Live-In Mom

by Paige, Laurie

  Yeah, he had a life. Only it was empty as hell with no one in the house but him.

  Carly stretched, then turned back to the kitchen. Elena was stirring a pot big enough to boil a missionary and humming along with a song on the radio. They were making soup for supper.

  The ten-o’clock news came on. Carly listened to an account of tornadoes touching down in Texas, followed by a story of a trip by the president and first lady to California for a meeting with’ foreign dignitaries.

  Just then, a short but broadly built man came in. She grimaced as Pete Hodkin helped himself to coffee and pastries set out on a side table. Giancing over her shoulder, she saw his eyes on Elena, taking in her friend’s shapely backside while the woman reached into the upper cabinets.

  A feeling of distaste invaded her. Hodkin had a slimy way of sizing up a person, as if considering his personal gain while he looked them over.

  He called out a greeting, which she and Elena returned without further conversation. He turned his gaze on her. “Martha says you’re doing all right.”

  A tingle of pride rushed through her. She nodded her head in a modest gesture. The man seemed to be waiting for something more from her. “Yes, well, I like it here.”

  It was Wednesday of her second week. The other hands were at ease with her, and she found they were opening up to her more each day. But, out of the dozen people who worked on the place, she didn’t like this one man.

  Ty strode in, grabbed a cup of coffee and a doughnut before sitting across from Hodkin. The men talked about the horses and the problems with keeping them healthy. Carly listened more to the sound of Ty’s voice than the actual words.

  “That cracked hoof won’t heal,” Hodkin said. “We’re going to have to put the gray down.”

  The meaning penetrated her dreamy haze. She looked up from the potato she was paring. “My grandfather had a way to fix that,” she broke in, remembering the Indian remedy. “Make a rawhide shoe for the horse, put it on while damp and let it shrink-fit to the hoof. That will keep it clean and sealed.”

  Carly wiped the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve and went back to work. The crew ate potatoes every day. Hadn’t they ever heard of rice or pasta?

  The kitchen was warm and humid. Clouds covered the sky, adding to the high humidity. October usually cooled off, with chilly nights and mornings and temperate afternoons, old Martha had told her. November would be the start of the rainy season.

  Realizing the silence, she glanced around. Elena, Hodkin and Ty were watching her. She returned their stares, puzzled by the sudden attention.

  “Your grandfather raised horses?” Ty asked.

  “Yes.”

  “In Illinois?”

  “No. He was Hopi. It was on the reservation.”

  She saw more questions in his eyes, but he turned to the remuda hand. “Let’s try it.”

  Hodkin shrugged. “Sure.” The two men left.

  “You didn’t tell me your grandfather was Indian,” Elena said. “Did you live with him?”

  Carly reminisced about her visits to the ranch in Arizona that she’d loved while she and Elena sat on the porch and shelled peas. She could grow to love it here, too, she realized.

  Through the leaves of a live oak, she saw Hodkin come out of the stable and talk to the young woman who worked as a wrangler. She didn’t look more than eighteen—a girl, really.

  Carly watched Hodkin chuck the girl under the chin, apparently teasing her about something. Although the youngster smiled, Carly could tell she was uncomfortable in his presence. Seeing his face when he turned partly toward her, she realized he knew it, too.

  And didn’t give a damn. Lust was clearly in his thoughts. The feelings of the girl didn’t matter. Carly’s distaste for the man returned, stronger this time. She would give him a piece of her mind….

  “Stay out of it,” Elena said, reading her intent.

  “But he’s bothering her—”

  “She needs the job. She helps support her family.”

  “But no one should have to put up with someone like him in order to make a living. It isn’t right.”

  “What do you know of right, you with your fine car and your education?”

  Carly stared at her friend, dumbfounded. “My education?” she repeated stupidly.

  “Do you think it doesn’t show?” Elena’s expression softened into an exasperated smile. “You ask lots of questions, yet you don’t know how or when you will be paid. You drive an almost new car, yet you don’t need to work on Saturday for money to make the payments. The others think you’re hiding out here on the ranch for some reason… from parents or a lover, perhaps.”

  Carly was startled at how close they’d come to the truth. “The women have been talking about me?”

  “Of course. We talk about everyone. What else is there to do when we’re through with our work?”

  “Sit and gossip,” Carly concluded. Seeing Elena’s warm, teasing smile, she relaxed.

  “So, are you running from cruel parents or a lover?”

  “An ex-fiancé who decided he’d made a terrible mistake and wants to start over.”

  “Do you?”

  “Horrors, no. I was lucky to get rid of the jerk.”

  The sounds of male laughter floated to them on the afternoon breeze. Ty was in the vicinity. Her entire body went on alert. It was odd, the things he could make her feel just by laughing.

  “I’m looking for a place to settle,” she said slowly. “A place that’s mine.” She shook her head, helpless to explain.

  “You need a mate and babies.” Elena fingered the long strand of baroque beads around her neck, a handmade gift from her girls.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” Carly scoffed, laughing at the idea.

  “It is nature. Men burn and women yearn, yes?” Elena gave her a sly grin, then nodded toward the stable. “He will come.”

  He did.

  Strolling across the stable yard, Ty approached the porch and stood watching them work without speaking. The two women were silent, too. Carly observed him warily from the corner of her eye. He studied her as he had last Sunday, as if trying to figure out what made her tick.

  The thought made her nervous, causing her to drop a pea. It landed at his feet. “Ah, manna from heaven,” he murmured, scooping it up. He ate the tender vegetable.

  Elena laughed. Carly could imagine those strong white teeth taking a playful nip at her. The cook was right—she did yearn.

  “Have you seen Hodkin?” he asked.

  “Yes, he was outside a few minutes ago. He went that a-way.” Carly pointed in the direction the man had gone.

  “We’re going to try your grandfather’s treatment.” Ty walked off, covering the ground at a rapid pace. Carly breathed a sigh of thanks. Like the approaching storm, she had a feeling things were coming to a climax.

  Friday afternoon, Ty paced the worn carpet in the gate area. Jonathan’s plane had touched down ten minutes ago. Most of the passengers had gotten off, but not Jonathan. He scowled at a flight attendant when the man walked past.

  “There are a few more passengers to debark,” he said.

  “I’m waiting for my son.”

  “Jonathan?” At Ty’s nod, the man grinned. “He’s a neat kid. The captain let him in the cockpit and offered to let him fly the plane. Jonathan took the copilot’s chair, cool as could be, and told the captain he could bring it in. You know something, I think he could’ve.”

  Ty laughed when the attendant did. An unbearable knot of love for his son settled in his throat. God, he’d missed the boy.

  Another flight attendant, a woman this time, left the plane. She had a small boy with her, and they were chatting easily.

  Jonathan looked up. “Dad,” he yelled. He flung himself headlong up the narrow ramp and into his father’s arms. “Guess what? I got to fly the plane, the whole thing, all by myself.”

  “He did a great job,” the woman confirmed. She paused beside them. “It’s obvious who you a
re—Jona than has told us quite a bit about you—but may I see your identification?”

  Ty showed her his driver’s license. She checked the name against a piece of paper and nodded approvingly. The glance she gave him was warm and more than a little interested.

  He thought of asking her if she wanted to join them for a cup of coffee, but before the thought had more than formed, another face appeared in his mind—one with dark, flashing eyes and a sharp little chin with a stubborn tilt.

  “Thanks for taking care of Jonathan,” he said sincerely.

  “Dad, have you ever been in the cockpit?” Jonathan asked, eager to tell of his adventure.

  “No, tell me about it.” Ty waved goodbye to the attendant and went with his son to collect the luggage. He wondered if he was passing up an opportunity for a great relationship. A temporary one. There was no room for a permanent woman in his life.

  He tried to blank Carly out of his mind. Without success.

  At nine, with Jonathan settled in and asleep in his room, Ty was no nearer to forcing Carly from his thoughts than he’d been all week. He hadn’t seen much of her the past few days. Was she avoiding him or he avoiding her?

  He wanted to find out who she was and why she was working there. He was more than halfway convinced she had some ulterior motive for being there. Looking for a rich husband?

  That was hard to believe. Ranchers were not known for having a lot of loose change. Besides, she didn’t try to attract him. And she was a darned hard worker, hardly the attitude of a social climber or fortune hunter. Maybe…

  He stomped into his room, flung off his clothes and climbed into bed. He was a fool to let a female haunt his life this way. The busy season would be over in another couple of weeks, then she’d be gone.

  Good riddance.

  A burning sensation inside belied that sentiment. Oh, hell. He tossed back the covers and yanked on jeans, shirt and a jacket. Ramming his feet into sneakers, he went out to walk until he was tired enough to sleep. It took a long time.

  Carly yawned and laid her head against the rock she used as a backrest. The sun cast long shadows over the landscape. Saturday afternoon was her favorite time on the ranch. Most of the hands were in town, and she had the place to herself.

  Her mind stubbornly strayed to her boss. She’d seen him arrive at his home with his son yesterday. The boy had been talking a mile a minute, and Ty had listened with grave interest and an occasional smile. A good father.

  Men burn and women yearn.

  Did she yearn for home and hearth, for a mate and children as Elena insisted? Were hormones and nature’s ruthless survival-of-the-species instinct the cause of all the flutters she got when he came around and when she thought of him?

  He seemed to feel something equally intense toward her. She wasn’t blind to the male-female attraction. But it was all so strange. To want and be wanted like that.

  Before now, other than her parents and Aunt Essie—she wasn’t counting the jerk—no one had ever wanted her very much. Self-pity? she mocked. No, the cold, hard truth. She’d faced it years ago.

  Hormones she could handle. Love was the scary thing. It worried her. She didn’t want to do anything silly like fall in love. She had her future to think about.

  “Well, what have we here?”

  Carly stiffened at the rough, masculine tone. Then she realized it was some distance from her. She sat up cautiously and looked around. The old orchard that separated her favorite place from the ranch road was no longer deserted. Two figures, almost hidden by the trees, had invaded her space.

  She recognized Hodkin at once. The other person was smaller and partially hidden by his thick bulk. His companion answered, the words indistinct, but the voice clear. The cowgirl. Venita was her name.

  “You trying to get away from me?” Hodkin asked, and gave a nasty laugh that had Carly curling her hands in anger. He knew he had the girl trapped alone here in the woods. Or so he thought.

  If he tried anything, he’d have more than one enraged female to deal with. She picked up a chunky rock and rose to her feet in one smooth, silent motion.

  “Don’t play coy with me,” Hodkin growled. He had the girl by the shoulders. She wasn’t fighting, but she had her face turned to the side and was clearly distressed. Only a brute would keep on when he was so obviously not wanted.

  “No, please, I must go in,” Venita said.

  He caught her hair in one hand and brought his mouth down on the girl’s.

  “Let her go,” Carly ordered, so furious she wanted to bash him right that instant. She walked over to them, stopping about four feet from the pair.

  Hodkin raised his head and gave her a withering glare. “Mind your own business.”

  Carly shook her head. “When a person says no, it means no.”

  “Nobody said anything to you, so get lost.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m funny about some things. I don’t like to see a woman forced to endure some slime-bag because he thinks he’s the world’s greatest lover.”

  “Why, you…” Hodkin snarled.

  He moved swiftly, but Carly was prepared. She sidestepped when he flung Venita at her. Grabbing the girl’s arm, Carly steadied the younger woman, careful not to take her eyes off Hodkin, who’d noticed the rock in her hand.

  “Think you’re pretty big with that rock, don’t you? You need taking down a peg or two, sister, and I’m gonna do it for you.”

  When he lunged, Carly would have moved aside again, but Venita clutched her arm in fear, stopping any movement. Carly, realizing she wasn’t going to be able to dodge, swung her head to the side and rocked back on her heels.

  She caught a glancing blow from his fist and tasted the warm saltiness of blood in her mouth as her bottom lip was trapped between her. teeth and his knuckles.

  “First blood to you,” she said politely, as if they were engaged in a formal duel of ancient times. She then clobbered him with the rock.

  Unfortunately, his head was thick. The blow merely made him angrier.

  “Get back,” she said to Venita, jerking her arm from the girl’s hold and dropping the rock. She needed both hands free and room to move in order to perform the self-defense tactics she’d learned in karate class.

  Hodkin swung at her again. This time, he barely tapped her. She grinned at him, a sure-fire way to disarm an enemy—make him think you’re really enjoying the fight. That little trick made most people think twice about attacking.

  She crouched into a defensive posture, intending to toss him over her shoulder on his next strike.

  “Hodkin!”

  The bellow of rage froze the three contestants. Ty stalked out of the shadows. Without a pause, he moved in on Hodkin, his broad fist hitting the other man’s jaw with a bone-shattering crack.

  Hodkin’s eyes rolled back, and his knees buckled.

  “Out like the proverbial light,” Carly said in satisfaction when he folded and fell to the ground. She grinned at Ty.

  He gave her a look that would have melted a steel spike, then he turned to Venita, who stood to the side, trembling in every limb. “You all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Go on to your room,” he ordered, his voice quite gentle considering that he looked ready to kill.

  She cast one more terrified glance at the man on the ground, then headed for the path back to the women’s quarters.

  Carly gingerly touched her throbbing lip. It felt twice its normal size. Her finger came away bloody.

  Ty grasped her wrist. “Come on,” he orderly grimly.

  “What about him?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Hodkin, who was groggily rising to an elbow and peering around as if looking for the truck that had run him down.

  “Be off the place within the hour,” he said to the man, “or I’ll escort you off. You understand?”

  Hodkin gave them a mean-eyed glare, but nodded his head.

  Ty ushered her through the woods at a headlong pace after one more fiery glance at t
he downed villain.

  Carly quickened her pace to keep up. “He’s a terrible person. No wonder “Venita was scared of him.”

  Ty snorted. “You could take some lessons in that department. What the hell do you mean taking him on like that? He would have chewed you up and spit you out as confetti in another ten seconds.”

  “But you saved me,” she argued. Now that the incident was over, she found it highly amusing. She batted her lashes at Ty when he favored her with another glare.

  “Don’t push your luck,” he snarled. “I’m still thinking of stripping your hide inch by inch and throwing what’s left in the river.”

  “You and whose army?” she demanded, feeling in high good humor now that the danger was past.

  He ignored her. They reached the road. He led her across it and into his home. There, he paused in the kitchen, which looked like a picture from Architectural Digest, and grabbed a paper towel and a couple of ice cubes.

  He wrapped the cubes in the towel and handed them to her before guiding her up four steps, down a short hall and into a bedroom. From there, they entered the largest bathroom she’d ever seen.

  “Wow, who does this belong to, the queen?”

  “Keep that ice on your lip,” he ordered. He rummaged in the medicine cabinet. He came up with a tube of ointment. He perused the instructions, grunted in satisfaction, screwed off the top and squeezed a small amount onto a finger. “Look here.”

  She removed the ice pack and raised her face to his. He rubbed the cream into her lip. It felt better almost at once.

  “Okay, put the ice back on.”

  “Yes, sir.” She pressed the ice pack to her lip.

  “Don’t get smart. I’ve still got a lot of adrenaline pumping through my veins,” he warned her.

  She thought she must have quite a bit of it running around inside her, too. She felt light-headed, but extremely lucid. Everything—him, her, the room—glowed with an incandescence that was strange and wonderful.