“What’s that face for?”
“Remembering the antics me and Dylan used to pull at her age.”
“And hoping Maddy isn’t doing the same?”
“Maybe.”
“Girls aren’t as mischievous as boys, in general. They’re probably doing each other’s nails and soaking their feet.”
“Soaking their feet?”
“Pedicures, silly.”
He wasn’t even sure what that was. Boy, did he have a lot to learn. “Maddy’s never painted her nails.” At least, he didn’t think so. Would he have even noticed? “Hope that’s all she’s doing.”
“Can’t keep her on a leash, you know. Kids need a little space. Besides, you survived your childhood antics.”
“As did you.”
Abigail smiled, and Wade was struck by her beauty. So much for sitting across from her.
“Manicures and bead-making can hardly be counted as antics.” Her smile slid slowly from her face, then she took a bite of omelet, her eyes taking on a faraway look.
Wade wondered if she was thinking of her friend, the one who’d been abused by her father. He was sorry he’d mentioned it.
“She’ll probably stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow,” Wade said.
“Probably. Guess you’re in for a quiet day.”
“Have to work on the truck anyway.”
“You’ll fix it yourself?”
“Me and Dylan.” Wade was good with the basics, but Dylan had never met a mechanical problem he couldn’t fix. Saved Wade loads in repair bills over the years.
“He’ll probably give you the same advice I did.”
That he should sell his truck? Never. “He knows better.”
“What is it with men and their trucks anyway?” Her green eyes twinkled.
Her teasing boosted his spirits, and he told himself it was just the pleasure of friendship. “We get attached. Perfectly normal.”
“It’s a chunk of steel. Well, steel and rust, in your case.”
“Hey . . . below the belt.”
Abigail shrugged. “Call it like I see it.” Her full smile was dazzling. There was no other word for it. Wade couldn’t look away if he wanted to. And he didn’t.
“So what else are you attached to?” she asked, her tone light.
“My ranch and my daughter . . . God.” All he needed, right there.
“You never go out on weekends. No woman in the wings? Like Marla from Pappy’s Market? She’s crushing on you, you know. Asks about you every time I’m in.”
Knowing Marla was prying Abigail for information embarrassed him. He wiped his mouth, then sipped his milk, trying to hide his discomfort. “Not seeing anyone at the moment.”
“You’re blushing.”
Daggonit. “Cowboys don’t blush.”
“Au contraire.”
She didn’t have to enjoy it so much. “Marla’s not my type.” He couldn’t shift the limelight soon enough. “What about you? Someone waiting for you back in the Windy City?” His intense longing for a negative answer surprised him. Abigail hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, and she didn’t give off taken vibes, though she had turned down Dylan.
“Not at the moment,” she said after she swallowed. “Haven’t dated seriously since college, but I do date.” She stabbed her empty fork at the air. “What’s your excuse?” That flirtatious smile again.
“I need an excuse?”
“You’re a healthy, virile single man. Do you know your market value out there? It goes up each year, you know. Women get more desperate as the good ones get taken.”
He refused to admit how much that word virile pleased him. “You don’t exactly seem on the hunt for a ‘good one.’”
“I’m looking, but I’m picky. Haven’t found one that matches up to my daddy yet. ’Course I may just pick my way into perpetual spinsterhood.”
He smiled. “Can’t see that happening.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She forked a piece of ham.
“Which was . . . ?”
“Why don’t you date? Moose Creek is small, but there’s a handful of pretty single women. Or have you dated them all?”
He hadn’t dated any of them, but wasn’t about to admit it. “Too busy with the ranch and Maddy. Relationships take time.”
“The good ones are worth it. Your busy schedule aside, don’t you think Maddy would like a mother?”
He pressed his lips together. Their conversation had taken a bad turn. She was getting personal. He ignored her question and took another gulp of milk instead.
She didn’t take the hint. “You hire people to do the things a mother would do. If you found someone you loved, it would remove a burden, not add to it.”
“You applying for the job?”
Abigail sputtered on a sip of milk.
Look who was blushing now. He probably shouldn’t have said it, but she’d asked for it. He was feeling a little uncomfortable himself after the leading question—what if she said yes?
“No . . .” Abigail said after recovering from her coughing spell. “I am not applying for the job. Sheesh. Clearly a touchy subject.”
“Very discerning.”
She made a face that reminded him of the one Maddy made when she was about to stick out her tongue.
They finished eating in silence, and Wade regretted putting her on the spot. Now things felt awkward. Well, what did he expect? There was enough friction between them to start a forest fire, always had been. From day one, he’d been attracted to her. What did he think he was doing, hiring someone like Abigail to live under the same roof? Like playing with fire. A subject he knew a little about, he thought with a self-deprecating smirk.
At least the night was almost over. They’d go to their separate rooms, and tomorrow Maddy would return and things would go back to normal.
Abigail stood and placed her dishes in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the omelet. It was good.” She rubbed her bare arms.
Probably cold from sitting in his broken-down truck so long. “You can turn up the heat.” Wade stacked his dishes in the dishwasher.
“You don’t mind? Or, hey, how about a fire? I’ve never had a fireplace. On cold Chicago nights I fantasize about curling up in front of a big stone fireplace.”
Wade followed her into the living room, trying to curb his own fantasies, which had nothing to do with a fireplace.
Get a grip, Ryan. “You’ll be up awhile?”
“Couple hours. I can start it.”
“No offense, Grace, but I want to wake to a standing house.”
She made that face again, but it was starting to grow on him. She could stay up all she wanted. Soon as he got this fire going, he was heading for the hills before he did something stupid. He brought wood in from the pile out back, opened the flue, and started stacking.
“I can’t believe how chilly it gets at night,” she said, settling on the sofa. “Summer nights back home are mild, but it must be in the forties tonight.”
“Temperatures vary more here. It was a change for me too.” One last log, then he’d get this puppy burning and skedaddle.
“You must’ve been a Boy Scout.”
Wade struck a match and lit the newspaper wads on the bottom. “Not even close.” He encouraged the flame with a breath until it caught on a dried twig.
Rising to his feet, he drew the mesh curtains, then set the screen in front of the opening. “Leave the flue open when you go to bed. Just make sure the fire’s died down.”
“Where you going?”
“Bed.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I thought we could talk.”
She was curled into the corner of the sofa like a lazy cat, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders. Her beguiling eyes, wide and innocent, tempted him.
Talk about playing with fire. “Have to get up early.”
“I thought you might want to talk about how Maddy’s doing, since she’s not here.”
She knew all his buttons. T
he fire crackled and popped as the kindling caught fire. “What about her?”
“She’s hitting that, uh, awkward stage. Lots of changes are coming . . . ?”
Son of a gun. His knees gave out and he sank onto the chair. He did not want to go there with Abigail. “Changes?” His voice produced a squeak he hadn’t heard since puberty.
Abigail laughed. “It’s coming soon enough, ready or not. Has anyone had those talks with her?”
He knew he should’ve, but . . . “The school?”
“You can’t leave it up to them. You haven’t addressed the topic?”
He was a bad father. “Not really.” She used to ask him questions about sex, but he’d mostly dodged them. Not good, Ryan.
Maddy must’ve given up, because she hadn’t asked any of those questions in a while. Maybe now she was too embarrassed. Abigail was right. The kid was nearing that age. But how awkward would that be? What would Maddy even say if he tried?
“I take it by the terrified look on your face that you wouldn’t mind my addressing such issues with her.”
Whew. “Be my guest.”
“Happy to be of service.”
When he darted a look her way, the corner of her mouth was tipped up. Fine, be amused. She didn’t realize how hard it was being a single dad to a daughter. Harder than it looked. Especially when it came to touchy topics.
“The fire’s nice,” Abigail said. She stared into the glowing grate as if lost in thought. “Reminds me of camping out when I was young.”
“You camped?” He couldn’t picture it.
She tipped her chin over the afghan. “Yes, I camped. Well, only once, but we did have a campfire.”
“What’s wrong, the bears scare you away?”
“Actually, a rainstorm came and flooded our tent. We had to pack up and leave in the middle of the night.”
“Maddy loved camping when she was little. I haven’t taken her since we moved here.”
“You should. She’d enjoy that.”
He really should. In a couple years she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
“Maybe we could all go.”
Trapped in a tent with Abigail all night? He didn’t think so. The thought made him squirm. Even from across the room, the subtle scent of her perfume summoned him.
“We can be friends, right?” she asked.
Was he that transparent? She must not feel the same stirrings he did if she thought they could be friends.
“Nothing personal, Abigail. I just don’t let women too close.”
He felt her eyes on him and wished he hadn’t said it, was afraid he’d given too much away.
“Strange thing for a man to say.”
“Not a man with my past.” Too much again. Who was this woman who always managed to loosen his tongue?
“Is this about your late wife?”
She wasn’t going to leave it alone. Irritation kindled inside, but then he looked at her and saw nothing but compassion in those shadowed eyes. She wasn’t trying to conjure up bad memories, she just wanted to understand. Besides, the soothing tone of her voice drew it from him.
“Losing Lizzie was hard. After she died, I decided it’s best I just keep to myself, for everyone’s sake.”
The fire crackled and sizzled beside him, and its golden glow danced and shimmied over Abigail’s features.
“It was terrible, what happened to your wife. But you can’t let that keep you from living.”
“I am living.” He was just doing it alone. Just him and Maddy.
“Most men wouldn’t call it living,” she said. “Most men wouldn’t make it a year.”
“Most men don’t have my self-control.”
“How do you do it?”
“I don’t touch.” He set his jaw. Couldn’t believe he’d let that slip out. Judging by her look, she couldn’t either.
“Not at all?” What was that in her tone? Compassion? Pity? Great, just what he wanted.
Maybe now she’d understand. Maybe now she’d stop looking at him in a way that made him wish he’d never put that rule in place at all.
She let the subject die, and he was grateful. Just as well he went to bed before he spilled anything else, before the compassion in Abigail’s eyes pulled him over to the sofa and made him forget his rule.
“Think I’ll turn in now.” The recliner groaned as his weight left it.
Her lips turned up in a sad smile. “’Night.” Her soft reply was like a beckoning finger, but he resisted. All the way up the stairs. All the way behind his bedroom door, which he locked for good measure. Keeping Abigail out of his room was easy. Keeping her out of his heart was a whole other matter.
24
After church and lunch with Aunt Lucy, Abigail walked toward the ranch, down the long, winding lane. Aunt Lucy had offered to drive, but Abigail needed the exercise. Besides, the day was mild and sunny, and she was in no hurry to reach the ranch.
Even though she hadn’t gotten any real answers last night, it was clear that Wade was hurting. After he retired, she’d read the Moose Creek Chronicle, then picked up Wade’s current issue of Livestock Weekly, which sat on the oak coffee table. The format was boring, and the cattle business was more complicated than she’d thought. She didn’t understand half the articles but sifted through them anyway to help her understand the man she was so drawn to.
No, she corrected. The man she was writing about. The man who was the subject of her investigation.
When the fire had died to an orange glow, Abigail retreated to her room and turned on her laptop. She needed to start her column even if she didn’t have all the details. She opened a Word document and started typing. She had no more than a paragraph when Wade’s words flashed in her mind, stopping her fingers.
“After she died, I decided it’s best I just keep to myself, for everyone’s sake.”
The way he’d said it made her heart ache. It was as if he thought he was contagious. Did he plan on staying single forever? Sure sounded like it. She admired his restraint, but not his reasoning. Sounded like he feared he’d taint any female who came within arm’s length.
Which was silly, especially since his child was female. It wasn’t as if he could avoid Maddy.
But he did avoid Maddy, didn’t he? Wasn’t it one of the first things Abigail had noticed about the pair—that there was a wall between them? Was it possible Wade held back because he feared he’d somehow harm his daughter?
Wade was a good man. He would never hurt Maddy, or any female, intentionally. It was a crazy thought, but she’d heard crazier. People got silly notions in their heads sometimes. That would explain not only why there was a wall between father and daughter, but why Wade didn’t date or seem to have female friends. Why he avoided Abigail at every turn. Like last night, when he’d run for his room when the conversation turned personal.
How could she ever find out what happened to Lizzie when he wouldn’t even accept Abigail’s friendship? Though, if she were honest, that was only half the reason for the heaviness weighing her steps now.
What she’d said about not finding a man who matched up to her dad was true. But also true was the growing recognition that Wade might be the first man who’d reached those heights. He might have hang-ups and misconceptions, but he was a man of integrity. He was strong and courageous. She pictured his blue eyes always hiding in the shadows of that sexy cowboy hat, his masculine frame moving slowly and purposefully. He wasn’t afraid of hard, honest work. In fact, he enjoyed it, had a quiet passion for it. Yes, he measured up.
She’d finally found a man who passed muster, and a relationship was impossible. Doomed before it began. Because she couldn’t have both: the story and Wade. He’d hate her in the end. How depressing was that? She rubbed her temples, where a headache had begun to throb. Her hypertension was acting up again. Too much stress.
Her stride grew shorter as the house came into view. She was in no hurry, especially now, with guilt and dread dragging each step. Dylan
’s truck was there, and Wade’s truck was parked near the barn, the hood up. She wasn’t in the mood to face either of them—wanted to hide in her room and be alone with her laptop. Maybe she could sneak inside unnoticed.
She quickened her pace as she neared the truck. The engine wasn’t running, and the sound of her footsteps on the gravel seemed loud. She didn’t even look at the truck, just shot past, eyes on the front door.
“Abigail, hey . . .” Dylan straightened, barely missing the hood.
“Hi, Dylan.” She tossed him a smile and continued. She didn’t see Wade.
“Hey, can you come here a minute?” Dylan asked.
Rats. Resigned, Abigail headed back to the truck where Dylan held a tool and a dirty rag.
“You look fetching today,” he said as she approached, his dimple making a divot in his cheek.
Abigail was in no mood for his flattery, but she smiled anyway. “Thank you.”
He gestured toward the truck. “Wade said she made some kind of noise before she bit the dust.”
“There was a clunking noise right before I lost power.”
“Nothing before that?”
“Not that I noticed. It kind of shuddered when I shut off the engine, and that was it. Sorry I can’t be of more help.” She turned toward the house.
“Wait, Abigail.” Dylan wiped his tool on his rag. “You like country music?”
She could see where this was headed. “Not really. More of a classical music gal myself.”
“Give me a chance to win you over. We have a great local band, the Silver Spurs, and they’re playing at the Chuckwagon Saturday.”
“Marla’s brother’s band. Tina from Mocha Moose told me about them.”
“You’re getting around.”
Not in the way he hoped. “I like meeting people.” She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as she said it.
“Then come with me Saturday. Everyone from town’ll be there, and it’ll give you a chance to hang out with the home crowd.” He winked.
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