held out the sandwich. “I brought you some food.”
He reached for it eagerly, but his eyes were wary. “What, just one course?”
Maybe now wasn’t the time to mention the six different dessert options inside if he was still hungry later. “I can do understated,” she said. “I told you this morning, the kind of spread I laid out for breakfast is indicative of special occasions. Not a daily occurrence.”
He scowled, looking uncomfortable at being classified with “special occasions,” but then he took a bite of the sandwich. For a second, his features relaxed into an expression of utter satisfaction, and everything female in her clenched at the sight.
Partly out of self-preservation and partly in strategic retreat, she grabbed the now-empty glass of water and went back inside to get him a refill.
“Mommy?” Evan said as she entered the room. “I’ve seen this one before.”
She changed the channel and found him a different cartoon. “I have to give Mr. Colin some water, then I’m going to feed the horses. For real this time,” she said, ruffling his dark hair. Evan had her hair and eye color, but Michael was the one who’d had curls as a child. Plus, Evan had his father’s smile.
When she returned to the porch, she found Colin packing away tools for the night.
She sat on the bench, tugging on her boots. “Can I ask you a favor? I mean, besides the obvious one you’re already doing, rebuilding my disaster of a porch? I was headed to the stable and wondered if you’d come with me. I know you’ve had more experience with livestock than me, and I’d really appreciate your expert opinion on the horses. Not that Henry isn’t an expert, but...”
He cocked his head in silent question. She was used to the chatter of her inquisitive son and Henry’s garrulous tales of bygone days. Colin didn’t waste a lot of words.
“Henry White,” she said. “He worked this ranch for years, and he knows his stuff. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though, and he’s a little more, um, absent lately. I’m learning as fast as I can, but I can’t guarantee that if Henry overlooked something I would catch it.”
Colin pressed a finger between his eyes, and she could almost see his thoughts floating in the cool evening air. This lady doesn’t know what she’s doing. Can’t she see this is a doomed enterprise? She refused to believe that. No one was born an expert at anything. What message would she be sending her son if she gave up whenever she encountered difficulties?
She thought back to her conversation with Colin in the bunkhouse. “You said you work with animals ‘as often as you can.’ You must care about their well-being.”
He sighed. “Lead the way.”
“Thank you.” Turning so he wouldn’t see her victorious grin, she opened the container beneath the porch bench and pulled out a large flashlight. There was enough light to get to the stable, but it would be darker when they came back. She stepped gingerly down the stairs. “You can use the flashlight for your walk to the bunkhouse tonight. Or I could drive you.”
“Walking’s fine,” he said. “It isn’t far to the bunkhouse, and I’m not afraid of the dark.”
She almost made a joke about her son and his various coping mechanisms for braving the dark but stopped herself. Colin hadn’t warmed to Evan. She wished it didn’t bother her—tried to tell herself his aloofness was better than Gideon’s phony “let’s be best pals” demeanor—but she was a mom. She naturally wanted others to see what a great kid Evan was.
“How’s your ankle?” Colin asked as they fell into step in the yard.
“Better. Tender, but—”
“Mommy!” Evan called through the screen a moment before banging the door open. He was wearing his own pair of boots and had his blanket around his shoulders like a superhero cape. “Changed my mind. I wanna visit the horsies, too.”
Repressing a groan, she stole a peek at Colin. He looked as if he’d swallowed rusty nails.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her son no, but the whole reason she’d been comfortable leaving Evan for a short time was because she’d trusted him to watch TV. That obviously wasn’t going to work tonight. Apparently, the combination of horses and a newcomer to their ranch was a lot more mesmerizing than watching Shaggy and Scooby unmask villains.
Colin met her gaze. “Makes no difference to me,” he said stiffly. But, in direct contradiction to his words, he lengthened his stride, putting distance between himself and the Shaws.
“Come on,” she told her son. She pointed at the broken step. “Be careful, though.”
Evan scampered down the stairs with no care for his safety, rushing by Hannah and going straight to Colin. “You’re tall.” Her son’s voice was full of admiration. “You’re like a giant.”
Unsurprisingly, Colin didn’t answer. The silence didn’t deter Evan.
“Did you get tall from eating healthy food? Mommy sings me a song about—”
“Evan!” She intervened before her son reenacted the “Grow Big and Strong” song she’d made up to coax him into eating vegetables. Colin didn’t need to hear it—or see the accompanying dance steps. “Don’t bother Mr. Colin, okay? He’s been working with a noisy saw and hammering nails all afternoon. I’ll bet he’d appreciate some peace and quiet.”
Her son scowled. “Quiet is boring.”
“Don’t argue with your mother.” Colin’s sharp admonishment wasn’t loud, but it startled both Evan and Hannah. She hadn’t expected him to speak. Having him suddenly participate in the conversation was otherworldly, like being riddled by the sphinx.
Evan’s eyes were wide as he craned his head back to regard the “giant.” “Yessir.” Then he miraculously fell silent.
Hannah was impressed. She’d wanted Colin to stick around because of his experience with livestock, but it turned out he wasn’t half-bad with outspoken four-year-olds, either. She caught up with him, turning to give him a smile of thanks. It died on her lips, though, when she got a good look at his profile. Even in the dim light of moonrise, there was no mistaking the pain stamped across his handsome features.
It was an expression that felt familiar, the same kind of agony that had contorted her soul when she’d lost both her husband and, in the same day, her mother-in-law. Ellie Shaw hadn’t been well, and news of Michael’s death had triggered a massive stroke. After years of foster care and praying for home and family, Hannah had lost her only two relatives in one cruel blow. A week later, Hannah had gone into premature labor, barely caring when she was loaded into the ambulance whether she lived or died.
It wasn’t until the next day, when she’d heard Evan’s lusty wail, that she’d realized a piece of Michael still lived on, that not all her family was dead. She had a son who needed her, and she was ashamed of her earlier ambivalence about surviving. For his sake, she’d sworn to find the positives in life, to resist the bleak drag of depression that sucked at her. Evan was the bright spot that motivated her to keep moving forward during the most challenging times.
What motivated Colin Cade? And what had he suffered? She’d never seen such light eyes filled with so much darkness.
* * *
COLIN BREATHED IN the familiar scents of leather and wood, horse and hay. They were soothing, but as ragged as his nerves were after walking to the stable with Hannah and her boy, he would have preferred a slug of whiskey. It was weird how being around kids stirred memories not only of his own lost son, but his father, who’d died when Colin was a teenager. Don’t argue with your mother. How many times had Colin heard that edict from behind the newspaper at the kitchen table, directed either at himself or Justin, who’d been a rambunctious hellion as a kid? When Dad bothered to lower the newspaper before making the pronouncement, you knew you were really on thin ice.
Was