Colton: Rodeo Cowboy. C.J. Carmichael

help you.”

      He asked for her mother’s address, then hand-in-hand they walked the four blocks. He savored each moment with her, his heart full-to-bursting with an emotion he’d never experienced before. He could feel the smile on his face getting bigger each time he looked at her. Even tipsy, Leah had a confident, athletic gait. At the same time she was undeniably female….

      “Here we are.” Leah stopped at a Victorian-styled two-story several blocks south of the high school. The house was dark, except for a small exterior lantern to the side of the front door. Two vehicles were parked under the carport to the left of the house—a modest sedan and a Ford truck. The back of the truck was loaded with furniture and boxes.

      “The truck yours?”

      “You bet.”

      “Nice.” He’d never dated a woman who drove a truck before. Seemed like another good sign to him. He held Leah’s hand as they climbed the steps up the porch, then waited as she opened the unlocked front door.

      She gave him a smile. “Good night, Colt.”

      “To hell with that.” He pulled her in for another kiss, savoring the softness of her lips, the sweet scent of her hair. Cupping the sides of her face, he pressed the tip of her nose to his. “How about inviting me in, darlin’? I’ll make pancakes for your mama in the morning. Win her over with my charm.”

      This didn’t elicit the smile he expected. Instead, Leah frowned. “Those would have to be mighty special pancakes, Colt. My mom doesn’t impress easily. Besides, it would be too confusing for Jill and Davey. I haven’t dated anyone since I divorced their father.”

      Suddenly dizzy, Colt put a hand to the wooden railing by the door. “Jill and Davey?”

      “My children.” Leah looked at him as if he had a screw loose. “You knew about them, right?”

      Bloody hell didn’t. Colt opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “How old are they?”

      “Davey is two, Jill five.”

      Leah crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. Colt knew his reaction was upsetting her, yet he couldn’t seem to get his breathing under control or his mind to work properly. He was just so blown away by all of this. How was it that no one—not a family member, or a friend—had mentioned that Leah Stockton had children?

      “You’re doing the math, aren’t you?” Leah finally said. “But I’m not ashamed of the fact that I married Jackson because I was pregnant. It was the right thing to do. As it turned out, we couldn’t make the relationship work, but at least I tried.”

      Oh, God. Stop talking, Leah. He didn’t want to hear this. Not any of it.

      “You’re right. Pancakes were a very bad idea.” He took a step away from the door, away from her.

      “Colt?”

      “I should get going.” The chill in the air cut through his shirt and the night sky seemed very bleak all of a sudden.

      “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

      He took another step away. Dinah had said something similar to him, only that afternoon. Badly timed exits were becoming something of a pattern in his life. Colt raised his hat to Leah. In the cold light of day she would be grateful the evening had ended this way.

      * * *

      “I WISH YOU WEREN’T so set on moving out.” Prue Stockton, in a pressed housedress with her hair neatly combed, stood at the kitchen counter, dipping homemade bread into her own special egg concoction for French toast.

      The sight reminded Leah of Colt’s pancake offer of the previous night. An offer he’d backed away from promptly, when he heard about her kids.

      Leah took a mug from the counter, filled it with water, which she forced herself to drink, then refilled it with coffee from the carafe on the counter. She didn’t begrudge the pain pulsing in her skull—it seemed fair retribution for the mistakes she’d made last night.

      Getting tipsy at the Open Range Saloon and picking up a cowboy was not acceptable behavior for the mother of two small children. She was just thankful that her mother knew none of this.

      “I’m thirty-two years old. Don’t you think that’s too old to be living with my mother?”

      “Living with your husband is where you ought to be.” Her mom shot her a hard look, then returned her focus to her cooking. “But let’s not get into that argument again.”

      “Let’s not,” Leah agreed. They had other things to fight about today. Starting with the house she’d rented.

      “It won’t be easy raising two children on your own. And I have lots of room here.”

      “I’ve already signed a one-year lease, Mom, so I’m committed.” Leah opened the dishwasher, intending to unload the dinner dishes from yesterday, but her mother had beaten her to it. She decided to set the breakfast table instead.

      “Think of the money you could have saved.”

      Her mother was nothing if not persistent.

      “I’m okay for money, Mom. Jackson and I had quite a bit of equity in the house we sold in Calgary.” Leah set out the blue-and-white dishes that had been in her family for as long as she could remember. “He’s making monthly support payments for the kids, and once I get a few bookkeeping clients, I’ll be fine.”

      “What are you going to do for furniture?”

      Leah had brought the kids’ beds and all their toys from Calgary. Added to that their clothing and other personal effects, she hadn’t had room in the back of her truck for anything else.

      She knew her mother had some of the furniture from the old guesthouse on the farm stored in her basement. At one time her grandmother had lived in the small cottage. After she passed on, her mother used the extra room for putting up guests and the occasional farmhand her dad hired during seeding and harvest times.

      “I was wondering if I could borrow the bed and sofa from our old guesthouse?”

      She half expected her mother to say no. But Prue Stockton wasn’t a mean woman. “You may have them, Leah, if you’re truly set on moving out. There’s a rattan table and four chairs that you’re welcome to as well.”

      “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”

      Prue sighed. “Better wake the children. Breakfast is just about ready.”

      Leah headed for the stairs to do as told. Her mother was right about one thing. She did have lots of room in this house. There were four bedrooms and a large bathroom on the upper story. Leah thought it was strange that her mother had moved into such a large place. But maybe a smaller bungalow had been too much of a shock after the sprawling farmhouse Prue had managed for almost thirty years.

      Upstairs, Leah peered into the first door on the left, and wasn’t surprised to find Jill’s bed empty. She found the little girl in her brother’s room. She and Davey were sleeping side by side in the single bed, snuggly enclosed by the safety bars that Leah had brought from home.

      Leah could never wake her children without first taking a moment to appreciate their sweet little faces in repose. They both had her dark hair and long, thick eyelashes. After a long, cold winter in Calgary, their skin was pale and she looked forward to getting them out for lots of sun and play in their new home. She stroked the side of Jill’s face, and her daughter’s eyes immediately sprang open.

      “Why are you sleeping in here again, honey?”

      “Davey had another nightmare.”

      Leah didn’t know why Jill didn’t want to own up to the bad dreams. Nor did she understand why Jill chose to go to her brother for comfort, instead of her mom. But she felt it was wise to simply take Jill’s answers at face value for now.

      “You’re