Catching Calhoun. Tina Leonard
Crawling into the bed inside the trailer, Olivia slipped between her kids. They curled up next to her, as they always did, making her relax with contentment. Here was what mattered to her heart. Kenny and Minnie: the best part of her life.
At the other end of the trailer, she could hear her father snoring as he took his nap. Everything was in its place. In a little while, she’d take the kids to see tonight’s fun. There would be face painting and art exhibits and other exciting things for them to do—and she was going to forget all about Calhoun and his effect on her.
She was going to forget everything except his kiss. That had been a surprise, making her tingle all over. Even if Calhoun was a bad thing for her, his kiss had been very good.
He need not ever know exactly how one simple kiss had changed her awareness of herself. Today, she felt as if life was starting all over again.
She was glad she’d slapped him for being a horse’s ass, though.
“I SHOULD KISS HER AGAIN,” Calhoun told himself when he saw Olivia and her kids wander into the exhibit pavilion that evening. “And then tell her I’d been tweaking the truth just a wee bit.”
But she’d asked him to stay away from her kids because they were seekers of some kind. He frowned, wondering what they needed so bad that they had a habit of trolling for men. It didn’t matter. Olivia was with her kids, and she’d asked him not to be friendly with them, so no kissie-kissie, duck-the-slappie for him tonight.
“Nice paintings,” a man said.
“Thanks.” Calhoun nodded. “Been painting all my life.”
“You’ve done some beautiful work.” The short cowboy had a little daughter with him, Calhoun noticed, and he hoped the child wasn’t affected by all the nudes. She was pretty young, and she was busy with the cotton candy that was smudging her face with pink webs of sugar. Calhoun exercised his right to be friendly with the child. “Hey,” he said, lifting the girl onto a barrel so that she could sit and eat her cotton candy—and be out of range of the paintings while her father shopped. “Keep my chair warm for me, would you, princess?” he asked.
She giggled and smiled at him, and Calhoun felt momentarily sad that he couldn’t enjoy the company of Kenny and Minnie this way. They’d had a good repartee going—something he didn’t expect to have with young children—and he was surprised to find that he missed them.
“DID YOU SEE THAT?” Kenny asked Minnie as they spied on Calhoun across the pavilion. “That little girl is shopping for Calhoun.”
“I don’t think so,” Minnie said, making certain their mother’s attention was on merchandise in one of the makeshift booths. “She has a father with her. Now if she had her mother with her, I’d say she might be shopping for him—”
“I don’t see why we can’t talk to him,” Kenny grumbled. “He’s nice.”
“Yeah.” Minnie certainly agreed that the cowboy was nice. So she understood Kenny’s concern. They’d sort of chosen Calhoun for themselves. And they didn’t like sharing, especially not with a little girl who was younger and cuter, who wore a pretty pink dress and white ankle socks with lacy edges, and who had blond ringlets and cotton candy.
Minnie’s lips pressed together as she looked down at her overalls and scuffed shoes. Did she remember to use her hairbrush today? Momma always said she should, and usually Momma made sure of it, but tonight her mind had been elsewhere, and Minnie had taken advantage of that to slip out without brushing. Self-consciously, she ran her hand over her long hair, smoothing it, then spit on her hand to flatten down Kenny’s hair.
“She’s already got a father,” Kenny said. “I want to go push her off that barrel.”
Minnie stopped her spit adjustment of Kenny’s bristly head. “She does seem to have everything.” Feeling badly for her jealousy, she glanced toward her mother, who had moved to the next booth. “Sometimes life doesn’t feel quite fair.”
“We need a father,” Kenny said stubbornly.
“We have Grandpa.”
“Yes, but if he’s getting too old to jump in and out of barrels, then…”
Then what else might he be too old for? Minnie thought. Playing? Living? She glanced back over to Calhoun, then gasped as she saw him painting something on the little girl’s plump cheeks. “Come on,” she said to Kenny, “I can’t see when we’re this far away!”
“I CAN PAINT A WOMAN on a saddle for you,” Calhoun said, “but I’m afraid it won’t last.”
“Still,” the man replied, “my butt will be happy while she does, if you know what I mean. And it’s probably longer than most real-life women last.”
Calhoun held back a grimace. Rough as the Jefferson household could be, he was pretty certain a man didn’t talk about naked women in front of a child.
“Let me see your unicorn, sweetie,” he said, as he finished the last strokes of sparkly paint he was applying to her cheek. “It’s almost as pretty as you,” he told her, though he’d wager cotton candy would be dulling the sparkle in no time. The child seemed very impressed with her treat, and not as impressed with Calhoun’s rendering on her face, but he figured with both of his customers happy, the world was good.
At least he thought so, until he saw two little faces peering at him from behind an easel that held a large portrait.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, pocketing the money he’d been paid. “I’ll get on that saddle right away.”
The man grinned, taking his daughter by the hand. “I can’t wait to see what you can do.”
Calhoun waited until the customer was gone, then glanced around. No Olivia. “Okay, you two, come on out.”
They did, rather sheepishly. “What are you up to now?” he asked.
Minnie blinked at him. “I want a sparkly unicorn on my face.”
“And I want a sparkly deer,” Kenny said. “A reindeer. Like Santa has.”
“Er—” Calhoun squirmed. How could he turn them down? And yet, he couldn’t go against their mother’s wishes. “Where is your mom?”
“Over there,” Minnie said airily. “Don’t worry. She won’t want her face painted.”
“Yeah. You can just do us.” Kenny beamed.
Calhoun sighed. “You two are a pack of trouble, you know it? Your mother says I’m to stay out of your clutches.”
Minnie nodded. “And we’re not to bug you.”
“Bug me?” Calhoun cleaned a paintbrush. “Bug isn’t the word I’d use. And I don’t think that was the word your mom used. Was it?”
“No.” Kenny frowned thoughtfully. “She said we were not to take up your time. Which means ‘bug.’”
Calhoun shifted as he thought through his dilemma. Should he tell the children to go away? That would hurt their feelings. He’d seen the look in Minnie’s eyes as she’d watched him painting the little girl’s face. He’d seen a lot in that moment. “Hey,” he said suddenly, “what exactly is it you two want from me, besides some face painting? Tell the truth.”
“We told you,” Minnie said. “We think you’d make an awesome barrel act with Gypsy on account of how fast you can run. But,” she sighed, “now Kenny’s decided you’d make a better father.”
Calhoun halted. “Father?” He glanced at Kenny.
The kids shrugged at him. “Maybe,” Kenny said. “I’m thinking ’bout it.”
Whoa. Olivia would freak if she heard her son say that! “Ah, okay. Here’s the deal. This is my price for face painting.”