A Brother's Promise
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Mindy Obenhaus
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HarlequinChapter One
Christa Slocum had to expand her hardware store before Crane’s Building Supply infiltrated the area. And this might be the ticket.
A cold rain fell outside as she stood near the paint counter Wednesday afternoon, contemplating the brick wall Bliss Hardware shared with the vacant building next door. Not even a gust of wintry January air someone ushered in could jar her from her thoughts.
Bliss Hardware was a fixture in the small Texas town and under her ownership, the once sleepy little business was now bursting at the seams. But if she could take out those bricks to create an opening, the two spaces would be joined, nearly doubling her space and allowing her to add the home improvement section people had been wanting.
Giddiness bubbled inside of her. This was the best option she’d come up with so far and it was so simple she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.
Eager to contact her real estate agent, she turned and nearly ran into Mick Ashford, local rancher and good ole country boy. Except he wasn’t a boy. He was a grown man, maybe a year or two older than Christa’s forty-three years, with gorgeous light green eyes and the kind of rugged good looks that had many of the town’s single women acting like fools whenever they were anywhere near the cowboy.
As far as Christa was concerned, though, he was simply her neighbor. Well, he lived in the house nearest to hers, anyway. A cabin tucked in the woods, far beyond the old farmhouse that had once belonged to his family. Until he and his sister, who lived near Austin, sold it to her.
At the moment, though, he stood in front of her wearing a Carhartt jacket and mud-spattered Wranglers, his chocolate-colored felt cowboy hat in one hand while the other fisted a color chip he must have snagged from the adjacent paint display. Deep lines she wasn’t used to seeing creased his brow, suggesting something had him troubled. Which might explain why he hadn’t razzed her yet.
“What can I help you with, Mick?”
“I need a gallon of this.” He held out the paint swatch.
One glance and her brow shot up. “Mick Ashford, what could you possibly want with Pepto-Bismol-pink paint?”
“It’s not for me.” His tone was more serious than she was used to. “It’s for Sadie. I’m hoping it’ll make her feel more at home.”
Sadie? Christa wasn’t aware that Mick was dating anyone, or that he’d gotten married. Like Christa, he’d always been comfortable being single. But if he wanted to make someone feel at home, that could only mean someone else had moved in with him.
If so, it must have been a whirlwind romance. She could only hope it wasn’t some woman he’d met online then proposed to after only a few dates. Because while Christa may not be interested in Mick, she considered him a friend and didn’t want to see him hurt by someone with less-than-honorable motives.
“I guess you haven’t heard.” He watched her curiously.
“No.” Which, given how small Bliss was and the fact that she owned a business many of the townsfolk frequented, was rather unusual. “I haven’t seen much of you since Christmas.” They shared a driveway, so she usually saw him in passing at least once a day. But he’d disappeared right after Christmas. Even had someone else checking on his cattle.
“I reckon I should have let you know I was leaving, but it was pretty sudden.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a calloused hand. “And these last few weeks have been a blur.”
Christa hoped he wasn’t planning to tell her some long tale about his love life. “The holidays can do that to us.”
His green eyes were filled with sorrow as they met hers. “My sister and her husband were killed in a helicopter crash in Colorado right after Christmas.”
Remorse mingled with grief to squeeze Christa’s heart. “Oh, Mick, I’m so sorry.”
Clearing his throat, he simply nodded. She could only imagine how raw his emotions were. “Sadie is my niece. Jennifer and Kyle left her in my care.”
And she thought he’d gotten married. Now her heart went out to the man who was obviously struggling. Mourning the loss of his sister while being thrust into the role of caretaker for a child.
She rubbed her suddenly chilled sweatshirt-clad arms. “How old is Sadie?”
“Five. She’ll be six in March.”
Christa froze. The same age she’d been when her mother died.
For a moment she found herself battling back her own tears. Oh, how she ached for this poor child. At least Christa had still had her father. Sadie lost both of her parents in one fell swoop.
“She’s at school right now,” Mick added. “Started Monday. She’s in kindergarten, so I thought it best we work on getting a routine in place.”
“Yes. Definitely. Kids need routine.” Didn’t mean things were going to be easy, though. For either Sadie or Mick.
“I want to make her feel at home, so I thought I’d surprise her by painting her room.”
“Of course, you want her to feel welcome.” She looked at the horrid color still in her hand, recalling the wintergreen flavor of the elixir her father had given her every time she had an upset stomach. “But I’m still not going to sell you this color of paint.”
“Why not?” He stiffened. “You’ve seen my place. It’s nothing but brown and green. You know, like the outdoors. But Sadie’s a little girl, and little girls love pink, don’t they?”
“Sometimes. But not necessarily this shade.” She held it up so he could get a good look. “Besides, they also like blush, periwinkle and aquamarine.”
Shifting from one booted foot to the other, he ran a hand through his light brown hair. “Oh, boy.”
“What is it?” She waved at one of the local contractors as he grabbed two cans of stain from a nearby shelf.
Mick acknowledged the man with a nod before turning back to Christa. “I have no idea what any of those colors are.”
Of course he didn’t. He was a guy. A man’s man, at that. In his world, pink was pink and that’s all there was to it.
Moving a few steps toward the paint display, she grabbed swatches of the colors she’d mentioned and set them on the counter in front of him. “Blush, periwinkle and aquamarine.” She pointed to each one.
“Looks like pink, purple and blue to me.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.
The long, tall stretch of cowboy stared down at her, looking more like a brokenhearted little boy. “I can’t bring back Sadie’s parents, but I want to do everything I can to give her the best life possible. Jen trusted me enough to leave Sadie in my care, and I want to do right by her.” The determined edge in his voice was hard to miss.
Christa respected him for that. And while she probably didn’t know much more about kids than Mick did, she had once been a little girl and knew what it was like to lose a parent. Enough to nudge her out of her comfort zone and do whatever she could to help Mick create a space little Sadie would love.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I drop by this evening with some paint swatches for Sadie to look at? Maybe she and I can talk so I can get a better feel for what she likes. Whether she’s into princesses or horses. Then I can help you come up with a plan for her bedroom. Wall color, bedding, pictures—”
He gripped his hat tighter. “You’d do that for me? I mean, you and me don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“That’s because you’re stubborn.”
His face turned red. “Well now, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Who was it I found stuck up on a ladder last spring, trying to trim some tree branches because she was too stubborn to wait until I could get over there with my pole saw?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not stubborn.” Strong-willed, perhaps. Determined. “Do you want my help or not? I mean, it’s obvious you need it.” In more ways than one. “You’re out of your comfort zone when it comes to decorating for Sadie and, well, I am a girl.” She softened her expression. “I’m happy to help.” Besides, now that the renovations on her house were complete, she welcomed another challenge. One that would tide her over until she could get her hands on the building next door.
Mick’s smile almost erased those lines in his forehead. “I don’t know how to thank you, Christa.”
“Well, you could start by making sure that brown cow stops moseying into my yard and helping herself to my pansies and purple fountain grass.”
He winced. “I don’t know why she keeps jumping your cattle guard.”
“Isn’t it obvious? She likes my flowers.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I just need to clean out the cattle guard.” He set his hat atop his head. “What time should we expect you tonight?”
“Store closes at five. I should be out of here by five thirty. I’ll grab a quick bite to eat and—”
“You could eat with me and Sadie.” He shrugged. “Nothing fancy, just some pinto beans and venison sausage, but it’ll be hot. And with this cold snap we’re having...” He nodded toward the window.
A hot meal waiting for her on a cold winter’s night. She could get into that.
“Mind if I bring Dixie?” Since rescuing the two-year-old golden retriever a week before Christmas, Christa had been devoting all of her free time to the dog. She’d never realized how much she’d enjoy having a pet, but Dixie seemed to fill a void, keeping Christa company and giving her a reason to go home at night.
“Are you kidding? Sadie would love having a dog to play with.”
“In that case, we’ll be there around six.”
Watching him retreat, Christa found herself with an admiration for the rugged cowboy that hadn’t been there before. He had a tough road ahead of him, navigating the unfamiliar territory of parenthood. Just having a little girl in his house was enough to throw someone like Mick for a loop.
Even though Christa’s father had taken care of her since she was born, the role of sole parent had been a challenge. Ballet lessons and playdates had been her mother’s forte. Dad wasn’t used to fixing dinner every night, nor was he adept at braiding hair. But, like Mick, he bravely faced the challenge before him, determined to fill the gap her mother’s death had left behind. And as far as Christa was concerned, she was better because of it.
If Mick raised Sadie with half the passion he approached ranching, hunting and fishing with, then Sadie would thrive. But they had a big adjustment period to get through first. And Christa was happy to help with that in any way she could. Even if it meant spending time with her stubborn neighbor.
Mick Ashford lifted the lid on the cast-iron pot atop the stove in the kitchen of his camp house and gave the beans another stir. He wasn’t one to go asking for help, but when Christa offered her assistance with Sadie’s room, there was no way he could refuse.
From the moment he’d gotten the call from the authorities three weeks ago, notifying him of his sister’s death, his life had been turned upside down. He’d traveled to Colorado to get Sadie, then back to Texas to plan Jen and Kyle’s funeral in Fort Worth, all the while having to deal with Kyle’s domineering parents and their obvious disdain for both Mick and his sister.
No wonder Kyle had been so adamant about naming Mick as Sadie’s guardian in the event anything happened to them. Of course, when Mick agreed, he never imagined it might actually happen. He could only pray that Jen would forgive him for allowing her to be buried in the Sanderson family plot. But between Chuck’s badgering, Belita’s never-ending tears and the fact that Mick was running on little to no sleep, he’d caved. At least Jen was with Kyle.
Mick replaced the lid, his gaze drifting beyond the Formica-topped island, across the open space to the living area on the opposite side of the room and the little girl with golden-brown hair and green eyes reminiscent of his own. She looked so tiny, sitting in his overstuffed leather recliner while she watched some pony cartoon on the television. Perhaps he should consider getting Sadie her own chair. He could even let her pick it out.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. At this point, he’d do just about anything for his niece. To have her parents stolen from her at such a young age, taken away from everything familiar, then forced to live with a middle-aged cowboy... He’d give her the moon if he could.
A beep sounded from the stove, indicating the oven was hot. Grabbing a pot holder from the counter, he opened the oven door to retrieve the cast-iron skillet inside. He quickly added the corn-bread batter to the hot grease, then returned the pan to the oven and set the timer.
“Uncle Mickey?”
Yeah, he’d even endure being called Mickey. An endearment Sadie had picked up from her mama.
Turning, he saw her little body draped over the arm of the chair. “Yes, ma’am?”
She frowned. “I’m not a ma’am. I’m a girl.”
How could he not chuckle? “Okay, then, yes, girl?”
“No.” Scowling, she scooted off the chair and marched toward him, still wearing the pink cowboy boots he’d bought her, despite him telling her multiple times that boots were to be left in the mudroom, not worn in the house.
Looking down at her, he said, “All right, princess, what is it?”
Smiling, she held out her arms for him to pick her up and he readily obliged. Sadie sure looked like her mother. And Mick, who’d been ten years old when Jen was born, had been wrapped around his sister’s little finger from the day their parents brought her home from the hospital.
After giving him a hug, Sadie met his gaze. “When are we going to eat?”
“Soon. We’re just waiting for my friend.”
Her little head tilted. “What friend?”
“Miss Christa. She lives in that white house up by the road.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “The one with the big tree with the swing?”
“That’s the one.”
“Do you think she’d let me swing on it?”
“Probably. Once the weather gets a little warmer.” He set her feet on the worn vinyl floor he hoped to change out this spring. “Speaking of warmer, I need to stoke that fire.” He started toward the woodstove situated in the corner adjacent the couch.
“I’ll help.” Adding wood to a fire that was inside seemed to be a novelty for Sadie. At least the weather had been cold enough to warrant the stove’s use. With Texas winters, you never knew. Eighties one day, thirties the next. Yet this winter had been different, and he was ready for it to be over. He didn’t much care for the cold.
A knock sounded at the door, and Sadie immediately changed course and headed in that direction. “She’s here!”
“Hold up there, little lady.” Fortunately, her miniature legs were no match for his long strides, and he stepped in front of her. “Remember what I said about opening the door?”
“That you hafta be with me.” Wearing a cheeky grin, she splayed her little arms. “And you’re right here.”
“Right.” Why hadn’t he figured that out? “So long as you make sure you adhere to that rule.” He reached for the knob, making a mental note that Sadie was much smarter than the average five-year-old. Then again, how would he know? Sadie was the only kid he’d ever been around.
When he opened the door, Sadie gasped. “A doggie!”
Christa smiled, the cold air adding a touch of pink to her high cheekbones. “You must be Sadie.” In one gloved hand she clasped a white gift bag with purple tissue paper poking out the top, while the other held the golden retriever’s leash.
“Uh-huh.” The kid couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the dog.
“I’m Miss Christa.” She knelt. “And this is Dixie.”
“Hi, Dixie.” Sadie finally looked at Christa. “Can I pet her?”
“You sure can. Matter of fact, she loves to be petted.”
His niece set one tiny hand atop the dog’s furry head.
“I have to warn you, though,” said Christa, “she likes to—”
Sadie giggled when the dog licked her chin.
“Give lots of kisses.” Christa stood again.
“Y’all come on inside.” Mick shivered. “It’s freezing out there.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” The furry pom-pom on Christa’s knit hat bounced with each step. “It smells amazing in here.” Her compliment had him puffing his chest out a bit.
“Thanks. Dinner’s almost ready.” He closed the door as she took in the space that encompassed living, kitchen and eating areas. While he liked living in the old camp house he and his father had built when Mick was just a boy, there was nothing feminine about it. From the pine plank walls to the collection of deer trophies lining one wall and the fishing rod rack by the door, this place was the original man cave. Heather, his ex-girlfriend, had hated it. Wanted to make all sorts of changes to the place. Not to mention him.
But for Sadie, he was willing to make a few changes. At least the walls in the upstairs bedrooms were drywalled. He’d sure hate to paint over that pine.
“Well then, since we have a few minutes—” Christa held out the bag “—Sadie, this is for you.”
“For me?” The child’s eyes went wide, and she managed to tear them away from the dog. “Uncle Mickey, Miss Christa bringed me a present.” She accepted the bag and began pulling out the tissue paper.
Removing her gloves and scarf, Christa turned a smirk his way. “Mickey?”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re too old to get away with that, so don’t even.”
“Lookie, look!” Whatever it was, Sadie was excited.
Mick moved closer to see markers in every color of the rainbow and a collection of coloring books. One with a unicorn on the cover, another with horses, and the other two with princesses and mermaids. “That’s quite a haul there, kid.”
He leaned toward Christa. “I get the feeling you’re up to something.”
“Don’t worry. The markers are washable.”
“Good to know.” Even if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Which one would you like to color first?” Christa tugged off her hat and shrugged out of her puffy gray coat as she spoke to Sadie.
“Mermaids!”
“Oh, I like that one, too.”
The timer on the oven beeped, beckoning him back to the kitchen.
“Does that mean dinner’s ready?” Christa called after him.
He pulled the golden-brown corn bread from the oven and set it atop the stove. “Pretty much.”
“Good, because I’m hungry.” Tucking her wavy, chin-length brown hair behind one ear, she smiled down at Sadie. “How about you?”
“Uh-huh. My tummy growled.”
After removing the dog’s leash, Christa turned his way. “You need any help, Mick?”
“Uh...sure. Why don’t you grab the plates and bowls—” he pointed toward the cupboard next to the stove “—and Sadie, you get the silverware.” He’d never had anyone ask him if he needed help before. Then again, up until he returned with Sadie five days ago, it had been just him. Tonight, he had a full house.
Minutes later, they sat at the round, wooden table, Christa across from him, Sadie between them.
“Shall we pray?” Instinctively, he bowed his head.
“Can I do it, Uncle Mickey?”
He popped his head back up, his gaze fixed on Sadie. “Of course you can.”
“But we hafta hold hands.” She reached one of hers toward Mick and the other toward Christa and they both took hold.
“Okay, we’re ready.” He watched his niece.
“No, you’re not.” Sadie scowled at him. “You’re ’posta hold Miss Christa’s hand.”
Christa pressed her lips together, as though she was trying not to laugh.
Shaking his head, he realized that the addition of a child was about to turn his world on end.
He reached across the small table—a move that seemed to sober Christa up. She reluctantly took hold of his hand as Sadie began to pray.
“God is great. God is good.”
Christa’s hand was soft, her fingers long and slender. Still, that shouldn’t make him feel as though sparks were shooting up his arm.
“Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.”
He wasn’t sure who let go first; all he knew was that neither he nor Christa were interested in holding hands any longer than they had to.
As they neared the end of their meal, Christa said, “Everything was delicious. Especially the sausage. Where did you get it?”
He looked at her across the table. “I made it.”
Her eyes went wide. “Wait, you—? How does one make sausage?”
City girl. “It’s just venison mixed with a little pork and some seasonings. Then I smoke it in the smokehouse out back. I’ve got a bunch more in the freezer.”
“You have your own smokehouse?” Her expression told him she was impressed. Either that or amused. “I had no idea.” She picked up her mason jar of water. “Mick, you are obviously a man of many talents.”
Her praise had him clearing the table in an effort to ignore the strange thoughts zinging through his mind. He reached for her plate.
“I can get it, Mick. Let me help you.”
“No.” The word came out a little gruffer than he’d intended. “You and Sadie need to get your coloring in before bedtime.”
Christa’s mouth went into the shape of an O. “Bedtime. Yes.” Wagging a finger, she continued. “I’d forgotten about that.” She turned to Sadie who was chewing her last bite of sausage and petting the dog that had parked itself between Christa and Sadie for the entire meal. “Are you ready to color?”
“Yeah!”
After stoking the fire he’d almost forgotten about, he took care of the dishes, keeping one ear tuned into Christa and Sadie’s conversation.
“What color shall we make this mermaid?” Christa dumped the markers on the table while Sadie scrunched her little face up in thought.
“I like this color.”
“Aqua is a good color for mermaids.”
“’Cept I like this one, too.”
Mick craned his neck to see Sadie pointing out the peritwinkle or whatever the color he’d thought was purple actually was.
“Why don’t we use them both,” Christa suggested. “I bet they’ll look really good together.”
“Okay!” Sadie took one marker for herself and handed the other to Christa. “I’ll color her tail and you can color her hair.”
“I hear you have a new bedroom,” Christa said as they colored, confirming Mick’s suspicion that there’d been a reason for the items Christa brought.
“Uh-huh. My mommy and daddy went to heaven.” Despite Sadie’s words spilling out as though it was completely normal to have lost her parents, Mick’s heart nearly strangled in his chest. “I live with Uncle Mickey now.”
Mick swallowed the emotion that lodged in his throat as Christa glanced his way.
Fortunately, her attention quickly shifted back to Sadie. “Want to know a secret?”
Sadie paused her coloring and nodded.
“My mommy went to heaven when I was five.”
Mick nearly dropped the soapy plate he was washing. He didn’t know Christa had lost her mom when she was little. Why hadn’t she mentioned it at the store when he told her about Sadie? Unless it was something she didn’t like to talk about. Yet she’d told Sadie.
Cocking her head, his niece studied Christa. “She did?”
“Yes, and I missed her very much.”
Sadie scooted out of her chair. “Wanna see my room?” She reached for Christa’s hand.
“Sure.” Standing, she cast Mick a wary glance. “We’ll let Dixie come, too.”
As the trio moved up the stairs, Mick suddenly understood why Christa had been so willing to help. And with Sadie slowly but surely realizing that Jen and Kyle were never coming back, help was something he desperately needed. Because he could not, would not disappoint his sister.
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