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

  And now she was planning a life that didn’t include a husband. Which meant he was out before he was entirely even sure he should be counted in.

  He wanted something, though. A second chance. A shot. He’d loved Amanda fiercely ten years ago and she was that same beautiful person, inside and out—kind, compassionate, interesting, smart, funny. Except now, the girl who’d been so open was a guarded woman—for good reason.

  He’d helped put up those walls and maybe he could try to take them down. If she let him anywhere near her heart again.

  He did have the child she wanted and already seemed to adore, but Robby was a package deal with his dad. Holt frowned, kicking at a rock in his path. Usually Holt had to tell women that he was a package deal. Now, the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about had no interest in getting involved with him.

  Well, he certainly helped put that plan into motion for her ten years ago, and some jerk cemented it.

  And that’s it? he asked himself. You’re just gonna give up that easily? Show her who you are, that you’ve changed, that you wouldn’t hurt her again, that you’d never walk away from her.

  He didn’t know how to do that, though. It wasn’t like she’d date him. She’d made that clear. He’d have to show her on the down-low, in the times they were together. Before and after the tutoring sessions. If Holt’s mom was okay with her two hours a day of watching Robby on the weekdays, he could always suggest to Amanda that she simply come work with Robby every day on reading. That way, she’d still get a lot of time with him.

  He reached the main house, struck as always by its grandeur. His father sure had hit the jackpot—literally. Holt wasn’t a gambler, and poker and slot machines and the tables had ruined his father a time or two before, but he’d gotten very lucky and now he’d given his wife all this. His parents had gone from having barely anything to their name but a run-down small ranch to absolute wealth on anyone’s terms. Holt tried to see the bright side of that, even if his mother would have been happy with a ranch a quarter of this size, this majestic. Deborah was about family, not money.

  Which brought him back to why he’d come. He shook off his thoughts and entered the house, hearing the sound of talk radio coming from down the hall. He followed it to the “Mom-dom.” That was his term for his mother’s sanctuary, a large, sunlit room that was part home office, part library, part crafts room and all Deborah Dalton, down to the apricot-colored walls and watercolor paintings of the Montana wilderness. His mom sat at her desk and was on her computer, an invoice up on the screen, scrolling through an upcoming cattle auction.

  “Hi there, Holt,” Deborah said, smiling up at him. “Got my precious grandson with you?”

  Now that was what he liked to hear. He certainly wasn’t going to put his mother on the spot—or cause a problem between her and his father. He’d just feel things out and get a sense of how his mother felt. Deborah Dalton was a kind, loving person who tended to put others first. She’d never come out and say that Robby was too much for her, but Holt had always been able to read his mom well. He’d know.

  “Actually, Robby’s at the house with Amanda right now. She’s tutoring him in reading starting today. She volunteers at the elementary school and has a lot of experience. And best of all, Robby really likes her.”

  “I can understand why. Amanda seems lovely. You really like her too?” his mother added with a sly smile.

  “Actually yes,” he admitted. “But I messed up ten years ago, and I doubt she’ll give me another chance. She’s already planning a future without me or even any husband in it.”

  His mother raised an eyebrow. “Really? What do you mean?”

  He wasn’t so sure he should be talking about Amanda’s personal life this way, but he’d always been able to talk to his mom, and right now he needed some advice. “Between what I did ten years ago and getting left at the altar two year ago, she says she’s done with love and romance. She wants a child, though, and is thinking about adopting an older kid. She even suggested working with Robby every day on his reading and then spending another hour just playing so she can get some ‘mother experience.’ In other words, in three weeks, when Robby goes back to school, I won’t see her anymore.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you, Holt. She may have given up on love—or think she has, anyway—but if you have feelings for her, then see what you can do about changing her mind. Minds can be changed. Trust me.”

  He glanced at his mom, wondering if she was referring to herself and the rough patches she’d had with his dad.

  “I do, absolutely,” he said.

  She stood up and came around the desk and held out her arms. “You’re never too old to hug your mama.”

  He smiled and let her wrap him in one of her big hugs, the kind Robby loved so much.

  “Oh, you know, Holt, I wonder if Amanda’s request to spend two hours a day with Robby might work out timewise. I signed up for an intensive knitting class that meets every weekday from three o’clock to five o’clock for the next two weeks. Usually I watch Robby at that time and figured I’d switch times with your brothers. But maybe Amanda can fill in?”

  Could this have worked out any better? “She’d love to, so that’s perfect. Listen, Mom, I want to ask you something and I want your complete honesty. Deal?” Now that she was off the hook, he felt comfortable coming right out with the question.

  “Of course,” she said, sitting back down.

  “Is Robby too much?” he asked.

  “For me? If you’re asking if that’s why I signed up for the knitting class, absolutely not. I adore my grandson and spending these two hours a day with him is a highlight, Holt. Yes, he’s a whirlwind, but he’s a sweetheart—and I’m not saying that because he’s my grandson. Robby has a huge heart and means well. I love that boy to pieces, and there’s no way I’m giving up my summertime with him. I’ll split the difference with his uncles and get my Robby time that way.”

  He’d known before he walked in here that this was how his mother felt about his son, but hearing it filled him up.

  “Dad thinks he’s too much,” he said quietly. He wanted his father to feel about Robby the way his mother did. Not want to get him out of his hair for the next three weeks.

  “Your father thinks just about everything is too much,” Deborah said, her blue eyes twinkling. “The price of feed. The news. The way Shep races his horse. The weather. I could go on.” She shook her head with a smile.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said, getting up, feeling like two heavy rocks had been lifted off his shoulders.

  On the way home, it struck him that his mother’s new knitting class sure seemed coincidental. Same time that she watched Robby? For the next two weeks? And it had come up just as he’d brought up Amanda being available? Uh-huh. Sure, Mom.

  He had a feeling Deborah Dalton was playing matchmaker. And loved her even more for it.

  Chapter Eight

  When Holt came back to his house a half hour later, he could just make out Robby’s voice upstairs. He heard laughter, a combination of his son’s hearty laugh and Amanda’s. Then he heard Robby say something and again more laughter. If the boy was having this much fun getting tutored in reading, Amanda deserved a million bucks and a gold medal. And his everlasting thanks.

  And dinner, which he hoped she wouldn’t find presumptuous. This morning, he’d promised Robby one of his favorites, chicken parm with spaghetti and garlic bread, and he did recall Amanda ordering a chicken parm sub from a pizza place on their trip into town on one of their days off from camp, so he knew she liked it. Maybe she’d say thanks but no thanks and leave. Or maybe she’d stay. He was hoping for stay. She’d been here for thirty minutes, which meant another thirty to go—exactly when dinner would be ready. No one could resist the smell of garlic bread, right?

  By the time the cheese was melting and the garlic bread smelled so good that his stomach rumbled, he h
eard Robby running down the hall upstairs. “Daddy!” came his son’s booming voice. “I smell something amazing! Amanda, doesn’t that smell amazing?”

  “Sure does,” he heard her say.

  Half a minute later, Robby was sniffing his way into the kitchen, Amanda right behind him.

  “That really does smell intensely good,” she said. “Garlic bread and what else?”

  “Chicken parm!” Robby said, rubbing his hands together. “Daddy promised me he’d make it tonight.”

  “And I made enough for three,” Holt said, catching Amanda’s gaze. “Stay? We’d like to thank you for what definitely sounded like a good first day of reading practice.”

  “It was fun, Daddy,” Robby said. “I read a book—a chapter book!—to Amanda about a dog named Joey who has a cat for a best friend! Just like Bentley and Oliver. And Amanda said I can keep the book too. And yes, I said thank you.”

  Holt smiled. “Good. How about you go wash up for dinner and meet us in the dining room?”

  Robby ran off, and Amanda moved closer into the kitchen, giving the air a sniff.

  “I was just a little hungry before but now I’m starving,” she said. “That just smells too good.”

  Thank you, universe, he sent heavenward. “Great.”

  She leaned against the counter, looking so sexy in her dark jeans and pale pink tank top, white stars embroidered on the V-neckline. Her hair was in a braid down one shoulder. She’d dressed casually, instead of more “teacher-like” to make Robby feel comfortable, he realized. “Talk go okay with your mom?”

  He dragged his attention off how pretty she was and onto her question. “Better than okay. And you’re on for the every weekday arrangement. Turns out my mom is taking an intensive knitting class that meets every day at that time for the next two weeks, so I’d need someone to fill in for her anyway. She wants to keep watching Robby, so she’ll switch some morning hours with one of my brothers.”

  Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t fully expected it to work out. “I’m glad. Wow, I’ll really get to put my plan into motion—to get a sense of what it would be like to be a mom of a child Robby’s age. I mean, not that spending two hours a day with him is anything close to what goes into raising a child, but I’ll get a real sense, you know?”

  “I think it’s great that you want to be a mom and that you’re thinking of an older child. That’s beautiful, Amanda. There are a lot of kids out there who need loving homes.” There’s also an open slot in my own small family for someone who loves kids and dogs and cats, he thought.

  Whoa—that notion slammed into him with startling force. He’d gone from thinking about the possibility of a second chance to marriage? Holt wasn’t used to being led around by his heart, not that he’d used his brains much when he was younger either. But these days, he was six feet two inches of emotion. And given that Amanda had told him a second chance was off the table, he’d better be careful with himself.

  But now Amanda was smiling so warmly at him that he wanted to gather her into his arms and just hold her and never let her go.

  Luckily, Robby was back and dinner was ready, so he focused on plating everything. Robby carried the platter of garlic bread with two hands into the dining room, while Amanda brought in the salad and he carried the platter of chicken parm. They sat at the big table, big enough for his whole family and a guest or two, but because they were all at one end, it felt cozy. And right. Him. Robby. And Amanda.

  Every time he looked at that chair, he’d be reminded of that open slot.

  For his wife. For a mother for Robby.

  Robby pronounced the chicken parm “too good for words,” and Amanda seconded that. They ate and drank iced tea and talked about Robby’s reading practice, and how patient Bentley was to sit through three books over the hour. They talked about their favorite seasons and foods and TV shows, and suddenly it was as if ten years hadn’t gone by, and he and Amanda were those same two kids, lying on the grass by lake and holding hands, talking about everything. He could barely take his eyes off her during dinner. I am you and you are me...

  With mere crumbs left on everyone’s plate, Amanda insisted on helping him clear the table. In the kitchen, while he scooped out the ice cream for their dessert, he asked if she was okay staying a bit later after Robby went to bed so they could work up the schedule—and talk more about her idea to adopt. And why. Holt had said he wanted to continue that conversation, which had surprised her.

  She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Sure. I can stay for a bit.”

  He smiled to himself, well aware that she was a little nervous about being alone with him, about their undeniable attraction, about whether despite what they’d agreed to, they’d end up kissing again.

  Maybe they’d end up in bed, where Holt would love to spend some time with Amanda Jenkins.

  He knew that was a pipe dream given all she’d said earlier, but he was still filled with anticipation about later. About possibilities. Maybe they could have a second chance. Maybe he could change her mind, let her see that he was someone she could trust.

  Twenty minutes later, ice cream sundaes consumed, Amanda insisted on cleaning up since Holt had cooked, so Holt and Robby went into the yard with Bentley. Robby asked Amanda if she’d watch his favorite before-bed TV show with him, about the bull, so the three watched that together, Amanda on the big club chair perpendicular to the sofa, him and Robby on the couch. Through the show, Holt kept picturing the three of them sitting on the sofa—Robby between them—every night after dinner. Right now she was keeping a bit of a distance, which he totally understood.

  After Robby’s quick bath and a story and his good-night routine with Bentley and Oliver, which included having Robby say good-night to each from each, the boy was asleep in his bed, his arm wrapped around his stuffed rodeo bull. And he and Amanda finally were alone to talk.

  He came downstairs to find her looking at the framed photographs on the fireplace mantel. There were a lot of pictures. Mostly of Robby, and a lot of the boy with his uncles and grandparents, plus a few from when Holt was a kid. He did have a photo of him and Amanda from ten years ago, which he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Sometimes over the years he’d pull it out and wonder where she was, what she was doing.

  Now she was right here.

  “Robby did very well earlier,” she said, turning around. “I think I can help him get moved up at least two levels by the time school starts.”

  “That’s great, Amanda. Thank you. Really.”

  She sat back down in the club chair, avoiding being next to him on the sofa, unfortunately. “So the plan is that I’ll come every day at three o’clock for reading time, then at four, we’ll switch to playtime. I don’t have to work with Robby on reading every day—maybe three times a week so that it doesn’t feel like school. There are lots of ways to make reading feel joyful, but it’s still hard work for him, so I need to be careful of not overdoing it.”

  “Sounds good. Scratch that—it sounds amazing. I don’t know how I got so lucky, Amanda. The reading help from someone experienced and compassionate who really gets Robby. And the babysitting time. I know it helps you out too, but I really can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m really happy about the arrangement.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll make an incredible mother, Amanda. You’re loving and kind and Robby is nuts about you. He’s a very good judge of character.”

  The big, happy smile on her beautiful face told him how much this plan of hers really meant to her. She might be at the starting gate with even thinking about motherhood, but being a mom was in her heart; he could clearly see that.

  “I think about everything you’re saying and how my son’s own mother doesn’t feel that way.” He shook his head. “I hate that I had something to do with you giving up on love, though,” he said with a grimace. “I know you got hurt again after our r
elationship, but I just wish I’d been different back then.” He really needed to take a giant step back.

  She looked at him for a moment, then said, “To the future, then. Everything is about what’s ahead.”

  But here he was, focused on the past—and moving backward, not forward.

  And now they were pretty much done with discussing the plan, but he wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. Maybe there was more to say. “Coffee? We can clink to the new arrangement.”

  She smiled again. “Sure.”

  He got up to make it and brought it in the living room to find her once again looking through the photos on the mantel. As he set the tray of mugs and the sugar bowl and creamer on the coffee table, she sat down in front of it on the sofa. He sat beside her.

  She added cream to her coffee. “I have a few pictures of you from that summer we were a couple. Sometimes I’d take one out and wonder where you were, what you were doing.”

  He turned and stared at her. “I did the same thing. And was just thinking about that when I came down and saw you looking at the family photos. When I got divorced I thought about looking you up, but—”

  “But what?” she whispered.

  It wasn’t easy for him to think back to those days. “I guess I felt like I was in a bad place. Newly divorced, a young son who didn’t understand where his mother was.”

  She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He held on to her hand, looking into her eyes, leaning toward her a bit...leaning a bit more until their lips touched. She moved closer to him, his hands on either side of her face, then in her hair, across her back. He loved the feel of her, the lightly perfumed scent of her.

  He couldn’t get enough of Amanda, his hands now traveling up the back of her tank top, her soft bare skin driving him insane. He remembered the first time they made love, when they went camping on their day off, and he felt so much that he thought his heart might actually explode.