“God, woman, you have magic hands.”

“Thank you. Want me to spread some liniment on the area?”

“No. I’m good. You goin’ to the rodeo today?”

“I planned to. Thought I’d wander around the vendors’ stands to see if I can find souvenirs for my sister and brother.”

He pushed up from lying across the table and blinked at her. “You never talk about them. Why is that?”

“Mostly because I don’t know them. My mom and Marcus tried to have a baby for ten years before she got pregnant with David and Nerise. By then I was seventeen. Three months later I was out of the house and living in Oklahoma. Taking care of Grandma and going to school kept me busy. Two babies kept Mom and Marcus busy.”

“Do you get along with your stepfather?”

She shrugged. “I guess. He’s a nice guy. He worships my mom and he’s very involved with the twins.” She dug her fingertips into his trapezius. “Marcus never tried to take the place of my father. Sometimes I wonder if that was my fault.”

He groaned when she attacked a knotted muscle. “Why do you say that?”

“Because to some extent my mom is right. I’ve always had this hero-worship complex about my dad.” Her hands stilled. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone?”

“Sure.”

“The reason I won’t talk about my father isn’t because it’s so incredibly painful, but because I don’t remember him.”

Hank turned and looked at her. “Nothin’ at all?”

“Oh, a few little things, like him taking me out for ice cream. Or dragging me to the rodeo grounds so I could watch him practice riding the mechanical bull. One Christmas he helped us decorate the tree. But besides that? He wasn’t around. It was just me and my mom. He was always on the road. I do remember he’d come home and drop his stinky equipment bag on the floor. Then he and my mother would disappear into their bedroom because he was ‘tired.’ I remember thinking my mom took a lot of naps whenever Dad came home.”

He chuckled.

“But as far as Jason Capshaw teaching me to ride a bike or coming to my Thanksgiving play, or sitting by my bedside when I had the chicken pox? That was all my mom. And she handled all those things even before he died. I wasn’t as important to him as bull riding. I guess maybe I’ve always had that girlish hope that if he had lived, he would’ve wanted to become part of my life. Stupid, huh?”

Hank sat up and brought her onto his lap. He didn’t say a word; he just held her. Brushing his lips on the top of her head and running his hands up and down her back. Silently soothing her.

Comforted beyond measure, Lainie sighed. “So what I know of my dad as a bull rider I learned from TV, books, and magazines. The rest of it I learned from my grandma. His boyhood, his teen years, the start of his rodeo career. But I know nothing of him as a man. As husband. Or as a father.”

“Your mother didn’t fill in the blanks for you?”

“I didn’t ask.” Guilt swamped her. “I suppose you think that makes me a horrible brat, huh?”

“Never.” Hank kissed her temple. “I think it’s a horrible situation, Lainie. I lost my parents too, but I had my growing-up years to get to know them. To learn from them. To see all the circumstances and events that made them into the people they were. Things you’re curious about that you never had the chance to understand about your father. That is pretty horrible. So I am a little surprised you’ve chosen to work in the world of rodeo as a career.”

She felt tears surface and quickly swallowed them down. “Will you continue on the circuit when you have kids? Leave them with their mommy on the ranch as you drive off to fight bulls?”

His body went rigid. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. And bein’s I ain’t got a wife yet, it’s a moot point.” A couple of seconds passed and he playfully slapped her ass. “Unless you wanna marry me and we can hash out the details right now so we’re on the same page before we walk down the aisle together.”

Lainie smiled, appreciating his attempt to lighten the conversation. “I’ll take it under consideration.” She hopped off his lap. She fiddled with the coffeepot, unnerved by how easy it’d been, spilling her deepest, darkest secret to him. What did it mean that she trusted him with something she’d never told another living soul?

“Oh, before I forget, I grabbed these from the grocery store across the way this mornin’.” Hank set a pile of paperback word searches and word puzzles on the counter.

Holy crap. She did not know what to say.

When it took her a bit to answer, he shuffled his feet. “Look, it’s okay if you ain’t interested. You mentioned you used to do them with your grandma—”

Lainie turned and hugged him, pressing her mouth to his, not allowing him to explain away his sweet, thoughtful gesture. Allowing herself a moment to get her emotions under control.

“Thank you. I love them.”

“You’re welcome.”

That was when Lainie knew everything was about to change.

Chapter Eighteen

The next week on the road was a grueling test of endurance. After Miles City, they stopped in Glendive, Montana. Then Sidney, Montana. After that, Williston, North Dakota. Then back into Montana, hitting the Wolf Point, Brockton, Glasgow, and Sand Springs rodeos.

Lainie started to believe it should be called Cowboy Hell instead of Cowboy Christmas.