by Marin Thomas
Matt lifted Rose into the front seat of his truck and hopped in after her. He drove the mile to the county road, then shifted into Park and shut off the engine while they waited for the bus. “You like country music?”
No answer.
“Listen to this.” He popped in an oldies CD, and played “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” by Nancy Sinatra. Matt’s father must have played the song a million times after Matt’s mother had left the family.
Matt sang along and Rose joined in after a bit. They were beboppin’ in the seat and didn’t notice the bus arrive until the driver laid on the horn. “It’s here,” Rose announced. Matt walked the little girl to the bus and flashed a smile at the female driver. “Mornin’.”
“Bye, Mr. Matt.” Rose waved, then found her seat.
“Tell Amy Rebecca says hello,” the driver said.
“Will do.” Matt wasn’t sure what Amy did at this point, so he played it safe and waved as the bus drove off.
Feeling dumber than a jackass for having been caught goofing off with a seven-year-old, he made a U-turn in the truck and headed back to the house. On the way he switched the radio to a local weather station and was caught off guard by the prediction of a late-evening thunderstorm. Instead of working with SOS as he’d planned, he’d have to spend the morning preparing the barn stalls in case he had to bed down the horses for the night. By the time Matt parked the truck in the driveway he’d forgotten his intention to discuss the babysitter dilemma with Amy.
The hours passed quickly and once the barn had been cleaned and prepped, he hopped on Chloe and rode the property line, tightening sagging sections of fence that wouldn’t hold against a strong wind.
It was two-thirty in the afternoon when he rode into the ranch yard and discovered Amy pacing the porch. When she spotted him, she scooped Lily off the bottom step and marched his way.
She wasn’t smiling.
He removed Chloe’s saddle and hung it over the paddock rail. After he let the mare loose inside and locked the gate, Amy shoved Lily into his arms.
“Whoa! What’s going on?” The wiggling toddler bobbled in his arms.
“I’m going to be late,” Amy said.
“Late for what?” He glanced at Lily, but she didn’t have the answer, so he trailed after Amy.
“My class.” She stopped at her truck. “I made a casserole for supper. Heat it at three-fifty for an hour.” She hopped inside and shut the door, then called out the open window. “Lily’s already had a nap. Don’t let her sleep any more or she won’t go to bed tonight. I left instructions on the table along with several neighbors’ phone numbers in case of an emergency.” She revved the engine. “Don’t forget to pick up Rose at the bus stop at three!”
Mouth sagging, Matt watched the battered Ford drive off.
What the hell had just happened?
Chapter Six
Big chicken.
Amy sat in her truck, shoring up the nerve to enter her own home. After the way she’d shoved her daughters off on Matt earlier in the day she wouldn’t blame the cowboy if he reined in his mares and hit the road tonight.
She prayed he wouldn’t.
Today had been an emotional turning point for Amy. She’d been anxious about taking the data-entry class, but the professor had been encouraging and the eight other students like her—recovering from life’s hard knocks—had been talkative and friendly. For the first time in months she’d chatted with people who hadn’t stared at her with pity. She’d come away from the experience more confident and determined she’d be on her feet in no time at all.
But she couldn’t do it alone. No matter how much it irked her to depend on someone—especially another cowboy—Amy needed Matt.
In order to complete the class and secure a job with health benefits she required his babysitting services. And in order to sell SOS and use the money to pay off her debts, Matt had to prove the stud wasn’t deranged. Once she sold the animal, she’d resume her boarding business. With two jobs and the credit cards almost paid off, she’d no longer be considered a financial risk and the bank wouldn’t be able to touch her farm.
As much as she hated to admit it, her family’s future on the Broken Wheel rested heavily on both her and Matt’s shoulders.
Time to face the music. The prospect of confronting Matt, getting the girls ready for bed, cleaning up the messes left over from the day and then doing her homework dampened her newfound excitement, leaving her mentally and emotionally weary.
When she entered the kitchen, she froze. Save for Lily’s pink sippy cup sitting in the dish drainer on the counter, the room was spotless. Amy set her canvas book bag on the table, then perused the contents of the refrigerator. The casserole was gone. No leftovers? Lily ate like a bird and Rose had a normal child’s appetite so Matt must have devoured huge helpings to finish off the dish.
She spotted the notebook paper she’d written a to-do and not-to-do list on for Matt. A black checkmark appeared next to all ten items. He’d done what she’d asked. And more—she hadn’t expected him to provide maid service.
The girls’ laughter echoed from the second floor. What were they up to? Amy slipped off her shoes and left them by the door. The sound of splashing water met her ears when she reached the landing at the top of the stairs. Bath time hadn’t been on the to-do list.
She tiptoed along the hallway, then spied through the crack in the partially open bathroom door. Lily and Rose splashed in the tub, up to their chins in bubbles, and Matt sat on the floor propped against the wall across from the tub, his long lean legs stretched out before him.
“Mr. Matt, Lily’s got a new hairstyle.” Rose rubbed bubbles into her sister’s curls and pulled the strands into a ponytail that stuck up on the top of her head.
“You look gorgeous, Miss Lily.”
“Yeah, Lily,” Rose giggled. “You’re gorgeous.”
Then Rose smashed her sister’s hair flat and Matt cautioned, “Not too rough or she’ll slip under the water.”
“Will you make me a new hairstyle, Mr. Matt?” Rose pleaded.
Wide-eyed, Amy slunk into the shadows, wondering what the cowboy would do. Darned if he didn’t scoot forward, lean over the tub and style her daughter’s hair.
While Matt shaped Rose’s hair into two horns on her head, Amy’s eyes strayed to his gluteus maximus. His butt filled out the faded denim to perfection. She envisioned his muscular thighs bracketing her body, holding her steady while he—Oh. My. God. She sucked in a quiet breath and forced the X-rated image from her mind. She had no business fantasizing about Matt Cartwright.
“All done,” he mumbled.
“I wanna see,” Rose demanded.
“Hang on.” When he lifted her daughter out of the water, Amy noticed Rose was wearing a two-piece swimsuit. She wondered whose idea that was. He swung Rose over the edge of the tub and held her up in front of the mirror above the sink. “Cool!” Then he plopped her back into the tub.
“Aren’t you gonna wash our hair and stuff?”
“Isn’t that what the bubbles are for?” he said.
Rose shook her head, the movement collapsing one of her horns. “Mama washes our hair and she’s gotta scrub Lily ’cause she’s too little to reach all the spots.”
“I’ve never cleaned spots on little girls before so I think that’s something your mother should do.” Matt retrieved a clean cloth from the cabinet next to the tub. “You wash your sister.”
“Yuck!” Rose protested.
Time to intervene. Amy retreated to the top of the stairs, then called, “What’s everybody doing?”
“Mama’s home!” Rose shouted.
“Mama. Home!” Lily copycatted.
Amy entered the bathroom. “Wow, that’s a lot of bubbles.”
“Mr. Matt let us use his bubble bath,” Rose explained.
“How nice of Mr. Matt.” Amy snuck a glance at the cowboy and his blue-eyed gaze knocked her heart sideways. He didn’t look any worse for wear after spending
half a day chasing little girls. Stubble shadowed his chin and cheeks, adding a dangerous edge to his already sexy face. The one thing missing was his lethal smile and she accepted full blame for his sober face.
Slowly, Matt stood. His expression…not cold, but not warm, either. She deserved that and more. Swallowing hard she said, “Thanks for your help with the girls today.”
“Guess you can take it from here.”
He stepped past her, but paused in the doorway when Rose called, “’Night, Mr. Matt.”
“’Night, Mer Matt.”
“Sweet dreams, girls.” Then he was gone.
Amy’s ears tuned in to the sounds of his footfalls on the stairs and a minute later the slamming of the door. She was halfway to the window overlooking the gravel drive when Rose’s pronouncement stopped her in her tracks.
“The water’s getting cold, Mama.”
Grabbing the shampoo bottle, Amy said, “We’d better hurry then.” A half hour later, the girls were squeaky clean and dressed in their pajamas.
“Snack,” Lily squealed.
Amy’s apology would have to wait a while longer. “Head to the kitchen. I’ll be right there.” She returned to the bathroom and mopped up the puddles, then collected Rose’s swimsuit, the wet towels, even Matt’s brown one from the hook on the door. She buried her face in its damp softness and breathed in his scent—a combination of soap, shampoo and his shaving cream.
“Lily, give it back!” Rose’s cry disrupted Amy’s sniffing fantasy and she hurried downstairs.
After snacks, she transferred the bath towels from the washing machine to the dryer, then hustled the girls upstairs to use the potty and brush their teeth before tucking them into bed—Rose in the big-girl single bed and Lily in the toddler bed a few inches above the floor.
“How was school today?” she asked.
“Good.” Rose’s usual response.
“Any homework?”
“Spelling words, but Mr. Matt helped me learn ’em.”
“He did?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I hope you thanked him.”
“Uh-huh.”
Amy yearned to hear how Lily’s afternoon had passed, but the pipsqueak didn’t possess the vocabulary to explain. Focusing in class today had been difficult with her mind in a constant state of worry. Worry that Matt wasn’t keeping an eye on the girls. Worry that the girls would go into the barn or wander too close to the corrals. Worry that Matt would leave the gas oven on after heating the casserole.
Because she no longer had cell phone service, she’d used the payphone during a break in class and had called the house, but no one had answered. She’d immediately phoned Jake Taylor and had asked him to stop by the farm. To be safe, she’d made another call to her neighbor Mary and begged the woman to drop by the house.
“How’s Butch?” she asked her daughter.
Rose exhaled loudly. “Butch lost his recess.”
“Again?” The boy had sat out of recess three times the previous week.
“He made bite marks on Winnie’s crayons in art class.”
“So who did you play with at recess?”
“Winnie. And Brittany. We stayed on the swings.”
Should she ask or leave it alone? Ask. “How did the bus ride go this morning?” Not until after Matt and Rose had driven off did Amy realize what she’d done. Rebecca, the bus driver, had probably spread the word through the grapevine that Amy had a man staying at her place. A handsome, sexy, cowboy kind of man.
Nothing remained private in small towns. Pebble Creek was no exception. Neighbors and friends often acted surprised when they heard news about others, but chances were they’d known days prior.
“Did Miss Rebecca ask about Mr. Matt?”
“No. But she said he’s…” Rose licked her finger, then stuck it in the air and hissed like a snake. “Hot.”
Good grief. “You didn’t repeat that to Mr. Matt, did you?”
Rose shook her head.
Lily set her picture book on the floor, then snuggled under her cover and stuck her thumb into her mouth. Amy had tried all sorts of tricks to coax her daughter to quit her thumb-sucking habit, but with no success. After Ben’s death she didn’t have the energy to fight the small battles anymore. “Did any of the neighbors stop by to say hello?” she whispered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Taylor did. Mrs. Taylor brought us cookies and we sat on the porch swing while Mr. Taylor helped Mr. Matt in the barn.”
“Anyone else?” Amy prodded.
“Nope.”
“Did the telephone ring?”
“Kristen’s mama called and Mr. Matt talked to her.”
“Anyone else?”
Rose shrugged.
So much for Mary’s promise to visit the girls.
Amy kissed Rose’s shiny forehead, then repeated the gesture with Lily, who had already succumbed to sleep. “’Night, sweethearts.”
Before Amy flicked off the light, Rose asked, “Is Mr. Matt gonna watch us tomorrow, too?”
“We’ll see.”
“I like Mr. Matt. He didn’t get mad when Lily peeded her pants.”
Darn, Amy knew she’d forgotten to do something before she left. She’d planned to put Lily in a pair of pull-ups. “What did he do with her wet underwear?”
“Soaked ’em in the sink.”
“Which sink?”
“The kitchen,” Rose answered.
Next on her to-do list was to disinfect the sink. “’Night-’night.” She closed the door halfway, left the hall light on, then retreated to the kitchen. After scouring the sink with cleanser, she stuffed her feet into her barn boots and headed outside, praying for the right words to convince Matt to babysit the girls again tomorrow.
HERE SHE COMES.
Matt stood inside the barn, his eyes on the house. He had a hunch Amy would seek him out. And after spending several hours playing Mr. Mom, he had a few things to say to the woman. Until Amy Olson no one had ever bossed Matt around—except his father. The fact that Matt had let her worried him. When she’d shoved Lily into his arms earlier in the day and had driven off he’d been too stunned to protest and had stood there like a dope.
He’d yet to decide whether to admire Amy for having the guts to stick to her plans and leave her daughters with him or to believe she was a terrible mother for abandoning the girls with a stranger. Okay, he admitted he wasn’t a stranger anymore, but he sure wasn’t Uncle Matt. Then he’d stopped thinking about Amy period when Lily had begun crying, “Mama, Mama,” and wiggled like a monkey to escape his hold.
When a few shushes hadn’t done the trick, Matt had hauled ass into the house and headed straight for the pantry. Once he shoved the Cheerios box at the kid, the crying slowed to an occasional hiccup. He’d put Lily in the high chair and poured a handful of cereal on the tray—that’s when he’d noticed Amy’s note. She’d listed ten things—three of which basically said the same thing: Don’t take his eyes off the girls. Keep the girls away from the barn. And don’t leave the girls alone in the house.
He’d read the instructions twice, but almost forgot to retrieve Rose from the bus stop. Carrying the car seat Amy had left on the porch in one hand and Lily plus the Cheerios box she refused to relinquish in the other, he’d headed to his truck. Installing the car seat took more time than saddling a horse. Once he’d buckled Lily in he’d sped along the gravel drive, worried he’d be late. He had been. The bus sat parked on the shoulder with Rose waiting by the driver’s side. When Lily spotted her sister she’d screeched, “Ro,” and Matt damn near drove into the ditch.
Overall the day had gone better with Rose home. The problem with the first-grader—and he had appreciated her help with Lily—had been the girl’s constant criticism. Mama does it this way. Mama does it that way. Finally he’d told Rose that things were going to get done Mr. Matt’s way and she’d better quit yapping at him.
The final straw had been suppertime. He’d read the baking directions Amy had taped to the t
op of the foil-covered dish in the fridge, then had peeked inside and groaned—noodles and spaghetti sauce. Ketchup wouldn’t go with that. Rose had eaten the casserole, but Lily had mostly played with her food, so he supplemented her meal with additional Cheerios.
When the girls had gone out to play in the backyard, he’d dumped the rest of the casserole in the compost pile alongside the barn. On the way to the house it had occurred to him that he might have saved a helping for Amy, but he shrugged off the concern. At least he wouldn’t be stuck with leftovers tomorrow.
Tomorrow. That was the crux of Matt’s dilemma. If not for Jake Taylor and his wife stopping by before supper he’d never have been able to work with SOS today.
“Matt?” Amy called when she stepped inside the barn.
He moved from the shadows and she jumped, pressing her palm to her chest. His eyes settled on her hand…er, breast. He figured after Amy had left him high and dry today, he could get away with a heck of a lot more than leering if he dared to.
“Girls in bed?” he asked.
“Out like a light.” She scuffed her boot against the cement floor. The scraping sound had the mares turning their heads in the stalls. “You brought the horses in?”
“A line of storms are headed this way later tonight.”
“I didn’t know.” Then she explained, “The radio in my truck is busted. How severe is the weather expected to be?”
“Heavy rains and gusty winds.”
“Will you be all right out here?”
“Storms don’t bother me.” He paused. “I don’t appreciate having the girls dumped on me.”
The pink color faded from her cheeks, leaving her skin pale. “I owe you an apology.”
“I’d rather have an explanation.”
“Kristen’s parents refused to allow her to babysit.”
“And you assumed I wouldn’t mind filling in?”
“I knew you’d say no if I asked for your help.”
“But you dropped them in my lap anyway.”
She shoved a hand through her curls, making an even bigger mess of her hair. “I was desperate,” she whispered.
