The Cowboy's Comeback (Montana Mavericks: What Happened To Beatrix? Book 2) Page 7

  Eh, life and love and relationships were complicated.

  Brittany let out a giant yawn. “I’m zonked. And I can’t wait to get out of this jumpsuit and into my pj’s.”

  “The party was a huge success, I’m sure.”

  Brittany grinned and stood up. “It definitely was.” She gave Poindexter a pat. “See you in the morning, roomie.”

  “Night, Brittany. Thanks for the talk.”

  With Poindexter in her arms, Amanda went into her bedroom. She got under the covers and knew she wouldn’t be falling asleep any time soon. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to bore herself to sleep. But all she saw in her mind was Holt Dalton’s face. And how sexy he was. She sighed and grabbed her phone, opening up her photos app.

  Photos of Holt and Robby and their new dog and cat filled the screen. The craziest thought hit her and she quickly turned off her phone. She’d imagined herself in that last photo, sitting with Holt, her husband, Robby, her son, Bentley and Oliver—and of course Poindexter—her sweet pets.

  She was getting all mixed up. She wanted a child—and obviously, Robby, with his put-it-out-there honesty and adorableness, had plucked her heartstrings something fierce. Throw in his gorgeous single father with whom she had a past, and of course her emotions were all over the place.

  She took one last look at a photo of Holt before shutting off her phone and staring back up the ceiling. But all she saw was Holt’s face. All she felt was Holt kissing her, his hands on her back. He was so familiar and so not at the same time.

  How exactly was she going to keep herself from falling for him all over again?

  * * *

  Thunk.

  Thunk-thunk.

  Thunkety-thunk.

  It was just before midnight. Holt glanced toward his bedroom door, not that it would reveal anything about the strange noises coming from down the hall. Sounded like Robby was bouncing one of Bentley’s balls, but his son was fast asleep. He knew that because he’d come upstairs just a few minutes ago, checked on Robby, nodded at Bentley, who was lying at the foot of the bed, then went into his own room and slid under the covers, hoping he’d get some sleep tonight.

  But doubting it. He could not stop thinking about Amanda and that kiss. Wanting more. Despite agreeing there would not be a second kiss.

  Thunk.

  Holt got out of bed and went to investigate.

  “Daddy?” came Robby’s voice.

  “Already on my way,” he called out, going into Robby’s room.

  Bentley was sitting on the floor by the bed now. Oliver was on his perch and jumped onto the foot of the bed, and the dog jumped up onto the bed too. Then the cat jumped down and Bentley did too.

  Hence the thunks. Great—pet acrobatics at midnight.

  “Bentley and Oliver,” Holt said, wagging a finger. “You woke up Robby. Shhhhh from now on.”

  Bentley tilted his black-and-white head as if apologizing and agreeing. Oliver began grooming his face with a white paw. Sorry, not sorry, the cat seemed to be saying.

  “I think I’ll give Oliver a little more dinner right now,” Holt said. He’d gotten that tip from Daphne. If he made the cat’s dinnertime later, he’d likely sleep through the night. “Then he’ll have a nice full belly and curl up to bed.”

  “’Kay, Daddy,” Robby said with a yawn. He frowned, his face suddenly crumpling. “Daddy?”

  Holt froze and then sat down on Robby’s bed. “What’s wrong, buddy?” He pushed his son’s mop of brown bangs out of the way. Bentley jumped up and lay beside Robby to make sure his person was okay, and the boy put an arm around the sweet pooch.

  “Do you think Gramps is still mad at me?” Robby asked.

  Oh hell. A burst of anger radiated in Holt’s gut. This was what Neal Dalton wanted? To worry a little kid so much that the first thing he thought of when he woke up in the middle of the night was that his grandfather was mad at him?

  “Gramps loves you. I know that like I know my name. And yours. I promise you he does.”

  Robby shook his head. “But I’m loud and I break things.”

  “Gramps is just an impatient person. Something happens and he doesn’t react well. Some people get mad if milk gets spilled or something breaks. Others, like Gram, take it a little easier. But Gramps loves you very much.”

  “Are you sure, Daddy?” his son asked, his expression less troubled.

  “Yes. I’m sure.” He was sure. His dad loved Robby like crazy; he had from the moment Robby was born. “Did I ever tell you what Gramps did right after coming to visit you in the hospital when you were just five minutes old?”

  Robby giggled. “One million times, Daddy.”

  Okay, that was true. Holt pulled that one out of the hat so often because the story reminded him that his father did love the boy at the core, and it reminded Robby too in a way that seemed to settle inside his bones and cells, making him feel better.

  “Well, I’m gonna tell you for the millionth and one time,” Holt said, stretching out beside Robby and pulling his son against him. Bentley put his chin on Robby’s belly with a sigh. “First your granddad stopped in the hospital gift shop, buying every single stuffed animal and like twenty ‘It’s A Boy!’ balloons. Then he met you and held you for a long time, telling you how you were named after his favorite uncle who wasn’t with us anymore. And when he bought Dalton’s Grange, he planted an apple tree in the backyard that he named The Great Robby Dalton’s Apple Tree.”

  Robby smiled. “I like my tree, Daddy. It gets bigger every year just like me.”

  “That’s right. Your grandfather planted that in your honor, something superspecial that would last forever, right by the house.”

  “Gramps said he thought the tree would make apples in a few years,” Robby said, letting out a giant yawn.

  Holt nodded. “I’m already looking forward to the apple crumble you’ll make me.”

  “I can’t cook!” Robby said, laughing. But then he turned serious again. “Daddy, do you think my second grade teacher will like me?”

  “Of course she will.” The good news was that Robby had been assigned to Ms. Chang’s classroom, and she had a reputation for being very patient and warm. “Warm and fuzzy” was good for Robby.

  “Even though I’m in the worst reading group? I felt dumb when I was reading to Bentley and Oliver. Do they think I’m dumb?” Tears filled his blue eyes again.

  Oh no. “Robby,” Holt said, drawing his son into his arms. “You are not dumb. You’re very smart and you work very hard. Everyone learns to read at their own pace. Took me till the middle of second grade before I was considered a good reader. Just took me longer. Some things come easily and some things come harder. You can put together puzzles and Legos and figure out those crazy instructions. A lot of people can’t.”

  “I am good at puzzles and Legos.” His face brightened.

  “Hey, did you know that Amanda works with kids at your school on reading and helping them improve? How would you like her to work with you the rest of the summer?”

  In one day he’d gone from not having seen Amanda Jenkins for ten years to making an important decision—adopting Bentley and Oliver—in her presence and spending most of the evening with her. She’d met his parents—his entire family, actually. Then there was that amazing kiss. And now she’d be working with his son, probably a couple times a week for the rest of August. And August had barely begun.

  Robby’s face burst into a grin. “I’ll be moved up from the worst reading group for sure!”

  “I’ll bet she can start working with you very soon.” Holt liked the idea of having a very good reason to call Amanda in the morning. “You’re a great kid. All you have to be is you, Robby. I love you just as you are. And so do Bentley and Oliver.”

  “Amanda likes me too,” Robby said.

  “She sure does.”


  Robby smiled, his entire countenance relaxing. “Good, Daddy.”

  “You feel better about everything?”

  Robby nodded and yawned. “I’m so tired.” He turned over and clutched his stuffed rodeo bull under his arm.

  “I’m gonna go give Oliver that extra helping of food to calm him down. I think the thumps will stop and you’ll be able to sleep.”

  “’Kay, Daddy. Love you.”

  Holt’s heart was about to burst. “I love you too, Robby. Night.”

  “Night, Daddy,” Robby said, his eyes closing.

  Holt picked up Oliver, who wasn’t having it and wiggled to be let down. “Fine, mister. You can follow me to the kitchen instead of having a perfectly good ride.”

  Which the cat did. As Holt put a little more dry food in the cat’s bowl, Oliver padded over and began eating. Ah, success, he thought. With a fully belly he’ll settle down. No more thunks, for sure.

  As he put the bag of food away, he mentally added two items to his to-do list for the morning. One was to talk to his dad about how he was affecting Robby with his gruffness. The other was to ask Amanda to start working with Robby ASAP. Maybe even tomorrow.

  Interesting that the thought of talking to Amanda made knowing he was going to have it out with his dad a lot easier.

  Chapter Six

  “I wish I had long nice hair like you.”

  Amanda glanced toward the voice. A little red-haired girl, three or four years old, with a chin-length bob, was staring at her from her seat at the big table in Tender Years Daycare, surrounded by kids practicing writing lower-case letters on wide-lined paper. Amanda was standing by the rows of cubbies, full of hoodies and lunchboxes, waiting for the daycare owner for their 10:00 a.m. marketing meeting.

  “I love your hair,” Amanda said.

  The girl’s face brightened. “Really? Mine was long like yours but my little sister put gum in it and my mommy had to cut it.”

  Aww. “Really and truly. And sorry about the gum. That happened to me once. I’ll bet by the holidays your hair will be much longer.”

  “Really?” the girl asked. “By Christmas?”

  Amanda did the math in her head. It was now early August. The girl had a good five months to go, and at half an inch a month, her hair would be down to her shoulders by Christmas for sure. “Yup.”

  “Yay,” the adorable redhead said, and finished coloring her picture of a cat.

  Lucinda Banks, the owner of the daycare, gestured for Amanda to come back to her office. As she walked past the precious bunch of children working on their names, she took in their little faces, so full of concentration and wonder, their brightly colored sneakers and T-shirts, and her heart almost burst.

  As she followed Lucinda to her office, she was grateful for the meeting this morning. Otherwise, she’d be working at home as usual and would be taking too many thinking-about-Holt breaks. She’d woken up with him on her mind. She’d had a quick breakfast in the kitchen with Brittany, who’d told her to keep an open mind about the sexy rancher. But she didn’t want to. When you had your heart broken into pieces by someone, how you could trust them again? How could you let yourself be that vulnerable? Amanda had finished her coffee and made a firm decision to close her mind concerning Holt Dalton.

  Inside Lucinda’s office, one wall devoted to children’s artwork, Amanda spent the next forty-five minutes sharing her PowerPoint presentation. Lucinda approved her campaign ideas for both radio and local newspaper advertising and social media outreach to target ideal customers. Amanda had one more meeting with Bronco Bank and Trust and then a few hours of work to do at home. Finally she’d drive over to Dalton’s Grange for her first tutoring session with Robby.

  When she got home, she’d spend some solid time going over materials she had from the school district and some online sites for approaches to help struggling readers. She already had a good background, but with some focused prep for Robby’s particular needs—luckily she’d already gotten a sense of that when he’d read to Bentley and Oliver yesterday—she’d feel even more armored to get Robby Dalton out of that “worst group.”

  She was all too aware that she was looking forward to that part of her day the most. To help Robby—and to see Holt again. The man she not an hour ago had firmly decided to keep at double arm’s length. Somehow, she would.

  As she was heading out of Lucinda’s office, she noticed the group of preschoolers were now in circle time around a big colorful rug in the center of the room. Amanda paused by the front door as the teacher addressed the group.

  “Boys and girls, in a little while we’ll be drawing pictures of something that makes us feel happy,” the teacher said. “Let’s go around the circle and say one thing that makes you feel happy. Everyone will have a turn.”

  Being with Holt and Robby, Amanda thought unbidden—and was unnerved by her immediate response.

  The teacher held up a yellow happy face on a stick. “I’ll go first. My students make me happy—all of you!” She smiled and passed the stick to a student with a long brown braid who said that chocolate chip cookies for dessert made her feel happy. The girl then passed the happy face to the boy next to her.

  “Recess time!” the boy with curly blond hair said.

  “When my aunt Maya visits cuz she always brings me a present and she’s coming today!” the next girl said.

  “Coloring.”

  “Chicken nuggets but no yucky sauce.”

  “When my mommy picks me up from here and we go home.”

  Aww. Amanda felt her heart grow bigger and bigger as each little kid squeezed inside it. Now it was the redhead’s turn, the one whose little sister put gum in her hair.

  The girl tilted her head and thought for a second. “My little sister makes me happy because she’s my little sister.”

  Double triple awww. I want a child, she thought. I want to be a mother. Maybe she should look into adoption—an older child. But as she pictured a little hand in hers, there was a man beside her holding the child’s other little hand.

  This wasn’t matching up with Amanda’s plans to avoid love and romance. And now because of the call she’d gotten just five minutes ago from Holt as she’d pulled into the parking area of the daycare, she’d be seeing Holt and Robby later—and likely twice a week for the next three weeks while she worked with the little Dalton on reading. Holt’s description of Robby’s worried wake up in the middle of the night had had her agreeing to help ASAP, which meant starting today. She and Holt had discussed setting up a regular schedule then too.

  A regular schedule of being in Holt’s house. With him there.

  Suddenly, the little hand she imagined in hers was Robby Dalton’s. The man beside her holding the other little hand: Holt Dalton. Oh boy. She could clearly see their faces now. Robby with Bentley on a leash beside him, Oliver hitching a ride on Bentley’s back, which made no sense, but neither did thinking of Robby as hers in the first place. And on the other side of the boy was Holt, tall, sexy, strong Holt.

  She was falling for him all over again. And she was in even bigger trouble this time around because his seven-year-old son had managed to steal her heart in record time. Her roommate’s words came back to her yet again, about having an open mind. Could she? Despite everything that had happened? Everything she knew would happen?

  And she did know. Holt would break her heart—again. Never in a million years would she have thought that summer ten years ago that Holt would have left her, dumped her flat on her face, without a backward glance. How did a person go from acting like he was in love, showing that love, to just walking away and cutting all ties?

  Tyler had done the same thing.

  So how could Amanda think of giving Holt a second chance? Come on. You can’t be your own worst enemy in life, girl, she told herself. Be your own best friend. Be your own Brittany! Do not let that man past Go. Or even c
lose to Go.

  Then again, Holt hadn’t exactly said anything about a second chance. In fact, when she’d broken up that amazing kissing session on his deck, he’d said he shouldn’t be getting involved with anyone either, that he had a lot on his plate.

  He told you this time. Said straight out that he wasn’t looking for a relationship. And what had been her grandpop’s motto? When someone tells you who they are, believe them.

  If she let herself fall head over heels in love with Holt Dalton again, she’d only have herself to blame, not Holt, who’d been honest.

  So. Do. Not. Let. Him. Pass. Go.

  With that firm in her head, Amanda pushed open the door to leave Tender Years just as someone pulled it open to enter. She almost crashed right into none other than Neal Dalton, Holt’s dad. He wore a dark brown Stetson, a western shirt under a jacket and jeans.

  What on earth could he be doing here?

  “Mr. Dalton,” she said. “How nice to see you again. It was so thoughtful of your wife to invite me to the house for dinner last night.”

  He tilted his head at her, as if trying to remember her name. “Ah yes, Amanda, Holt’s friend—from way back at that summer camp he had to attend.”

  Had to attend. Where had Neal Dalton been ten years ago when that one little word would have clued her in that Holt wasn’t telling her everything? She couldn’t help but think if he had told her everything, he wouldn’t have felt the need to break up with her. He’d have known that she wouldn’t have judged him—especially not after getting to know him and loving him. But of course, that wasn’t what happened.

  “Call me Neal,” he said with nod. “Sorry you saw me get so upset during dessert at Holt’s. But that’s exactly why I’m here. Do you work at the daycare?”

  Uh, why was he here?

  “No, I do marketing outreach and social media for Tender Years. I just had a meeting with Lucinda, the owner. But, Neal,” she dared to press, “what do you mean that’s why you’re here?” Perhaps he wanted to volunteer at the daycare to learn more about how kids operated, that they made mistakes, they made noise, and to watch the teachers for tips on how to handle issues that arise.