A Cowboy for Christmas Page 14

  Throughout the meal, Rafferty used baby sign language to communicate with Kyle. Focusing on signing the names of food to his nephew—roast, potatoes, carrots, rolls, milk. It helped to keep him from thinking about how his chest still burned from where Lissette’s palm had touched his heart.

  His nephew.

  Rafferty smiled across the table in the cheery lighting, the taste of roasted rosemary potatoes lingering on his tongue.

  His nephew.

  Rafferty’s smile was both rueful and strangely satisfying because “his” was an ownership word that he had no right to use in conjunction with the boy. He didn’t want to use it and yet the truth of it wedged in his brain.

  Biologically, Kyle was his nephew.

  When the whip-smart toddler beamed at him, bewilderment punched Rafferty in the gut. How could he feel something so complicated for a kid he didn’t even know?

  Not just the kid—Rafferty’s gaze shifted to Lissette—but for the mother as well.

  She smiled back at him, soft and sweet and inviting. Sitting there, a threesome ringing the table, they were like an old Frank Capra black and white movie playing in an almost empty theater, a nostalgic echo of an idealized past.

  It’s a Wonderful Life. Meet John Doe. You Can’t Take It with You.

  Bullshit. Whimsical bullshit. He didn’t know why he was thinking like this, except his eyes linked with Lissette’s and he thought, I can make a difference here.

  Now that’s just ego talking, Jones.

  Lissette leaned over the back of her son’s chair, a sheaf of brown-sugar hair falling over her neck as she reached around his shoulders to cut his roast into bite-sized pieces. She rested her chin on the top of his head as she worked. The root vegetables smelled earthy, fragrant of autumn harvest, and it seemed to Rafferty that Lissette fortified her son with riches of the heart, perpetuating a timeless ceremony of maternal communion.

  Kyle tilted his head back and looked up into his mother’s eyes. She kissed his forehead and they laughed together, bonded in their tight cocoon of love.

  Rafferty had never seen anything as special, as beautiful as that look from mother to son.

  He felt like an interloper. He mumbled something about getting more sugar for his tea, got up, and walked into the kitchen, his heart suddenly pounding strangely. For what, he had no idea. Something rearranged inside him in the face of that unconditional love. He felt insignificant. Out of place. Unworthy.

  And he realized a hard, inescapable truth. No one had ever loved him with that kind of pure, sweet fierceness.

  On Sunday morning, Lissette went to church as usual, even though the last thing she wanted to do was go out among the community. So far she’d told only Mariah and Claudia about Kyle’s condition. She didn’t think either one of them would gossip about it, but she braced herself for sympathy and a barrage of questions just in case.

  Nothing was different at the church, where most everyone wore Wranglers and boots and cowboy hats. The church was a plain wooden structure with a simple cross on the steeple. It was nondenominational, unless you counted the cowboy way of life as a religion.

  But Claudia wasn’t there. She usually sat with Lissette and Kyle and she never missed a church service unless she was ill. Had her mother-in-law been drinking again?

  Lissette had thought about asking Rafferty to join them for church but had quickly dismissed the idea. For one thing, she didn’t want to have to explain the relationship to the world at large. For another, she still didn’t know how to tell Claudia about him. Besides, he’d left before dawn and he hadn’t come into the house to tell her where he was going. To train Slate, she’d assumed.

  When she got home from church, he was back. As she unloaded Kyle from the backseat, he appeared on the stairs leading to his apartment, clutching a big brown paper bag.

  “My turn to pay you back for dinner last night,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I stopped by a place called the Mesquite Spit and picked up barbecue for lunch. I’ve also got a surprise.”

  A surprise?

  She felt at once both wary and excited. What kind of surprise?

  “Let’s eat first,” he said, and headed for the back door.

  Intrigued, she followed him.

  They ate in the kitchen. Lissette brought out the Sunday plates. When she was growing up, her mother used the good china for Sunday dinner, and she’d kept up the tradition, even though most of the time it was just she and Kyle.

  Rafferty practiced sign language with Kyle again. Her son was picking it up amazingly fast. He remembered everything Rafferty had taught him from the day before. Maybe his deafness was not going to be as much of a hurdle as she’d thought. At least not from Kyle’s angle. The audiologist had told her that children were resilient and adapted quickly. Much more so than adults.

  They finished their meal and Rafferty insisted on helping with the dishes. Good-naturedly, he let Lissette tie one of her aprons around his waist so he wouldn’t get his shirt wet. Instead of making him look domesticated, the dainty apron accentuated his craggy masculinity, calling attention to his muscular torso, strong sturdy legs, and hard, tight butt.

  Lissette swallowed, hyperaware of him.

  They stood side by side at the kitchen sink, Lissette washing the delicate china, Rafferty rinsing. On the floor behind them, Kyle sat stacking blocks.

  Jake had never helped with the dishes. “Woman’s work,” he’d bluster in a macho tone of voice and disappear to putter in the garage, hang out with his friends, or watch sports on TV.

  On more than one occasion, Claudia had apologized for her son’s attitude. “I spoiled him,” she’d confessed with a faint smile. “I wanted him to have a happy childhood, so I didn’t make him do chores. I can see now where that was a mistake.”

  Lissette honestly hadn’t minded much. Jake was a big, tough guy, after all, a cowboy and a soldier. Besides, she considered the kitchen her domain. Her haven. She really hadn’t wanted him mucking around in it and she was used to not having him around. Whenever he was on leave, it disrupted her routine.

  But it felt surprisingly nice to have Rafferty by her side, and she was glad she had not refused his help. The clink of silverware against the plates made a reassuring clang, and this peacefulness comforted her. Rafferty soothed like a cool balm on a hot sunburn.

  She passed him a plate, and his big tanned hand wrapped around the delicate ecru china. The dishware had been a wedding present from her parents. It had survived longer than her marriage. He held the plate gently, rubbed it in a circular motion until it squeeked. She couldn’t seem to stop watching his hypnotic movements.

  For one jolting second, she remembered what it had felt like when his work-roughened fingers had rubbed mud from her cheek. She was immediately, outrageously turned on.

  “What are your plans for expanding your baked goods business?” he asked, snapping her out of her trance.

  “If I’m going to do this right, I need to be very practical about it. I was doing the wedding cakes part-time, basically just to help out my friend Mariah, who runs her own wedding planning business, but it’s time I stopped playing around and got serious. So, besides coming up with the recipes, which is the fun part, I’ve got to set up a home office.”

  “You’ll need a Web site, too.”

  “How do you know I don’t already have a Web site?”

  “I Googled you.”

  “You Googled me?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  “It was before I ever came to Jubilee,” he said. “I wanted to get some idea what I was getting into, but you didn’t turn up in a Google search. Which is good for privacy, but bad for business.”

  “I never had a need to advertise and besides, with Texas law you can’t accept orders and payment over the Internet for goods baked in your home.”

  “But people could call you up to place orders. Or mail in an order form and payment.”

  “I think so. I’d have to look
into the law.”

  “Plus you want to expand and open a storefront some day. You need a Web site.”

  “Great. One more thing on my to-do list.”

  Rafferty leaned over, reaching for a plate to dry, and his elbow accidentally brushed against her breast.

  He froze at the same moment she sucked in a quick, sharp breath. The contact was not intentional. She knew that, but her body responded as if it had been a very deliberate attempt to arouse. Her nipples hardened and her stomach went sloppy soft and she forgot to breathe.

  Rafferty backed up fast and looked like he was about to sputter an apology, but then he said nothing.

  Ah, he was going to pretend it never happened. Good move. So would she. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  His eyes widened. “For what? The boob graze?” An unexpected sly grin played across his mouth and an impish spark lit his eyes. “My distinct pleasure.”

  She loved how he could surprise her, being so sweet one minute, a total guy the next. “Not the boob graze. I’m overlooking the boob graze. Unless you did it on purpose. Did you do it on purpose?”

  “Depends,” he quipped.

  “On what?”

  “Whether you liked it or not.” The impish light turned sultry. This man possessed raw sexual power that he was purposely keeping sheathed. His gaze swept over her and he curled his fingers into his palms. Struggling, she realized with a start, to keep his physical urges in check.

  Heat blistered her cheeks. She decided to ignore that comment and the hungry expression on his face. She wasn’t adept at flirtation. Had never been good at it. She tossed her head. “I was thanking you for giving Kyle some attention.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he pressed his palms against his outer thighs. He’d won whatever internal battle had been going on in his head.

  “It’s no big deal,” he said.

  She squeezed the damp dishcloth she hadn’t even realized she was clutching in her right hand. “Yes,” she said. “Yes it is. You’re teaching him sign language. That’s huge.”

  “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t pass on what I know about sign language?”

  “It’s your ranch foreman that’s deaf, correct?” she asked, steering the conversation far away from boob grazes and whether she liked them or not.

  He rested his back against the counter, legs splayed and arms crossed. “That’s right. Guillermo Santo. In fact, he’s the surprise I was telling you about. I’ve set up a Skype session with him for one o’clock our time.”

  “Really?” How truly wonderful it would be to have a discussion with a deaf person. Hopefully, Rafferty’s foreman could offer her insight into what life was like for the hearing impaired. She had so many questions. “That’s so kind of him to agree and you for setting it up.”

  “Guillermo’s a great guy.”

  “How does that work?”

  “Skype or talking to Guillermo?”

  “Speaking with Guillermo.”

  “Sign language. I translate. He prefers not to speak. He grew up in the Deaf community where oralism is discouraged.”

  “Oralism? Is that a real thing or are you just being dirty.” She surprised herself by teasing him.

  “Not that I can’t be dirty under the right circumstances.” He winked mischievously. “But in this case, I’m being serious. Oralism is the education of deaf students through the spoken word and lipreading. As opposed to manualism that advocates sign language.”

  “You were teaching Kyle both methods, weren’t you?”

  He nodded. “It’s just a stopgap measure until you can decide which way you want to educate your son. I can’t make that decision for you, but I wanted to communicate with him more effectively. Before we get hip deep into this, there’s a lot to consider.”

  She dropped the dishrag into the sink, dried her hands on a cup towel, and turned to face him. “Like what?”

  “Whether you want Kyle to learn sign language or not.”

  “Of course I want him to sign. Anything to help my son communicate.”

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Read those books I gave you. There’s a lot to consider on how you want to raise Kyle. Guillermo was brought up in the Deaf community. He had a deaf mother. Most deaf children are raised in hearing families where no one else is deaf. The Deaf community historically has preferred sign language, but deaf children who are raised more integrated with society are taught to prefer lipreading. People have very strong opinions on both sides of the fence.”

  She kneaded her temple against a forming headache. “I’ve got so much to learn.”

  “You can handle it.”

  Lissette wished she were as confident in her abilities. “Is he . . .” She swallowed. “Does Guillermo lead a normal life?”

  “He runs my ranch when I’m away. He’s married, got two kids of his own. Best ranch hand I ever had. I’d trust him with my life.”

  While they finished the cleanup, they talked about Rafferty’s ranch and his work in the movies, then discovered they shared the same favorite movie, Old Yeller. Neither one of them thought a movie date was complete without popcorn and a box of Sno-Caps.

  “I loved the movies when I was a kid,” Rafferty said. “It was the one place I could escape from my life. There was an old dollar theater down the street from where we lived. It had creaky wooden floors and dusty velvet curtains on the walls. I used to volunteer to sweep out the theater in exchange for free movie passes. I watched everything that came through there, even the titles in Spanish.”

  “I loved the movies too!” she exclaimed. “My mom would drop me and my friends off at noon on Saturday at the multiplex and she’d pick us up at six. We’d spend the day watching movies. I haven’t been to the theater in years.”

  “I don’t go much either,” he admitted. “Mostly it’s for the premiere of movies my horses starred in.”

  “That sounds so impressive.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just a job like any other.”

  “But you know movie stars.”

  “I’ve met them, sure, but we’re not best buddies or anything. Remember I’m just the hired help.”

  “How did you get into that line of work?”

  “I fell into training horses by accident. Never chose it as a career. Horses chose me. I love ’em. They’re such sensitive, intelligent creatures. My mother was dating a guy who ran horse stables. This was after Jake had come to visit and he’d told me about Gordon, so I had horses on the brain. This fella was one of my mother’s better companions until she screwed up that relationship. He took an interest in me. Hired me to muck out stalls. Even after he and Amelia broke up he let me hang around. I was good with horses right out of the gate. Horse sense is just one of those things you’re born with, I guess, like musical abilities. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was training horses for the movies.”

  “I bet you had a ton of girls chasing after you.”

  He looked sheepish. “Yeah, but I’m not easy.”

  “No?”

  “After raising my bipolar mother and making a few relationship mistakes, I got pretty choosy.”

  “That must have been tough.”

  “Mostly, I had to learn that it wasn’t normal to be the one to wake up your mother so she’d get to work on time and mix her hangover concoctions. I make a mean Bloody Mary.”

  “You’ve worked hard your whole life.”

  “That’s not a bad thing. I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “You never had a childhood.”

  “No,” he agreed, but there was no acrimony in his voice. He didn’t blame anyone. He simply accepted things the way they were. “What was your childhood like?”

  “Normal. Happy.”

  “You were lucky.”

  “Yes. I was lucky then. Not so lucky now.” Her gaze strayed to Kyle. She moved to the table to put the remainder of the barbecue along with the
sauce in the paper bag and left it on the kitchen table so Rafferty could take it back to his apartment to have for later. Will I ever be lucky again?

  He came over to her, lowered his voice. “You’ve had a very rough patch, but things are going to get better. Just you wait and see.”

  This strong sense of connection bamboozled her. He seemed to be able to read her mind. To understand her in a way she’d never quite felt understood. She barely knew him and she’d shared far too much with him over the course of the past two days. He’d arrived at exactly the wrong time in her life.

  Or at exactly the right time.

  “It’s almost one,” he said. “Do you have a computer we can use or should I go get my laptop?”

  “I’ve got a notebook computer. We can go into the living room.” She ushered Kyle into the living room ahead of her. Her notebook computer was sitting on the bookcase. She gave it to Rafferty, who set it up on the coffee table and readied the Skype session.

  “How did you learn sign language?” she asked him.

  “Guillermo taught me.”

  “That says a lot about you. Most people wouldn’t have bothered. They would have just hired a hearing ranch foreman.”

  “What Guillermo lacks in hearing, he makes up for in the way he handles horses. He’s got a natural talent with animals.”

  “Just like you.”

  “It’s how we bonded. Over our mutual love of horses.”

  Lissette sat beside Rafferty on the couch. Kyle balanced on her knee. Keyed up, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Something akin to stage fright bit into her. This was it. Her first step to shattering the invisible glass wall between herself and her son.

  Guillermo Santo was a fortyish, stalky, black-haired Hispanic with somber dark eyes and perfect white teeth that flashed brightly whenever he offered up a smile. He wore a checkered Western-cut shirt and a battered straw cowboy hat. His hands moved at a speed so dazzling that Lissette had no idea how Rafferty kept up with him.

  A sick feeling weighted the pit of her stomach. Sign language looked so complicated. How would she ever learn what it all meant?