by Tina Leonard
Annabelle had nearly gotten to him.
“Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades,” he whispered to Emmie. “You’re a cute little grenade, but I’ve got your mother all figured out, and you’re going home tomorrow.”
Delilah would be very nervous if she knew what he’d been thinking about Annabelle. He was guilty, and guilty with her baby lying on his chest, this baby she’d birthed only two months ago. He was pretty certain that made him something of a schmuck. Probably a big schmuck.
Tomorrow, he’d say goodbye to their unexpected company, and then maybe head into town for some willing female fun. If Annabelle Turnberry could make him feel something that might have been lust, then it was way past time to cool down the horsepower in his engines.
SAFE FROM LISTENING EARS, Mimi made a phone call. “Julia, I need to ask you a favor. I sent out an e-mail for housekeeping help, but the help that arrived here isn’t exactly what I had in mind. Did you get my e-mail?”
“I haven’t had an e-mail from you since the one you sent me two months ago saying you thought Mason was an unromantic donkey. Wasn’t that around Christmas? He gave you a lead rope for your horse because you’d broken yours using it for…I remember. You used it to drag a goat across to Mason’s and tied it to the post on the porch to make a point about goats being easy to keep. Of course, the goat chewed through the lead rope and ate the front shrubbery before Mason caught him. Why was it again you were making the point about goats? Or trying to?”
“Never mind that!” Mimi took a deep breath, annoyed to be reminded about her scheme taking an unforeseen turn. Luckily, Mason had been forgiving—she’d even seen a twinkle in his eye when he handed her the chewed-up lead rope. But he’d given her a new one for Christmas, probably to make his point that goats were more trouble than they were worth—and she’d been annoyed that he’d gotten the upper hand on her, again. “I didn’t say anything about romance. I just said he was a donkey.”
“Ah. I’m putting words where they don’t belong.”
“Yes, you are. There never was, and never will be, romance between the two of us. Mason is like my overbearing older brother. We rub each other the wrong way. Anyway, I—that is, Mason—wants a housekeeper.”
“Why doesn’t he call me?”
“Because he doesn’t know you, Julia, and we sent out an e-mail to you about the matter, which he participated in typing, I might add,” she tacked on, so that Julia would know this wasn’t just a scheme. “Only the e-mail went haywire, and we ended up with eighteen inappropriate candidates, instead, plus their den mother and a baby.”
“Oh. Inappropriate,” Julia said, clearly trying not to giggle. “Are they beautiful?”
“Some of them,” Mimi said begrudgingly. “Don’t you have any big, strong women over fifty named Olga that need a great place to work? Mason and I were thinking of grandmotherly candidates for the job.”
Julia laughed so hard it sounded as if she might faint from oxygen deprivation. “I fail to see the humor in the situation. Do you laugh at all your clients’ needs?” Mimi demanded.
“Just yours, Mimi. And I’m not laughing meanly. I’m laughing at how your brain works.”
“I’m only trying to save Mason the trouble, since I got him into this.”
“Again.”
Mimi sniffed. “He does need a housekeeper.”
“And you’re afraid he might find a wife, instead.”
She straightened. “That thought never occurred to me.”
“Uh-huh. Has a…candidate…applied for the post?”
“One. Actually I don’t think she’s really applied, but I’m afraid that when Mason gets home, he might hire her.”
“Since you’re not in love with him, what difference does it make? Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Poor Mason might like being tied down.”
“Not to this girl!” Mimi shook her head. “No, she’s all wrong for him. She has a baby, and she’s too busy with the baby, and—”
“Mimi. Are you ever going to admit that you just might have a tiny crush on Mason?”
“Absolutely not.”
She thought she heard another giggle. “Honestly, Julia, we’d fight too much under the same roof. But that doesn’t mean I want someone taking advantage of his loneliness.”
“If there’s a bunch of women on the ranch, he won’t be too lonely. When’s he getting back?”
“They won’t be here then,” Mimi said. “And if you’re any good at your job, a very efficient Olga will be.”
“A grandmotherly type.”
“I think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances, don’t you? These men would probably enjoy a bit of mothering.”
“You might could stand a bit of it yourself. It might keep you from going off the tracks all the time, Mimi.”
“We don’t discuss mothers. You know we don’t even say that word when it applies to me.” Hers had left her father and her for the bright lights of Hollywood, and as far as she was concerned, all the best to her. A mother was not what she was looking for. “I turned out just fine as a single-parented child.”
“Yeah, but it’s made you unable to seek emotional attachments.”
Mimi gasped. “Attachments are for vacuum cleaners! If I ever met the right man, I’d know it. Now, let’s get back to what Mason needs.”
“What Mason needs is a swift slap on the head for letting you run his life so inefficiently. But I happen to have the perfect person to suit your—Mason’s—needs. When are the eighteen ladies, den mother and baby leaving?”
“As soon as the roads unfreeze,” Mimi said, wishing the sun would bring a miraculous fifty-degree day.
“Many people have waited a long time for hell to freeze. It could be a long time before Union Junction unfreezes—and the guests go home.”
She didn’t even want to think about Mason coming home to find pretty, petite Annabelle and adorable Emmie in his house. Not that she wished them ill—she just didn’t wish them for Mason. “Listen, Julia. You send Olga before Mason returns home. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Including thawing the deep freeze?”
“I’ll think of something.” She eyed her pink-and-white bedroom with the four-poster bed. “I think Emmie would be very soothed by my bedroom. I’m sure my old crib is in the attic, too. Dad never throws anything away.”
It was her mom who’d been unable to hang onto anything. No attachments, emotional or otherwise, for her. Mimi was determined to hang onto the one thing she considered hers: Mason. Maybe not hers as in a husband, but definitely hers as in a…as in a…best friend.
“Whatever happened to the goat, Mimi?” Julia asked.
“Oh, I’ve still got her,” she replied, not really paying attention. “Actually, she had a baby not too long ago, a bit out of season but healthy nonetheless. I named it Mason’s Folly, because Mason named my original goat Mimi’s Dolly. He said I’d been such a tomboy growing up that I never had any dolls, but why would I? The Jefferson brothers would have made a sport of looking up my dolls’ dresses.” She rolled her eyes; not a whole lot had changed for the Jeffersons. If gossip held true, they managed to get under lots of dresses. “Mason was being a butt when he said that my goat was the closest thing to a doll I’d ever had. He said maybe I could sew it a dress and put ribbons on its horns.”
Julia laughed again. “You’ve spoiled him for other women, I’m sure.”
“Speaking of other women, which has nothing to do with the conversation at hand, did I tell you Dad’s expecting a lawyer from Dallas to come visit the ranch soon? He says he’s about my age and well off and from a good ranching family in East Texas. I can’t imagine how a man from a good ranching family becomes a lawyer.”
“Dad bailing you out of something?”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Dad’s going to redo some contracts and his will. I’m supposed to show Brian the town, though Union Junction is now iced over in a big way. Maybe he won’t make it after all.” Mimi
looked at her nails, which she realized might need filing after she had mopped all afternoon. “I have to go, Julia. Union Junction’s on the verge of disaster, and I want to be wherever Dad needs me to help.”
“I’ll send Olga as soon as she can make arrangements to be there.”
“Great! Mason will be so pleased.”
“Sure he will.”
Julia hung up, and Mimi switched the phone off with a smile on her face. If she could get rid of the chaos on Mason’s ranch before he got home, he wouldn’t have reason to say I told you so. As usual.
Well, he wouldn’t say as usual, but she knew he’d think it. After all, the goat incident was fresh in both their memories. In the spring, she’d replant the hedges by Mason’s porch, something bright and blooming that would impress him with her gardening expertise. He’d forget all about the goat then.
Unfortunately, numerous females plus a baby would be so much more disastrous than one little ol’ lead-rope-chewing, hedge-eating goat.
Mason would never let her live it down. And for her birthday, he’d probably give her a book on how to avoid your well-meaning, disaster-prone neighbors.
She touched the lead rope he’d given her, which she kept hanging by her mirror with all the other Christmas presents he’d given her over the years. And corsages from homecoming. Cartoon paper valentines that read You’re my best buddy. Joke birthday cards.
All non-sentimental.
That was Mason, though. At least, it was the Mason she knew, and she really didn’t want another woman to know him that way. Or any way at all.
Chapter Six
“Sun’s up! You should be, too!”
A woman’s voice roused Frisco from the comfort of his leather recliner. Emmie had awakened only once last night, but for some reason, she’d let out a little cry, decided she was too sleepy to insist on anything more energetic, and gone back to snoozing.
He kind of liked feeling he had the power to make the little baby content. He really liked her smell, all sleepy-soft baby-powder-and-shampoo.
“Sorry, Frisco,” Delilah said, as she closed the front door and began unwinding a scarf from her head. She peeled off a big coat and put her things on the entry-hall table. “Did I wake Emmie?”
“No. She must have worn herself out yesterday from crying. She’s been quiet.”
“Reckon she’s sick?” Delilah came over to touch Emmie’s forehead and feel her neck.
“I wouldn’t know,” Frisco said with some alarm. “I just thought she was as tired as I was.”
“She feels fine to me.” Delilah looked up at him, her eyes bright with laughter. “I think she likes being around a man. Good thing you had your hands full with Emmie, or I would have had to put my foot down about Annabelle staying here with you. I can tell you’re a bit of a charmer.”
She winked at him, and Frisco felt himself heat around his neckline.
“I’d offer to take her from you, but I’m about to cook you some breakfast. Unless you’d rather I hold Emmie, instead—”
“She’s fine where she is,” Frisco said hurriedly.
Delilah laughed. “How do you like your eggs?”
He nearly sighed with anticipation. “Any way you’re fixing them.”
“I make them with hash browns, whatever meat you’ve got in the fridge and maybe salsa on the side. How long’s it been since you’ve had huevos rancheros?”
“Too long.”
She laughed and went into the kitchen. “All right, sleepyheads, everybody off the table. Good grief, you’d think that was a princess sleeping in a tower upstairs. I can’t tell you two apart, so if you don’t mind, tell me again which is which.”
“Tex.” He let out a head-splitting yawn before he could stop himself.
“Laredo, ma’am. I’ve got the longer hair.”
“And better manners,” Delilah observed, with a sly wink for Tex that Frisco caught as he came into the kitchen.
“Emmie is awake,” Frisco said, announcing what didn’t really need to be mentioned as Emmie’s cries filled the kitchen.
“Her breakfast is in the fridge. Warm it up in the microwave for about eight seconds, Laredo.”
Laredo shot out of his chair, anxious to do whatever he could to appease the screaming baby. “Shh, sh,” Frisco told Emmie, but the red face didn’t un-scrunch long enough to listen. “Hurry, dammit, Laredo!”
Laredo had his head in the fridge. “I don’t see a baby’s breakfast.”
“It’s the bottles on the side door,” Delilah instructed. “Just take one out, take off the cap, put in a glass of water to warm—never mind. Watch this. You’ll know how to do this next time.” She got out a glass, filled it with water part-way, then set it in the microwave for a few seconds. When the timer dinged, she took out the water and dropped the baby bottle into it.
“How’s she supposed to drink it like that?” Frisco asked, ready to surrender the aggravated baby. “She wants it now!”
“Patience,” Delilah told him. “Are you going to feed her?”
“Not if she’s going to be mad like this.”
She raised a brow at him. “If you big strong men think you can handle this baby, either as a pack or individually, I can cook breakfast. If you can’t, then I can feed Emmie myself, and breakfast can wait.”
“We’ve got it under control,” the men agreed, Frisco eyeing the eggs that were set out on the counter and the butter already melting in the skillet.
“Excellent.” She tested the bottle, then stuck it out toward the brothers. “Which one of you wants to be Emmie’s best friend?”
“I’ll take her,” Annabelle said, walking into the kitchen. “Thanks, everybody.”
“Are you feeling better?” Delilah asked.
Frisco looked at Annabelle with surprise. “I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well.”
He really was a handsome man, Annabelle had to admit. She felt much more comfortable around him in her blue jeans and sweater than she had in a bathrobe, non-descript and modest as it was. When he looked at her with those brown eyes, staring out from under dark brows and nearly-black hair, it was enough to make her heart beat a little faster. His expression was intent, as if he truly cared about her well-being. But she was wary enough to recognize how much she needed that sense of someone caring right now.
“I only needed some sleep,” she said, taking Emmie from him. “Thank you so much for looking after my daughter. Delilah, you’re doing my job.”
“Didn’t you say you can’t cook?” Frisco asked.
“That’s right. But I can kick three grown men out of the kitchen and set the table after I feed Emmie.” She sat down on the plank bench, making sure she didn’t disturb the baby from her bottle.
Delilah turned to the counter, stirring some canned chili. The three men hovered in the doorway, as if uncertain as to how they should react to being evicted from their own kitchen. “It’s okay,” Annabelle said, looking up. “It’s our way of earning our keep.”
Frisco drew his brows together. “We don’t charge for one night’s lodging.”
Annabelle smiled at him. “Well, there were nineteen of us, plus Jerry. So we must earn our keep.”
“Where is Jerry?” Frisco asked, with a quick glance at Delilah.
“He bunked with the other men at house number two. Isn’t that how you have the addresses set up? House one, two and three?” Delilah answered.
“Somewhat.”
Frisco didn’t look certain, and Annabelle decided the Jefferson men had never had need for addresses before the Lonely Hearts women had come along.
That was all right. They’d be gone soon enough.
The front door blew open, then slammed as Jerry came into the hallway, stomping his boots on the entry-hall rug. “Gosh-a-mighty, it’s cold out there!”
“Come get a cup of coffee, Jerry,” Delilah called. “It’s on the entry table.”
“Just what a man needs after chopping logs!” He came into the kitchen, offering r
ed, chapped hands to Frisco and the twins to shake.
“Chopping logs?” Frisco asked.
“Yep.” He took the towel that Delilah handed him with a wink and a smile of thanks for her thoughtfulness. “Delilah said it looked like that pile of wood out by the fence needed splitting and so I did it.”
“You’ll be ready for a hearty breakfast,” Delilah said with approval. “I’m sure you’re starved.”
“Starved for whatever you’re cooking.” He sent a nod Annabelle’s way. “No better way to get your blood moving in the morning than chopping logs in twenty-degree weather.”
Frisco shot her a funny look. Annabelle wondered why he’d looked so odd. But then, he looked uncomfortable around her a lot. She stroked Emmie’s cheek and decided there was nothing she could do about a man who was kind one moment, and burr-tempered the next.
“You didn’t have to split those logs,” Frisco said, his tone conveying his surprise.
“Gotta earn my keep,” Jerry said. “At least that’s what Delilah said, and goodness knows, I’m trying hard to impress her.”
Delilah blushed clear up her neck, Annabelle noted with a smile. She’d suspected that the beefy truck driver might have had his eye caught by Delilah, but she hadn’t imagined the interest might be two-sided. Delilah wouldn’t fall for a man who would always be on the road.
Then again, opposites sometimes attracted, as she knew too well from falling for Tom. She’d been thinking hearth and home, and he’d clearly been thinking bed and back door.
“What’s the sigh for?” Frisco asked, coming to sit across from her.
“Did I sigh? I didn’t mean to.” She could barely meet his gaze when he looked at her like that, intense and focused as if her every emotion was of great importance to him.
“You sighed. I know what a sigh sounds like. I just don’t know what it means. Are you feeling okay? Delilah mentioned you hadn’t been—”
“I’m fine,” Annabelle insisted gently. “You have no need to worry about me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he considered her words. Her stop sign clearly threw him, and he wasn’t certain how to proceed. But that was the problem: she wasn’t sure how to proceed around him, either. One minute, gentle, the next, prickly—she’d go crazy around a man like that.
