“Nina, it would be a real shame for you to miss out on the Hidden Gem’s blueberry cobbler. How about I bring some by this evening?” He held up a hand. “And before you accuse me of being some cowboy Casanova with ulterior motives, we’ll stay out on the porch where you can hear your son if he wakes up. And the porch will be very public, so there’s no cause to worry about me making a move.”
“Does this kind of service always come with the camp registration?”
“No, ma’am. This is just for you.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you at nine tonight.”
* * *
He didn’t have a plan yet on how to persuade Nina Lowery to sell her stocks to him. He was going on instinct with her, except right now his gut didn’t want to maneuver her anywhere but to bed...or on a walk.
What the hell was his grandmother thinking bringing a woman and her special-needs son here under false pretenses? There were a dozen other ways this could have been handled, but all those honest means were no longer an option now that she was already here.
At dinner, he’d considered just coming clean with her right away. Then he’d seen her eyes light up when he’d come to sit with her. The next thing he knew, he was chatting with her, digging himself in deeper until it was going to be one heck of a tangle to get himself out. If he told her now, she would shut him down, which would be bad for his grandmother and quite frankly, bad for him. He wanted to get to know her better. Maybe if he understood her, he would know the best way to approach her.
He couldn’t deny that she was skittish. That much he knew for sure, sensed it the way he sensed when a horse was about to bolt.
Damn.
She definitely wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a horse, but he’d realized long ago, his instincts with animals served him well in dealing with people too. He needed to approach carefully, take his time, get a sense of her.
Learn more about her.
Then he would know how to proceed. And that didn’t stop the pump of anticipation over seeing Nina. He secured the two bags in his grip—the promised dessert.
He scanned the line of cabins that held the campers. Most of the buildings were two-bedrooms. He’d searched through the paperwork to learn she was staying in number eight. Katydids buzzed a full-out Texas symphony in the quiet night, allowing only muffled sounds coming from the lodge’s guest lanai. Guests had already begun to arrive for his cousin’s wedding. Between them and the campers, the place would be packed by Friday.
Spare time was in short supply. Alex stood at the bottom of the three steps in front of cabin number eight, eyeing the pair of rockers on the porch, exactly the same style as the ones on his family’s longer wraparound that held a half dozen rocking chairs and four porch swings.
Guilt pinched his conscience again.
His grandmother had always been a woman of honor and manners. He couldn’t figure out why she’d come up with such an underhanded test for him. It just didn’t make sense, and his grandmother had always been logical, methodical. Could the cancer be clouding her judgment in spite of the doctor’s reassurance otherwise?
But Alex wasn’t ready to lead the charge to declare her unfit. That was a step he simply couldn’t take. He would ride this out, play along and hope like hell an answer came to him soon.
He stepped up the wooden stairs, his boots thudding. He rapped his knuckles on the door, not wanting to wake Nina’s son. He heard her footsteps approach, pause, then walk again until there was no question that she stood just on the other side of the door. But it didn’t open.
Definitely skittish.
Finally she opened the door, angling outside and making it clear he wasn’t coming in. She wore the same jeans and boots from earlier but had changed into a formfitting T-shirt with “hello” in multiple languages. Her hair was free from the ponytail, flowing around her shoulders in loose red curls.
God, he could lose himself for hours running his hands through her hair, feeling it brush along his skin. “Cobbler’s warm and the ice cream’s still cold. Shall we sit?”
“Yes, thank you.” She gestured to the rockers, studying him with a wary smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He stopped. “Do you want me to leave?”
She glanced back over her shoulder, her hair swishing, enticing. “You’re already here and I wouldn’t want to deny you your dessert. Have a seat.” She gestured to the table between them. “I set out some iced tea.”
He thought of his talk with his grandmother earlier, the shared tea, so few moments like that left with her. “Sweet tea?”
“The kind that was waiting for me in the fridge, compliments of your staff.”
“Sweet tea is Southern ambrosia.” He placed the containers on the end table between the rockers.
“One of my favorite things about moving down South.” She cradled the glass in her hands, those long slim fingers drawing his eyes to her.
He cleared his throat. “What brought you to Texas?”
“How do you know I’m not from another Southern state?” She set her drink aside and took the container with her dessert, spooning ice cream on top.
“I saw your application.” He could confess that much at least.
Her delicate eyebrows shot up. “Is that ethical?”
“It’s not illegal, and I can’t deny I wanted to know more about you. I still do.”
“I guess I’ll forgive you. This time.” She ate a bite of cobbler, a sensual hmm vibrating from her as she closed her eyes.
Her pleasure sent hot lava through his veins.
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t read much of your application.” But only because he’d been interrupted. “Just enough to make sure I got the right cabin so I can learn the rest on my own, asking you, getting to know you better while you’re here. Are your rooms comfortable?”
“The place is perfect. Hardly roughing it.” Smiling, she dug into her dessert with gusto.
“Hidden Gem works hard to keep authenticity to the experience while providing comfort. It may be a hobby ranch, but it’s not a resort.” He joined her in eating even though he’d had some earlier. Sharing the food with her here in the dark night was...intimate.
“I can see the special charm of the Hidden Gem. And hear it.”
“What do you mean?” He glanced at her, surprised.
“I can’t believe how peaceful this place is. That’s important for my son, keeping the stimuli manageable,” she said matter-of-factly.
“For his autism?” he asked carefully.
“Yes, it’s moderate.” She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve noticed his verbal impairment. He’s advanced academically, especially in areas of interest like art and reading. He’s only four, but he can lose himself in a book. Reading soothes him, actually...I didn’t mean to ramble.”
“I want to know more. I apologize if I’m being too nosy.”
“Not at all. I would rather people ask than harbor misconceptions, or worse yet, pass judgment without any knowledge.” She sagged back in her chair, dessert container resting on her lap. “I knew something wasn’t right from the start, but my ex-husband and his family insisted he was just colicky. Then his verbal skills lagged and he couldn’t initiate even the most basic social interaction with other children... We had to face facts. I had get help for him even if that caused a rift with my husband.”
Her maternal instincts, that mama bear ferocity, spoke to him. He admired the hell out of that, even as he realized his grandmother might well