Page 59 of When a Cowboy Falls Hard
“I like it, too. This cottage always appealed to me.” He took a sip of water before grabbing a napkin and a sticky bun. “I’m lucky to have it.”
“Is the furniture yours or hers?” She bit into her treat. Amazing.
“The bed’s mine. The rest used to be hers, but she’s given it to me. I’ve loved that rolltop ever since I was a kid. She loves it, too, but there’s no room in the bunkhouse.”
“I assume those are pictures of your family?”
“Mm-hm.” He nodded, his mouth full of sticky bun.
“Who’s the lady on the end?”
He chewed and swallowed. “My mother.”
“It is? But?—”
“She died in childbirth. Having me.”
“Oh.” She scrambled for the right thing to say. “That’s… is it… I mean, do you feel….”
“Sad? Sometimes. She was so young, the same age I am now.”
“That is young. Was your grandma around then?”
“Yes, and I’m sure she was a huge comfort and help to my dad. Then he married Raquel when I was fourteen months old. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known.”
“I did wonder why you didn’t look like her, but genetics can be wonky.”
“Not in your case. Tex looks exactly like you.”
“For which I’m grateful. He won’t remind me of his worthless father. But the poor kid will have to deal with this hair.” She held out a strand of it.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s impossible. If I cut it short I look like a blonde Little Orphan Annie. If I let it grow out it looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket.”
“And if you let me run my fingers through it, I’ll want you all over again.”
“What?” She glanced at him. “You like the way it feels?”
“Love it. It’s like putting my fingers in a rippling brook.”
“Huh.” She took another sip of water and finished off her sticky bun. “I can’t agree with that, but it’s nice of you to say. I’ll remember it the next time I’m cussing it out. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Who’d you inherit it from?”
“My dad.” She smiled. “He didn’t like it, either, so he kept his super short. Then he started going bald. Most men don’t like going bald, but he was happy about it.”
He gazed at her, his expression touchingly wistful. “I like the way you talk about him. You look… happy.”
“It took a while.” And he hadn’t made it to that place, poor guy.
“I still struggle sometimes.”
“Sure you do. You’ve only had a couple of years. I’ve had ten. It gets easier.”
His chest heaved. “That’s what I tell myself. That’s what we all tell ourselves.”
Reaching over, she squeezed his arm. “You’ll get there. He’d want you to be happy, just like my folks would want that for Mari and me.”
