Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy. Kate Pearce

nodded. “I was just a little scared. He’s a very big wolf.”

      “He’s a big baby,” Parker said as he took off his jacket and sat down at the table. “Sarge loves him to death.”

      “I guess he’s just scary to people who don’t know him,” Teddie amended.

      He smiled. “I’ll take you over to Sarge’s one day and you can get acquainted. He likes people. Loves girls.”

      She laughed. “That’s a deal. I’ll go do that horrible math.”

      “Math is not horrible,” Parker pointed out. “It’s the basis of all engineering.”

      “I don’t want to be an engineer. I want to fly jet planes. Fighter planes!”

      He rolled his eyes. “And here I’m teaching you to ride horses!”

      “One step at a time,” Teddie said with a grin. She turned and went down the hall to her room.

      “Fighter planes.” Parker shook his head as he bit into a sandwich.

      “She’s adventurous,” Katy said, nibbling at a sandwich of her own.

      “When I was her age, I wanted to be a cowboy and live on a ranch,” he said.

      Both eyebrows went up.

      “Of course, when I was a little older than her, I was a cowboy and lived on a ranch.” He chuckled, swallowing down a bite of sandwich with coffee. “Coffee’s good,” he said as he put the cup down. “Most people don’t get it strong enough.”

      She laughed. “I like a spoon to stick up in mine.”

      “Me, too.”

      “You wanted to be a cowboy, but you already were one,” she prompted.

      “My point is, I’m happy with my life. So many people aren’t,” he added. “They’re always chasing something they can’t find, wanting things that are impossible to have. It’s important to be satisfied not only with who you are, but where and what you are. After all, life isn’t forever. We’re just temporary visitors here. Tourists, really.”

      She burst out laughing and almost toppled her coffee. “Tourists! I’ll have to remember that one.”

      He grinned. “I stole it from a pal, when we were overseas. He was a great guy. He was going to medical school when we got out of the service. He didn’t make it back. A lot of guys didn’t.”

      “I know.” She did, too, because her husband had been one of those. “My husband was already a doctor, though. He loved his work. He loved being in the service. He said that patriotism was being sacrificed by people who didn’t understand that freedom isn’t free. He wanted to do his part.” She bit her lower lip. “Sorry. It’s still fresh.”

      He just nodded. “Life goes on, though,” he said, studying her. “You have to pick up the pieces and keep going.”

      “You’ve lost someone,” she said suddenly.

      He hesitated. Then he nodded again. “The love of my life,” he said with a quiet sadness. “She was eighteen, I was nineteen. While I was overseas, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She died before I even got home. We were going to be married that Christmas.”

      “I’m truly sorry,” she said softly, and put her hand over his big one. She didn’t understand why exactly, because she almost never touched people–not even her daughter, whom she loved. “I do understand how that feels.”

      His hand turned and clasped hers. There was a flash, almost electric, between them when he did that. She caught her breath, laughed self-consciously, and took her hand away. He seemed as disconcerted as she felt. He finished the sandwich and washed it down with coffee.

      “I’d better go and let you get to those papers,” he said, rising. “Think of the poor students who’ll be disappointed to have to wait an extra day to learn that they failed the test.” He grinned wickedly.

      She laughed, the tension gone. “I guess so.”

      “Thanks. It was good coffee and a nice sandwich. Better than cold oatmeal,” he added wryly.

      “Anytime. Thanks for coming after our furry visitor. If he ever comes back, I’ll know who to call.”

      “Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.

      She took it out of her pocket and placed it in his outstretched hand. He put in his contact information and handed it back.

      “That’s my cell number,” he told her. “If you have a problem, night or day, you call me. Okay?”

      She smiled warmly. “Okay.” She cocked her head. “Where’s your cell phone?”

      His eyebrows arched, but he handed it to her. She put her own contact information into it and handed it back.

      “If you need us, you only have to call,” she said quietly. “We’d do anything we could to help you.”

      He was unsettled. He hesitated. “All right. Thanks.”

      “I mean, if you come up with some unified field theory in the middle of the night and need to discuss it with someone who knows absolutely nothing about theoretical physics, I’ll be right here. Think of it as ego building.”

      He chuckled. She was a card. “I’ll do that.”

      “But if you get sick or something, you can call, too,” she added. “I nursed my mother for several years before I married. I’m pretty good in a sick room.”

      That surprised and touched him. “I’m never ill.”

      “I knew that,” she replied spritely. “But just in case . . . ?”

      “Just in case,” he agreed.

      He started for the door. “Good night, Teddie. See you Saturday,” he called down the hall.

      “I’ll be here, still doing horrible math!” she called back.

      “Math is not horrible!”

      “It is so! It has numbers that are invisible! I heard you tell that other man that.”

      He rolled his eyes.

      “How do you see invisible numbers?” she asked from the hallway.

      “I’m leaving,” he told her. “It’s much too late for philosophical discussions.”

      “I thought you said it was math,” Teddie replied innocently.

      “Just for that, you can learn two new ways to tie a cinch on Saturday,” he said formally, and then ruined it by laughing.

      She grinned. “Okay. Good night.”

      “Good night,” Katy echoed. “Thanks again.”

      “Thanks for the nice eats,” he replied. His dark eyes were warm on her face. “Sleep well.”

      “I don’t, but thanks for the thought.”

      He sighed. “I don’t sleep well, either,” he confessed. “I play solitaire and mah-jongg on my cell phone until I get sleepy. Usually, that’s about four in the morning.”

      She laughed. “Me, too. Especially mah-jongg.”

      “I have four apps with it. I’m a fanatic.”

      “We should get a board game and teach it to Teddie. She doesn’t like playing games on the phone.”

      “Not a bad idea. I’ll pick up a Monopoly game, too. We might play one Saturday night if you don’t have anything better to do.”

      “We just sit and watch old movies on DVD,” she said, shrugging. “I watch that series that your boss’s wife writes for, and the one her father produces,