Sweet Mountain Rancher Read online

  When he got to the Double M, he’d take the reporter’s advice and tell Nate to call the cops, explain how Eden Quinn, his official guardian, was planning to hand him over to his ex-con father, who’d left him at his girlfriends’ houses and under pool tables and bar stools more times than he cared to remember. The cops would conduct a thorough investigation, find out he was telling the truth, and then nobody could make him go anywhere with his father. Well, unless he had nowhere else to go. But he had Pinewood and Eden, and in a pinch, Nate, too, so…

  He should have worn a warmer jacket. Should have grabbed those gloves Eden stuffed into his stocking last Christmas. His teeth were chattering, but it was okay. He’d forget all about this temporary discomfort once he got to the Double M.

  *

  NATE ROLLED OVER and glanced at the alarm clock. A call at two a.m. could only mean one thing: Another cougar attack.

  “Yeah?” he barked into the receiver.

  When the ringing continued, he realized it was the doorbell, not the phone. Must be really bad, he decided, pulling on sweatpants, for his foreman to deliver the message in person.

  He flipped on the porch light, wondering why Carl had come to the front instead of the back, as usual.

  “What’s up?” he asked, flinging open the door.

  But it wasn’t Carl on the porch.

  “Thomas?”

  Nate stepped outside for a glance at the driveway and was greeted by a cold blast of wind. “Where did Eden park the van?”

  “She isn’t here,” the boy answered, shivering. “I came alone. Walked part of the way.”

  Frowning, Nate drew Thomas inside and tossed him a hooded sweatshirt from the hall tree. “Wait. You what?” And then it hit him. If the boy had walked part of the way…

  “Don’t tell me you hitchhiked!”

  Thomas shrugged.

  “Get into the kitchen,” he grumbled, “so I can get some soup and hot chocolate into you.”

  He’d give the kid ten minutes to explain what he was doing here in the middle of the night, and then he’d call Eden.

  “Chicken noodle or beef vegetable?” he asked, holding up two cans.

  “Chicken.”

  Nate dumped the contents into a small saucepan, then filled a big mug with water and slid it into the microwave. While waiting for both to heat up, he leaned against the counter.

  “So what gives, kiddo?”

  “My father visited today,” Thomas mumbled. “Eden is on his side.” He shrugged again. “So I can’t stay there anymore.”

  Eden had her flaws, but Nate would have bet the ranch that she hadn’t taken anybody’s side against one of her boys. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you say that?”

  The microwave dinged, and Nate emptied an envelope of cocoa mix into the mug.

  “I heard them whispering about…stuff.”

  “Yeah?” He put the mug on the table and handed Thomas a spoon. The kid didn’t take the opportunity to elaborate.

  “Thomas, you risked your life—literally—to wake me up at two in the morning, so that’s not gonna cut it.”

  The soup began to simmer, and Nate gave it a quick stir as Thomas sipped his hot chocolate.

  “You’re the only person I can trust.”

  Nate ladled soup into a bowl and set in front of Thomas. “You don’t think that’s a little harsh? You’ve been with Eden for years. She has one conversation that you don’t approve of, and suddenly she’s untrustworthy?” He shook his head and sat across from the boy.

  “I won’t live with him. And nobody can make me.”

  Nate knew the kid looked up to him; if he used that, maybe he could find out what was really going on here.

  “‘I won’t live with him, and nobody can make me’? Running away from home? Seriously? You’re acting about six years old right now.” As expected, the comment struck a nerve.

  Thomas bristled. “Oh, yeah? Well what would you have done?”

  “I would have asked Eden straight-out whose side she’s on.”

  Thomas ate a spoonful of soup and shrugged one shoulder.

  “What, you think she’d lie to you?”

  “No, but…”

  “But what? She’s probably frantic right now, wondering where you are, if you’re safe.”

  Thomas pushed noodles back and forth in the bowl. “She’s asleep. I made sure before I left.”

  Nate sat back and let him take a few more bites of soup before saying, “You know I can’t take you in, right?”

  Nodding, Thomas pushed the bowl away.

  “If you do, you’ll have to call the cops, tell them that I left Pinewood and came to you for safe harbor. Otherwise, you’ll get in trouble for harboring a runaway.”

  “Really?”

  “I looked it up. So if you aren’t going to let me stay, you should call 911.”

  “No need to involve the cops because I’m taking you home. Are you finished eating?”

  Another nod, and then he downed the hot chocolate.

  Nate needed to grab something to put on over his T-shirt. Some socks and shoes. But he didn’t trust the kid to be here when he came back downstairs.

  He stepped barefooted into his work boots and slipped into an old windbreaker hanging by the door.

  For the first half hour of the drive, neither of them spoke. Nate tried to imagine how Eden would react when he knocked on her door.

  “This is going to break her heart. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  He had no clue what response he expected from Thomas, but it sure wasn’t tears that turned into quiet sobs. He let the boy cry for a few minutes, then reached across the console and squeezed his shoulder.

  “She’s gonna hate me now.”

  “No,” Nate said, “and you know that, too.”

  “You’re gonna say I’m acting like a six-year-old again, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But I want Eden to be my parent. It’s just… How do I tell her I love her without sounding like a weirdo?”

  A different kind of love, Nate realized, but he knew exactly how Thomas felt.

  “Promise me you won’t tell her I said that, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t have to go back on his word.

  Because the last thing this kid needed right now was for another adult to disappoint him.

  *

  BEING AWAKENED BY the doorbell at six in the morning was just as unsettling as a middle-of-the-night phone call. Eden belted her robe and raced barefoot down the stairs, hoping it was just Shamus stopping by to share his morning paper. Even before throwing open the dead bolt, she recognized the broad-shouldered silhouette on the other side of the seeded glass pane. And then she saw Thomas, standing slightly behind Nate on the porch.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, closing the door on the frosty air that followed them inside.

  Nate stood, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, the other in his pocket. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

  “Whatever.”

  Thomas had been crying, that much was evident. And Nate—hair askew and shadows under his eyes—looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night.

  “He told me to call the cops so I wouldn’t get charged with harboring a fugitive. I didn’t, of course.”

  “The police! Okay, you guys are scaring me.” She glanced up the stairs. “Let’s go into the kitchen. No sense waking everyone else.”

  She started a pot of coffee, and then sat across from them. “Well?”

  Nate scrubbed both hands over his face. “Well,” he echoed, “as you can see, I had an unexpected visitor last night.” He leaned both forearms on the table. “I’ll let Thomas here tell you the rest of the story. And if he doesn’t feel like talking right now, I’ll fill you in later.”

  Eden pulled the robe tighter, as if that would shield her from the rest of the story. But the boy didn’t seem overly eager to tell it.

  Terrifying news reports
about the awful things that happened to hitchhikers flashed in her mind. “How did you get all the way to the Double M?”

  He rested his forearms on the table, too, and hid his face in the crook of one arm. “I, ah, walked,” he said, voice muffled by his jacket sleeve.

  It would have taken hours to walk all the way to the ranch. Hours, alone in the dark, on the side of heavily trafficked highways. She’d memorized every creak and squeak in this house, but hadn’t heard a thing last night. Not the telltale groan of his bedroom door hinges, not the squeal of floorboards, not the pop of the top step. She’d unlocked the front door to let them in, meaning the bolt had been fully engaged. The boys didn’t need keys, since either she or Kirk was always home. So how had he relocked the door and left the house without her knowing about it?

  The coffeemaker hissed, startling her. She got up to fill three mugs and doled them out like playing cards, amazed that not a drop slopped over the rims. After delivering spoons, the sugar bowl and milk jug, she returned to her seat, hoping that once Thomas had consumed the adult beverage, he’d at least try to act like a grown-up.

  It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots: the previous afternoon, he’d confronted her about overhearing his dad ask when he could take Thomas home. He’d heard her reply, too, and hadn’t been too pleased about either. He’d donned the My Life Stinks expression that she’d seen on all of the boys’ faces at one time or another. It was part of his makeup to brood and pout, but never for more than a few hours. And based on his behavior at suppertime, she’d had no reason to suspect he hadn’t gotten over the visit with his father.

  “Have I ever lied to you, Thomas?”

  He lifted a shoulder in a sulky shrug. “Not that I know of.”

  She ignored the sarcastic reply. “I have not, and you know it.” Eden wrapped both hands around her mug, mostly to hide their trembling. But that worked for only a few seconds because the mug was hot. Hands clasped in her lap now, she said, “When all of this started with your father, what did I tell you?”

  “That he wouldn’t be able to take me home for a long time. If ever.”

  “Did you believe me?”

  Nate, to his credit, had leaned back, giving her space to do her job, while sending the subtle message that if she needed backup, he was available. She’d thank him for that later. Unless she found out he’d encouraged her escapee in any way.

  “Well? Did you believe me?”

  “I remember what that shrink lady down at the department said: ‘Children are always better off in the care of their parents.’ And she’s your boss, so…”

  In other words, he’d convinced himself that his feelings didn’t matter. Eden wished she could tell him that wasn’t true. But he was young and hurting, suffering under the delusions born of his years of yearning for love—though he’d never admit it—from a man incapable of being anyone’s father.

  “How long have you and I been together, Thomas?”

  Another shrug. “I dunno. Couple years?”

  “You were two days shy of your eighth birthday, so it’s been nearly seven years.” She gave him a moment to absorb that. “And how many kids have come and gone during that time?”

  Thomas sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “Lots.”

  “Thirteen,” she answered for him. “And your place here has always, always been secure. Why would that change just because some long-haired dude on a Harley rode up the driveway one day?”

  She saw Nate’s eyebrows rise.

  And Thomas, looking to Nate for an answer.

  Eden didn’t know which irked her more, that she’d slept right through Thomas’s escape, or that he’d taken his problems to a man he’d met mere months ago. Responsibility for that rested squarely on her shoulders, though, because she had allowed the relationship to flourish, to the point where Thomas felt more comfortable turning to Nate than his state-appointed counselor.

  Righting the situation—if it wasn’t already too late—would require Nate’s full cooperation. Asking for it wouldn’t be easy, since he’d proved time and again how much he cared about the boys. Nothing like this had ever happened on her watch, but it would be unprofessional at best and dangerous at worst not to take steps to guarantee something like it would never happen again.

  Nate helped himself to a second cup of coffee and refilled Eden’s mug while he was at it.

  Squeaking floorboards and the sound of bare feet hitting the ground overhead told them the boys were up. Any minute now, they’d rumble downstairs, laughing and jockeying for position at the fridge and toaster.

  Thomas grabbed Eden’s wrist. “Don’t tell the guys what I did. Please?”

  Eden met his dark, imploring eyes. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that they probably already knew. Ben and Carlos spent half their time peeking out the windows when they were supposed to be sleeping.

  “You have my word. I won’t tell them.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Nate said, hands raised. “I’m an innocent bystander, here.”

  She avoided his eyes, because this wasn’t the time to point out that he had contributed to the problem, however unwittingly. The minute they were alone, she intended to pick his brain for every detail about Thomas’s reasons for running away.

  Silas rounded the corner first. He took one look at Thomas and said, “How long have you been up?”

  “Awhile.”

  “Where you been, dude?” DeShawn plucked at Thomas’s jacket sleeve.

  An uneasy silence hung over the table until Nate said, “He was outside with me.”

  Before they could ask why, Eden suggested pancakes with homemade sausage gravy. “Why don’t you guys find something on TV?” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  Devon grinned. “You sure? You don’t want us to help?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Nate said.

  Eden breathed a sigh of relief when, to stave off wisecracks and comments, he added, “Saturday morning cartoons were my favorite.”

  They darted from the kitchen calling dibs on the remote and the recliner, and when they were gone, Eden looked at Thomas. “You, too,” she said with a flick of her fingertips, “or they’ll get suspicious.”

  He carried his coffee mug to the sink and hung his jacket on a hook near the back door.

  “Better find a way to fake ‘happy,’” Nate advised, “or your goose is cooked.”

  There in the middle of the kitchen, Thomas hung his head. “Sorry, Eden. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  She drew him into a motherly hug. “It’s already forgotten…” It was not, and he no doubt knew that, so she held him at arm’s length and touched a fingertip to his nose. “…if you can convince me that nothing like this will ever happen again.”

  “It won’t.” He looked at Nate. “Sorry I dragged you into this, man.”

  “It’s already forgotten,” he echoed. “But next time something gets your goat, talk to her. She’s a real good listener.”

  Thomas looked up at Eden. “I know.”

  Halfway to the door, he stopped, turning to Nate again. “Geese and goats, huh?” He shook his head, a wry grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Old people say the weirdest things.”

  Nate’s halfhearted smile told her that Thomas’s sudden shift from dour to upbeat worried him, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EDEN DROPPED A package of sausage into a black iron skillet. “I’m sort of glad we have a few minutes alone.”

  Sort of glad? He turned a chair around and straddled it, waiting for the hammer to drop.

  “What time did Thomas get to your house?”

  “Two, give or take a few minutes.” She had enough on her mind without hearing Thomas had hitchhiked part of the way. “He was cold to the bone, so I sat him down, made him eat some soup.”

  “Unless my math is off, he was with you at least two and a half hours. It never crossed your mind to call me in all that time?”

  And there it was again, that I
know best look that could cut him to the quick and make his neck hairs bristle. “Of course I did, but why get the whole household in an uproar—in the dead of night—when I believed I could talk him into coming home before everyone woke up?”

  Eden sprinkled a few tablespoons of flour on top of the sausage and stirred. Vigorously. “Guess we’re all real lucky you talked him into it then, aren’t we?”

  She behaved this way only when someone questioned her authority or abilities, and this time, Nate wasn’t guilty of either.

  “What did he talk about while he was with you?”

  It was tempting to divulge every detail, especially with the relieved-then-angry look she’d greeted him with still so fresh in his mind. But he couldn’t. Not without going back on his promise to Thomas.

  “He’s pretty steamed at his dad.” That much, at least, was true. “And if even half of what he says about the guy is fact, the kid has every right to be.”

  A pinch of garlic powder and a shake of parsley went into the pan. “He was barely four when he entered the system. I doubt he remembers all that much about Thomas Burke’s parenting style.” She gave the gravy starter another stir. “That’s why the rules were put into place…to protect kids from inaccurate memories that could hurt them down the road.”

  And if he’d followed his simple rules, none of this would be happening.

  “If anyone at the department ever finds out that one of my boys snuck out in the middle of the night and walked miles to a stranger’s house…” Eden exhaled an exasperated sigh.

  A stranger? Nate blamed the stinging remark on fear. “You could lose your job,” he finished for her.

  She branded him with a defiant stare. “So while you were acting as Thomas’s counselor, did you ask him why he felt it necessary to run away from home?”

  “He thinks his dad is a master manipulator—my words, not his—and that you fell for the latest scheme. I’m preaching to the choir, here, telling you that he spent way more than his first four years with the guy. Either he’s a skillful liar, or he suffered a great deal when he was in Burke’s care.”

  Eden turned and looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since opening the door. Maybe he was the one who needed counseling, because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was gorgeous, backlit by a shard of sunlight slanting through the window.