“There’s nothing wrong with it. Dinner was wonderful,” Devon told the oldest McCullough. “I just thought you and the others might want a reprieve from kitchen duty.”
“Amen to that,” Connor agreed. “And for the record, Cassidy made dinner last night, not me.” In between healthy forkfuls of his serving of Spanish omelet, he told her, “Well, I have to admit, this tastes even better than it smells.”
Devon smiled broadly, relieved. She knew that the breakfast she’d prepared was good, but some people might still have taken offense. She was relieved that Connor was not small-minded.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Cassidy asked, straggling into the kitchen and joining her brothers. “You guys are making enough noise to wake the dead.”
“The hungry dead,” Cole interjected, taking in another forkful of his omelet.
Smiling at Devon, Cassidy took a seat. “Well, this is different,” she commented as she took her usual seat at the table and pulled over one of the last two plates that Devon had prepared. “Are you getting creative in your old age, Con?”
“Connor can’t take the credit for this,” Cody told her. “Devon made breakfast today.”
“Devon?” Cassidy echoed, looking around the table at her brothers. “Why are you putting the poor woman to work?”
“Hey, I had nothing to do with it,” Cody protested, raising his hands to ward off Cassidy’s words of accusation. “When I came into the kitchen, she was already cooking.”
“Did she make the coffee, too?” Cole asked. He was nursing a mug that was twice as large as a regular cup.
“Yes, she did,” Devon answered, wondering if hers didn’t measure up to what they were accustomed to.
Cole grinned at her. “Well, I don’t know about the others, but as far as I’m concerned, you can stay here forever. Hate to tell you, Connor, but this is a lot better than what you come up with. What did you do to this?” he asked after taking another long swallow. “This tastes great.” He got up and helped himself to another mugful.
“I used chicory to cut the bitterness,” she confessed. It was something her grandmother had taught her, years ago.
“We have that?” Cassidy questioned.
“I found some in the back of your pantry,” Devon told her. She’d come across it while rummaging around to see what she could add to the omelet.
“Pure heaven,” Cassidy pronounced after draining her cup. “Well, you’ve got my vote,” she told their houseguest cheerfully. “Connor’s coffee tastes more like semisoft mud.”
Connor leveled a seemingly reproving look at his sister. “You never complained before.”
“That’s because if I did, you would have stuck me with permanent KP duty.” Her eyes shifted to Devon, who had taken a seat beside Cody. She smiled at the other woman. “But now we’ve got an alternative.”
“Hey, Devon’s not here to cook for us,” Cody said defensively.
Devon put her hand on his to stop him from making any further protests. “It’s okay. I need to feel useful,” she told him and the others.
“Like Cole said, you’ve got a place here for as long as you like,” Connor told her.
Devon smiled her thanks. She knew that Connor and the others were most likely just being polite, but it was nice to hear and she did like to feel as if she was pulling her own weight. Their approval, well-deserved or not, felt good. It made her realize how much she’d missed hearing that.
Jack never had any actually kind words for her. He’d once told her that if he didn’t like something, then she’d know about it. To him, the absence of criticism was supposed to be taken as an unspoken compliment. She could never make him understand that she needed more than that, that she needed to actually hear praise once in a while. Heaven knew she’d been more than generous and loving when it came to flattering him. But the lesson never seemed to take root with him.
As if feeling left out of the adult conversation, Layla began to stir and within a few seconds, she was mewling.
“Sorry,” Cole apologized to her. “I guess we got a little too loud.”
Devon was quick to absolve him of any guilt. “No, I think she just got jealous, watching everyone eating breakfast except her,” Devon said. Putting everything else on temporary hold, she extracted the infant from her car seat. “She wants some of her own. Let’s go, little one,” she murmured lovingly to her daughter. “Time to get you fed.”
As she began to make her way out of the room, Devon paused to look over her shoulder. “Leave everything the way it is. I’ll clean up after Layla’s been fed.”
“Did you find out anything about her yet?” Connor asked Cody once Devon had retreated to the guest room with Layla.
“No, not yet.” He didn’t add that he felt it best not to prod Devon for any information. Instead, he wanted to present himself as a willing listener if she decided that she wanted someone to confide in. “Some people take longer to open up than Cassidy,” Cody added.
“Hey, I resent that,” Cassidy pretended to pout. “Just because I’m friendly—”
“That’s one word for it, little sister,” Cody countered.
Cassidy raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s another word for it?”
“Okay, you two, time-out,” Connor told them as he stood up. “Well, I’ve got a ranch to run so I’d better get to it.” His eyes swept over his siblings before he left the table and walked out. “I suggest you do the same. Good meal,” he murmured before he disappeared.
“Love to linger over this coffee,” Cole told Cody, “but I promised Jackson White Eagle I’d be back to lend a hand at The Healing Ranch,” he said, referring to the ranch that had recently had an influx of twice the applicants they normally received. Ever since an article in a national magazine had appeared, citing the ranch’s success rate in turning troubled youths around, there had been no shortage of requests for a spot in the innovative program.
“Gotta run, too,” Cassidy announced, making a hasty retreat before Cody could ask her any questions.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Cody murmured to the collection of dirty dishes around him at the table. He’d already told the sheriff that he would be coming in later than usual and had gotten the man’s blessing.
Despite what Devon had said about leaving everything just as it was, Cody made short work of cleaning up. The dishes were washed, dried and put away. It went faster than he’d thought it would.
He knew he should get going, but he didn’t want to just leave without letting Devon know that she would be alone in the house. He wanted to give her a phone number so she could reach him just in case.
Making his way to her room, Cody knocked on Devon’s door.
She responded immediately. “Yes?”
Taking that to be an invitation, Cody opened the door. The next second, he stopped dead, stunned and freezing in place.
Devon was sitting on her bed, Layla gathered against her breast. She was still nursing her daughter.
It was—he later thought, looking back—probably the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. But he certainly wasn’t free to give voice to that feeling. At the very least, he didn’t want to embarrass her.
So he swung his head in the opposite direction, looking away.
“I’m sorry,” he told her with feeling. “I didn’t mean to just walk in like that. I thought you’d put her down for a nap. I mean—” He fumbled, not knowing what to say to convey just how sorry he was for intruding on her in such a private moment.
“It’s okay,” Devon assured him, her tone understanding as she absolved him of any perceived wrongdoing. “Seems that this little lady is an extremely slow eater.”
Deftly pulling her blouse back into place, she put the baby up against her shoulder and began to pat Layla gently on the back.
“Did yo
u want to tell me something?” Devon asked, taking the focus off herself and what Cody had just seen. Theirs, after all, was a rather unique relationship. Cody had already seen far more of her than any other man except for Jack.
Cody was exceedingly grateful to Devon for not making a big deal out of what happened, but by the same token, because she was being so nice about it, he felt guilty that it had happened in the first place.
Clearing his throat, he grasped at the excuse she had handed him. “I wanted to know if you needed anything before I went to work.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked, mildly surprised.
Cody sensed what wasn’t being said. “I can stay if you’d rather have someone here.”
Devon shook her head. She didn’t mean to make him feel that he had to stay with her. Thinking about it, she could use a little alone time herself.
“You’ve already done a lot for me. I’m not going to make you stay and hold my hand,” she told him. “Layla and I will be fine, won’t we, little one?” she said, addressing her question to the infant who was curled up against her shoulder.
Cody took out one of the business cards Cassidy had made up for him as a gift when he’d joined the sheriff’s department. It was meant to show Cody how proud they all were of him.
He handed the card to Devon. “That’s the phone number at the sheriff’s office. Call me if you need anything—or,” he added as an afterthought, “if you just want to talk.”
She looked at the card before she tucked it into her pocket. “To be honest, what I need right now is some time alone to just pull myself together.”
“You look pretty put together to me already.” The comment came out before he could censor it. What was wrong with him? He usually exercised more control over himself than this. “Okay, then,” he told her as if he hadn’t made the other comment, “Connor should be back sometime around noon or so.”
“Okay, anything else I should know?” she asked.
He felt she needed to know how much they appreciated what she’d gone out of her way to do, despite what she’d been through herself. “Only that everyone walked out of here smiling because that had to be the best breakfast we’ve had in a really long time.”
Devon couldn’t help beaming, even as she dismissed his compliment. “Then I’d say that you and your family are very easily pleased.”
“Not really,” he interjected, and then told her, “The phone’s in the kitchen if you need to call.”
Devon nodded, suppressing an amused smile. “I noticed this morning,” she replied.
“Right, of course you did.” She had to think he was some kind of country bumpkin, Cody upbraided himself.
“You want me to bring you back anything?” he asked just as he was about to leave her bedroom.
“No, I’m good,” she assured him. “But be sure to thank Miss Joan for me for the sandwich.”
He’d forgotten about that. That Devon had remembered gave him a good feeling about the young woman. She obviously didn’t take anything for granted.
“She’ll appreciate that,” he told her.
He was lingering again, Devon noted. And, as much as she found that she liked having him around, she couldn’t allow herself to get used to it or feeling that way.
“You should go,” she prompted. “You don’t want to be late, especially not on my account.”
“Okay, then—you’re sure you’ll be all right?” he asked one last time.
She rose from the bed and crossed to where he was standing. “I’ve been on my own for a long time now, Cody. I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
Then, as if to end the discussion and put an end to any lingering concern he might be harboring, she placed one hand on his shoulder to anchor herself and then rose on her toes. The next moment, she brushed her lips against his cheek.
“Now go,” she instructed.
Cody backed out of the room until he felt the heel of his boot hit the threshold. Only then did he turn around and leave.
He caught himself wanting to remain, just in case, but he knew she was right. He needed to get to work and she probably needed her space right now, just like she had said. He didn’t doubt that she needed to sort out her feelings and emotions, not to mention find a way to adjust to being a first-time young mother, something that was bound to throw her world into a tailspin.
As for him, he needed to get to the sheriff’s office not just because it was his job, but because he wanted to use the search engines available to him there to see if he could somehow track down the man who had run out on Devon. He wanted the man to own up to his responsibilities. He’d stolen her money and at the very least he needed to make some sort of restitution for that.
If Cody could possibly help it, he wasn’t about to let that rotten SOB get away with it.
Chapter Eleven
There were those in and around Forever, Cody among them, who felt that Miss Joan really did have eyes in the back of her head. How else would she be aware of every little thing that was happening, often simultaneously, in her crowded diner? It was a given that nothing got past the titian-haired woman with the deep, penetrating hazel eyes.
Today was no different. Cody had barely made it in through the diner door at lunchtime—always an incredibly busy time of day for Miss Joan—before she was suddenly next to him. He’d come in to get food to go and to express Devon’s thanks for the sirloin sandwich the woman had sent over last night.
“Missed you this morning,” Miss Joan informed him, startling Cody. “When you didn’t come in for your morning coffee, I thought you’d decided to stay home and lend that little girl a hand with her baby.”
Cody congratulated himself for giving no indication that the woman had caught him off guard. “No, actually, Devon made coffee for all of us this morning.” He added tactfully, “It was almost as good as yours, Miss Joan.”
Far from acting slighted, the owner of the diner was very displeased by what he was telling her. “You’ve got that girl making coffee?” Miss Joan asked him in an accusatory tone. “What else are you having her do?”
Cody deflected the blame easily. “No, she insisted, Miss Joan. By the time I got down to the kitchen, Devon had already made coffee and she had breakfast going, as well. She said she needed to do that not to feel like a charity case.”
Cody held his breath, waiting for the older woman’s reaction. Miss Joan was nothing if not unpredictable. Finally, the woman slowly nodded her head in approval. “Spunky. I like that.”
He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “She wanted me to thank you for sending over that dinner last night. She really enjoyed it.”
He could see the older woman was pleased, even though she waved the words away. Miss Joan drew him over to the counter, and then made her way behind it. In a second, she was filling customers’ coffees.
“How’s she doing today?” she asked.
Cody smiled. “She looks a lot better than she did when I brought her into the clinic.” Anything would have been an improvement over that.
“Well, I should hope so,” Miss Joan said sharply. “And the baby?”
“Sounds happy, looks healthy.” He knew that Miss Joan appreciated brevity. She didn’t like wading through miles of words to reach the answers she wanted.
“You got everything you need?” she questioned. “Because I had Henry pick up a couple of packs of disposable diapers to tide her over.” To prove it, she took out the packs from behind the counter and placed them in front of Cody.
The woman was a godsend. “She could definitely use those,” he agreed.
Miss Joan’s next question came right out of the blue and caught him off guard, although it did reinforce his belief that the woman was all-seeing. “What’s the baby sleeping in?”
“Right now, a drawer,” he told her, watch
ing for her reaction.
The pencil-thin eyebrows narrowed above her piercing hazel eyes. “A what?” she demanded.
Cody tried to make it sound more accommodating. “We put blankets and a sheet into a drawer. It was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment. It’s been years since there was a crib set up in the house,” he told her by way of an excuse.
Miss Joan pressed her thin lips together and he knew that what he’d just told her was not making her happy, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. His father had gotten rid of the crib years ago, when Cassidy turned five.
Just as he decided that she wasn’t going to say anything else to him, Miss Joan instructed, “All right, stop by here on your way home tonight.”
“Why?” He’d planned on not wasting any time and just going directly to the ranch the minute he clocked out at the sheriff’s office.
“Because I just told you to,” Miss Joan retorted. “Didn’t your father ever teach you not to question your elders?”
“I guess he must’ve skipped that lesson,” Cody told her with a grin.
Miss Joan pinned him with a look. “Don’t give me any snappy answers, young man. Just be here.” She waved him over to one of the waitresses. “Now, tell Margarita your order and go get back to work,” she told him, and then specified, “Pronto.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cody replied, turning toward the waitress she had pointed out.
Like a woman on a mission, Miss Joan went back to her small office at the rear of the diner. She had phone calls to make.
* * *
CODY PULLED HIS packed truck up right in front of the house. This would definitely not have been a good day for riding Flint to work.
He eased his way out from behind the steering wheel, barely being able to wiggle passed the various items that had been stuffed into his truck. As it was, there wasn’t enough space leftover in the cab for an oversize cough drop.
Miss Joan had been exceptionally busy playing the sharp-tongued fairy godmother.
COWBOY AND THE BABY, THE Page 10
