by Myra Johnson
She’d almost finished her sandwich when the clop-clop of horses’ hooves drew her attention to the lane.
“Thought we’d come by and say hi,” Seth called from atop Tango.
Joseph rode up beside him. “You should have come with us today, Miss Christina. We saw an armadillo and a baby copperhead on the trail.”
Christina flinched. “I hope not at the same time.”
“No, we saw the armadillo first. It had a hole by some big rocks. The copperhead was up the hill a ways.”
“Sounds...fun.” Swallowing her last bite of sandwich, Christina rose and carried her iced tea to the porch rail. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”
Seth rode closer. “Dropped the Finch family at the barn. Rafael’s helping them untack.” He cast her a concerned frown from beneath the rim of his Stetson. “You doing okay?”
So much for being treated like a capable adult. “When I can’t do my job, I’ll let you know.”
The firm set of his jaw made her regret her bristly tone. “Sorry for caring,” he muttered. “It’s just that earlier—”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.” She strove for a light laugh. “Can we just blame it on those rowdy Finch boys?”
Seth laughed, too. “I think we can safely blame this whole crazy week on the Finch boys.”
Well, maybe not everything. But it wasn’t Christina’s place to mention what Seth’s grandmother had confided earlier, and especially not in front of Joseph and Eva. What would happen to Seth and the kids if his grandparents decided to sell Serenity Hills?
Seth’s saddle leather creaked as he shifted his weight. “I was thinking, since the Finches are driving over to Fredericksburg for dinner tonight and it’ll be quiet around here, maybe you’d like a break before the weekend guests check in tomorrow.”
“A quiet evening sounds exactly like what I—” Suddenly it dawned on her what he might be asking. Her heart gave a nervous thud. “Um, did you have something in mind?”
“There’s a little Mexican food place on the edge of town. Best enchiladas between here and San Antonio.”
“I love enchiladas, if they’re not too spicy.”
“Luis will make them as mild as you like.” Seth’s lips twitched in a hesitant grin. “Pick you up at six?”
Christina glanced down as Gracie nuzzled her hand. “I, um...”
“See, she’s telling you it’s okay.”
“So now you speak dog?”
“I’m learning.” Seth’s chuckle shot prickles of warmth up Christina’s spine. “Seriously, you’d better do what she tells you, or you might find something unpleasant in your shoe tomorrow morning.”
She smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“All right, then, see you at six.” With a tip of his hat, Seth kicked his horse into a trot.
As Christina watched Seth and his children ride away, she gave her head a frustrated shake. This was not supposed to happen. And yet she couldn’t seem to do a thing about it, because the more time she spent with Seth, the more she began to imagine a different kind of life. She still wasn’t clear on what exactly that life entailed, but she did know that someday she wanted to experience the joy—the normalcy—of love, marriage and children of her own.
* * *
“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not a date.” Seth slapped his Stetson on the kitchen counter. He was glad the kids had gone upstairs to their rooms for an afternoon rest.
“You asked her out to dinner.” Grinning over her shoulder, Omi pounded a slab of round steak with an aluminum meat tenderizer. “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”
Seth figured he should be glad his grandmother wasn’t using the gadget to “tenderize” his thick head. “I just thought it would do Christina good to get away from the ranch for a while. She’s been going nonstop ever since the Finches checked in.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Omi laid down the meat tenderizer, then washed and dried her hands. With a meaningful smile curling her lips, she crossed the kitchen to lay her warm palm against Seth’s cheek. “Honey, it’s okay to let yourself care for someone. And I can’t think of a nicer person to let into your heart than Christina.”
Covering her hand, he lowered it to his chest and gave a squeeze. “Yes, I like Christina. But I’m in no rush, okay?”
“No rush?” Omi scoffed. “It’s been three years, and in my opinion, that’s two years too long. Those kids need a mother. You need a—”
“Don’t say it, Omi.” Seth swallowed the bitter taste of regret creeping into his throat.
“I will say it, whether you want to hear it or not.” Clasping his hand with both of hers, she gave it a hard shake. “Seth Austin, you need to take your wounded heart off the shelf and teach it how to love again.”
With a pained sigh, he lowered his head. “And exactly how do I do that?”
“Well, like you’ve been doing ever since Christina came into our lives. You get to know her a little bit at a time. You start trusting her with your children.” Omi tweaked his chin, her flinty gaze boring into his. “You take her out for Mexican and you treat her like a lady and you call it what it is—a date.”
Giving a snort, she whirled around to finish preparing the steak she’d been hammering into submission.
So he was going on a date. You hear that, heart of mine?
It gave a little thump, and he wasn’t sure if the response was gratitude or panic.
Panic. Definitely panic. Because Seth had been making all kinds of dangerous moves lately. Maybe he needed a dog like Gracie of his own to sound the alert before he lost his cool.
On his way upstairs, he passed the office door and glimpsed his grandfather at the desk. Opi had definitely seemed better the last few days, and Seth was relieved the report from the cardiologist had been encouraging. Still, Opi’s troubled look as he studied something on the computer screen didn’t bode well.
Seth tapped on the open door and stepped into the office. “Everything okay?”
Opi looked up with a half smile. “Oh, sure, just going over the accounts.”
“And? How’re we doing?”
“Better than this time last year. Not as good as I’d like.” Opi fingered a stack of bills, the one on top from the feed store. “I’m thinking about selling a couple of horses. The way business has been, we could easily get by with fewer.”
Seth couldn’t argue the point. He sank into a chair opposite his grandfather. “Danny and Sugarbear are getting up in years, but they’re also the gentlest mounts for greenhorns. I’ve been wondering about Cinnamon. She spooks too easily.”
Opi nodded his agreement. “You still planning on breeding Tango soon?”
“Hope so. Doc Ingram knows a rancher over toward Bandera with a real nice stallion. Need to talk to him about the fee.”
At the mention of money, Opi’s jaw muscles clenched. He looked back at the computer screen. “Don’t forget, we’re gonna need a new roof on the barn before winter. Plus we talked about doing some updates in the cabins.”
“I can do the roofing. All we’ll need is materials. We can put off refurbishing the cabins for another year or so, can’t we?”
“Not if we want to keep our repeat business and get some referrals.” Opi shuddered. “Hate to think what cabin four’s gonna look like after the Finches check out.”
Seth cringed, as much from picturing the damage those boys could do as from seeing what money worries were doing to his grandfather. He came around the desk to rest a hand on Opi’s shoulder. “Go play a game with the kids or something. Let me work on the bills for a while.”
When his grandfather tried to argue, Seth grabbed the back of the chair and rolled it away from the computer. He lifted Opi bodily and pointed him toward the door. “Out, I said.”
Gru
mbling under his breath, Opi stomped from the room.
Seth was no stranger to keeping the books but typically left this side of the business to his grandparents.
Well, no more. Opi and Omi weren’t getting any younger, and if Seth had any hopes of keeping Serenity Hills going after they retired, he’d better get a firm handle on every aspect of running the guest ranch. He spent the next hour figuring out which bills to pay now and which he could put off a while longer. No wonder his grandfather had trouble keeping his blood pressure down.
Satisfied he’d handled everything urgent and feeling more educated about where the ranch finances stood, Seth eased his chair back. With a tired groan, he pressed his thumbs into the spaces beneath his eyebrows for a brisk massage. He checked the time and decided he’d better make quick work of barn chores before getting cleaned up for this so-called date he’d arranged with Christina.
As he started to rise, his glance fell to the file drawer. If Omi really did want Seth to get to know Christina better, shouldn’t he learn a little more about her background? Anyway, he had as much right as his grandparents to look at personnel files.
Then why did he feel so guilty?
His hand lingered over the drawer handle. Before he could talk himself out of it, he yanked open the drawer and thumbed through the folders. With a furtive glance toward the door, he laid Christina’s folder on his lap and pulled out her application form.
When he read child and family social worker under previous employment, a sickening flood of memories engulfed him. No wonder his grandmother had been so closemouthed about the subject. She knew as well as anyone what Seth had gone through in the battle for his children.
Hearing footsteps, he shoved the folder back into the drawer and eased it shut. Seconds later, his grandmother peeked in. “Opi said you threw him out.” She cast him a wink and a grateful smile. “How’s it going?”
“All handled.” Teeth clenched, he fought to hold in the torrent of emotions raging through him.
Omi narrowed her gaze. “What’s wrong, Seth?”
It took his last ounce of willpower to keep his voice even. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
For a full two seconds her eyes darted in a look of confusion. Then her lids fell shut, and she breathed out slowly. “You looked at the personnel file.”
“You had to know I’d find out sooner or later.”
“Yeah, well, it was the ‘later’ I was counting on. Hopefully after you’d had a chance to know and like Christina for who she is.”
“Who she is, is a social worker, Omi. A social worker!” Seth sat back so hard that the chair rammed into the credenza behind him. “How can I trust a single thing she says now? For all I know, she’s taking notes on what a lousy dad I am so she can get the kids removed.”
“For crying out loud, Seth Austin, would you listen to yourself?” Both hands braced on the desk, Omi leaned toward him, her eyes shooting daggers. “In case you haven’t noticed, your daughter isn’t afraid of dogs anymore, and your son isn’t near as clingy as he was. Tell me one single thing Christina’s done that’s been a threat to you or the kids.”
Made me almost brave enough to risk my heart again, he didn’t say. And that alone was plenty threatening.
Chapter Nine
It was six ten and no sign of Seth. Christina paced her narrow porch and wondered if they’d had a miscommunication. “Pick you up at six?” he’d said, pick you up being the operative words. Or was he waiting at his truck, expecting Christina to meet him there?
She frowned down at Gracie, all set to go in her blue vest and car harness. “What do you think, girl? Should we walk over or keep waiting?”
Relaxing on her haunches, tongue hanging out like she didn’t have a care in the world, Gracie didn’t budge.
“Okay, smarty-pants, since you seem to know more about what’s going on lately than I do, I guess we wait.”
Christina was about to plop down in the metal porch chair when she heard the rumble of tires coming up the lane. Moments later, Seth’s maroon pickup stopped in front of her cabin. He shut off the motor, then climbed out and opened the rear door. Without saying a word, he strode over to take Gracie’s leash and boosted the dog into the back seat.
Unsure what to make of Seth’s silent treatment, Christina edged around him to buckle Gracie in. “Where are the kids?” she asked, surprised they hadn’t come along.
“With my grandparents.” Barely looking at her, Seth walked her around to the passenger side and pulled open her door.
With one foot on the running board, Christina peered up at him. “I can tell something’s bothering you. If you’d rather not go, it’s okay.”
He exhaled loudly through his nostrils. “Just get in before I change my mind.”
A panicky feeling gripped her chest. “Seth—”
“We’ll talk, I promise.” With a hand at her elbow, he guided her into the seat, then firmly closed the door.
Gracie whimpered and stretched forward to lick Christina’s ear. She caressed the dog’s head. “Yeah, girl, I know. Something’s really wrong.”
Seth buckled in behind the wheel, then backed around and headed out toward the road. The grim set of his jaw made Christina’s fingers tighten around the edge of her seat. She wished he’d say something—anything.
After they’d driven a mile or so, she tried again. “Please, Seth, tell me what’s going on.”
His Adam’s apple made a painful-looking path up and down his throat. “I was going to save this until we got to the restaurant and could talk face-to-face, but obviously that plan isn’t working.” He shot her a steely glance. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a social worker?”
Icy-hot blades sliced through Christina’s abdomen. Her lower lip trembled as she forced out her reply. “Because your grandparents asked me not to. They told me what happened with your children and the custody battle.” She wanted desperately to reach across the space between them and somehow convince him she’d never have betrayed his trust that way. “What happened to you and the kids was cruel and unfair. I’d like to believe the social worker made an honest mistake, that she completely misjudged the situation, but the truth is I don’t know. My only defense is that we’re all only human, acting on our training and best instincts in any given situation.”
Seth’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Well, her instincts were all wrong in this situation.”
With nothing else she could say, Christina shifted deeper into the seat and clasped her arms across her waist. She wanted to ask why Seth hadn’t just confronted her at the ranch instead of putting them both through this pretense of going out for dinner. Clearly, she was the last person he wanted to be with right now. She wished she could crawl in the back seat with Gracie, bury her face in the dog’s cool fur and forget this conversation ever happened.
The pickup slowed, and Seth turned into a crowded gravel parking area outside a long stucco building. Brightly colored murals adorned the walls—dancers in traditional Mexican dress; a mariachi band in striped serapes; saguaro cacti and lush flowers in vibrant shades of red, orange and blue. A sign over the entrance read Casa Luis.
Seth pulled to a stop at the end of a row of cars. Long seconds passed before he exhaled slowly and said, “I guess I should ask if you still want to go in.”
Confused and just a little bit angry now, Christina muttered, “You did kind of put a damper on the evening.”
He slapped the steering wheel. “If you’d just told me—”
“Then what?” Christina whirled on him. “You’d have never let your grandmother hire me in the first place? Oh, sure, that would’ve really helped. You’d still have a little girl scared of dogs and a son who can hardly stand for you to be out of his sight. Not to mention you’d probably have ended up hiring a crotchety old hag with purple hair an
d no teeth, and just imagine the scare she’d put in your ranch guests.”
As she spoke, Seth slowly swiveled his head to stare at her, his brows drawing together in disbelief. Jaw dropping, he released something between a groan and a laugh. Then his gaze softened, and the beginnings of a reluctant smile skewed his lips. “Yep, you’re definitely a lot easier on the eyes than that old hag would have been.”
Christina’s heart turned over as she suppressed a tiny giggle. “Oh, Seth, I really am sorry about—”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve given the past way too much power over my present...and my future.” He took her hand. “I’d really like to buy you that dinner now, if you think you can stand sitting across the table from me.”
The first thought that popped into her mind was, Are you kidding? You’re pretty easy on the eyes, yourself, Seth Austin. Instead, with a dignified tilt of her chin, she said, “Why, sir, I thought you’d never ask.”
With Gracie between them, Seth walked Christina inside, and the very understanding hostess showed them to an out-of-the-way booth where Gracie could comfortably lie down at Christina’s feet.
After they placed their orders and a basket of chips and salsa was between them, Christina had to ask. “Why, Seth? You didn’t have to bring me for Mexican food just to have it out with me about what I used to do for a living.”
“You’re right, and I almost didn’t.” He pondered a misshapen tortilla chip. “But you may recall I’ve got this grandmother who thinks she’s the boss. She said if I backed out on our date—her word, not mine—she’d never make my favorite dessert for me again.”
Christina wiggled her brows. “Wow, she drives a hard bargain.”
“If you knew how much I love strawberry-rhubarb pie, you wouldn’t joke.” He sank a chip deep into the salsa bowl then popped it into his mouth.
“Hmm, I think I need to remember this.” Taking out her notebook and pen, Christina turned to a clean page. After printing S-E-T-H across the top in large block letters, she wrote the number one in the margin, followed by Bribe with strawberry-rhubarb pie.
