What Madeline Wants

by Linda Style

  He surveyed the property, his gaze stopping on the old bunkhouses that had once bustled with activity. Tripplehorne Ranch had been in the Devereaux family for more than a century, belonging first to his great-grandparents, and then his maternal grandparents. They’d loved him and made him feel he wasn’t all alone in the world after his parents died. When he’d been with them on the ranch, he’d been happy.

  That was it, he realized. That was the reason he was here. Despite his hatred of Los Rios, despite his doubts about staying, he was here because of his grandparents—he owed them enough to try and save the home they’d loved.

  And that meant no fantasizing about soft warm skin and a petite woman who’d somehow managed to make him interested in sex again.

  After his earlier conversation with his new employee, he’d pulled out her résumé. All it contained were details of her education and previous employment—working for her father, a senator no less. She’d lived in the same place all her life, with the exception of college and grad school, and after that, her address was listed as the same as her parents’. She’d lived the good life, that was apparent.

  He wondered why instead of getting a job in her field after finishing her education, she’d gone home to work for her father as an administrative assistant and stayed for four years. The free ride must’ve been too hard to give up, he decided.

  He stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips. Well, the teacher wasn’t his problem. The only thing he needed to worry about was getting his job done.

  The screen door squeaked open and then snapped shut behind him. She was back, and he felt her coming to stand next to him. His pulse quickened, his physical reaction to her at odds with his good sense.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MADDY STARED at a miniature replica of the White House, right down to the immaculate green lawn and azaleas surrounding it. It was just about the most bizarre thing she’d ever seen. “What on earth is that?” she asked.

  “It’s Zelda’s house,” J.D. said with a touch of sarcasm.

  “Are you serious? Your dog really lives in that…that house?” The structure was a mini-estate with lights and bushes and topiary trees, a small wading pool and a long covered runway with a misting system that hissed a fine spray of water from little hoses at the top of the fence.

  Looking over at J.D., she noted that his eye and lower lip weren’t quite as puffy as before, though a dark purple shiner was rapidly developing. The blood on his head had been washed off and his hair was clean now, a rich dark whiskey color with golden highlights, lighter than she’d thought.

  “Yep. That’s where Zelda lives.”

  Her gaze circled, taking in other things she hadn’t seen when she’d arrived. There were several dilapidated shedlike buildings, a barn in the same poor condition and a circular fenced-off area that appeared to be an arena of some kind.

  She turned to J.D., a zillion questions racing through her head. Just as she opened her mouth, he raised both hands.

  “Don’t even ask! None of this was my doing.”

  Maddy’s gaze passed from the doghouse to J.D. “It’s…” she searched for words. “It’s quite spectacular.”

  “It’s crazy. Just like my aunt.”

  Maddy blew out a breath and leaned forward, her hands on the railing next to his. “I guess she really loved your dog.”

  “Aunt Ethel loved control. She had her own way of doing things.”

  Obviously there was no love lost between J.D. and his aunt, but if that was the case, why had the woman left him the ranch and made such an elaborate place for Zelda? “I guess we all have reasons for what we do, don’t we?”

  He focused straight ahead.

  “You trying to quit?” she asked, nodding at the unlit cigarette he rolled between his fingers.

  “Yeah. Three weeks now.”

  “So what did you do before you came here?”

  At her question, his hand clenched, the cigarette broke in half and he flicked both pieces across the yard. He took a breath, then said, “Nothing. I did absolutely nothing.”

  “Really? You didn’t have a job?”

  A long silence ensued. Finally he said gruffly, “There aren’t too many jobs for a cripple.”

  “But you’re not—I mean it doesn’t look like—” She stopped. Lord. Everything that came out of her mouth sounded worse.

  “I know my limitations.” His mouth was tight and grim and the next thing she knew, the screen door slammed shut behind him.

  She felt awful. He was obviously very self-conscious about his injury. But an injury didn’t give him carte blanche to be rude.

  Just then, she saw something move. As she turned, Zelda popped out the little door in front of her house and pranced down the runway as if she were royalty. Maddy’s palms went clammy, but she quickly reminded herself the dog was on the other side of the fence.

  Still, her breath stalled. Then another movement caught her attention. A man wearing a baseball cap was standing inside the compound clipping away at a tiny hedge. She expelled a breath. This whole scenario was like something from a sci-fi movie.

  She shook her head in disbelief and quickly followed Rivera into the house. Perhaps she should apologize? And if not that, at least say something to smooth things over. After exploring a couple of hallways in search of her employer, Maddy realized the sprawling house was much larger than it had appeared from the front.

  Down each hallway were a half-dozen doors and in the center hall was a dark walnut staircase, at least five feet wide, with a window bench on a landing halfway up. The stairs were splintered and didn’t look safe enough to climb.

  She found Rivera in the kitchen, a huge room with a vintage stove. He was nursing a beer at a large rectangular wooden table near a long bank of windows, through which Maddy could see a mountain range in the distance.

  Not knowing what was expected of her, she felt awkward. But gritting her teeth, she walked over to the table.

  Without looking up, he said, “We should talk.”

  “Great.” She pulled up a chair across from him. “I saw a man out there doing some hedge clipping.”

  “Carlos.”

  “One of my students?” She smiled at the thought. “The gardener, right?”

  J.D. nodded. “Zelda belonged to my aunt, and dear Aunt Ethel wanted to make sure her dog was comfortable, so she hired a gardener to make sure the grounds were kept up.” He sighed. “Aunt Ethel liked animals more than she liked people. Apparently she’d had several dogs and a few other animals, but got sick about a year ago and couldn’t take care of them. Zelda was the only one she kept.”

  While it was reassuring to know that Zelda had her own quarters and wouldn’t be surprising Maddy at every turn, she was bothered by the thought of the little dog being caged up all the time. “Doesn’t she get lonely?”

  “She’s a loner. Like me.”

  “Really? You sure had me fooled,” she said.

  He gave her a hard look. “That a problem for you?”

  “Sorry, I was attempting to make a joke. Like I said, maybe I’ve been in the sun too long.”

  His mouth tilted, more in a grimace than a grin.

  Juana sashayed into the kitchen then, her long, gauzy red skirt swishing around her bare ankles. She wore black rubber flip-flops, a yellow sleeveless tank top and was carrying a large insulated bag, the kind used for pizza delivery.

  The older woman looked so cool in her breezy skirt and top that Maddy wished she’d brought different clothing. After getting her luggage, she’d changed into a white rayon blouse and another pair of linen slacks, figuring the outfit would be cooler than anything else she’d brought along. But she was still hot.

  “La cená está aquí,” Juana said, telling them the dinner had arrived. As she opened the bag, a delicious spicy aroma filled the room, making Maddy’s mouth water.

  It had been a long day, what with flying from Iowa to Tucson and then renting a car and driving another hundred-plus miles. She was fam
ished.

  “Juana makes the food at her place and brings it over,” Rivera said. “Once the kitchen is finished, she’ll do the cooking here.”

  “So you’re renovating, then?”

  “Yes,” he said, glancing out the window. “This used to be a guest ranch when my grandparents ran the place. And one of my aunt’s express desires was to restore the homestead to its former elegance.”

  So maybe he did care about his aunt after all? “How nice of you to carry out her wishes.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “It’s one of the stipulations in the will.”

  Oh, now she got it. His disenchantment could be because he didn’t want to have to do things as his aunt required.

  “So I guess your aunt was living here and having the renovations done herself when…when she had the accident?”

  “Something like that.”

  Which meant change the subject before he got all grouchy again. But her mouth never managed to be in sync with her brain. “So, what exactly happened to her?”

  He waited a moment, then said, “I don’t know exactly and frankly I don’t care. Now let’s talk about your job.”

  “Fine.” At least she’d gotten an answer.

  “As you know, Juana and Carlos will be your students. They both speak a little English, but not much.”

  “Do they live here on the ranch, too?”

  He shook his head. “They live in the colonias on the other side of town.”

  She knew the word, but listened to his explanation.

  “That’s the name given to the unimproved farmland the migrant workers use for housing.”

  When she’d taken the job and envisioned working on a ranch, she’d thought of horses and cattle and wide-open spaces. Not agriculture. But she’d seen a lot of farmland while driving here. Desert that had been irrigated so it was lush and green.

  “What crops are grown around here?”

  “Within a hundred-mile radius, you’ll find lettuce, cotton, hay, melons, onions and other vegetables. Grapes and citrus.”

  “Are Carlos and Juana migrant workers?”

  “Not anymore.”

  The man’s answers were short and to the point. She wondered how many questions she could get away with before he told her to shut up. “So what exactly does one do on a guest ranch?”

  “Same thing as on any ranch, except people pay to stay here and do the work along with us.”

  She smiled. “Like in the movie City Slickers?”

  “Yeah.” He said, grinning a little. “Like that. But you’ll be long gone before then.”

  He sounded happy about that. She picked up a newspaper from the bench behind her and fanned herself with it.

  “The swamp cooler’s out again,” he said.

  When she gave him a blank stare, he added, “Water circulates through a big fan unit that sits on the roof and cools the air as it’s blown out. Unfortunately, our unit is so old it doesn’t work half the time.”

  “I guess I should be glad there’s a separate cooler in my bedroom.”

  “Yeah. Aunt Ethel always took care of herself first.”

  Maddy gulped. “I’m staying in her room?”

  “Well, she never actually had the opportunity to stay in it.”

  Relieved to hear she wasn’t sleeping in a dead woman’s bed, Maddy fanned herself again with the paper.

  “Most people get used to the heat,” J.D. went on. “But not Ethel. From what I hear, she lived in New York, stayed in Tucson occasionally and only drove out here to see how the renovations were going.”

  “But she must’ve planned to stay here at some point, what with building Zelda’s house and all.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  Apparently, he really didn’t know a whole lot about his aunt. Maybe he was being truthful when he said he didn’t know what had happened to her.

  She was distracted by Juana’s clatter in the kitchen. “Can I do something to help?” Maddy asked.

  “No. It’s all done.” She brought over two place mats, plates, napkins and utensils. She went back for a steaming platter of green corn tamales, refried beans, rice, shredded lettuce, tomatoes and a crock of hot tortillas.

  “Mmm. Everything looks delicious, Juana,” she said. “Are these homemade tortillas?”

  “Everything is homemade.” The older woman smiled proudly.

  “I’m impressed. Maybe you can teach me a little about Mexican cooking. I’d love to learn and be able to—”

  J.D. cleared his throat, cutting off her conversation with Juana. “You can start teaching tomorrow and it’s best if you use one of the buildings out back. I’ll be busy in the house, so it’ll probably be too noisy to conduct any kind of class there. Since Juana and Carlos have work to do during the day, you’ll need to confine the sessions to evenings, five days a week.” He looked up at her. “Comprende?”

  Despite the fact that he’d seemed to soften a little in the past few hours, he was still a rude man. “Of course. I’ll do the job however you want me to.”

  But how the heck was she going to spend the rest of her time? “Is there something else I can do during the day? I’d be more than happy to help out wherever yo—”

  “No.”

  No? The place was in shambles, why not take all the assistance he could get? Then remembering how he’d scrutinized her when she first arrived, she decided that he didn’t trust her to do a good job.

  She cast about for something she could offer to do. A massive stone fireplace covered one whole wall, but it was so dirty she couldn’t tell what type of stone it was. The floor was Mexican tile, some pieces missing, others gouged, chipped and darkened with age, the cupboards were dingy with doors askew or ripped off altogether. The refrigerator, however, was new.

  “I can clean.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Really. This room certainly could use a little elbow grease.”

  “I’m going to tear it all out.”

  “But until then, why not clean the room up a little and use it? That way, Juana could prepare the food here and not have to carry things back and forth. It would save time for her.”

  Hearing her name, Juana turned to them, so Maddy told her what she’d said.

  Rivera kept eating.

  Maddy concentrated on her own plate. She polished off her tamale and sat back. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind. I’d really like to have something to fill the time when I’m not teaching.”

  The man’s focus stayed on his dinner. Then after a sip of beer, he leaned back in his chair, his look thoughtful. Then he smiled. “Well, there is Zelda. She seems to like you.”

  “Zelda?” She choked out the dog’s name.

  “Yeah. Feed her, give her water, take care of her general maintenance, other stuff like that. Until now, she hasn’t taken to anyone but me, and keeping up with all the stuff my aunt prescribed for the dog takes up time I could be using to work on the place.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Make sure she’s bathed and groomed, regular brushing and…well, it’s all on a list.”

  Oh, my. Could she do that? She didn’t know. But taking care of a dog seemed such a simple thing. And what would he think of her if she refused?

  What would she think of herself? This whole situation—being at the ranch—was about proving she could handle whatever came up. But this…this went right to the heart of her deepest fear.

  Only he didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about her. And she didn’t want him to.

  On a gush of air, expelled from the bottom of her lungs, she said, “Okay. Give me the list.”

  Rocking on the back legs of the chair, he angled his chin in her direction, eyebrows bunched in the middle. “You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, forcing an extra bit of certainty into her voice. “It’ll be good to have something else to do.”

  J.D. finished his meal and shoved the plate back.

  The te
acher might be sure, but he wasn’t. Not after her panic act earlier. He’d wanted to see her reaction, thought she might refuse, maybe even freak out and leave, but she’d actually agreed to help look after Zelda. He felt like a creep for suggesting it.

  Well, he wasn’t her baby-sitter. Either she’d do the job or she wouldn’t.

  He’d been working 24-7 on the place and was still behind. If she took over Zelda’s care, he would have one less thing to worry about. So far, the teacher was the only person Zelda had taken a fancy to and he might as well take advantage of it.

  He got up and carried his plate to the sink. Halfway there, Juana took the dish from him and collected Maddy’s, too.

  “You can set up your teaching schedule with Juana and Carlos.”

  He glanced at Juana then at Maddy. “I’ll get you Zelda’s routine later. Feel free to help yourself to what’s in the refrigerator. I head into Los Rios once or twice a week for supplies, so if you need anything, or notice that something needs replacing, let me know.”

  “Do you have peanut butter?”

  He sauntered over to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of Skippy, then walked back to the table and set it down in front of her. “Anything else you want to know?”

  She tapped the cap on the jar and smiled. “No. You’ve made everything perfectly clear.”

  AWAKE AT DAWN the next morning, J.D. rolled out of bed feeling as if someone had beaten him up during the night. He was stiff and sore and felt worse than he had the day before. In the bathroom, he checked his face in the mirror. Not quite as ugly as yesterday, but no wonder Ms. Perfect Goody Two-shoes had looked at him as if he were Ghengis Khan.

  About to turn on the shower, he heard a faint knocking outside. Who the hell would be here this early? Besides Juana and Carlos, who would be here at all?

  He quickly brushed his teeth and pulled on a pair of cargo pants, but by the time he got to the entry, the knocking had stopped.

  He opened the door to face an entirely different view of his new employee. With her backside to him, she was folded in half and touching her toes with her fingers. She stood up then, put a foot on the railing in front of her, and stretching out one leg, she bent to touch her knee with her chin. She switched legs and did the same with the other.