Page 18 of Mistletoe Cowboy

“He’s somebody’s pet?” Teddie asked.

“My sarge. He’s a wildlife rehabilitator. Two Toes lives with him, though, because the old wolf can’t be released into the wild. He’d die.”

“I remember now,” Katy said. “You told me about him.”

“I did,” he agreed.

“That’s so sad,” Teddie said. “I’m sorry I screamed. I was really scared. He came out of nowhere.”

“Everybody gets scared sometimes. It’s not a big deal,” he said softly, and smiled at her.

“Okay. I’m going inside. It’s cold!” Teddie said.

“It is. You don’t even have a jacket on,” he chided.

Teddie just laughed.

He looked up at Katy. “You’re not wearing one, either.”

“She screamed and I came running,” she said. “I didn’t think about how cold it was.” She looked frightened and sad and almost defeated.

He came up onto the porch, towering over her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She drew in an unsteady breath. “Life,” she said simply, fighting tears.

He pulled her gently into his arms, wrapped her up like treasure, and just rocked her. “Let it out. It’s hard being the strongest person in your whole family. We all need a moment’s weakness to remind us that life is like a prism, with many facets.”

“Or like Schrodinger’s cat?” she mumbled into his denim jacket.

He chuckled. “Who’s been talking?”

“Teddie. She heard you talking to somebody about a cat in a box and an Einstein-Rosen bridge.”

“Heavy stuff.”

“Very heavy. Way over my head.”

“Mine, too, at first. But I loved the concept of invisible numbers and tangents and cosine and stuff like that. Ate it like candy.”

She drew back and looked up at him. He seemed different and she couldn’t decide why until she realized that his hair, his thick, soft, black hair was loose. It flowed over his shoulders and down his back like silk.

“Your hair’s down,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “I was getting ready for bed when Sarge called. He’s missing an arm and sometimes it bothers him at night. He asked if I’d go hunt for Two Toes, so I left supper hanging and came running. Driving. Whatever.”

“Supper at this hour?”

“I don’t live a conventional life,” he said. “Supper’s whenever I feel like fixing it. But tonight it was oatmeal.” He made a face. “I think I’ll pass on reheating it.”

“If you’ll come in, I can make you a nice ham and cheese sandwich. I even have lettuce and mayo.”

His eyebrows arched. “All that on one sandwich?” he asked with a smile.

“All that.”

“Okay. Thanks. But I have to take sweetums home to Sarge first.”

“I’ll be making the sandwich while you’re driving. Want coffee?”

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