“Hello, Mr. Marshall.”
After introductions were made, Cressa led Spencer to the dining room where they both sat down. She smiled shyly. “May I take a look at your hand?”
Spencer grinned. “Yes. Of course, doc.”
The feel of his warm, roughened, and weathered palm against her own cool, smooth skin was a sweet comfort, and the clean scent of scrubbed pine drifted toward her. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t afford that kind of comfort right now. So much depended on her. She bent her head toward her work. There wasn’t any swelling or redness, and the wound was healing nicely. There would be a thin red line once the stitches were removed. It would fade with time.
“You did a nice job,” Spencer said softly. “I’m grateful to you.”
A small bud of pride rose in Cressa. She was good at her job. It pleased her to be recognized by a patient. Working in the ER, she rarely got acknowledgement from those she treated. They were often on to the next level of care or sent home before any words of appreciation could be spoken. “I’m glad it’s healing so well. It’s obvious you’ve been following doctor’s orders.”
“Not much of a choice, really, since I don’t have any work,” Spencer said.
Cressa nodded. “Well, let’s see if we can change that.”
“I’ve got a job I need to finish up, but it should only be a few days. What do you need done?” Spencer asked.
Sitting so close to Spencer, Cressa did her best to ignore the soothing aroma of summer pine and pungent sage, pushing back any fledgling attraction for the man. She stood abruptly and moved him through the house. In the hallway, Cressa cleared her throat as she showed him the bathroom and explained the need for better mobility for both of her parents.
Spencer suggested widening the door for walker and wheelchair accessibility. “If we can put a shower in the master, I’d keep the tub in here for resale value. We can spruce it up along with the tile and replace the vanity, flooring, and toilet.”
Cressa was grateful for his all-business attitude. “Let’s do that.”
Spencer faced her. “I shouldn’t be making assumptions. Are you needing wheelchair accessibility?” he asked.
The thought settled in the pit of Cressa’s stomach with dread. “I hate to consider it, but it would probably be a good idea.”
“What about the kitchen?” Spencer asked.
“No. Well, not yet, anyway. My mother can still help in the kitchen, and I do a lot of the cooking. It’s the bathrooms that need the most work. If we can get a walker and a wheelchair through these doors, that’d be great.”
“You mean Agnes?” Cressa’s dad yelled from the family room.
Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Cressa smiled while looking heavenward. “Yes, Dad!” she yelled back. “Agnes.”
Spencer cocked his head with an unsure expression. “Do I need to worry about Agnes?”
Cressa breathed deep the smell of sage and pine as the warmth that came from Spencer like glorious spring sun seeped through her. “No,” Cressa replied. “Agnes is his walker.”
A slow grin came over Spencer’s face.
Cressa leaned closer to Spencer and murmured, “But apparently we have to be concerned about my father listening to our conversation.” The closeness of Spencer pulled at Cressa, and she longed to stroke the soft flannel of his shirt and move her hands through his dark curly hair.
She stepped back. What was wrong with her?! She needed to stop this kind of thinking. She and Spencer both had jobs to do, and it would be better if she didn’t muddy those waters by indulging her attraction. Stepping away, she took a businesslike tone. “I think that about wraps up what needs to be done in the hallway. Let me show you the master.”
She walked into her parents’ bedroom, feeling like an intruder with this man she barely knew in her mom and dad’s personal space. But she reminded herself that this work would eventually serve their desire to stay in their own home.
Spencer did a quick assessment. “We can remove the tub in here and replace it with a large walk-in shower that can accommodate a seat.”
He looked over the room. “Tile would be more attractive, but I would suggest fiberglass. It comes in pieces that can be put together, and it would be easier to clean.”
“I agree. Let’s go with the fiberglass. Can we have a couple of bars placed in the shower?”
Spencer nodded.
“I’d also love to have a removable showerhead so they can get clean while sitting.”
“Absolutely. I think that’s a good idea.”
Cressa tried to shed the growing captivation around Spencer and his warm brown eyes, strong physique, and easy body language. “Let’s take a look outside, shall we?” She moved out of the tight bathroom space, both grateful and sorry to be freed from such close proximity to Spencer.
They made their way to the foyer, where they put on their shoes and coats before venturing out into the snowy afternoon. Their walk to the fields was quiet, and within a few minutes, they came to the fence where the cows stood in the shelter.
Leaning against the railing, she kept her distance from Spencer as she put her forearms on the top slat. “We only run about a dozen cows. We have a few families who buy from us, because they want to know where their beef comes from.” she said. “I’m thinking about selling all of the cows next year. But in the meantime, they need to be cared for, as do the horses, outbuildings, and equipment.”
Spencer took a few minutes to check his surroundings. “Everything looks to be in great shape,” he said. “The cows and horses appear to be fine, and the equipment is in good repair.”
Cressa let out an audible exhalation of release. “I’m so glad to hear that.” Her thoughts focused on Andrew. “I should tell you that my cousin, Andrew McPherson, has been keeping track of the out-of-doors work. Perhaps you could just oversee him.”
“I can do that,” Spencer said. “I’ve worked for Stiles Ranch for the last two summers. Is your cousin learning the ropes?”
Cressa debated on how much to tell Spencer before deciding that even though Andrew’s story wasn’t hers to share, Spencer had a right to know some generalities if he was going to be overseeing him. “No. He comes from a ranching family, but he’s had a brush with the law for attempted cattle rustling. He’s out on bail. His brother, Joshua, is in jail for unrelated charges. One of them is beating the younger sister of Ruby, the owner of the Jumpin’ Bean. Her sister’s name is Lexie. Joshua and Lexie were married for a short time.”
Spencer sucked in his breath. “Jonah’s fiancée’s sister?”
“Yeah. But as far as I know, Andrew hasn’t been involved in any of that. He’s been honest and helpful here. I’ve been very appreciative. I want to start paying him, and I don’t have the time to make sure everything gets done.”
“Then I’m your man,” Spencer replied.
Some lonely corner of Cressa’s heart wished for that very thing. She looked down at her boots in order to avoid his eyes before clearing her throat again. “That’d be great. Can you tell me how much all of this will cost?” Sticking to business made things easier.
Spencer thought for a moment and then rattled off a number. “This is a ballpark figure. I’ll get a bid ready so we both have something on paper, but unless I find there’s some problem in the house, like wood rot or pests, it would probably fall within the amounts I just quoted you.”
“That’ll work for me and my family,” Cressa replied. A breath of relief washed over her like a spring breeze as she walked Spencer to his truck just in time to see Andrew pull into the drive. She waved. “There’s Andrew now.”
Andrew stepped out of the vehicle and made his way toward them with a hesitant look. She hoped her smile put him at ease.
“Andrew, this is Spencer Stewart. He’s going to be working with us for a while.”
“Hi, Spencer.” Andrew stretched his hand out, and Spencer accepted his firm grip.
Cressa was pleased to see the easy ma
nner between the two men. She continued, “Spencer is going to do some remodeling inside to help with Mom and Dad’s mobility. He’s also going to help with the ranch. Perhaps the two of you can work out a schedule for the work that needs to be done.” She turned toward Andrew. “And we’re going to start paying you.”
Andrew gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he said. “That would be helpful.” He turned toward Spencer with shy hesitancy. “Could you use some help doing the indoor work?”
A small red flag rose up in Cressa. Did she want Andrew inside her home? She was used to him working with the cattle, but the idea of having him close to her parents and their belongings concerned her. “I can’t pay two for the indoor work,” Cressa warned.
“It couldn’t come out of my pay, either,” Spencer said.
“I don’t mind,” Andrew replied. “It’d be good for me to learn some carpentry. If you’d be willing to have me hang around, I’ll help any way I can. I just appreciate the ranch pay you’re offering.”
Cressa’s concern softened. Andrew had served her parents and had asked for nothing long before she got home. Maybe it was time she gave him a break in spite of his past decisions and his brother’s bad behavior. She deferred to Spencer. “It’s up to Mr. Stewart.”
“I could use a partner,” Spencer said.
Andrew shed his hesitancy like uncomfortable armor. He grinned. “That’s great! When do I start?”
Spencer held out his hand. “As soon as I get these stitches out. Let’s say a week from today. That’ll give me time to let the doc here snip these strings and finish my current job.”
Andrew peered at Spencer’s hand before turning to Cressa. “Did you stitch him up?”
Cressa smiled. She enjoyed the company of these two men. It almost felt like a spring thaw was beginning inside of her. “Yeah. I did that.”
Andrew returned Cressa’s grin. “And I can tell you’re proud. You should be. Nice stitch work.”
“Why, thank you, cousin.”
Andrew laughed. “Well, I’ll take care of these cows today,” he said. “Then I’ll call you later tonight, Mr. Stewart, to discuss a schedule.”
“Just Spencer. Call me Spencer.”
Andrew nodded before they exchanged numbers and he moved toward the back of the house. The first bits of snow began their meandering trip from the frozen sky.
Standing by Spencer’s truck, Cressa wished he wouldn’t leave. His presence brought a ray of light and warmth into her otherwise bleak day. His company would enliven her parents’ day as well. She considered offering him some cocoa, but thought better of it as she reminded herself that they were not friends. He was her patient first, and now he would work for her and her family. It would be best if they didn’t get too chummy.
“Is there anything else?” Spencer asked.
Cressa hesitated. “There is one more thing. My parents … they’ll be home while you’re here.” Apprehension moved into Cressa’s mind like a bank of gray clouds. “They mostly keep to themselves. My mom suffers from early dementia, but I think she’ll be accepting of your presence. My dad has Parkinson’s, but his mind is in pretty good shape.”
“So he uses Agnes to get around.”
“Yes. That’s it exactly. This is hard for me to talk about. I know you’re not here to be a caregiver, but if you see anything that looks wrong or amiss, please call me immediately.”
Spencer nodded. “And you want me to keep an eye on Andrew.”
A niggling sense of guilt rose up in Cressa. “Yes, please. I know this isn’t fair, but—”
Spencer shrugged. “You mentioned that he had a brush with the law.”
“Yes, well … yes.”
“I’ll watch,” Spencer said. “If he’s helping me, there shouldn’t be any need for him to wander.”
Cressa pulled in her bottom lip. “I know I’m asking more of you than just a remodel, and if you don’t want to take this job, I wouldn’t blame you.”
Spencer stepped close. “Look, Dr. Marshall. I’ll level with you. I need the work, so if it means you need me to look in on your folks during the day, I’ll be happy to do it. I have parents, and I would hope if they were in need, someone would take care of them until I could manage it myself. So don’t worry. I got this. Okay?”
Relief poured through Cressa like warm water. Looking into Spencer’s face, she noticed the creases in the corner of his dark brown eyes and found them appealing. “Please, call me Cressa.” Her smile faded, and she grew serious once again. “If you ever feel like something isn’t right with my parents, I want you to tell me.” She tore her gaze from his warm brown eyes and focused on the blue-and-gray plaid shirt he was wearing. How she longed to lay her head on his soft flannel shirt.
Spencer stayed rooted to his spot as he reached out and squeezed Cressa’s upper arm. His voice softened. “Of course.”
Cressa bit back tears of gratitude that mingled with desire. His presence gave her a soft place to land, even if it was for a moment. The distance between her and Spencer began to close as the warmth of his hand reached her skin, moving against Cressa’s senses like brushstrokes. She longed to return her gaze to his face and get lost in those brown eyes, even for the briefest of seconds.
Once again, she chided herself with the second reminder that their relationship was strictly work-related. Clearing her throat, she stepped away. “Thank you. Is there anything else?”
Spencer removed his hand from her arm. “Just one thing,” he said with a grin. “Please don’t call me Mr. Stewart. Mr. Stewart is my father. I’m just Spencer.”
His sincere kindness penetrated Cressa’s frigid defenses, but she refused to give in to it. She offered him a smile while keeping her thoughts away from feeling anything for Spencer. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Spencer fished his keys out of his pocket and moved away. His physical absence was followed by a blitz of cold air rushing down from the nearby mountains. Shivering, she gathered her coat close as he got into his truck and pulled out of the drive. With a wave, she smiled wistfully as he drove away, taking with him the small ray of joy that had come with his company.
Moving into the house, Cressa closed the door and leaned against it. A light smile played on her lips as each beat of her heart warmed her from the inside.
“He was a very nice young man,” her mother said from the couch.
“Yes. I believe he is,” Cressa said.
“It’s nice that you have a boyfriend.”
Cressa’s pulse ticked up into her throat for a couple of beats. “Mom, Spencer isn’t my boyfriend. You’ll see more of him than I will. He’s here to work on the house.”
Her mother smiled. Once again, Cressa caught her mother’s clear eyes. “Oh, honey,” her mother said. “I may not remember everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”
Cressa was about to protest, but changed her mind. She didn’t want to lose her mother’s precious moments of clarity to an argument. Besides, she was a bit flush from the cold, and Spencer’s presence had offered her a soft respite from the heartache that resided within. For one brief morning, she didn’t feel so alone caring for her parents. She smiled at her mother as a new realization glimmered within her soothed soul. She hadn’t thought of Owen for a single second.
Six
Later that day, Spencer looked out his living room window to see Lyla’s gray Forerunner pull into his slushy drive. The dropped fog lamps always made the SUV look as if it was wearing a perpetual frown.
Lyla hurried four-year-old Kimber out of the back seat and grabbed the little girl’s bag before turning to the house. He opened the front door, and stepped outside, a blast of cold snow whooshed past him into the house. He was grateful for the woodstove crackling behind him.
“Daddy!”
Spencer crouched and opened his arms wide as Kimber ran forward at full tilt. The little girl threw herself into his arms and wrapped her hands tight around his neck. Spencer pulled her close and breathed in the
scent of strawberries that clung to his daughter in any kind of weather.
Her blond curly hair tickled his nose as he carried her into the house and put her down. She reached up and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He gave her fingers a small squeeze as she gazed up at him with her soft gray eyes and a dimpled smile.
Lyla followed, carrying the overnight bag. “Well, we’ve always known she’s a daddy’s girl.” Lyla dumped the bag on the couch and sat next to it.
Spencer smiled as he folded himself into his rocking chair. Kimber clambered up on his lap and snuggled against him as he put his arms around her and held her close. “I hope that never changes.”
Lyla gave Spencer a wistful look. “Yeah, so do I. How are you, Spencer?”
“I’m good today.” Spencer smiled as he nuzzled Kimber. “My sunshine came for a visit.”
Lyla furrowed her brow as she stood and crossed the room to where he sat. Kneeling in front of him, she gently took his hand. “What happened?” she asked softly as she ran her fingers over his palm before sweetly stroking the bandaged thumb.
Spencer couldn’t help but react to Lyla’s touch. Since their divorce, he had not dated. He chose to focus his attention on work and his daughter, leaving Lyla the last woman Spencer had ever tasted.
With his daughter snuggled in his lap and the sweet scent of Lyla’s shampoo wafting toward him, it was hard to forget they were no longer a family. His ex-wife was as familiar as she was beautiful with her thick, tousled, long blonde hair that lay against her creamy skin, and blue eyes so deep they took on a violet hue. Now, she looked up at him with those violet-blue eyes framed in dark lashes, her heart-shaped mouth pinched with concern.
Spencer withdrew his hand. He didn’t want to get caught up in the whirlwind of Lyla and their family memories. “I cut my thumb at the Clemson place. I had to have it stitched up.”
Sapphires And Sagebrush (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots) Page 4
