“Dusty’s with me now.”
“What do you mean, with you?”
“He’s going to be bunking with me,” Cole said.
“But what about when you leave town?”
His gaze locked on hers. “Who says I’m leaving?”
She ignored the hidden meaning. “You will eventually.”
“We’ll see.” His expression grew serious. “In the meantime, my friend Dusty here needs a bath.”
The boy groaned. “I ain’t that dirty.”
Rebecca had to bite back a smile. She took the child’s grimy hand in her own and studied the fingernails encrusted with dirt. The boy desperately needed looking after. “What is it about boys? Mac hates baths, too.”
Dusty sniffed. “Who’s he?”
“My son,” she said tugging him by the hand and leading him toward the kitchen. “He kicks and squirms, especially when I wash his hair.”
Dusty shook his head. “You ain’t washing my hair.”
Cole followed behind. “You’re getting scrubbed head to toe.”
Rebecca directed Dusty to a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll cut you a piece of cherry pie while the water heats.”
A wide grin split Dusty’s face. “Cherry’s my favorite.”
“I thought it might be.”
Rebecca made fast work of cutting the pie and pouring a tall glass of milk. She set both in front of Dusty and then pulled a long copper tub from under the sink.
Cole was at her side in an instant. He reached for the tub’s sleek edge, his fingers brushing hers. “I’ll help.”
She glanced sharply up at him. “I’ll see to the boy’s bath.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he weighed the truth of her words. Then he seemed to accept what she’d said and he nodded. “I’ll help you.”
“Hey! Can I have more pie?” Dusty called out.
Rebecca glanced up to see his mouth smeared with red cherry juice. “Help yourself, Dusty.”
The boy grinned, quickly cut another slice and plopped it on his plate. Cherry juice dribbled from the edge of the knife onto the table and the boy dabbed it up with his fingertips, which he licked clean.
Rebecca turned to the sink and pumped cool springwater into a cast-iron pot, but when she turned to carry it to the stove, Cole whisked it from her hands.
“You’re taking on a big responsibility with Dusty,” she warned.
“I know.”
Rebecca lit the stove. An old bitterness crept into her words. “A lot of men walk away from their families without a backward glance.”
“Not me,” Cole said clearly.
She could feel his gaze boring into her, but she didn’t dare look up. “You don’t know the first thing about being a father.”
“I’ll learn.”
Until you get bored or the itch to move on. A retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. It would be foolish to engage Cole McGuire in an argument.
An uneasy silence fell on the room as the water warmed on the stove. Rebecca excused herself to retrieve soap and a towel. When she returned, Cole had filled the tub and coaxed Dusty into the water.
The boy scowled, his arms folded over his chest in silent mutiny. Without his clothes, he looked smaller, like a rain-soaked dog.
Rebecca rolled up her sleeves and knelt by the tub. “Dusty, you look upset.”
“I am, ma’am. Ain’t natural to bathe.”
Cole knelt on the other side of the tub. He had rolled up his sleeves, exposing strong forearms matted with a thick blanket of hair.
Rebecca stared at his long fingers as he dipped them in the water and scooped up a handful of water that he splashed into Dusty’s sunken chest. For an instant, the image of those fingers touching her naked flesh flashed in her mind. She caught her breath at the thought, feeling both foolish and strangely alive at the same time.
She focused on the bar of handmade soap in her hand and dunked it into the water. Building a thick lather, she layered Dusty’s dirty skin with it.
Cole’s fingers again touched hers when he reached for the soap and she snatched her hand away so quickly she dropped the bar. It plopped into the water and splashed Cole’s face.
He wiped the water from his eyes and she mumbled an apology and rose to her feet. “I’ll get a pitcher and pour water on his head.”
“Ain’t I clean enough yet?” Dusty complained.
“No,” Rebecca answered as she returned with the pitcher. She dunked the pitcher under the water, filled it, then dumped its contents on Dusty’s head. The boy sputtered and cursed a string of words that would shock a seasoned cowhand.
“Boy, don’t talk like that when there’s a lady present,” Cole growled.
Dusty glared at Cole then Rebecca. “She dunked water on my head!”
Cole lathered the boy’s wet hair. “Stop your bellyaching. You’re nearly fit for company and I don’t intend to stop until every speck of dirt is off that body of yours.”
A lock of Cole’s hair had fallen over his forehead and his eyes gleamed. The gentler expression changed his entire appearance. Her heart softened a fraction, making her wonder again if she’d made the right decision in lying to Cole.
Rebecca ruthlessly shoved aside the doubts and focused on Dusty. Ten minutes later, she dumped the last of the water on him. The bath water was a cloudy gray, but Dusty’s skin was a pale pink, and his dark hair had miraculously grown a shade lighter.
Cole held out the towel for Dusty. “Come on, boy, let’s get you out of the tub.”
Dusty moved to rise but froze when he looked up at Rebecca. His face turned a deep shade of pink. “Ma’am.”
Rebecca, accustomed to bathing her child, hesitated and stared at him in confusion.
Cole cleared his throat. “My friend here needs a bit of privacy.”
“Oh,” she said. She bit back a grin and turned. “Dusty, I laid out clothes for you upstairs in the nursery. They belonged to a boarder who left them behind. They may be a bit big, but they are clean.”
Cole cleared his throat. “What do you say, boy?”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You can turn around now,” Cole said.
Rebecca turned to discover Dusty wrapped in a large white towel and his damp hair stuck up. Though he still wore a pained expression, she sensed he enjoyed feeling clean.
A lump formed in her throat. “Go on upstairs.”
“Yes’m.”
When he was out of earshot, Cole cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for the clothes and whatever your costs are for the boy.”
“I wouldn’t dream of taking your money.”
He unrolled his sleeve and fastened the buttons at his wrist. “That’s a switch.”
“I’m doing this for Dusty’s sake, not yours.”
“You never struck me as the charitable type.”
His words stung. “I would never turn a child away.”
“Did you take Lily in, too, when no on else would?”
Rebecca ignored his question. She concentrated on the tub and fished the soap out, not sure enough of herself to look at him. “Dusty’s got a good heart,” she said changing the subject. “I can see it in his eyes.”
Cole frowned as if he understood her ploy. “You’re right. But the kid can argue.”
Rebecca put the soap in a small bowl on the table. “He’s just afraid.”
“Like you.”
Chapter Seven
Rebecca was afraid.
But she faced Cole McGuire to prove to them both that she could handle her fear and him. “I know a frightened child when I see one.”
His water-splattered shirt clung to his chest. Eyes the color of jade bored into her. “He’s got me now.”
The corner of her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Dusty’s been hurt too much. He believes you’ll leave at the first sign of trouble.”
“I gave him my word I wouldn’t.”
“Words are easy to spout, even easier to forget.”
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“You believe I’ll leave.” The words sounded like an accusation.
She raised her trembling chin. “Yes.”
“Like your first husband.”
“Yes.”
Cole advanced a step. “Don’t confuse him with me.”
“You two are more alike than you think.”