“Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so hot under the collar?” Cort asked, coming up behind her and catching her by surprise.
She spun around so fast, she almost cut him with the knife she’d been using to slice cheese. He jumped back and glared at her.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she warned, turning back to the sandwiches she assembled.
“I didn’t sneak up on you. Anyone could hear my boots thudding across the kitchen floor.” Cort didn’t appreciate her curt tone and started to lose the tight hold he had on his temper. “I can’t help it if you’re so worked up you aren’t paying attention to what’s going on around you.”
“I’m not worked up.” The angry force she applied as she spread mayonnaise on a piece of bread pushed a hole through it. She tossed the bread into the garbage can and took out another slice.
“What do you call it then? I thought you were having a good time, but when I brought Jacob back from the restroom, you looked like you’d sucked a bag full of lemons. Did someone say something to upset you?”
“No. And if they did, it really isn’t any of your concern, Mr. McGraw.”
Cort sneered. “Forgive me, Mrs. Peters. I forgot my place as the worthless hired hand.”
Kaley’s face turned a bright shade of red and she stopped making the sandwich. To keep from smacking him, she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “I never said that and it certainly isn’t what I meant. You’ve been extremely helpful the last few days. I know you’re a hard worker and I appreciate everything you’ve done. Your invitation to the parade and rodeo today was very thoughtful. It’s one of the best days Jacob has ever had.”
“Then what’s the problem? You can pretend all you want, but I know when someone is upset. I prefer your honesty instead of a tight-lipped hissy fit when you’re out of sorts.” Cort took a step toward her making her take a step back into the counter.
With no means of escape, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. “What you do on your own time, when you aren’t around my son or me, is your business, but I won’t tolerate you imbibing in alcohol when he’s with you or in my home. I just won’t!”
“I didn’t have anything to drink today.” As much as he wanted to hang out with his friends drinking, he’d told the guys he’d have to pass.
Undeniably peeved that the woman labeled him as a drunk, he’d done nothing to deserve it since he’d met her. He wondered if Tate or Kenzie said something about his drinking but didn’t think they’d mention it to her without a reason.
“Why did you come back to our seats smelling like beer?” Kaley’s blue eyes bore a hole into him with their intensity.
“I didn’t have a beer.” Cort ground out each word as a frown deepened the brackets around his mouth and formed a crease across his forehead. He vaguely recalled someone spilling some on him in the jostling crowd. He’d forgotten about it but Kaley must have been able to smell it. “You probably won’t believe me, but someone spilled it on my shirt when I took Jacob to the restroom.”
“I see.” She wanted to believe Cort but wasn’t sure if she should. After all, drinking was the one thing she couldn’t and wouldn’t tolerate. She blamed alcohol for nearly every bad thing that had happened in her life, especially for her world crumbling around her when Dean and Ed died. Still debating what to do, a gentle touch on her hand shocked her out of her musings.
“Who hurt you?” Cort’s face softened as he rubbed his fingers across the back of her hand.
Aggravated he’d been able to read her so easily, her head snapped up and she stared at him.
“It doesn’t matter.” Kaley jerked out of his reach. “What does matter is that I’ve made it perfectly clear I won’t tolerate drinking here on the ranch and most definitely not around Jacob. Whether you drank today or not, I hope you’ll adhere to my wishes in the future.”
“Fine.” All the tenderness drained out of him when she turned her back to him.
He could have gotten drunk at the rodeo. He could have taken up any number of women on their bold, inviting glances. He could be with his friends at that moment, tossing back cold ones with a beautiful girl on each arm.
Instead, he’d been more interested in making the day special for the accusing widow in front of him and a lovable child who plucked at his heartstrings. The happiness on their faces brought him more satisfaction than he’d ever found in a bottle.
Stomping around the counter, he set his hat back on his head and opened the door. “If you’re going to accuse me of being a drunk, maybe I’ll prove you right.”
The door slammed in the wake of his abrupt exit. He stalked across the yard, ignoring Buford as the dog trotted beside him to the end of the walk. A cloud of dust rose behind his truck while the tires tossed gravel all the way out her driveway.
Kaley swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, watching Cort drive away. A noise at her back drew her attention, and she whirled around to face Jacob.
With a narrowed gaze, he pointed at her then the door. Angrily shaking his head, he marched to his room and slammed the door.
Sinking onto a barstool, Kaley buried her head in her arms on the countertop and cried. She cried for what she’d lost, for the voice her son no longer had, for the man who’d appeared on her doorstep and made her feel again.
Remorse filled her for the accusations she’d thrown at him without cause.
The day spent with Cort and Jacob had been one of the best she’d ever experienced. His engaging personality and vitality made her carefully ordered world seem bleak and lifeless. Things she’d long ago given up dreaming about seemed possible with him around.
She didn’t want him to get close enough to scale the walls around her heart, walls not even Dean had been able to climb.
Tears continued to flow as she cried for her own lost childhood, for all the fears that plagued her, and the uncertainty of her future.
A warm hand touched her leg and she stared into Jacob’s contrite little face. She accepted the tissue he held out to her, mopping at her tears before picking him up and cuddling him on her lap.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Mama kind of lost it for a minute.” Kaley brushed his bangs to the side and kissed the scar on his forehead. “How about we eat some dinner and you can pick a movie to watch? How does that sound?”
Jacob put his arms around her neck and hugged her tight then kissed her cheek.
Kaley swallowed hard, choking down a fresh round of tears. If she had nothing else in the world, she still had her sweet little boy.
Chapter Six
Kaley reached out her hand and jiggled the clock beside her bed, convinced it wasn’t working properly. It had to be later than midnight.
The evening passed at a snail's pace, watching movies and eating popcorn with Jacob. She finally tucked him into bed when his droopy eyes refused to stay open.
Instead of the stuffed rabbit he usually held as he went to sleep, he cradled the new ball cap Cort purchased for him in his arms. Emblazoned with a bucking horse, the child-sized cap would most likely become one of his favorite possessions.
Indebted to Cort for giving her son a day filled with happy moments and wonderful memories, Kaley regretted ruining it by jumping to conclusions and making assumptions about the man.
Rolling onto her back, she stared through the darkness at her ceiling and wished she could take back her judgmental thoughts and words.
Worried Cort would make good on his threat of getting drunk, she hoped he would at least refrain from driving himself home. The idea of anyone drinking and driving made her livid.
As her stomach tightened into knots, she tried to relax. She took a deep breath, held it, and slowly released it. Some of the tension finally began to recede as she repeated the action several times, although she remained wide-awake.
Finally drifting off to sleep, visions of Dean and Ed’s accident filled her dreams. Images of Cort joining them forced her upright in bed, gasping for air as fear ti
ghtened her chest and permeated her thoughts.
Barely past four in the morning, she refused to go back to sleep. Terrified of returning to her frightening dreams, she slid out of bed. Hurriedly dressing for the day, she looked in on Jacob, reassured to find him sleeping peacefully.
Quietly entering the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea, grabbed a blanket off a chair in the living room, and went outside to wait for dawn.
A chair on her porch beckoned to her so she settled in and sipped her tea. The shadowed outline of Cort’s truck loomed through the darkness at the end of the sidewalk. Surprised she hadn’t heard him come in last night, she assumed he must have used the private entry to his room.
Despite everything, she needed his help and hoped he wouldn’t quit. If she cared to admit it, she liked having him around the place. Cort had certainly been good for Jacob.
The little boy had been more animated and excited since the cowboy’s arrival than he’d been for longer than she wanted to remember.
Kaley decided to put aside her own feelings and offer Cort an apology, wanting to do what was best for her son. If it took begging to get him to stay, she’d be on her knees before they ate breakfast. Nonetheless, she still wouldn’t condone any drinking on his part at her place or around her son.
The first fingers of light idly stretched toward the horizon before she returned to the kitchen. After assembling a hearty breakfast casserole and sliding it into the oven to bake, she decided to whip up a batch of biscuits to go with it. Intent on measuring out the dry ingredients, she set them aside and looked up, startled to find Cort watching her.
Nervously wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she studied him a moment. Regret mingled with disappointment in his silvery eyes.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday.” Uncomfortable and uncertain, he forced himself to meet her gaze.
“No. I’m the one who owes you an apology. It wasn’t fair of me to jump to conclusions or judge you. I’m sorry. It really isn’t any of my business,” Kaley said, wringing the dishtowel in her hands.
“Apology accepted.”
Although he had every intention of going back to Pendleton and getting blind drunk when he stormed out of the house last night, Cort thought about Jacob and the look on the boy’s face as he watched the rodeo.
A mile down the road, he knew he couldn’t do something he’d later regret. Instead, he went for a drive until his anger settled to a manageable level before returning to the Hanging P. The lights were still on in the kitchen when he came back, but he wasn’t in the mood to face K.C. Thankful for his private entrance, he went straight to his room and spent hours introspectively staring into the darkness, waiting to fall asleep.
Gratified Celia made a point of talking to him, he felt ready to forgive her and his parents for forcing him into making some different choices. Choices, he was coming to realize, that had been in his best interest.
Proud that he successfully overcame the urge to drink, Cort hoped he could continue to fight it and head into the holiday season sober.
As he thought of the holidays, he wondered if the Peters family had any traditions. The McGraw family certainly did, and no one loved Christmas as much as Tate and Kenzie. Kenzie’s younger sisters often referred to Tate as the Christmas cowboy.
Mulling over those thoughts as he fell asleep, he woke up with an improved outlook. Still unhappy that K.C. was so quick to judge him, he decided it most likely had more to do with her past than anything he’d done.
Awake early, he went to the kitchen, planning to make coffee as a peace offering only to find the woman who filled too many of his thoughts already there. He watched as she put something into the oven and began measuring flour into a bowl.
When she glanced up at him with sorrowful eyes, acute pain stabbed him in the region of his heart.
Common sense demanded he wish her well and never set foot on the place again. The foolhardy and love struck part of him urged him to offer an apology and see where the road they traveled led.
Relieved she so quickly accepted his and offered her own apology, he hoped they could learn to trust each other and maybe even become friends.
“Want some coffee?” Kaley asked as Cort continued to watch her.
“What are you drinking?”
“Tea.”
“I’ll drink it, then.” Cort opened a cupboard and took down a mug. He made himself a cup of tea then added hot water and a bag to her cup.
He took a seat on a stool at the counter, watching as she sipped her tea and mixed up something he thought might be biscuits. Hot biscuits, slathered with jam, ranked high on his list of favorite things to eat.
After a few more silent minutes passed, he cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
The fork she used to mix the dough came to a halt as she gave him a questioning look, nodding her head. “Sure. I might even answer, depending on the question.”
“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?” Cort raised an eyebrow at her while his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Many, many people. You’d be surprised how often my mouth got me into trouble as a kid.”
“Probably not any more than mine did.” Cort took a drink of his tea before setting the mug on the counter. Curiosity got the best of him as he stared at her. “Would you mind telling me what K.C. stands for? It’s kind of unusual for a woman to go by initials.”
“That’s a question no one has bothered to ask for a very long time.” Kaley rolled out the biscuit dough and cut circles on the floured countertop.
She was quiet so long, Cort didn’t think she would answer his question, but she finally spoke.
“My name sounds too girly. I needed to be tough and strong growing up, so I started using my initials when I was about ten and have ever since. It serves me well now that Dean is gone because many people, like you, assume the name belongs to a man. It makes doing ranch business a lot easier.”
“So what’s your real name?”
“Kaley.” A faint blush painted her cheeks a delicate shade of pink as she placed the biscuits on a baking sheet and set it in the oven.
“It’s a beautiful name, like the woman it belongs to.” The name entirely suited the woman scrubbing flour and biscuit remains off the counter - feminine, unique, and lovely.
“Thank you.” Kaley’s blush deepened as she washed her hands. Covertly glancing over her shoulder, she studied Cort before offering him a flirty grin. “Since you know one of my secrets, you need to spill one of yours.”
“I don’t have secrets,” he said, taking another drink of tea. “I’m an open book.”
“Your so-called open book has a lot of blank pages. I think you better fill in at least one.” Kaley removed three plates from the cupboard. Cort took them from her and placed them on the table.
He returned to his seat at the counter and held her gaze. “In light of what happened yesterday, I’ll admit you weren’t far off the mark.”
“But I thought you said you didn’t have anything to drink. I won’t…”
Cort held up his hand and Kaley fell silent. Steeling himself for her reaction, he knew he had to tell her the truth.
“I honestly didn’t have anything to drink yesterday. What I failed to share with you is that I… um… well, I kind of have a drinking problem.”
It was the first time Cort admitted it to himself, much less anyone else.
Kaley didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.
Cort wrapped his hands around his now empty mug. “When I got hurt and had to quit the rodeo, I took it pretty hard. Not ready to retire, I didn’t want to give it up, but I had to because of my knee injury. Instead of finding some useful outlet for my time and talents, I started drinking - a lot. My folks kicked me out and my sister practically kidnapped me, dumping me on Tate and Kenzie, hoping I’d get my head on straight.”
“Then you ended up here.” Kaley wondered if Cort continued drinking. He’d been a
t the Morgan Ranch less than a month when Tate suggested she hire him. Tate should have disclosed Cort’s drinking problem. If he had, she never would have agreed to him setting foot on the place.
“I did end up here and I haven’t had a drink since I came to the Hanging P. Yesterday made me realize I’ve got a problem and I’m going to fix it.” Cort wasn’t sure how, other than to stay away from booze and pray for strength and wisdom. He knew there were meetings he could attend, but he wasn’t quite ready for that step. Tate would listen if he needed to talk to someone.
“What about last night?” Kaley checked the biscuits and decided they needed a few more minutes in the oven. She took a jar of jam out of the refrigerator and set it along with butter on the table. “You said you were going to get drunk.”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I drove around until I calmed down. It was early when I came back and the lights were still on in the kitchen.” Cort traced a pattern on the countertop with his index finger.
“I’m glad, Cort. Extremely glad.” Kaley patted his shoulder as she walked past him with a pitcher of orange juice, placing it on the table.
Her hand tingled from the brief contact. From the puzzled way Cort glanced at his shoulder, she knew he felt the impact of the innocent touch, too.
That wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Romantic notions flitting around in her head for a temporary hired hand, especially one who admitted he had a drinking problem, spelled trouble. Annoyed with Tate and Kenzie for not warning her, a part of her was glad they hadn’t. Otherwise, she’d never have met Cort and regardless of anything else, he made her son happy.
Anxiety began to gnaw at her. Would he keep his pledge to stay sober? What if he started drinking again? What if he drank around Jacob? What if…?
On her way to working herself into a full-fledged panic, she took a deep breath. She’d have to trust that everything would work out for the best and leave it at that.
As she lifted the casserole from the oven, she looked at Cort. “Would you mind getting Jacob? He’s usually up long before now, but I think he was completely worn out after yesterday’s excitement.”
Wrestlin' Christmas: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 2) Page 8
