On the way, they stopped at a store and bought two age-appropriate board games, one for each twin, and put the games into sparkly birthday gift bags with pink tissue paper. Colt bought two different cards and signed his name. He stuck one into each bag without putting which girl it was for.
“They’ll share the games,” he assured Maren. When she arched an eyebrow at him, he asked, “Is that a mistake?”
“No, actually, it’s very thoughtful of you.” And very sweet. Unexpected from such a no-nonsense, tough officer of the law. “When Opal and I were kids, we’d get one gift to share because my parents didn’t want us fighting over them. But it only made receiving gifts sort of a letdown. Opal and I would take turns opening the one gift each year. It wasn’t enjoyable.”
“You deserve to be showered with gifts,” he said, then looked startled as if he hadn’t meant to say what he had out loud. “I mean, you and Opal should have been given lots of gifts. Every kid deserves to have presents on their birthday.”
“Nice recovery,” she teased, enjoying the way his cheeks above his beard pinkened.
And she couldn’t deny she found the sentiment of his words rather nice. Not that he meant anything more than what he’d added about children deserving gifts. He’d just had a slip of the tongue. He couldn’t have meant he wanted to give her gifts. That would be…thrilling. Exciting and sweet. And way out of bounds.
She needed to stay focused on what was important. Opal. Mia. Taking down Shadow. Finding Dr. Derek Rolls and ending the illegal baby smuggling ring.
She carried the presents to the SUV and hoped attending this party was the right thing to do, because she couldn’t shake the gnawing worry camping out in her gut.
The Dawson clan lived on the outskirts of town on a sprawling ranch. A large, two-story main house built of stained natural wood with dormer windows and a peaked roof sat center stage at the end of a long driveway. Various types of trees provided shade for the house and a corral. Fenced pastureland with grazing horses stretched far and was dotted with several outbuildings.
Surprise arced through Maren. “Did you grow up here?”
“I did. You like?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful.” She stared at him. “Are you a cowboy?”
“Reformed.”
His grin did funny things to her insides. She laughed to cover his effect on her. “Is there such a thing?”
“According to my father, yes.” Colt slowed the vehicle and eased it to a halt next to several large trucks and SUVs of various sizes. “He’d prefer I wore my rodeo buckle and cowboy hat all the time. But I’d stand out. I’d rather blend in.”
“Wait. Aren’t rodeo buckles trophies? Meaning you’ve won a rodeo?” She knew nothing about the cowboy way or rodeos.
“I’ve had my share of good rides,” he said with a shrug.
She liked his humility. “Doing what?”
“Riding broncs both saddle and bareback,” he said. “Did I forget to mention that my family raises and trains rodeo bucking horses?”
Another laugh escaped her. “Yes, you did forget to mention that.” Fascinated, she viewed him in a whole new light.
There were more facets to this man than she’d originally thought. And with each revelation of character, she was finding herself drawn more and more to him. Anticipation of learning additional tidbits about him had her actually excited for the evening as he helped her from the vehicle.
Instead of going through the front door as she expected, he led her around to the enormous back patio, which was filled with balloons in every shade of pink she could imagine. Children of all ages ran around the expansive lawn, taking turns chasing each other. A large, inflatable bounce house was off to the side. And a bubble machine sent translucent circles into the air.
Sitting at tables on the patio were at least two dozen adults. Maren’s steps faltered. This wasn’t just family, these were friends. Friends of the Dawsons and their children. Talk about being thrown into the deep end.
A squeal of delight went up as a woman in her mid-sixties came out of the house through the open French doors. She was beautiful with light auburn hair streaked with gray and cut at her chin. She had the same green eyes as her son. She wore wide-legged linen pants in a soft green, with a flowing, flowered top. “Colt, you made it.”
“Hey, Mom.” Colt hugged her.
Maren ached in a strange way to see the bond between Colt and his mother.
He released his mother, who immediately bent to lavish some love on Rusk. The dog’s tail swished side to side.
“Mom, this is Officer Maren Anderson, and her K-9, Haven,” Colt said. His mother straightened with a smile. “Maren, this is my mother, Dottie Dawson.”
“Hello, Mrs. Dawson,” Maren said.
“Hello, dear. Please, call me Dottie. We’re so glad you could join us.” She eyed Haven. “How old is Haven?”
