“He’s okay.”
She nodded and to keep from looking at him, she glanced around his desk. “You writing a novel or something? Sure are a lot of papers.”
He shrugged. “Ranches aren’t just cows and horses. I spend as much time on paperwork as I do on horseback—paying invoices, keeping up with correspondence, checking on beef prices, reading about farm legislation.”
“You must work late at night, then.”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Well, my bed is right below your desk and I’m a light sleep—” She trailed off at the blazing look in his eyes. Why did she have to bring the word bed into the conversation?
Hank cleared his throat. “I’ll try not to disturb you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You just do what you need to do. You’re the boss, after all, and your work is very important. I’m just—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
His lips twitched, but didn’t quite form a smile. “Yep.”
She took a deep breath. “Then I’ll shut up.”
“Why don’t we sit down and get this over with?” he suggested.
She eyed the stack of Western Horseman magazines filling the chair.
Finally noticing the mess, Hank came around the desk and picked up the magazines. He looked around and for lack of a better place, plopped them on top of another stack of magazines on the corner table. A cloud of dust billowed up, but Hank ignored it like he always did.
“Sit,” he commanded. He waited as she frowned down at the seat, then sat gingerly on the edge. While she settled the cat on her lap, he sank into his own chair and cleared his throat again. He noticed he was doing that a helluva lot around this woman. “The first thing I want to explain is that we don’t stand on ceremony. Everybody’s the same as everybody else. No exceptions. That clear?”
She nodded.
He stared down at his desk, then picked up a pencil. “Like I said, we need to get things clear on the front end.”
She stared at the pencil his hands twirled. He shifted in his seat, wondering if she knew that he played with the pencil to keep his hands from doing what they really wanted to do.
She broke the silence with “Okay.”
He glanced up, then down, then began to twirl the pencil again. “You’re the cook. That’s it in three words. We eat breakfast at sunrise and supper at six. We have lunch at noon if we’re working around the place. If we’re out on the range, we do without.”
“No.”
The pencil stopped twirling. “No? No what?”
“I mean, while I’m the cook, you won’t do without lunch. You work hard and need your nourishment. I’ll either pack you a lunch, or I’ll bring it to you.”
Hank stared at her until she fidgeted in her seat. He’d never had a cook care whether he ate lunch or not. Even his mother never packed them a lunch. He realized his gaze was making her nervous when she amended her declaration.
“That is, if you don’t mind.”
He pushed the pencil between his fingers, lead down, then eraser down. For some reason her suggestion touched him on a level so elemental that he felt warmth blossoming deep inside, but he didn’t understand what it was or why. All he knew was an overwhelming urge to touch her. He had to clench his fingers around the pencil to keep them from reaching across the desk.
Hell, she surprised him, that’s all. People usually avoided extra work. They didn’t seek it out.
“Can you...” He cursed inwardly when he had to clear the huskiness from his throat. “Can you ride?”
“Well, no, I’ve never been on a horse. Never had the opportunity. But I’m sure I can learn.”
He gave a brief nod, though his mind dwelled on the pleasurable prospect of teaching her. “I’ll see that you do. I’m sure the boys would appreciate grub at noon. It’s a mighty long time between meals otherwise. I’ve just never had a cook that I’d ask to make the trip.”
“Well, you didn’t ask, did you?”
He felt one side of his mouth twitch. “No, ma’am, I didn’t.” When he realized she was squirming under his stare, he looked away.
“Anything else?” she asked.
He drew a deep breath and tried to think. “Nope. That about covers it.”
She cleared her throat. The sound told him she felt the charged atmosphere in the room as much as he did That knowledge sent pricks of excitement over his already-raw nerves.
“If that’s everything, I’ll get out of your way,” she said.
He stared at her so long and so hard that her eyes fell to the cat. He shook his head to clear away the image of the slender hands that massaged the orange fur. “That’s it.”
As she softly padded down the stairs, he realized he forgot to have her sign the tax forms. The pencil in his hands snapped.
Alex walked out onto the back porch and took a deep breath of the cool March air. She couldn’t stand it. This was her third day at the Garden and if she didn’t find something to do with all the hours between cleaning up the breakfast dishes and starting supper, she’d go absolutely bonkers. When she agreed to take the job she expected to spend the mornings fixing lunch, but because the men were working so far from the house she’d packed their lunch while they ate breakfast.
A meow at the screen door behind her brought her attention to Sugar, who rubbed against it.
“No, you’re not used to the place, Sugar. If I let you out, you might run off and get lost. Then where would I be? I wouldn’t even have a cat to talk to.”
Alex sighed heavily, then wandered back into the house. She trailed her hand along a heavy linen chest, then tsked to find the tips of her fingers black.
“I can’t believe they treat this beautiful old house so shabbily,” she told Sugar, who rubbed against her leg. “Why, if I had a home like this, I’d keep it shining like a new penny. I’d—” She sighed deeply. “Why are you letting me talk like that? This isn’t my home, and I don’t care if the dust is waistdeep.”
Alex wandered through the downstairs rooms, desperate to find something to occupy her time and determined to ignore the dirt. But the more she told herself she didn’t care, the more the rooms called out to her. The heavy oak furniture in the dining room would be so beautiful if it just had a coat of wax. The curtains in the living room were dingy with smoke, and the colors of the rug were muted by dirt.
Finally she could stand it no longer.
“Like Sister Mary Clara said,” she told Sugar as she gathered cleaning supplies from the mud room. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
Three hours later, she flipped off the vacuum and stood back to survey her handiwork. Stripped of its dingy coat, the parlor looked like an entirely different room. It gleamed with soft highlights and smelled of wax and flowers.
“What’s going on?”
Alex squealed and spun around to see Hank standing in the wide doorway. His hands were planted on his hips, and he glowered at her.
Feeling like she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Alex pulled off the bandana tied around her hair. “I was just doing a little cleaning.”
“That’s Claire’s job,” he said harshly.
“Well, it doesn’t look like she’s doing it.”
“No, it doesn’t, and she’s going to hear about it when she gets home.”
“Look, I don’t want to cause Claire trouble, I just want something to do.”
“You’re the cook, not the maid.”
Alex threw her hands in the air. “Cooking takes up less than half the day, since I fix your lunch in the morning. I’m bored stiff the rest of the time.”
“I’m sorry. But if you start doing Claire’s chores around here, she’s going to get as spoiled as a lady’s mare. I don’t ask her to do much, but I do expect her to keep up the house. She needs to learn responsibility.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting like you caught me rustling cattle or something. I’m just doing a little cle
aning. It’s not a felony.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Just stick to your cooking.”
“Or what?” she demanded. “You’ll fire me?”
Silence fell over the room. If she’d been combustible, she’d have gone up in flames from the heat in his eyes. She had him and his ridiculous demands over a barrel, and they both knew it. But she didn’t feel any triumph.
“Look, I just need something to do. I’m bored here all d...” She trailed off as he walked slowly toward her. Ensnared by the intense, dangerous light in his eyes, Alex stood transfixed as he approached.
He didn’t stop until he was just inches away. She could feel the heat his large body generated, smell the faint odor of horses and sweat, see the flat line of his full, unsmiling lips.
“You’re the damnedest woman,” he said softly. “I’ve never met one that would argue a blue streak about doing more work.”
“I...I just need something to do besides cooking.” Alex heard the breathlessness in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. “And this old house needs somebody who...”
She trailed off again as his eyes dropped to her mouth. His thoughts were so clear she could read them as if they flashed across his forehead. He wanted to kiss her.
She forced her eyes away and stepped back, frightened, not because he wanted to kiss her but because she wanted him to.
She heard him cuss under his breath and he pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Oh, hell. At least make Claire help so we can still pretend it’s her chore. It’ll be her responsibility when you’re gone, after all.”
Alex nodded. “Okay.”
He stood there so long that she glanced up to see him looking around the room. His face softened as his eyes made the circuit. “I haven’t seen it look this good since Momma died. Momma loved this old house. She kept it shining from floor to ceiling.”
Alex felt her heart squeeze painfully. She didn’t know the full story, just that Hank’s parents died suddenly. “How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Pain flashed across his face. “In a flash flood. My father, too.”
Alex wanted to reach out to him. She knew how much losing one parent hurt. To lose two at the same time... “That’s when you left the rodeo, isn’t it? You came home so your parents’ and grandparents’ dream wouldn’t die.”
He looked at her as if he didn’t know what she meant. “I came home to take care of Travis and Claire. That was eight years ago.”
“Eight years? That means Claire was only nine when your mother died. Maybe she neglects her chores because she’s never been shown how to do them. I mean, she doesn’t have a mother to show her how, and if your cooks didn’t do housework, how can you expect Claire to know how?”
He shrugged. “It’s women’s work.”
It took an effort, but she managed not to roll her eyes. “Women aren’t born knowing how to clean a toilet, Mr. Eden. We have to learn how to do housework just like you had to learn to rope a cow—by example and practice.”
He regarded her for the space of three breaths. “Hank,” he said.
“What?”
“I’m just Hank, not Mr. Eden. Like I told you the day you arrived, we don’t stand on ceremony around here.”
“All right...Hank. So it’s okay if I spend my extra time cleaning up the house? I promise I’ll make Claire help.”
He shrugged.
“Good. So, was there something in particular you wanted? You’re not usually home in the middle of the day. Checking up on me?”
“No, I was close by the house and remembered I had to—” Hank frowned, unable to remember why he’d come home. He had a legitimate reason. What was it? Oh, yeah. “To make a phone call about some serum I’ve been expecting.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” She wiped her hands on her apron and turned. “You got a call this morning.”
Grateful for a crack in the tension, Hank followed her into the kitchen and took the note she handed him. He saw that it was the name and number of the real estate agent that was handling the sale of the ranch.
“Is it about your serum?” she asked.
Hank shook his head. “But I need to return this call, too. I’m glad I stopped by.”
“I won’t keep you, then.”
He nodded briskly, turned on his heel and climbed the stairs. Entering his office, he closed the door firmly and sat down behind his desk. He stared blindly at the dust on the lampshade for a long moment.
What the hell was wrong with him? All Alex had been doing was cleaning, for God’s sake. What kind of provocation was that? But the way his body reacted, she might as well have been doing a table dance. Never had he been aroused so much by so little.
This was insane. He had to get that woman off his mind, and keep her off. To that end, he took several deep breaths, then reached for the phone. He called about the serum first. It was in. He’d send Casey to fetch it tomorrow. His foreman’s wife, Lila, would probably enjoy the trip into town.
Then he dialed the real estate agent.
“Ranch Realty, Cheyenne Office,” said a cheerful female voice.
“Dennis Cowden, please.”
“One moment.”
After a few seconds of elevator music, a friendly tenor voice said, “Dennis Cowden.”
“Mr. Cowden, this is Hank Eden in Dubois. I got the message you called this morning.”
“Mr. Eden, glad you called. I got a fax this morning with our first offer.”
He named an amount that made Hank lean back in his chair.
“Course we’re not gonna take it.”
Hank sat up. “Why the hell not? That’s more than you thought we’d—”
“That’s right. But hell, it’s only been a month. Let’s give the big boys time to get in on the action. Corporations take a little longer to come up with an offer, you understand. So many people have to approve things. But I think we’ll see a substantial improvement over this offer.” The agent sounded enormously pleased with himself. “Yes, indeedy I do.”
“All right, then. I reckon you know what you’re doing.”
Hank hung up the phone thoughtfully. Damn, that was a lot of money. Claire and Travis were going to be poleaxed when he told them what their share of the sale would be. Should he go ahead and tell them about the sale?
No. He’d better wait until they got the best offer. No sense worrying them over details.
Hank turned and stared out the window at the barn he knew like the back of his hand. In a few months he’d be out from under the burden of running this place, and back on the rodeo circuit with a hell of a lot of change in his pocket. He should be jumping up and down with joy.
Why wasn’t he?
Chapter Three
As she filled the coffeepot with water, Alex saw the hands heading to the house for supper. She set the pot down, grabbed a large meat fork and ran to cut them off at the pass. Stationing herself in the mud room, she stood with legs spread and arms akimbo.
Jed entered first, laughing at some joke they’d just shared. He stopped when he saw her, but was nudged in by Derek’s forward motion.
Buck craned to see around Derek. “Hey! What’s plugging up the chute?”
“We got us a little filly up here, looks like she’s riled up and ready to buck,” Jed said over his shoulder.
“Howdy, Alex,” Derek said placatingly. “Something sure smells good.”
Aware of Claire coming up behind her, Alex waved her fork at them. “You’re not having any supper until you take off your boots and hats.”
“What’d she say?” Buck called from behind.
“She wants us to take off our boots and hats,” Derek told him.
“Don’t she know cowboys don’t take off their hats for nothing ‘cept prayer and sleepin’?”
“I reckon not.”
“Tell her.”
“Ma’am, you must have rocks in your head if you think we’re gonna—”
“You want any supper?”
> With the fork waving under his nose, Jed leaned back into the men pushing him forward. “Yes’m, we do.”
“Then take them off.” Alex knew stubbornness was all she had on her side. Since the shortest one probably outweighed her by fifty pounds, they could easily push her aside and walk on in. “This is a mud room. It was built for muddy boots. And those shelves aren’t decoration. They are there to put your—”
“What’s going on?” Hank’s deep voice floated through the door.
Grinning at her as if certain he’d back them up, the hands stepped aside to let the boss through.
“She’s demanding that we take off our boots and hats, just for supper!” Jed complained.
Hank stepped into the mud room. Alex’s golden-brown eyes were blazing and her chin rose a notch as he came in. With an apron around her trim waist and a small pitchfork in her hand, she reminded him of his mother. He’d seen Sarah Eden face down an even bigger bunch of cowpokes, and win. Though taller and slimmer than his mother, Alex had the same grit.
“I’m not asking much,” Alex said. “But I spent all day putting a shine on that floor and—”
His eyes narrowed. “You spent all day?”
Her eyes cut back to Claire. “I mean, we spent the afternoon—”
“Did you help with that floor?” Hank asked his sister.
“I helped put down the wax when I got home,” she told him defensively. “Alex had already stripped the old stuff off.”
Hank tried to wither Alex with a look, but instead her chin set. “It doesn’t matter who did the work. I want to keep it clean. Your men haven’t been treating this house like it’s your home, they treat it like a barn. And so do you.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed, but instead of giving her a lesson in who was boss, he stepped into the hall. The only light illuminating the long expanse came from the dining room, but in its light he could see a faint sheen that he hadn’t seen in many years. The pungent, clean smell of wax assailed his senses. He hadn’t known he associated that smell with his mother until this very minute.
Guilt hit him as he realized how much the house had suffered during the past eight years. His mother had loved this house and kept it shining inside and out. Seeing it on a daily basis, he hadn’t realized it was slowly deteriorating. He saw it now as Alex must see it. Everything in it was dull and caked with dirt—the floors, the curtains, the furniture.
Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1) Page 4
