The Rancher's Baby Proposal

by Barbara White Daille

  Unfortunately, carrying a torch—as Mama would put it—had gotten her nowhere due to lack of encouragement on his part. But why would he do anything to give her hope? He wasn’t carrying a torch for her. And he never had.

  Andi smiled. “It looks like our lessons are paying off. You seem very comfortable around the baby.”

  “It’s hard not to be. He never gives me any trouble.” She shrugged. “Of course, he might just be sizing up the situation. I’ve only been minding him for two days now.” The time seemed to have gone by so quickly when she thought about taking care of the baby, yet so slowly in terms of her progress with Reagan. “Sean just eats and sleeps, and that’s about it.”

  “That’s what they do at this age,” Tina said, looking down at her daughter.

  “It means he’s comfortable with you, too,” Andi said. “In fact, he’s probably getting attached.”

  “Well, I wish some of that comfort and attachment would come from the direction of his daddy.”

  There, she’d said it. And in front of Andi, too. Did she have no shame? But why try to hide how she felt about Reagan now? After the afternoons of Baby 101, her feelings had to have become obvious to Andi—but she surely hoped not to anyone else at the Hitching Post.

  She shook her head. “Reagan’s avoiding me, I think, doing anything he can to stay out of my way. He only comes into the house at the end of the night, right before I leave, to...”

  To go upstairs to strip off his jeans and T-shirt.

  Every day at the hardware store—and almost every day of her life—she saw plenty of men in clothes just like Reagan’s. But worn-out and filthy or not, his clothes had somehow become the sexiest she’d ever seen on a man.

  “Um...hello? Ally?” Tina said. “You’ve got us holding our breath here. Reagan comes into the house to...”

  Startled, she blushed. “Sorry. I was...uh...thinking about Sean’s next bottle. Anyway, Reagan comes in for the night, checks for updates on how the baby is doing and that’s it. I’m dismissed.”

  “He puts in a long day working. He’s probably tired.” Though Andi’s expression and tone were serious, her comments left Ally laughing.

  They also helped her revert to the girl everyone knew best. “Yes, he’s tired. He’s exhausted from having me look at him like he’s tastier than Paz’s sopaipilla cheesecake.”

  “Wow,” Andi said. “That’s a seriously delicious example. If that’s what you compare him to, you must have it bad.”

  “Awful,” she agreed. She looked down at Sean and wiggled his foot. “I shouldn’t even admit this in front of the baby.”

  “Admit what?” Tina asked.

  “His daddy can pretend all he likes that I don’t exist—outside of being his babysitter, that is.” She smiled slowly. “But somehow, I’m going to make the man see I can be much more than that.”

  * * *

  ONLY FRIDAY, AND it had seemed like the longest week of his life.

  Reagan had spent his days riding the small ranch, checking the fence line and boundaries, looking for signs of any predators or other problems. If there was anything that might make a prospective buyer hesitate, he wanted to head that off at the pass.

  He’d spent his evenings in the barn. But even for a man working solo, there was only so much to be done. With no livestock in the stalls, no feed in the bins, no tack or equipment being used on a regular basis, he’d run out of things to sort through and maintain. Run out of reasons to avoid Ally.

  Reluctantly, he turned his steps to the house. He could see the usual back porch and kitchen lights shining, almost calling out to him. He wouldn’t mind an early night for once, a chance to spend time with his son before the baby went to bed. Back home, he’d had more time with Sean than this. But this couldn’t last much longer. Or neither would he.

  All week long, he had fought second thoughts about asking Ally to help him out.

  Sometime during those days, he had begun thinking about asking Ally out.

  And that was crazy.

  Inside the house, he followed the sound of her favorite salsa music to the living room. He found her with a dust cloth in her hand and her back to him, dancing in front of the bookshelves set along the far wall. She had tied a bright red bandanna around her nearly black hair. Big gold hoop earrings, normally half hidden by her curls, dangled close to her cheeks.

  Sean looked up at him from his baby seat, which had been set on a dust-free and polished end table placed just inside the doorway. The table sat well away from both the radio and the rapidly moving cloth.

  Reagan crossed the room and punched the button on the radio. The music abruptly stilled. So did Ally. Then she turned to face him, her face flushed from the exertion of her dancing.

  “You’re in early,” she said, her voice rising to a squeak.

  “Yeah.” He gestured toward the cloth. “What are you doing?”

  “Dusting.”

  He grinned. “I can see that. Were you angling for double time?”

  “No,” she snapped. Not a squeak within earshot now. Her dark eyes flashed. “I was just trying to help you because...” Her cheeks turned even pinker.

  “Because?”

  “Because I want to. I don’t like what’s on TV right now, and the magazines had started to bore me. You haven’t had any time to start working in the house—”

  He hadn’t made any time.

  “—so I thought I’d give you a hand in here. There might be some things my mama thinks I’ll never learn to do, but she made sure dusting a room isn’t one of them.”

  He raised his brows. “Is that so?”

  Now, she flushed beet red and refused to look his way. She ran the cloth over a couple of the bookshelves, bending down to reach the lower ones, giving him a substantial, satisfying view he’d bet she didn’t intend for him to see. He had no idea how good a job she did as a house cleaner. But she sure knew how to fill out every inch of denim in a pair of jeans.

  He tried not to think about the sudden tightness in his own jeans.

  Okay, his increasing interest in her all this week was perfectly normal and to be expected. He was a red-blooded male, wasn’t he? And one who hadn’t been to bed with a woman in over nine months.

  But Ally was a whole different story.

  Years ago, thanks to his success in sports, he had developed a fan club of kids from school. He’d gotten used to seeing the younger girl in that crowd but never realized she felt a special liking for him. Now, he was mature enough to see it.

  Her eagerness to help him out with Sean, to pick up the groceries, to do the cleaning in here that he should have done himself, all said clearly she still had a crush on him.

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes, blocking out the sight of her and hoping it would block out his thoughts. No such luck. When he lowered his hand and cleared his throat, she finally turned to face him again.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” he said. Well, he was, but right then he definitely didn’t have his focus on a topic he could share with her. He cleared his throat once more and started again. “It’s Friday night.”

  For a moment, those dark eyes of hers lit up, confirming he’d been right about her feelings. Even as he congratulated himself for that, he cursed himself for not being more careful about what he’d said. She still had that schoolgirl crush, and those bright eyes gave her away. She thought he was about to ask her out.

  He hated to dash her hopes. But it wasn’t in her best interests—or his—for him to lead her on.

  “It’s still early yet,” he said. “You should go. You probably have somewhere else you want to be tonight.”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  He crossed the room and plucked the dust cloth from her hand. “All right, then, you must have something else you want to do on a Fr
iday night besides clean dusty shelves. Like hang out at the Bowl-a-Rama. Or go for a treat at the Big Dipper.”

  She gave him a slow smile that made him wish he’d stayed where he was. “I could go for something, but I sure don’t need any ice cream to make my jeans even tighter.”

  Damn. He clutched the cloth, his fingers itching. And it had nothing to do with any dust allergy, that was for sure. He wanted to reach out and touch those curves he’d had the pleasure of seeing.

  She couldn’t have caught him watching her, could she? He glanced at the shelves. No mirrored surfaces, and even the rows of porcelain knickknacks, now freshly dusted, couldn’t reflect an image from across the room.

  No, Ally was just being Ally. A kid—now a woman—with a teasing sense of humor.

  He had to believe that, because he refused to let himself think of her as anything more, as anything to him personally but an acquaintance. A babysitter. An employee.

  He stepped back and cleared his throat again. Get a grip.

  “Well,” he said, “if you’re not in the mood for an ice-cream treat, maybe you’d like a cold drink or two somewhere.” He forced a laugh. “You already turned down the Bowl-a-Rama, and we know in Cowboy Creek on a Friday night, you don’t get better than that or the Cantina. That might be an option. They still have the Friday dances there, don’t they?”

  He blocked out the vision of her dancing in front of the bookshelves.

  Without a hint of a smile now, she nodded. “Yes, they do. And since you’re in for the night, I guess I’ll pack it in, too. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

  “Bright and early?”

  “It’s Saturday, remember? Mrs. Browley mentioned the meeting, didn’t she?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I forgot.”

  No, he’d been too distracted to think straight. And he’d imagined this had been the longest week of his life. But it seemed it wasn’t over yet.

  Mrs. B had called last night to inform him of the spur-of-the-moment change in plans. She was taking Saturday off and wanted to let him know she had made arrangements with Ally to fill in for her.

  Ally would be here at the ranch tomorrow.

  With him and Sean.

  All day long.

  Chapter Five

  From where he stood inside the barn, Reagan heard the hum of an approaching car’s engine, followed by the slam of a door. Not Ally’s. Her small car was neither that loud nor that solid.

  He frowned. When had he taken note of the sound of her car?

  “It looks like we’ve got company,” he told Sean.

  He crossed to the worktable in the corner, where he’d left the baby in his seat. It had been foolish, maybe, to come out here with Sean so soon after breakfast, but he had forgotten to clarify what Ally had meant by “bright and early.” Sitting around the house waiting for her...waiting for his son’s babysitter had made him antsy.

  Not that he should have been sitting, with all he had to do inside. “Guess I need to stop avoiding the house,” he said to Sean.

  He hadn’t been out here long enough to get his clothes dirty, but he scrubbed his dusty hands at the small sink. He tried not to think about dust...and last night...and, yet again, about Ally. Those images had led to new reasons he had been staying away from the house.

  Jed Garland appeared in the barn doorway. “Morning.” The older man looked around the interior of the barn and must have spotted the lumber Reagan had stacked near one wall. “Got enough there to build another barn, don’t you? It’s been a while since Cowboy Creek had a barn raising. Maybe we need to schedule one.”

  “Not for me. The new owner might be interested. Speaking of interest, how do you feel about a coffee?”

  “I’m always ready for a cup.”

  Reagan picked up Sean in his carrier, and he and Jed left the barn.

  “They say it’s going to be a hot one today,” Jed said. “You might want to take care about not overdoing the outside work. And not having the baby with you.”

  “Ally will be here soon to take care of him.”

  “Good thing. And how’s that working out?”

  “Fine.” The effort to convince himself of that had him saying the word with more force than necessary. Judging by Jed’s sudden smile, the man might have taken the emphasis as enthusiasm. Reagan tempered his response by adding, “I was lucky enough to be able to get Mrs. B to watch him, too.”

  “So Nan tells me.”

  “You’ve talked with Mrs. B?”

  “Well, of course. I see her almost every time I run into town to Sugar’s.”

  That made sense. SugarPie’s bakery and sandwich shop was the hub of Cowboy Creek. “Mrs. B’s with Sean for most of the time. Ally only sits with the baby for a while late in the day.”

  “That all did work out well, then, didn’t it?”

  Not very well. But he couldn’t say that to Jed, who looked as pleased about the situation as if he’d had a hand in arranging it. For a moment, Reagan considered the idea Jed had gotten involved in his babysitting dilemma. But that was impossible, even for the man who knew everything in town.

  As they neared the house, Jed said, “Before I forget, I’m here for more than a cup of coffee. Everybody out at the ranch wants the chance to catch up with you and to meet the baby. At breakfast, they all told me they’d have my hide if I didn’t get you to come out tomorrow. The dining room is busy for brunch, but on Sundays we have an early dinner, and we’ll have plenty of time then to sit and chat.”

  “That would be great. Sean and I will be there.” Having something to do for part of the day would help distract him from...other things.

  In the kitchen, he set the carrier on one side of the table and gestured the older man to a seat. “The coffeemaker’s already primed.” All he needed to do was hit the switch and grab a couple of mugs. “Milk? Sugar?” He had both, thanks to Ally volunteering to pick up groceries.

  Jed waved a hand. “Black’s fine by me.”

  “Talking about a new owner a few minutes ago reminded me, have you heard of anyone interested in this place yet?”

  The sound of another car door slamming was quickly followed by footsteps on the wooden porch and then a knock on the kitchen door. He hurried across the room to swing the door open.

  Ally stood on the porch. To his dismay, he suddenly realized how much he’d looked forward to seeing her again.

  Today she wore a bright pink and red and orange blouse along with her gold earrings and bracelets. And another well-fitting pair of jeans. Abruptly, he shifted his gaze to the sacks she held in one hand. “You stopped at SugarPie’s,” he said inanely.

  “I did. And the L-G. And...uh...since I am bearing gifts—” she hefted the sacks and a plastic cooler “—mind if I come in?”

  Dang. He stepped back a pace. As she passed him, he caught the scents of cinnamon and a light, spicy perfume. He went toward the counter, hoping that inhaling the scent of the brewing coffee would help him regain his focus.

  “Hi, Jed,” Ally said. “I saw your truck, so I knew you were here. Looks like I’m just in time for a midmorning snack.” She went to the cupboard and took down another mug, a platter and several small plates. Reagan took her mug to fill it, too. “And you’ll both be happy to know I’ve brought some of Sugar’s sweet rolls.”

  “None for me,” Jed said. “You won’t have picked up enough for three.”

  “No worries. Sugar told me she put a few extra in the sack. It’s almost like she knew you’d be here. After all, everybody knows her sweet rolls are your favorite.”

  Jed laughed. “That’s Sugar for you—like Paz, always ready to feed a crowd.” As Ally joined them at the table, he turned to Reagan. “You were wanting to know if I’d had anyone asking about the ranch yet. Not a word.”

 
“You talked to the owners on either side of me?” He should have done that himself, but he’d felt oddly reluctant to discuss a sale with his parents’ old friends.

  “Yeah. No luck with them, either. But I’m sure someone will have an interest in the property. It’s a nice spread, just the right size to be run by a couple of good men.”

  “My dad handled it on his own,” he blurted, then wished he could take back the words. Jed hadn’t meant anything by his statement. Ally’s unblinking gaze didn’t signify anything, either.

  “Your daddy managed alone,” Jed agreed, “but I think in the end it got to be too much for him. He wasn’t the young man you are.” Below his white eyebrows, his blue eyes stared steadily at Reagan.

  Evidently, Jed had meant something by his previous statement.

  “From what I hear at the store,” Ally said, “property around Cowboy Creek hasn’t moved too quickly lately. First of all, there hasn’t been much activity. Most people who live here tend to stay here.”

  Was that another dig at him?

  He gripped his mug and focused all his attention on swallowing his coffee without choking. Had Jed and Ally both decided to gang up on him, to get back at him for selling the place? For not supporting his parents like he should have? He didn’t need anyone loading on the guilt about that. He had enough of his own.

  “And then,” Ally continued, “even if people are looking to buy, you might not get any takers.”

  She sounded hopeful that he wouldn’t.

  Of course. He should have remembered.

  She, at least, wasn’t coming up with reasons to make him feel bad about his actions. She wanted him to stay. Considering what he’d figured out last night about her crush on him, her hope that he might stick around wasn’t surprising. But he couldn’t let her believe he would satisfy that hope.