by R. C. Ryan
The deep timbre of his voice, the way he was looking at her, had her tingling with warmth. A warmth that spread all the way down her body to her toes.
To cover her reaction, her defensive mode kicked in. Her head snapped up. Her spine stiffened.
In her best teacher’s voice she commanded, “You need to step back.”
“Yes, Miss Money, ma’am.”
There was that rogue’s smile again. But he took a step back, hands out, in a sign of surrender. “I get it. You don’t like your space invaded.”
“Thank you.”
“I apologize for catching you by surprise. I just can’t help it. Maybe you’re not even aware, but you’re like a magnet. Whenever I get close to you, I’m caught by an invisible force.”
His admission had her going very still.
He turned and sauntered along the hallway until he paused in front of his bedroom door.
When he looked over, Penny was standing, her hand on the doorknob, her eyes, big as saucers, watching him.
“Good night, Money. Sleep tight.”
Sam sat on the edge of his bed and nudged off his boots. He stood, stepped over them, and shrugged out of his shirt before tossing it aside. He unsnapped his jeans as he walked to the window. Leaning a hip against the windowsill, he stared at the distant hills, cloaked in shadows.
His mind wasn’t on the landscape. He was reliving that scene in the hall.
He hadn’t planned it. Hadn’t planned any of that. As with most of his life, it had just happened. But the minute he got close, something changed. He didn’t know the how or why of it, but that woman had him tied up in knots.
He didn’t want this. Didn’t want to feel these kinds of things for her. But in that brief moment when he’d leaned close, inhaling the clean, fresh scent of her, he’d felt a strange, rare yearning. A feeling he didn’t want to probe too deeply.
She’d felt, in that one tiny second, like the missing piece of his life. As though something unique and wonderful had just materialized and then, just as quickly, had disappeared like mist over the mountain streams.
He crossed his arms over his chest and let his gaze move over the hills, trying to concentrate on anything except Penny.
He loved the look of the countryside this time of year. With summer faded, and autumn taking over, it signaled a coming lull in ranch activities. Oh, there were still plenty of chores to see to. Enough to keep the family hopping. But once the herds were brought down from the hills, things would begin to slow down. There would be time to mend fences, as well as equipment. Time to linger over late-night coffee in front of a roaring fire. Time to listen to Otis, Roscoe, and Zachariah talk about the old days.
Years ago, as a boy new to all this, he’d been content to wrap himself in an afghan and listen to the old men’s voices recounting their often-misspent youth. Did they know, when they were spinning their tales, that they were helping an angry boy find common ground with them?
During his years in foster care, he’d begun to think adults were nothing more than harsh taskmasters, and he a mere servant who would never know freedom, unless he fought his way free. From those good men downstairs, he learned that they’d all been foolish boys once upon a time. Boys who grew up in very different circumstances, yet came together to form a family.
He was smiling as he studied the clouds scudding across a full moon.
Despite his determination to put Penny out of his mind, his thoughts drifted to her. Penny Cash. Money. The very name had his smile growing. She was his complete opposite. So serious. So driven. He, on the other hand, had learned early on to grab all the fun he could manage, in case it would one day be snatched away.
He wasn’t careless. He could work circles around his two brothers. When it came to ranch chores, he was the best there was. But when it was time to play, he played even harder.
He was proud of that fact. He’d worked long and hard to carve out a reputation as a pool hustler. When he was holding a pool cue, he wasn’t just some hick off the farm. He was a pro. The best.
He’d seen the look of disapproval on Penny’s face when Finn had mentioned it. Even though her knee-jerk reaction bothered him, he was quick to dismiss it. He didn’t need her approval.
Still, it rankled.
He turned away from the window and shucked his jeans, kicking them aside.
As he slid naked into bed, he breathed in the smell of clean sheets and pillowcases.
In his mind he could see Penny in his room tomorrow, stripping the bed linens. Picking up his discarded clothes.
The thought prickled along his scalp.
He climbed out of bed and stuffed his things in the hamper before setting his boots in the closet.
Satisfied that the room was organized, he climbed between the fresh-scented sheets and waited for sleep. And smiled in the darkness, thinking about Penny’s pouty lips, and how they might taste.
She had tried to look all mad and out of sorts. But he’d seen the way she’d looked when he’d leaned in close. Maybe it wasn’t the nearness of him that bothered her. Maybe it was her own reaction to him that kicked in, causing her to throw a fit.
He tossed and turned, trying to settle. But thoughts of Penny kept intruding.
He felt itchy. Twitchy. And he didn’t know why. He could have his pick of women. Fun, laid-back, pretty women out for a good time. But none of them had ever made him feel like this.
Why now, with this woman? They were absolutely wrong for one another. Complete opposites.
Time to back off and walk away while he could. Because if her reaction to his invasion of her space was any indication of what they’d be like together, it would be an explosion.
Fire and ice.
Prim discipline and reckless abandon.
Saint and sinner.
He chuckled in the darkness.
Yeah. That was it. Saint and sinner. And he knew one thing. He had no intention of being converted. He was very happy being what he was—the biggest sinner of them all.
Chapter Six
’Morning, son.”
At Mac’s voice, Sam looked over from the stall he was mucking. “’Morning. You’re up early.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“I was awake, and figured I’d get an early start on the chores.”
Mac nodded and plucked a pitchfork from a hook on the wall of the barn. “Me, too.”
The two men worked in separate stalls, forking dung and wet straw into the honey wagon. When it was full, Sam took the handles and hauled it out the door and around back, returning minutes later with the empty wagon.
Mac had already moved to another stall.
Sam took up his pitchfork and began to work.
“I like what Penny’s doing with the house.” Mac dug, lifted, dropped a load into the wagon.
Sam did the same.
“She’s proving to be a good worker.”
“Uh-huh.” Sam moved to the next stall.
“She’s a pretty little thing, don’t you think?”
“Uh-huh.” Sam continued working.
“I know it has to be a letdown for her to be working as a cook and housekeeper instead of being a teacher.”
Sam made no response.
“I mean, she spent years training to teach, and here she is doing what she always did, cleaning up after a houseful of guys.”
Sam took the handles and leaned into the chore, rolling the filled wagon out the door and around back, returning minutes later to start again.
Mac cleared his throat. “I think Penny is special. Don’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess? Do you like her?”
“Of course I like Penny. Who wouldn’t like a woman who cooks like one of those TV chefs? Who turns a man cave into a showplace? And manages to make it all look so easy?” Sam paused. Leaned on the handle of his pitchfork and turned to Mac. “You’re circling around something. Just spit it out. You going somewhere with this?”
His father shrugged. Blushed. “I need you to understand that Penny isn’t just another pretty woman. Now that she works for us, she has the right to demand respect.”
Sam’s brow shot up. “Have I done something disrespectful? Something you don’t like?”
“Not at all.” Mac stepped around the stall to put his hand on Sam’s shoulder to soften his words. “Look, son. If you’re…feeling an attraction to Penny, I understand. I just want you to treat her with care.”
“Attracted? Why would you think that?”
“I…” Mac could feel his face getting all hot. Of all the conversations he’d had with his sons through the years, this was proving to be the most ill-conceived one yet. Why hadn’t he listened to Mary Pat when she’d told him this was a bad idea? “I guess I misread the signals the two of you were giving out.”
“Yeah. I guess so. You got any more brilliant nuggets you want to toss out?”
“I think I’m done. See you inside for breakfast.”
As Mac strolled from the barn, Sam worked up a sweat, straining under the load of dung and heavy straw.
The female he was supposed to treat with care had robbed him of sleep and had him as antsy as a heifer being stalked by a bobcat. And for the life of him, he didn’t understand why.
“So you heat the cream before you add it to the other ingredients?” Becca stood beside Penny in the kitchen, watching intently as, together, they prepared her biscuit dough.
Archie had sniffed his way around the room and was now curled contentedly under the table.
“Just enough so it doesn’t curdle.” Penny stirred, before handing the wooden spoon to Becca.
At the stove, Mary Pat tossed a handful of diced onions, celery, and carrots into the chicken stock heating in a big pot.
She glanced over. “Until you suggested using frozen chicken breasts, it never occurred to me that I didn’t have to thaw them first.”
Penny smiled. “I discovered it out of necessity. One day time just got past me, my brothers were due home from school, and I hadn’t given a thought to supper. By the time I got around to it, all I had were frozen chicken parts. So I tossed them into the pot, along with whatever vegetables I found in the garden. An hour later the chicken was cooked and easy to cut. And the skin and bones made the chicken stock richer. So, from then on, that’s the only way I ever made my chicken soup.”
Mary Pat chuckled. “You know what they say. Necessity is the mother of invention. From now on, I’m using your quick and easy recipe.” She shook her head. “Think of all the time I wasted over the years thawing chicken first.”
The three women had spent the better part of a week cooking together every chance they got. While the men boasted that they were the beneficiaries of all that woman power, the three had formed a special bond as they cooked and exchanged stories of their lives.
While the soup simmered and the biscuits baked in the oven, Penny poured three cups of tea, and she and Becca and Mary Pat relaxed around the table.
“Oh.” Mary Pat gave a sigh of pure pleasure. “It does my heart good to spend time in the kitchen with the two of you. This time in a real home restores my soul.”
Penny glanced over. “Why don’t you do it more often?”
The older woman gave a shrug of her shoulders. “A part of me is afraid if I let myself relax too long in one place, I’ll lose the discipline I need to do my job. And another part of me really loves the people I serve.”
“No more than they love you,” Becca turned to explain to Penny. “To a lot of the ranchers who live far from civilization, Mary Pat is their only connection with the outside world.”
Mary Pat put a hand over Becca’s. “That may have been true years ago, but now they all have computers and are connected to one another through the internet.”
“Of course.” Becca gave her a gentle smile. “But the internet isn’t the same as having a real live person stopping by not only to talk, but also to listen to their troubles, and to give them a hug when they need it.”
Penny nodded. “I agree. When I was feeling so alone, raising my brothers, caring for Aunt Lucy, one of my former teachers used to stop by every month to see how I was doing. It meant the world to me to know that I could tell her anything, and she wouldn’t judge me for it. She was so kind and compassionate, and often she would bring me some little thing. A jar of homemade strawberry preserves. A plate of cookies. And I was always so touched by her thoughtfulness.”
Mary Pat thought about her words. “I guess you’ve just explained why I do what I do. As much as I dream of staying in one place and putting down roots, I’m reluctant to put my own needs ahead of all those who need that personal touch. That’s why I’ve never given up my little room over the bakery in town, even though I almost never get time to stay there.”
Mac paused in the doorway, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, his hair damp from the mudroom sink. Having overheard, he gave her a long, steady look before saying, “Something smells wonderful.”
“Penny’s chicken soup and biscuits.” As Mary Pat started to shove away from the table, Mac put a big hand on her shoulder to still her movements. “You stay right there and drink your tea. The others won’t be here for half an hour or more. I was just heading into the parlor to do some paperwork.”
“I’ll bring you tea.”
He shook his head. “You do enough. Just sit and enjoy time with your friends.”
With a courtly smile he walked away.
Penny was grateful for the company of these two women. It helped her take her mind off the fact that Sam had barely acknowledged her since the night he’d walked her to her bedroom door and leaned so close that she’d thought he was going to kiss her.
The almost-kiss.
That was how she thought of it. An imaginary kiss that had rocked her world.
Afterward, in the privacy of her room, she’d lost sleep thinking about Sam and the fact that, though she’d acted angry at his boldness, she’d secretly hoped he would kiss her.
She should have known he was nothing more than a tease. He hadn’t wanted to actually kiss her. What he’d wanted was exactly what he’d accomplished—getting her to rise to the bait and lose her temper.
Ever since, Sam had begun spending his nights anywhere but here. She supposed, now that he had satisfied his curiosity about her, he’d moved on to other, more willing women he could find in town. And of course, drinking and gambling.
A man like Sam Monroe wasn’t worth thinking about.
She had better things to do.
In the parlor, as Mac worked at his desk, he heard the muffled voices of women and the trills of laughter, clear as a bell, so different from those of the men of the house. The sounds had him smiling to himself as he went over the monthly bills and wrote out checks.
There was something warm and settling about having women around. He’d grown accustomed to a houseful of men. Everyone was free and easy in each other’s company. But women softened the edges. Heated the cold breezes that blew across the hills and snuck into the walls of the old house.
It wasn’t just the smell of bread baking and meat roasting. It was something more. It was the way the family of men responded to their presence. Having women around seemed to bring out the best in all of them.
Except for Sam. Since their little talk, Sam had reverted to his old ways of heading into town as soon as supper ended. Some nights he didn’t even eat a meal with the others, heading to the Hitching Post as soon as he’d showered and dressed after a day of chores.
As always, Mackenzie found himself questioning his good intentions.
Maybe sometimes it would be better to step away and just let life take its course.
“What’s this?” Ben eyed the plate holding a brownie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and smothered with hot fudge, before glancing up at his wife. “Are you telling me you baked this, babe?”
Becca was all smiles. “It’s Penny’s recipe, but I made it all by myself.”
> While the others watched, he took a taste and gave a long, deep sigh. “Now that’s even better ’n the dessert at Dolly’s Diner. And Dolly boasts that nobody makes a better brownie than she does.”
While Becca beamed, Sam looked over at Penny. Against his better judgment, he’d decided to forgo a night in town to stay home with the family. “What about the rest of us? Or are we chopped liver?”
While Mary Pat circled the table filling coffee cups, Penny passed around desserts to everyone except Sam.
She put a hand to her ear. “What’s that? You’d rather have chopped liver than dessert? I think that can be arranged.”
Seeing the wicked gleam in her eye, he jumped up and reached around her, making a grab for the entire plate of brownies. “Aren’t you funny? I’ll just have to help myself.”
She picked up a wooden spoon and rapped his knuckles. “Don’t you even think about it.”
Before she could stop him, he shoved a brownie in his mouth and reached for a second one.
While the others laughed at their antics, she finally relented, fixing him a plate of dessert.
“Not fair,” Finn shouted. “Now he got an extra helping.”
“Because he’s grabby,” Penny announced. “Tomorrow, to make up for it, he’ll get the smallest slice of my coconut cake.”
Sam put a hand over his heart. “Really? Coconut cake? It’s my favorite.”
“You said that last week about my cherry pie.”
“And it was my favorite. Until you reminded me how much I love coconut cake.”
“Oh.” She gave him a mock slap to his arm. “You’re impossible.”
“Am not. Just a guy who loves sweets.” He took his place at the table and gave a sigh of pleasure as he ate every bite.
Finn was shaking his head. “You keep on feeding us like this, Penny, and we’ll soon be going on diets.”
