The Rancher's Bargain

by Joanne Rock

  She angled back to look at the snowflake cling-on stickers she’d pressed to the playroom windows.

  A quick knock sounded on the door before it opened.

  She turned in time to see James lean into the room. It wasn’t fair how quickly her belly filled with butterflies when she was around him.

  “May I come in?” he asked, still dressed in his work clothes, jeans and a tee with the Double H logo.

  He must have left his boots and hat in the mudroom, but she guessed he’d been working on one of the fences in a northern pasture. She’d seen him repairing it earlier in the week, too, when she’d taken Teddy out for a stroller ride along one of the better dirt roads on the ranch. She’d hoped James would take some time away from the chore to visit with his nephew, but he’d barely given them a wave before returning to the task.

  She’d noticed that he kept long hours, and sometimes he didn’t return to the house until well past nightfall. Could he possibly be as wary of time alone with her as she was of the forbidden temptation of his presence? Or could that just be her imagination? The man might truly be just a workaholic.

  “Please do. I’m sure Teddy misses you. I’ve been hoping you could spend some more time with him.” Lydia waved James in as she climbed down the step stool. “I only had the door closed so he didn’t run out of the room.”

  She’d placed baby safety covers in the interior door knobs in the nursery and playroom to ensure the boy didn’t wander out without her knowing.

  “I won’t stay long,” James assured her, his dark eyes lingering on her. “It must be nearing the little guy’s bedtime, right?”

  A shiver of awareness snaked up her spine, and she thought about how she looked with her hair falling out of its ponytail and juice stains on her shirt. She almost reached to smooth her hair, then stopped herself for making the telling motion. Instead, she pulled her gaze away from her boss’s enticing stare, focusing on Teddy.

  “I’m not sure there’s any sense putting him in his crib just yet. Look at him.” Now that she had a rhythm to the days with the little boy, she knew it was time to get James more involved with him.

  To help him feel more comfortable in his new role as the boy’s father figure. There was more to being a good nanny than feeding and caring for a child. Part of the job was enabling a thriving family. And so far, she hadn’t seen much emotional commitment from James, let alone one-on-one time with the boy.

  “He looks like he’s ready to run a marathon,” James observed, patting the child’s fluffy dark curls as Teddy rushed past him on wobbly legs.

  “Exactly.” Lydia noticed Teddy had dropped the pull string to the sleigh, though, his pattern of circling more erratic now. “And I’ve noticed when I force the bedtime issue, he only protests loudly, whereas if I wait an extra half hour, he usually settles down faster on his own.”

  “Mrs. Davis says you’re doing an excellent job.” James stepped deeper into the room, glancing toward the bag full of holiday decorations.

  Her pulse skittered faster as he approached her.

  “Really?” Lydia frowned. “I find that a little hard to imagine after all the times your housekeeper has glowered at me in the past two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry if she’s made you uncomfortable. I will speak to her,” he offered, taking a seat on the cushioned bench in front of a rocking chair.

  “No. I didn’t mean to suggest—” She definitely didn’t want to stir up trouble in the household. “She hasn’t done anything to make me uncomfortable. And I’m glad to know she thinks I’m doing a good job.”

  Regretting the unguarded comment, she busied herself by reaching into her shopping bag to retrieve a quilted advent calendar. Farm animals peered out of the stitched barn, a new animal revealed each day until Christmas when a baby in a manger appeared in the center. She hung it from one of the plastic hooks meant to display a child’s artwork.

  When she turned around from her task, James had a smile on his face as he pointed to the playroom floor. Her gaze followed where he pointed to see Teddy lying on his side, a soft puppy dog rattle in one hand. Absently, the boy rubbed his fingers over the pale blue terry cloth, stroking the toy puppy’s ear.

  “Someone’s getting sleepy.” James spoke quietly. “Would you like me to carry him to his crib?”

  “That would be great.” Because while it was no trouble to lift him herself, Lydia had been wanting to get James more involved in the baby’s daily routine. She watched as the rugged rancher leaned down to scoop up the child and cradle him against one big, broad shoulder.

  James’s shadowed jaw rested briefly atop his nephew’s dark curls and Lydia’s heart melted a little. Or maybe it was the sight of such a strong man displaying infinite tenderness toward a baby. No matter what it was that made her all soft and swoony inside, she recognized that standing shoulder to shoulder with her attractive employer in a darkened room might not be wise.

  Lydia backed up a step as James headed down the hallway. “I’ll be in the nursery in a minute,” she assured him before darting in the other direction.

  Just for a second, so she could get a handle on herself.

  Instead of finding some breathing room, however, she stepped right into Mrs. Davis.

  “Oh!” Lydia reached to right herself, placing a steadying hand against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”

  The housekeeper scowled, shaking her head. Her gray hair was down for the night, instead of in the tight twist she wore most days. Lydia was surprised to see her upstairs since she was usually in her room for the night at this hour. She tried not to react to the woman’s displeased expression, remembering what James had said about the compliment she’d paid Lydia.

  “I thought I heard Mr. Harris’s voice,” Mrs. Davis said. “I hoped to speak with him about something.” The woman still wore the gray dress and apron that were her work uniform even though it was long past dinnertime.

  “He’s tucking Teddy into bed for the night.”

  Nodding, the housekeeper started to move toward the stairs and then turned back to Lydia.

  “He is still grieving his brother, you know,” Mrs. Davis said haltingly as she glanced toward the door to the nursery.

  It was the most the housekeeper had ever said to her apart from where their duties overlapped.

  “I’m sure he is,” Lydia agreed. “It’s only been a few months.”

  “And before that, he was dealing with the loss of his wife.” Mrs. Davis lowered her voice even more while Lydia tried to conceal her shock.

  James had been married?

  She wanted to ask about that, but Mrs. Davis continued in her low, confidential tone. “I’m not sure he could handle getting attached to this boy and then possibly lose his nephew to the boy’s grandparents. That’s why I lobbied for Teddy to live with his grandparents from the start. I’m not heartless, Ms. Walker. I just don’t want to see Mr. Harris hurt again.”

  Lydia could scarcely process all that, still reeling from the news that James had lost his wife. Had something happened to her? Had they divorced?

  Before she could ask, James emerged from the nursery. Seeing the two women there, he paused.

  Lydia was still too surprised to speak. Mrs. Davis straightened, and informed him, “The outdoor chest freezer needs to be replaced as soon as possible.”

  The two of them spoke briefly about that before resolving it to the housekeeper’s satisfaction. Lydia told herself to simply say good-night and retreat.

  Her boss’s private affairs weren’t her concern. Except what if his wife’s family could make some kind of claim on Teddy? She knew that was a stretch considering the boy was James’s blood relative. But still, wouldn’t that have some bearing on her job? Or was she justifying her curiosity?

  Before she could debate the wisdom of it, she blurted, “I didn’t know you’d been married.”

  *
* *

  James braced for the inevitable pain that came from any reminder of his failed marriage.

  To his surprise, it didn’t come. Some resentment lingered, but not to the same degree. Had he finally put some of his past to rest? Because instead of feeling the old flare of anger about Raelynn, James only felt a surge of male satisfaction that Lydia Walker wanted to know about his romantic history.

  “I didn’t think it was relevant,” he told her honestly. “I believe you’ve been as careful as I have about not getting too...personal.”

  He’d been working ridiculously long hours lately, not just to catch up with chores around the ranch, but to keep his distance from Lydia and their undeniable attraction. To avoid the intimacy of time together after that rainy night when he’d driven her to her house.

  “It’s none of my business, of course,” she agreed, picking at a loose thread on the ribbed cuff of her pale green sweater sleeve.

  A shade that brought out the green in her beautiful hazel eyes.

  “It is your business. You work with my nephew, and my family status is relative to Teddy’s.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s talk in the kitchen and we can grab something to drink.”

  She followed him into the expansive kitchen, sliding onto one of the back-less saddle-shaped stools that pulled up to a long limestone countertop on an island. He tugged open one of the double doors to the refrigerator and chose two bottles of sparkling water and an orange. He sliced it and served a section on the rim of her glass along with her bottle.

  “Thank you.” She twisted off the cap and poured her own glass while he assembled some cheeses on a serving platter with a fresh baguette he found in the bread drawer.

  Sliding onto the stool near her—carefully leaving a seat empty between them—he poured his own drink. The small pendant lights over the bar were on the nighttime setting, low enough to see what they were doing, but dim enough to be relaxing. He liked taking his meals here at the end of a day.

  “I don’t talk about my ex-wife very often since the divorce is just over a year old, and until recently, it was a source of tremendous regret.”

  “You certainly don’t owe me any explanations.” She slid a single slice of bread onto the appetizer plate along with one slice of cheese. “I just wouldn’t want to be caught off guard if she came to the house, or asked to see Teddy.”

  “That will never happen.” For so many reasons. “Raelynn never wanted children, for one thing.” He’d thought about that many times since bringing his nephew into his life. If his wife hadn’t left him then, she sure as hell would have bolted when she found out James was the guardian to a pint-sized tornado. “But more importantly, she’s moved out of state. With her new husband.”

  Lydia stared at him, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not. At least we’re not forced to see each other around town.” He’d been hurt at first when he’d discovered how quickly she found someone new, but even he’d been able to see that she was happier in her second marriage. “I knew we were having problems, but I didn’t realize how much she disliked being a rancher’s wife. We agreed on a settlement, and she left. End of story.”

  “That still must have been painful.”

  “Of course. But I learned a valuable lesson. Because while I don’t plan to get hitched again, I do know that I’d take a more mercenary approach next time.” He dragged the cutting board closer and cut the remainder of the orange he’d used for their drinks, adding the slices to the serving platter.

  The sharp tang of citrus filled the air and Lydia helped herself to a segment.

  “A mercenary approach to marriage?” She lifted an eyebrow. “That just sounds wrong.”

  “Think about how many more successful marriages there used to be when families helped arrange the match. A wedding was for practical purposes, yes. But when a partner shares your values and interests, love can grow out of that.” His gaze snagged on the sheen of juice coating her lips, and he felt a new kind of thirst.

  “You can’t be serious.” She shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

  She mesmerized him so much it took him a moment to remember what they’d been talking about.

  “I’m totally serious. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think maybe romance is overrated.”

  Picking up the slice of baguette on her plate, she tore it in half and pointed at him with the ripped half. “That much we can agree on.”

  “Oh really?” he asked while she took a bite. “I would hate to think that you’re already a cynic when it comes to love, too.” He was teasing her, but he felt sad to hear it. “I hope no one’s trounced your heart, Lydia.”

  He’d seen her tenderness with Teddy, and it made him feel protective of her.

  “No. But I know not everyone views marriage as a binding agreement.” She slanted a glance his way. “My mother, for example, has taken a ‘trial and error’ approach to finding the right guy. She was married three times before I moved out of Arkansas, and she’s contemplating husband number four even now.”

  “That couldn’t have been easy for you or your siblings.” He’d read about the family on the House Rules blog, but didn’t remember anything about a father figure in the clan.

  “We managed.” There was a defensive note in her voice, a hint of defiant pride. “But it certainly gave me a skeptical view of matrimony.”

  He wondered if that meant she’d ruled it out for herself, but wasn’t sure how much to push. He was curious, though.

  “What about your dad?” he asked instead, wanting to know more about her. Because even though he’d been avoiding her for the last two weeks, that didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking about her most waking hours. And fantasizing about her the second his head hit the pillow at night. “Did he remarry?”

  “He did.” She nodded, and then took a long sip of her water. “My father is Brazilian, and he met my mother while he was a foreign exchange student. He went back home after things fell apart with my mother. I’ve only seen him once since then, and I’ve never met his second wife.”

  He wondered about her last name—Walker didn’t strike him as Brazilian—but maybe she’d taken her mother’s surname. When he didn’t respond right away, Lydia smothered a laugh, stirring her orange around her glass with a cocktail straw.

  “My family has some interesting dynamics, I realize.”

  “Every family is unique.” He understood that. “My nephew will be faced with that challenge, too. Whether I keep him with me or his maternal grandparents raise him, his childhood will be very different from what it should have been.”

  Lydia was quiet for a long moment. “You’re seriously considering...giving him up?”

  “I’m hardly equipped to raise a child by myself.” Frustration simmered, not that she’d raised the question, but because he hated the situation. Hated that his brother wasn’t here to be the father he’d always dreamed of being. “I want what’s best for the boy.”

  He reached for more food, filling his plate a second time. Busying himself to dodge a sense of crushing guilt.

  “That’s admirable to put his needs first,” she said softly, reaching a hand over to touch his forearm. Distracting him from the mixture of unhappy emotions with that spike of awareness never far beneath the surface when she was near. “But if you really want what’s best for Teddy, please don’t rule yourself out yet. You might make a better father than you realize.”

  He knew the only reason he didn’t discount the suggestion immediately was because of that gentle touch on his forearm. The cool brush of her skin along his. It made it impossible to think about anything else but her. His heart slugged hard against his ribs. His gaze dipped to her lips as they parted ever so slightly.

  An invitation?

  Or wishful imagining?

  If she’d been closer, he would have kisse
d her. He couldn’t decide, then, if it was good thing or a bad thing that there was a vacant seat between them, keeping them apart. Instead, he covered her hand with his, watching her all the while.

  Her pupils widened a fraction. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, he could see that hint of reaction. A sign of shared desire.

  She didn’t pull away. At least, not at first.

  After a moment, she blinked fast and then withdrew her fingers slowly.

  “I’d better say good-night.” She rose awkwardly and backed toward the door before she turned away, her ponytail swishing as he watched her retreat.

  He employed all his restraint not to follow her. Because he knew if he stood now, even just to extend their conversation, that kiss he wanted would somehow happen. It was so close he could almost taste her on his lips. And if this was what it was like between them after he’d deliberately avoided her for two weeks, what would happen if he spent more time with her and Teddy, the way she wanted him to?

  He didn’t have a plan for how to handle the magnetic attraction he felt for this woman, and he needed to come up with one. Fast. Because hiding out on the ranch, burying himself in physical labor, clearly wasn’t working.

  Five

  Rose Clayton peered out her bedroom window just after dawn, not surprised to see James Harris’s truck in one of the few remaining fields around the Silver C that didn’t border Lone Wolf Ranch property. The Double H owner was a hard worker, no doubt, but over the past two weeks Rose had noticed James’s truck at all hours in that shared pasture. The man was putting a lot of time into his place.

  But then, she’d heard that his brother had died this past fall. Maybe James needed the distraction of exhausting, physical labor. She understood all too well the way grief could consume a person. She’d grieved for the love she’d lost with Gus when her father had forced her to wed Edward. She’d grieved for her mother to be married to a man who didn’t care about her. Eventually, she’d even hurt for her children, who’d been raised by a hard, unforgiving man.