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Mary grimaced. “Sorry. Hit a nerve, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s nothing,” Parker said softly. “Really.”
“We all have our bad memories of that golden childhood everybody talks about. I never had one.”
“Me, neither.” Parker chuckled.
“Sorry,” Katy replied.
Mary pursed her lips and her eyes twinkled. “You’re getting stares,” she warned. “There will be talk.”
Parker shrugged. “Won’t be the first time I attracted gossip.” “Same here,” Katy said, and she grinned.
Mary just laughed. “At least you have a good attitude about it. I’ll go help my girls with the handouts. Don’t forget to bring your daughter by the restaurant. We made Rice Krispies Treats!”
“I wouldn’t miss those for the world,” Katy promised.
“You can have some, too,” Mary promised, and patted her on the arm. “See you. Parker, you watch your mouth.”
He put a finger to his lips and his eyes twinkled.
After Mary left, Katy looked up at him curiously. “Everybody says you cuss like a sailor, but I’ve never heard you say a really bad word.”
“I’m on my best behavior, especially in front of Teddie.” He glanced at her with real fondness. “She’s a sweet child. You and your husband did a great job with her.”
“Thanks. I’m very proud of her,” she said, her eyes on her daughter, who was now talking with some other children who’d been brought to town by their relatives. She looked up at him curiously. “You’re wonderful with Teddie. It’s obvious that you love children. But... ?”
“But I never had any of my own, you were going to say, huh?” he asked, and his dark eyes were sad. “I didn’t know until I got back home, out of the military, but my fiancée was pregnant with my child when she died.”
“Oh, Parker, how horrible,” she said under her breath. “I’m so sorry!”
He ground his teeth together. So many memories, all painful. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “I got cold feet after that. All I could think about was how much it hurt to lose her, to lose my child.” He laughed, but it had a hollow sound. “I withdrew from the world. I discovered,” he added, glancing down at her, “that most women will avoid a man who can’t say a complete sentence without a few really blue words. So I started cussing a lot, especially when the boss or the other cowboys had women relatives visiting.” He pursed his lips and his eyes twinkled. “It worked very well.”
She laughed. “Should I be flattered, that you don’t use bad words around us?”
His big shoulders shrugged. “I guess so,” he said after a minute. “I don’t want to drive Teddie away. She’s brought the sunshine back into my life.” He looked down at her. “You’re part of that.”
She caught her breath as they stared into each other’s eyes for just a little longer than politeness required.
“We’re both carrying painful scars,” he said after a minute. “You lost your husband. I lost my fiancée and my child. I’ve had longer to recover than you have, but it’s still fresh, very fresh.”
She drew in a breath and wrapped her arms around her chest. She felt a chill, even with her nice warm coat on. “My husband died doing something he felt a moral obligation to do. It was the most important thing in his life, even more important than us. He said that so few people could do his job, that many men would have died if he hadn’t been there to do it. So I guess it evens out, in a way. But yes, it’s still fresh. A few months’ distance helps. It doesn’t heal.”
“It takes years for that.” He lifted his head and looked where Teddie was opening her bag to another handful of treats from a merchant. “You know, when you have an old dog that you love, and it dies, they all say the best thing for the grief is to go right out and get a puppy.”
Her heart skipped. “They do, don’t they?”
He turned to her. “We’re not speaking of dogs.”
She just nodded. She was spellbound, looking up into those dark, dark eyes.
He moved a step closer, not intimately close, but enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead. “We don’t have to get totally involved, just to have a hamburger together or take Teddie to a movie. Right?”
Her heart was going wild. It surprised and almost shamed her, because she hadn’t had such a violent physical reaction even to her late husband. “N-no,” she stammered. “I mean, yes. I mean . . .” She just stopped, staring up into his eyes.
His jaw tautened and he averted his gaze. “Don’t do that,” he bit off. “It’s been a long time. A long time,” he emphasized. “I’m more vulnerable than I look.”
She swallowed, hard. “Sorry,” she said in a gruff whisper.
