by Marin Thomas
“Pardon me?”
“I asked where the room was.”
Her dark expression warned him to expect another tongue-lashing, but she simply grumbled, “The small storage compartment at the end of the big barn.”
“Big meaning the green steel structure?”
She nodded.
“The one where all the cows hang out, waiting to be milked?”
Another nod.
“The one that stinks like manure?”
Her head bobbed again; only, this time she retreated a step.
“Where am I supposed to shower?”
“I suppose you can use the bathroom in the house.” The reluctant acceptance of the situation resonated loud and clear in her voice.
He clenched his jaw until he thought the bone might splinter. He should consider himself fortunate he didn’t have to use a hose to bathe. “I can’t change your mind about helping you right now?”
There went the chin…up in the air again.
A battled waged inside him. He didn’t feel right about a woman, albeit a strong willed and capable one, doing this kind of work alone, even if it did give him more practice following commands. “Fine,” he muttered, the word almost choking him. He spun away, but her hand on his arm stopped him.
“Please don’t tell Seth I hired you to keep track of him.”
The immature urge to refuse her request rankled. Used to dealing with hardheaded businessmen on a daily basis, Nelson felt baffled by this woman’s ability to provoke. Have you considered that she sets you on edge because you’re attracted to her? “No.”
“What?” Her blue eyes rounded.
“I mean, no, I won’t tell Seth.”
“Thank you.” Without another word, she pivoted on her rubber-booted heel and marched off to retrieve the next group of beloved bovines.
Nelson contemplated phoning his grandfather to explain the situation, and then begging for a change of venue for his life lesson. But he knew better than to complain to the old man. Besides, he himself hated whiners.
He returned to the washroom and removed the coveralls, cap and boots. On the way to the house, he retrieved his BlackBerry from his car. The urge to phone his younger brother, Aaron, pissed him off. Nelson had always been the one in charge. The solid, steady guy in the family. The man everyone looked up to. Why all of a sudden did he wish for reassurance from his baby brother?
Oh, hell. He leaned against the front fender, where he had a clean view of Ellen coaxing the cows into the milking barn, and dialed Aaron’s cell number.
“Nelson?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What’s up?”
Already regretting the call, he grappled for words. “I hit the wrong—”
Laughter burst through the connection. “How’s the life lesson going?”
“Not funny, Aaron. Our grandfather needs a psychological evaluation.”
“Pop won’t say where you are, but if you spill the beans, I’ll drop in for a visit this summer.” The wicked glee in his brother’s voice tempted Nelson to reveal his location.
“I know how you worry. Rest assured, Ryan and I are keeping tabs on the Chicago office.”
Aaron taking care of things? He cringed. His brother would rather offer the employees a week’s paid vacation and shut the doors until Nelson returned.
Give the guy credit. Aaron’s doing something right if his community-enhancement program in L.A. is garnering positive press for McKade Import-Export. “How’s Jennifer?”
“She’s great. But we’re moving up the wedding.”
The last time he’d heard, Aaron and Jennifer had planned their nuptials for around Christmas. “Why?”
“Promise you won’t tell Pop or Ryan?”
He wouldn’t promise anything. “What kind of trouble did you get into now, Aaron?”
“A good kind. Jennifer’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” His baby brother was going to be a father? How could this have happened? Nelson felt very old and very much alone at hearing Aaron’s pronouncement. “When you mess up, you mess up big.”
Silence greeted the comment. “We didn’t mess up, Nelson,” Ryan insisted in a steely tone. “Jennifer and I planned to start a family right away. It happened a little sooner than we expected is all.”
Regretting his harsh comment, Nelson swallowed hard and said, “Congratulations, little brother. When’s the baby due?”
“Late January or early February. We’re hoping to book a Saturday wedding in August at her church in Santa Angelita. Will Pop be okay with marrying in Los Angeles?”
“Pop will be thrilled to be a great-grandfather. He won’t care where the ceremony is as long as you get married.”
“Don’t spill the beans. I want to be the first to tell them.”
“Promise.” Nelson decided to end the conversation. His brother’s news had unsettled him. “I need to go.”
“Not so fast. Pop said he found you a job in the agricultural business. What are you—”
“You’re breaking up, Aaron. I can’t hear…” Nelson disconnected the call, ignoring the guilty sting at his rudeness.
A snort sounded from somewhere behind him. Startled, Nelson glanced at the front door, where Ellen’s son eyed him through the screen. “Fancy cell phone. That a rich man’s toy?”
“It’s called a BlackBerry. Ever heard of those?”
The kid came outside, letting the door bang shut. “Ah, let me think…” He tapped a finger against his temple. “Yeah, man, I’ve got two in my backpack.”
Just what he dreamed of—a summer with an overgrown brat. Reining in his temper, Nelson insisted, “Go ahead.” He held out the device, amused by the way the boy slowly, very slowly, descended the steps. The kid acted as if he couldn’t care less, but the excitement in Seth’s eyes told Nelson otherwise.
“What else does it do?” Seth ditched the tough-guy attitude for the moment.
“E-mail. Calendar. Planner and phone. A couple of games.” After a few moments of silence, Nelson inquired, “Are you in any computer courses in school?”
“Yeah. But the computer lab sucks.”
“Do you have a computer in the house?”
The gnarly expression returned. “My mom ain’t exactly raking in the dough milking cows.” He gestured around him. “In case you ain’t—”
“Haven’t,” Nelson corrected the boy.
“Haven’t what?”
“It’s not ain’t. It’s haven’t.”
Smirking, Seth continued, “In case you haven’t noticed, we ain’t rich.”
Nelson had noticed. Noticed that it had been years since the white barn had received a fresh coat of paint. Noticed that the gutters were practically falling off the house. Noticed that Ellen’s truck was on its last legs. How could he not notice that the boy’s deceased father had left Ellen and the farm in poor shape?
He’d have plenty of time to kill supervising Seth. It wouldn’t hurt for him to evaluate Ellen’s assets. He was positive he could figure out a way to improve her overall fiscal situation. Shoot, running a farm wasn’t much different from managing import-export accounts. “Any chance your school will get new computers soon?”
“Nope. We gotta use ’em till they blow up.” He handed over the BlackBerry. “How come you ain’t helping my mom?”
Remembering his promise not to mention babysitting duties, Nelson asked, “How come you’re not helping your mother?”
Shoulders stiff, Seth insisted, “I’m studying for finals.”
Hoping to avoid an argument, Nelson asked, “Want any help?”
Another snort—a trait Seth must have inherited from his mother. “Like you could help me.”
The kid needed a lesson in manners. Had Nelson treated his grandfather with such disrespect, he’d have had a bar of soap stuffed into his mouth. “What subject?”
“English.”
Nelson hated high-school English. He preferred math. Numbers never changed and they couldn’t
be misinterpreted. “Maybe I can help.”
“What do you know about Romeo and Juliet?”
Only that Romeo should have looked elsewhere for love. “I had to read the play in school.”
“It’s so lame.”
“No argument there.”
The boy eyed him suspiciously, not sure whether to believe Nelson. “I have to write two pages on the stupid theme of love.”
Love—a topic Nelson had little experience with. The man-woman kind, anyway. He’d had two serious relationships during his thirty-seven years and both had ended badly. He doubted there was a woman on earth who would understand his drive to succeed and willingly accept a backseat to his career. For the past two years he’d dated sporadically but had never allowed the relationship to turn serious. “I believe I can help.”
“No shi—” The boy caught Nelson’s scowl and swallowed the rest of the swear word.
“Lead the way.” He followed the kid inside, wondering which was the lesser of two evils—milking cows with a wasp-tongued woman or explaining love to a teenage boy.
TIRED, CRANKY and disgusted by her eagerness to hurry to the house and the man waiting there, Ellen purposefully slowed her steps as she left the barn.
In her opinion, there was more to dislike than like about Nelson McKade. She’d known him only a few hours, but she’d learned enough to understand that if she kept him around for the summer, he’d prove to be a bigger pain in the backside than her temperamental cows or her rebellious son.
The fact that Nelson would rather be anywhere on earth but her farm didn’t exactly endear him to her. And his fish-out-of-water expression as he’d watched her handle the livestock convinced her he seldom, if ever, found himself in a situation he couldn’t control—a trait, coincidentally, she shared with him.
Still…she grudgingly admitted she’d felt a twinge of admiration for the guy. That he’d agreed to put himself through rural hell for his grandfather proved his loyalty and love for his family. And the gentleness of those big hands when he’d checked her face for injuries…
’Fess up, Ellen. The real reason you want to send the man packing is that he’s h-o-t.
Handsome, sexy and so citified that the only business she had thinking about Nelson was to figure out a way to get rid of him.
Besides, Buck hadn’t died all that long ago. They’d had no fairy-tale marriage—not bad, not good, just sort of there. If her parents hadn’t insisted they marry and “make it right” after he’d gotten her pregnant, she doubted she’d have tied the knot with the man. Even so, the last thing she desired was the good folks of Four Corners snubbing their noses at her and Seth because she lusted after her hired hand.
At the porch, she paused to check her watch. Six-thirty—an hour later than their normal suppertime. Seth must be starving, unless he’d eaten the entire package of Oreo cookies in the pantry. Good thing she’d stuck a roast in the Crock-Pot this morning. She’d planned to make mashed potatoes, her son’s favorite, but her feet ached and her back throbbed. Tonight, microwaved French bread would have to suffice.
The aroma of simmering beef greeted her when she stepped into the house. Her mouth watering, she bent to loosen her work-boot laces, and spotted Nelson’s dress shoes on the rug.
The new hand must have noticed her meager furnishings—a threadbare sofa, torn leather recliner, dull wood floors, faded living-room curtains, chewed-up coffee table and yellowed lampshades. Most visitors would take one gander at the room and walk straight through the house with mud and manure slinging from their heels. Ellen’s chest tightened with a hard-to-define emotion at the idea of Nelson, a man of obvious wealth judging by his car, showing such respect for her home.
Hushed voices drifted into the living room. Sock-footed, she padded across the floor and hovered in the kitchen doorway. Seth sat at the table, his back to her, and Nelson stood at the stove, frying…hash browns.
Having substituted a pen and pencil for a set of drumsticks, her son tapped out a snappy beat against the kitchen table. “How come Romeo’s so messed up if he loves Juliet?”
Romeo and Juliet. She swallowed the laughter bubbling in her throat. She couldn’t wait to hear Mr. Corporation’s viewpoint of love.
“Because the love Romeo feels for Juliet is more like a hopeless crush,” Nelson answered.
“A crush.”
“Have you ever had a crush on a girl?” He glanced over his shoulder at Seth, and Ellen popped out of view before he caught sight of her.
“Sort of. There’s this girl in seventh grade…”
Seth had liked a girl and he hadn’t told her—his own mother. Another wave of guilt washed over Ellen. Any more guilt waves and she’d end up at the bottom of the ocean. When was the last time she’d sat down and talked with her son? Found out what was going on in his life?
Caught up in keeping financially afloat, she’d turned into a terrible parent and had neglected Seth’s emotional health. For the past school year, she’d stood by the barn door and waved goodbye as he ran to catch the bus in the morning. They spent fifteen minutes at the supper table together, then he dove into homework and she checked the cows and readied the equipment for the morning milking. Often she didn’t return to the house until after he’d gone to sleep. Weekends were a little better. Seth helped her with chores for a few hours before he spent the day with his friends. Why hadn’t he mentioned this girl then?
Flipping the hash browns in the skillet, Nelson explained, “If you’ve had a crush on a girl, you understand what Romeo is feeling. He loves Juliet, yet he hates her at the same time. She makes him happy, but it’s a sad happiness. He believes his feelings are serious, yet foolish. She fascinates him and frustrates him.”
“I get it. One day girls are all nice and everything and you like ’em, and the next day they act like they don’t even know you and you get mad.”
Nelson grinned. “I believe you’ve got it, Seth.”
Her son appeared more at ease with a stranger than he had with his own father—probably because Buck had never made time for Seth when he’d been alive. He’d preferred the company of his fishing and hunting buddies to that of his own child.
Ellen tiptoed across the room, opened the front door, then shut it loudly.
“Mom’s back.” Five seconds later, the guys stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at her—Seth holding a pen, the hired hand, a spatula. Nelson’s gaze dropped to her stocking feet, then shifted back to her face. His left eyebrow quirked. Drat. He assumed she’d been spying on the two of them. She flashed an innocent smile. “How’s the homework going?”
“Okay.” Seth nodded to his caretaker. “He helped me figure out how to explain Romeo’s love for Juliet.”
“He has a name,” Nelson corrected.
Ellen stiffened at the reprimand. She, not a stranger, should be the one correcting her son. “Mind your manners, Seth.”
“Sorry,” the boy groused, then slipped back into the kitchen.
Nelson pointed the spatula. “Seth wanted hash browns.”
The man should look ridiculous wearing her mother’s ruffled apron with embroidered roosters on the pockets. Instead, all Ellen could focus on was how close those colorful cocks were to his…
Forcing her attention back to his face, she murmured, “I’m going to grab a quick shower.” A cold one. In a flash she washed, changed into a T-shirt and lightweight cotton sweats, then twisted her hair into a messy knot and clipped it to the top of her head.
“I’ll make the gravy,” she announced, entering the kitchen.
Still wearing the apron, Nelson sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. At least the cocks were out of sight. The only explanation Ellen could come up with for her lusty thoughts was that she yearned to get laid. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had sex, which had been well before Buck had died.
Hating how Nelson’s presence unnerved her, she asked, “Anything interesting in the news?” She hadn’t read the paper in months. Before her
parents had died, she used to work the crossword puzzle while Seth ate his breakfast.
“Tech stocks are down again,” Nelson grumbled.
“Seth, please set the table.” Silence greeted her request. Before she had the chance to ask again, Nelson pinned her son with a nasty glare. Did the man expect to bully the boy into obeying orders? Unsure what to do, she held her breath. After a ten-second glare-down, Seth caved in. Ellen didn’t approve of Nelson’s intimidation tactics but admitted her son’s compliance was a nice change from his usual stubbornness.
“Do you own tech stocks?” she asked.
He peered over the top of the paper. “A few. My portfolio’s pretty diversified.”
Lucky him. He had a portfolio. All she had was a bank account that ended each month in the negative column. Knowing little about stocks except that she didn’t have any, Ellen remained silent and focused on the gravy.
“Would you like me to cut the meat?” Nelson offered.
Surprised by the offer, she uttered, “Sure. There’re a knife and meat fork in the drawer next to the fridge.” After Buck had moved into her family’s home following their wedding, he’d never offered to help in the kitchen. He’d considered the house a woman’s domain. She hadn’t minded when her mother had been alive and had pitched in with the laundry, cooking and cleaning. When her parents had passed away and Ellen had had to add additional farm chores to her list of duties, waiting hand and foot on her husband had lost its thrill.
After setting the potatoes and gravy on the table, she glanced around. “No vegetables?” Her question drew blank stares from both males. Obviously, she’d have to watch their eating habits this summer. “Seth, you say grace.”
“God, thanks for the food. Amen.” He reached for the meat plate, but Nelson’s hand stopped him. “Ladies first.”
She expected a protest; instead, Seth apologized, “Sorry, Mom.”
That a complete stranger could discipline her son better than she could irritated Ellen to no end. She forked a piece of meat on to her plate and contemplated the word lady. She’d never thought of herself as a lady. A female. Woman. Farmer. Dairymaid. But never lady.
