didn't happen, she said, “I guess I'll call it a day, then.”

“I'll walk you out to the cabin.”

“You don't have to,” Terese said, even though she was hoping he would, anyway.

Those hopes were met when he let go of the chair and motioned for her to precede him to the mudroom door. “Let a lady walk herself home?” he said as he did. “I can't do that.”

Terese led the way out the rear of the house, realizing as she stepped into the night air again that she still had his coat on.

“Oh, I need to give your coat back, too,” she commented as they headed for the cabin.

He didn't remark on that fact, though. Instead he said, “I have to take Johnny into the hospital tomorrow at eleven for a follow-up visit. I had to promise him lunch at one of those kiddie places with arcade games and teenagers dressed up in bear costumes to serve bad pizza. Think you can handle it or would you rather beg off?”

“After the grimy marshmallow? I can handle anything,” she assured him with a laugh as they reached the cabin and she opened the door.

“The pizza's bad but I guarantee there won't be any dirt on it.”

“Okay, then,” she said with another laugh.

She stepped inside the cabin, and since she assumed Hunter wouldn't come in, she turned around to face him, finding him leaning against the doorjamb, and, as she had at the end of the previous evening, she once again had the sense that they were ending a date, even though she was well aware that they weren't.

“I enjoyed the night picnic,” she said as if they were anyway. “Dirty marshmallow and all.”

Hunter's topaz eyes were steady on her and he smiled a lazy smile. “I doubt it compared to what you're used to.”

“What I'm used to isn't nearly as much fun,” she told him, wondering why her voice had suddenly taken on a quieter, softer tone.

“I'll bet it's a whole lot more sophisticated when a four-year-old hasn't arranged it, though.”

“I wouldn't have traded eating marshmallows off the ground for anything.”

“You're a good sport,” he said in a way that made it one of the best compliments she'd ever received. Particularly because he said it as if it impressed him.

“Thanks,” she said.

For another long moment they just stood there, his eyes holding hers, his expression unreadable.

Then he smiled once more and pushed off the jamb.

“I'll let you get to that bubble bath.”

Terese could hardly tell him that she would rather have stayed there with him, just gazing into the topaz brilliance of his eyes, so she merely said, “Your coat,” and began to slip it off.

But Hunter was too much of a gentleman to let her do it alone and reached a long arm around her to help. A long arm that brushed her shoulder and set off tiny skitters of something bright and twinkling inside her.

Something bright and twinkling enough that she couldn't resist looking up at him again. At his
handsome face. Closer to hers now than it had been before since his arm was still a half circle around her.

Close enough that he could easily have come another few inches and pressed his mouth to hers.

Especially when her chin tipped upward on its own.

And his tipped downward…

But it was only for a split second before he pulled the coat the rest of the way off and straightened up, as if his own actions had surprised him.

“Breakfast'll be at eight again,” he informed her slightly tersely, then he turned to go back to the house as if nothing at all had passed between them.

And maybe nothing
had
passed between them, Terese thought as she watched him go. Maybe she'd just imagined that brief moment and kissing hadn't been on his mind the way it had been on hers.

But she didn't think she'd only imagined it.

She
hoped
she hadn't only imagined it.

It just felt so good to think she hadn't.

“N
ow this is what I like to see!”

Terese was walking down a corridor of Portland General Hospital the next day with Hunter and Johnny when an older woman and a man about Hunter's age turned a corner in front of them. The moment the older woman caught sight of Johnny and his father, recognition dawned and her face lit up with a smile.

“This is definitely what I like to see—Mr. John Coltrane, looking healthy and happy and none-the-worse-for-wear after his adventure last week,” she clarified. Then, after rubbing the top of Johnny's head, she raised her gaze and said, “Hello, Hunter.”

“Leslie,” Hunter said warmly in return. And to the
man who was with her, he said, “Morgan, good to see you.”

“Hi,” the man responded simply enough.

Johnny spotted a fish tank in a waiting area beside them and, apparently assuming the grown-ups were going to chat, he ran off to take a closer look at the fish. His dad said, “Terese, I'd like you to meet Leslie Logan. She's one of Children's Connection's most valuable assets. And Morgan Davis, the agency's director. Leslie, Morgan, this is Terese Warwick.”

“You're the woman who came to Johnny's rescue last week,” Leslie Logan said before Hunter had a chance. Then, to explain how she knew that, she added, “The hospital is like a small town. A good story travels fast. Especially when it involves one of our own. And since Hunter adopted Johnny through Children's Connection that just automatically makes him and Johnny a part of us.”

“Not to mention,” Morgan put in, “that Hunter has stayed active in the foundation and with PAN.”

Terese didn't know what the foundation or PAN were but she didn't have a chance to do more than smile and say, “Nice to meet you both,” before the older woman spoke to Hunter again, this time with a more serious edge to her voice.

“You were so lucky that Johnny averted tragedy last week and is doing well.”

“Don't I know it,” Hunter agreed.

“Something happening to your child takes a
horrible toll. You know my firstborn, Robbie, was abducted when he was only a little boy and we've never seen him again. It changed my husband and me. It changed our marriage. It changed everything. Forever. The loss of a child isn't something you ever get over. I'm just glad you didn't have to learn that firsthand.”

The loss of her child was clearly a pain the older woman still carried with her after what had to have been many years, and Terese felt very sorry for her.

“I count my blessings every day,” Hunter assured Leslie Logan.

“But on a happier note,” she said more cheerily, “it seems Morgan and his wife Emma are going to join the ranks of parenthood. They've applied with the agency to adopt a baby of their own.”

“Congratulations,” Terese said to Morgan.

“Good for you,” Hunter contributed enthusiastically. “Any idea how long it'll take?”

“There'll be some time involved yet. We've just started the procedure. Maybe by the start of summer next year, if we're as lucky as you've been.”

“I'll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Hunter promised.

“We'd probably better let you get going,” Leslie Logan said then. “You wouldn't be here with that beautiful boy of yours if you didn't have a reason and we're keeping you.”

“We're on our way for an appointment with his doctor. Just a follow-up,” Hunter confirmed.

“Will we see you at the PAN meeting tomorrow night?” Leslie asked.

“I'll be there.”

“Good.” The older woman glanced at Johnny, who was tapping on the fish-tank glass. “Nice to see you again, Master Johnny.”

“You, too,” the little boy answered perfunctorily, without taking his eyes off the fish.

The adults said goodbye and then Hunter informed his son that they had to get going. The little boy reluctantly rejoined his father and Terese.

“What's PAN?” Terese asked as they continued on their way.

“PAN stands for Parents Adoption Network. It's an organization that's part of the agency. I've belonged since I adopted Johnny.”

“And the foundation?”

“It's connected with the hospital. Leslie Logan and her husband are major benefactors, not to mention that Leslie does a considerable amount of volunteer work. The foundation is an umbrella that encompasses a fertility treatment center, counseling for childless couples, support groups, financial support for orphanages around the world and, of course, the adoption agency.”

“I see,” Terese said as they came to the door of the office they needed.

But before they went in, Hunter's focus switched to his son. “Remember,” he warned. “Lunch at Pokey's Pizza is only if you behave in here.”

“No shots, right?” Johnny said as if to make sure his father kept up his part of the deal, too.

“I don't think there will be any shots, no.”

“Okay,” the little boy said. Then, in an aside to his father, he added, “And T'rese can't see me in my underwear.”

Terese fought a laugh but Hunter wasn't as tactful. He didn't bother to conceal his amusement. “Deal. I won't let Terese see you in your underwear.”

Then, to Terese as he opened the door, Hunter winked and said, “We wouldn't want to ruin his suave, sophisticated image, after all.”

 

Johnny's doctor's visit went well even though the little boy had to have blood drawn. He sat on his father's lap, held the hand Terese offered him, and beyond wide eyes and a quivering lip, he bravely managed not to cry.

For that he was rewarded not only with the promised trip to Pokey's Pizza, but Hunter allowed him the entire afternoon there.

Of course, after they'd eaten lunch and the three of them began playing the arcade games, she could tell Hunter was enjoying himself as much as his son was.

She was interested to see the interaction of father and son at play, though. She'd seen it at work the day before—the way Hunter had been willing to spare the time to teach Johnny small tasks, Hunter's patience when the child hadn't done something exactly right,
letting Johnny know that he trusted him enough to give him responsibilities of his own. Now she was curious to see how the two related to each other away from the ranch work.

Hunter didn't disappoint her. His parenting techniques when it came to recreation were every bit as good. He managed to stimulate just the right amount of competitive spirit in Johnny while maintaining all the fun—just enough to make Johnny want to try hard to give his father a good game when it came to tossing the basketball or the softball. There was no question that Hunter was holding back but he didn't let it show to his son, and the result was that Johnny's self-esteem grew right before her eyes when the little boy ended up winning.

Terese played a few games with her nephew but she wasn't good at them and actually preferred watching.

Watching Johnny.

Or at least she told herself that she preferred watching Johnny. In truth, she did a whole lot of watching Hunter, too. And she definitely preferred that to tossing rings over pegs or trying to hit monster heads that popped up through holes in a table.

But then how could she not, when he had on a beige Western shirt that glided over the muscles of his honed upper body, and a pair of khaki-colored jeans slung low on his hips and cupping his derriere just enough to accentuate how terrific it was every time he leaned over?

And no matter how often she told herself it was Hunter's parenting skills she was admiring, deep down she knew those parenting skills—no matter how good they were—weren't the only things she appreciated as the afternoon passed.

 

It was nearly six by the time they returned to the ranch. Terese let Hunter and Johnny go into the house alone so she could have a few minutes in the cabin to freshen up before dinner.

She'd worn jeans and a pale blue sweater set and she didn't change clothes, but she did refresh her mascara and blush, and take her hair out of the rubber band that held it at her nape. Once she'd brushed it, she twisted it into a figure-eight knot at the back of her head.

Then, judging herself unlikely to stop traffic but sufficiently presentable, she left the cabin, wondering at the fact that she'd just spent the entire day with her nephew and Hunter and still couldn't wait to get back to them.

But it wasn't only Johnny and Hunter who were in the kitchen when she went in through the mudroom door. Willy and Carla were there, too.

“Carla brought us a ham, cheese and potato casserole,” Hunter informed Terese when the greetings were finished. “I'm twisting their arms to make them stay and eat with us.”

“Good,” Terese said, for the most part meaning it. She genuinely liked the ranchhand and his wife, it was just that there was also a tiny drop of disappoint
ment that now she would have to share Johnny and Hunter. She knew that was uncalled for.

The table was already set for three—Terese assumed Carla had done that, too—so Terese set two more places while Carla took the casserole from the oven. The other woman also took an already prepared salad out of the refrigerator, and everyone sat down to eat.

Small talk occupied the meal. Terese learned that Carla frequently brought Hunter and Johnny dinner that she left for them when she picked up Willy after a day of work. And that Carla and Willy didn't usually stay despite the fact that Johnny liked it when they did.

Carla and Willy were also anxious to know what the doctor had said about Johnny and were relieved to hear that he was fine, that his blood count was good, and that, with the exception of being cautious, he could go on about his everyday business just the way he always had.

With four people for cleanup after they'd all eaten, the kitchen was shipshape in no time and then Carla and Willy insisted—in the face of Johnny's best efforts to get them to linger—that they had to go home.

“He's just trying to get out of taking a bath,” Hunter said as Johnny huffed off in a pout to engross himself in his toys in the living room and Hunter and Terese walked Carla and Willy to the front door.

But rather than saying a simple good-night once they were there, Hunter turned to Terese and said, “After a day to think about it, is your offer still good
to stay with Johnny if I go through with my trip to Europe?”

He hadn't mentioned a word about that all day and Terese certainly hadn't expected him to bring it up now. But since he had and she hadn't changed her mind, she didn't hesitate to say, “Absolutely.”

“Well,” Hunter said, “I talked it over with Carla and Willy before you came in tonight and they think I should go, too.”

“You can't
not
go,” Carla said emphatically. Then, to Terese, the other woman added, “He did this after Margee died, too. He was overly cautious and didn't want to let Johnny out of his sight for fear something else bad would happen. But I told him that between the three of us we'll watch Johnny like a hawk.”

“We will,” Terese assured Hunter.

“And even if something does come up,” Willy contributed, aiming his comment at Hunter, “you can get on a plane and be home in no time. But not to go at all? You have too much riding on this to just blow it off.”

Hunter didn't disagree with that. But he did look into the living room at his son for a moment before he finally seemed to make his decision.

“I guess I am being a little paranoid,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” Carla confirmed. “Now say you'll go. You'll probably worry yourself to death, but say you'll go, anyway.”

Hunter laughed at his friend's bossiness. “Okay, okay. If Terese really will stay so she's nearby if he needs blood, I'll go.”

“And everything will be fine. You'll see,” Carla decreed.

The matter seemed to be solved then, and, with that accomplished, the couple said good-night and left.

There were things Terese wanted to say to Hunter once they were gone but before she had the chance, he began the tug-of-war with Johnny to get him to bed.

It wasn't until an hour later, after the efforts of both Terese and Hunter had the little boy down for the night and Terese was helping Hunter pick up Johnny's toys in the living room that she finally found the opportunity.

“You know,” she said then, “it's perfectly normal to feel the way you do about Johnny right now. And the way you felt after your wife died. Some things are like emotional earthquakes. Remember when you said the other night that last week's ordeal with Johnny shook you? That's exactly what happens. The foundation of things feels shaky for a while, until you get used to whatever changes come out of those emotional earthquakes and things settle down again. Right now it's as if you're on edge, waiting for aftershocks.”

“Is this the psychology professor talking?” he asked with a hint of amusement to his voice.

Terese smiled at him from across the coffee table where they were putting puzzle pieces back in a box. “It is,” she confirmed.

“Was it the psychology professor talking before, too, when you were tiptoeing around that stuff about
adoptive parents being insecure if the birth family is in the picture?”

“Then, too. But both things are true, you know.”

“I'm sure they are,” he allowed. But he still didn't seem to want to discuss either of them.

In Terese's experience that wasn't an unusual response. When people found out what field her education and training were in, they either wanted a quick therapy session or they went to extremes to avoid it so she didn't analyze them. Obviously Hunter was in the second category. But that was fine with her. The last thing she wanted to be was his therapist.

Then Hunter veered even farther away from that by turning the conversation toward her job. “So you teach psychology, huh? How did that come about?”

There was amusement in Terese's tone this time. “I'll bet you're figuring there are years and years of psychoanalysis in my background that sucked me in.”