The Rancher's Family--A Clean Romance

by Barbara White Daille

  “Yay!” Mark grinned and began shoving his papers into a pile.

  “Yay!” Tracey raised both hands high, then patted her daddy’s cheeks.

  Wes’s smile looked strained. She hadn’t imagined his tension, after all.

  Why hadn’t she gone with her instincts and left while she’d had the chance?

  * * *

  AS WES CHECKED on the pan of ziti in the oven, Cara asked what she could do to help. He shook his head. “Nothing. You’re a guest.”

  Thanks to him. And maybe he’d made one colossal mistake.

  He hadn’t wanted her to stay. Hadn’t wanted Mark to get comfortable with someone who would soon walk out of his life again.

  Yet, something had kept him from giving Cara the out when she’d so obviously asked for it. His son’s plea? The indecision he’d seen in her eyes at first? His gut telling him she wouldn’t mind staying? All of the above?

  Or maybe he’d just felt it only right to repay her favor—a strictly business favor—with a meal.

  And maybe he was just making too much of this whole situation. A simple supper in the kitchen couldn’t be that big a deal to anyone.

  “I don’t like standing around doing nothing,” she insisted. “So what can I do to help?”

  Giving in, he gestured to the cutting board and knife on the counter beside the salad fixings. He thought again of the work she was doing upstairs. “What makes you so willing to give up your free time to help me out, when you could be relaxing at the Hitching Post?”

  She hesitated a while, then finally said, “Just being a good neighbor.”

  They weren’t neighbors. She didn’t live in Cowboy Creek. She’d thought up that answer just to get by. He could see the tension in her all-too-readable posture as she stood at the sink rinsing the vegetables.

  The obvious answer hit him right between the eyes. She had no job, no income. Andi was probably going to pay her for helping with the inventory.

  Everyone had their reasons for needing extra cash.

  He glanced over at Mark, busy with his coloring, and then at Tracey, now settled in her high chair after refusing to be tucked in for a nap.

  Who was he to question Cara’s financial situation, especially when he could relate to it? He wouldn’t give up the opportunity to live on this ranch—or to raise his kids here—for anything in the world. Still, along with everything else, the past couple of years, before and after Patty died, had taken their toll. He’d skated as near as he’d ever come to not breaking even.

  Time to change the subject. He stirred the extra pasta sauce simmering on a back burner. “This is a first, all right—first time I’ve had help with making supper.”

  Instantly, Mark said, “I help, Daddy.”

  Just as quickly, he regretted his mistake. Of course his son, who paid attention to everything, would overhear. “You’re always a big help, pardner. I’m getting everything ready for you to set the table.”

  Cara shot him a look of surprise.

  “Don’t worry,” he said in a lower voice. “He gets napkins, spoons and plastic cups. All nonbreakable and without a blade. And considering my son’s normal speed is fixed at a run, I set all that out on the table for him to arrange.”

  She kept her focus on the vegetables, but her lips curved in a smile.

  Wes grabbed a few hot pads from the lower cabinet and set them on the counter beside the stove.

  “Spoons go on the napkins,” Mark announced.

  “That’s right,” Wes confirmed. As he made a mental note to add extra utensils and dishes for Cara, he tried to remember the last time they’d had company over for supper. Before they’d lost Patty, he calculated.

  Had it really been that long?

  “It sounds like you’ve trained him well,” Cara said. “Or his mother did. But you said you didn’t have help—besides Mark, of course. You and your wife didn’t get dinner ready together?”

  “No. By the time I’d come in at night, she’d have everything waiting to go on the table. Usually, she would head out soon after we ate. She spent a lot of time in town with her friends.”

  Another mistake he immediately regretted. Why blurt out all these details to Cara? No doubt about it, he would be better once she went on her way. “Anyhow,” he finished in a rush, “lack of experience doesn’t improve my skills in the kitchen.”

  “You and Garrett didn’t learn from your mom when you were growing up? Oh.” She frowned. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For asking that. I’m guessing you were too young for her to teach you to cook. I...I heard she passed away a long time ago.”

  She had probably learned that from the town crier, otherwise known as Jed Garland. The thought irritated him, but he couldn’t blame her for Jed’s habit of running off at the mouth. “Yeah, I was still just a kid.”

  “That must have been tough for you to handle.”

  She didn’t look his way. Maybe that made it easier for him to answer. “I won’t lie. It was tough. But it’s worse for my kids. They’ve lost their mother much earlier on than I did.”

  “As hard as that must be for them, they seem happy and content. Which means you’re doing a great job.”

  “Thanks. I try.” He opened the dish cupboard to collect what they would need for supper. Right now, he needed another change of topic. “How about you? Any kids of your own?”

  The knife skidded across the cutting board. A piece of cucumber flew off the edge of the counter.

  He caught it in midair. “Hey, we don’t throw food around in this kitchen.”

  Her laugh sounded rattled. “Sorry. You have good reflexes. And I guess I’m not much of a cook, either.”

  “Somebody else does the cooking in your house, too?”

  “No, I live alone. Though lately, I’ve been staying at a friend’s house and eating all my meals out.”

  “That must get old.”

  “It does.”

  She hadn’t answered his question about kids, but her response about living alone covered that. “You must appreciate the homemade meals at the Hitching Post.”

  “Oh, I do. Everyone there appreciates them. Paz is a fantastic cook.”

  “Yeah, no matter what she makes, starting with burritos and moving on from there.”

  “I love b’ritos!” Mark shouted.

  “B’itos!” echoed Tracey.

  “Me, too,” she said. “I hear they’re on the menu for this week’s cookout.”

  Wes laughed. “No surprise. They’re on the menu every week. Paz is famous for hers. It wouldn’t be a cookout without them.”

  Turning back to the cutting board, Cara said quietly, “You could bring the kids over to join us this Saturday.”

  She must have taken note of his son’s excellent hearing. Wes appreciated that she’d lowered her voice. Even better, she’d spoken at the same time he’d rattled a handful of cutlery, giving him a reason to pretend he hadn’t heard her. He didn’t need any suggestions from outsiders. He got enough from folks around here.

  No matter what Garrett insisted, he didn’t need to go running to the Hitching Post for any of Jed’s charity. He still had to talk to the man about his interference, though, and about sending Cara to his doorstep in the first place.

  He didn’t much like this arrangement he’d agreed to with her. The sooner she left, the better. “I was thinking—”

  “Great! I know everyone will be glad to see you all.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Her happy smile disappeared. “I was thinking about the office. You’re close to finishing in there.”

  “Right. I should be done in another few days. Just a reminder, Andi and I will be here tomorrow, in the morning only. In the afternoon, she’s got appointments in town, and we’ll be doing more cleaning at the store. Plus I need to set up some
interviews for when I get back to Phoenix.”

  “You excited about that?”

  “Very. A new job, a new home, a whole new life. Anyone would get excited about that, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yeah.” Another good reminder. She planned to move on again. “Sounds like the right idea to line up those interviews. Since you’re apartment hunting, you’ll need a job to pay the rent.”

  Her dimples flashed as she laughed. “Having a paycheck would definitely help with that.”

  He didn’t realize he’d kept staring until she set the knife down and turned to him again.

  On the back burner, the pot of spaghetti sauce bubbled and spit. He dropped the handful of silverware onto the counter. Half the utensils clattered to the floor. Stepping over them, he grabbed the pot, managing to burn his hand and spill sauce onto the stove.

  Good thing he’d already made it clear he couldn’t cook.

  * * *

  MARK CHATTERED ALL through dinner. Cara gave thanks for his energy and Tracey’s babbling. Without them, the kitchen would have seemed like the staff break room at the department store after a weeklong summer clearance sale. In other words, deadly silent.

  Mark chased the last ziti in his bowl. “You like bacroni?” he asked her.

  “I love it,” she told him truthfully.

  She glanced at Wes. Why he’d kept so quiet, she didn’t know. That didn’t mean she needed to act like a tongue-tied teenager. “My compliments to the cook. You’re pretty good around the kitchen, after all.”

  “Until I burn things all over the stove.” He reached for the serving spoon. “Want more?”

  “No, thanks. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “What’s for dessert?” Mark asked.

  “Pudding.”

  Mark cheered and, naturally, Tracey did the same.

  “That’s another one of his favorites,” Wes told Cara. “And as my mother used to say, nobody says no to pudding.” He frowned. “Funny, I hadn’t thought about that in a long while.”

  “Memories are funny that way. Sometimes they hit out of nowhere.” And all too often, they came when you couldn’t handle them.

  “About that dessert,” he said.

  “I guess that’s true about not saying no to pudding. After we’re done, I’ll help with the dishes to work off all these calories.”

  “Would it do me any good to argue with you?” Not a hint of a smile now. As if to make up for that, he gestured to the bowl in the center of the table. “The salad was good. Guess that makes you handy around the kitchen, too.”

  “Not really. Anyone can shred lettuce and cut up a few vegetables.”

  “Yeah, but not everyone can make a cucumber fly.”

  “I didn’t do it intentionally.” If he hadn’t asked her about having kids of her own, she probably wouldn’t have done it at all. And though she had managed to change the subject without answering, now she suddenly longed to tell him about her baby.

  She’d sworn off men—maybe forever, as she’d told Andi. This urge to confide in Wes made no sense at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AFTER BREAKFAST, AS the Garlands and their guests left the dining room, Cara stayed behind with Andi at the family table. “We should probably get going soon.”

  Andi nodded. “Just a few more minutes. It’s nice to sit in here while it’s quiet, and that doesn’t happen too often.”

  The only sounds came from a few clattering dishes as a waitress worked her way around the room, clearing off the smaller tables.

  Cara sipped her tea and watched Andi toying with her fork, reminding her of Mark and his I help, Daddy at Wes’s house last night.

  Once they had finished dessert, she hadn’t stayed to work, after all. As soon as they’d cleared away the dishes, Wes had taken the kids upstairs for their baths. If being with them all at dinner made her uncomfortable at times, hearing them just down the hall from the office, going through their nightly family ritual, would have been unbearable.

  Then there was her unexpected thought of telling Wes about the baby.

  “You’re not still thinking about leaving, are you?” Andi asked suddenly. “Because if so, Grandpa made me promise to tell you not to worry about your room. He said if you don’t believe me, he’ll sit you down and tell you himself.”

  “I’m sure he would.”

  “Good. Because the room is yours for as long as you want it. And while you’re here, I need your help.”

  Cara attempted a laugh. “What do you call what I’m doing already? At this rate, you’ll have to start paying me a salary.”

  “I wish. I’m going to have enough trouble paying Lizzie at the end of the week. There’s zero income until the store opens, which is where you come in. You can take care of all the pricing.”

  “It’s your business. You should set the prices.”

  “You’re the one with the retail marketing background.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that.” Until she’d quit her job to go to Flagstaff, she had worked at the same department store since before high school graduation.

  “After you’re done with the inventory, I really could use your help setting up the store and talking to some of the crafters in town.”

  Not a great idea. Not even a halfway good one. Cara didn’t need to get involved in a long-term project. “You definitely ought to be the one dealing with the locals. After all, they’ll be your main suppliers.”

  “I know.” Andi grinned. “When I talk to them this afternoon I’m referring them to you at the store. The Hitching Post has got another wedding coming up soon, and that’s my priority. Besides, while you look over the samples, you’ll get an idea of pricing. The sooner we have enough inventory, the sooner we can open the store and start seeing sales.”

  We had better mean Andi and Lizzie.

  The waitress approached with a carafe. “More hot water, ladies?”

  I’m going to be in enough hot water in just a minute. But Cara nodded.

  After a quick sip, she reminded Andi, “I have to go home and find a job.”

  “You can look from here.”

  “I already am. But I can’t go on interviews long-distance.”

  “Do you have any lined up?”

  “Not yet,” Cara admitted, fighting a wave of guilt.

  Before their late breakfast, she could have made a few phone calls to her former boss and coworkers, could have reached out to other contacts. Yet something had kept her from picking up the phone or even sending out emails. Just as something had kept her from saying a straight no to staying for dinner at Wes’s last night.

  She’d never been this indecisive about anything, which only proved her need to get her life in order again.

  “You’ll stay, then?” Andi asked.

  Cara hesitated, weighing her options. Keeping her room indefinitely gave her a temporary solution to her housing problem. It would also give her more time to find a job she really wanted. But the most convincing argument outweighed those options combined.

  “I don’t like leaving before the store’s ready to open,” she admitted, “especially since you can’t focus on it full-time right now.”

  Andi had plenty of family, but they were all busy with their own jobs. Cara was the only one without other responsibilities...at the moment.

  “Okay. I’ll stay—at least until I have some job interviews scheduled. But I can’t hang around here forever.”

  “Why not?” Andi smiled. “I know you’ve got lots of friends back home, but after all, I’m your best friend, and I’m here. Where would you rather be?”

  “You’ve got a point. But I also have business contacts there. And...” She stared down into her mug, as if the tea held the answers to all her problems. The steaming water blurred her vision. “It’s not just finding a job, Andi. I can’t l
et what happened with Brad make me run. With the move to Flagstaff, I lost everything.” Blinking away tears, she said firmly, “No. What I lost was my baby.”

  Andi squeezed her hand gently.

  Cara set the mug aside. “I hate admitting this, but it’s true. I didn’t lose anything with Brad—I gave it up. My job. My apartment. And most important, my independence. I need to get all that back, to get myself back. To trust myself again. That won’t happen if I run away.”

  * * *

  CARA AND ANDI arrived at Wes’s ranch later than her usual time. Just as Wes had done on her first morning here, she led the way directly upstairs.

  In Patty’s office, Andi looked around them in amazement. “Unbelievable. With all this inventory, the store will get off to a great start.” She checked out one storage box after another of the crafts Cara had sorted, counted and repacked. “I don’t want to move this load twice if we don’t have to. Could you ask Wes if we can leave everything here until we’re ready to take it to the store?”

  “Sure. Don’t forget, he’s entitled to a sizable cut from the sales.”

  Andi laughed. “No worries. I’m not planning to cheat the man.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I was just reminding you not to factor in a hundred-percent profit for the store.”

  “Point taken, boss.” She eyed the boxes again. “I can’t believe Patty ever managed to make all this. She never wanted to sit at home.”

  “So Wes said. He told me she liked to go into town with her friends.”

  “Into town and out of town. She drove up to Santa Fe all the time and to the flea market in Flagman’s Folly on the weekends. Once in a while she went to Vegas with Marianne and their friends. Before Mark, that is.”

  “Then she just stopped?”

  “Only the trips to Vegas. I wasn’t living here then, but I’d see her sometimes when I visited. She loved telling me about all the fun she had. After Mark was born, I’m guessing money got tight, the way it usually does when you suddenly have another mouth to feed. Or more than one. Remember Mo’s granddaughter Shay? You met her at the wedding.”