Free A Cowboy's Heart by Brenda Minton Page B

she could handle.
    â€œOkay, one slice.” She took the plate with the pizza. Clint handed her a fork.
    â€œYou’ll like it better if you just pick it up and eat it. But I have a feeling you’re a knife-and-fork girl.”
    She didn’t take the fork. “Don’t make assumptions, Clint Cameron.”
    The pizza was hot, but she picked it up and took a bite. And she wasn’t sorry that she had. She smiled at the boys as she pulled the slice away, cheese stringing along behind it.
    â€œOkay, I admit it, pizza is good.”
    Clint put another slice on her plate and moved her salad aside. “Some things grow on a person.”
    Yes, some things did.
    They were finishing lunch when Clint stood and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. Willow moved David’s cup away from the edge of the table and shot a glance in the direction of the man walking away from them, the phone to his ear and his conversation lost to her.
    â€œWhat kind of ice cream would you all like when we get to the ice cream parlor?” Willow smiled at Timmy, who licked sauce off his fingers and then reached for his soda. She handed him a napkin.
    â€œI like bubble-gum-flavored.” Timmy blew bubbles into his soda with his straw and spoke out of one corner of his mouth.
    Willow couldn’t have heard correctly. “Bubble gum?”
    He nodded, “Ice cream.”
    It sounded disgusting. David didn’t answer. His gaze held hers and she saw the tears form. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
    â€œI like chocolate, and my mom puts stuff on it,” he whispered,and his thumb went to his mouth. A look from Timmy, and he pulled it back.
    Willow pulled him close and wanted to hold him forever, because she understood how it felt to lose something important. And she couldn’t begin to know how a four-year-old could cope with that loss. Even if it was only temporary. He was a baby who needed his mommy to tuck him in, to tell him stories and sing to him.
    Willow had always wanted to be someone’s mommy.
    How did she tell a child that God understood, and that time really did heal? How could she promise him that God would bring his mom home safe?
    David’s sun-browned arms wrapped around her neck. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she pulled back. Clint stood next to her, his concerned gaze on her, and then on his nephew.
    â€œThat was the nursing home. They’re having problems with my dad. I need to see if I can help them calm him down. Or give permission for them to take him to the hospital.”
    â€œDo you want me to stay with the boys? I could take them home.”
    He shook his head and his gaze lingered on Timmy first and then David. He was carrying the weight of the world on broad shoulders, but were they broad enough? His sister gone, his dad sick, and two boys who needed him.
    How did he manage to take care of everyone, and himself?
    â€œYou could drop us off at the ice cream parlor,” she suggested, hoping to make it easier for him, hoping he would see that she could handle two boys and ice cream.
    He shook his head again at first, but then he smiled. “Okay, I’ll drop you off. This shouldn’t take long. And if it does, I’ll text you.”
    Text, not call. She smiled. “Okay, it’s a plan.”
    When she walked through the doors of the ice cream parlor with two little boys, each holding a hand, she felt a funny leapin her heart. For a short time, she could fill this role in their life. She could be the soft touch.
    It was easy, dealing with them, loving them. They were safe.
    Â 
    Clint’s dad had dementia. They’d explained it to him before, about small strokes and alcohol. But he didn’t always grasp the reality of it until days like today, when his dad was angry at the world. He had thrown apple cake at a nurse’s aide, made rude comments to one of the other residents and then fought with his nurse.
    It didn’t