“Shut up,” she chuckled. “You’d better put one on, too.”
Colt pulled a clean bandana out of his pocket and tied it around his head. “This works, too.”
They both washed their hands at the sink, then Colt opened a cupboard and pulled out a large pot.
“The oatmeal is down there,” he said, pointing at another cupboard. “The last cook left some frozen lasagnas to thaw in the fridge. So we can do those for dinner tonight. I’m going to pull out some wrapped sandwiches for bagged lunches.”
Colt was focused and brisk in his movements. He was just so...strong. It was hard to pull her gaze away from him. This family sure had some good-looking men. Was that bad to notice? Jane watched him for a moment, feeling a vague sense of misgiving. What was she even doing out here? She certainly wasn’t feeling like she fit in right now. Had this really been God’s leading, or her own wishful fantasies?
She sighed and bent down to pull out a large box of dry oatmeal. She could measure water and oats like anyone else. She’d add some sugar to the oats while they cooked, too, and a bit of nutmeg. That’s how she made it at home.
The pot that Colt had deposited on the counter was massive, and she rooted around until she found a large measuring cup, then set to work.
“How many of these will we need?” she asked, holding up a four-cup measurer filled with oats.
“Six,” he said. “Then double that for water.”
“Right.” She eyed Colt again, watching him as he flicked open a lunch bag and tossed in a sandwich, an apple, a bag of chips, a muffin...
She turned back to the pot and started to measure in the oatmeal and water.
“Colt,” she said, turning toward him again.
“Yeah?”
“Are you happy?”
Colt folded shut a lunch bag and eyed her speculatively. “Why?”
“I’m curious. Does this life make you happy?”
“I guess,” he replied. “Right now, this life is stressing me out.”
She smiled at his dry humor. “If you could do anything, and money wasn’t a problem, what would you do?”
“This—with more workers,” he replied with a shrug. “Being that close to the line financially all the time tends to suck the joy out of the work.”
“Hmm.” She slid the heavy pot onto a burner and turned it on. She could empathize with that. Too much pressure on anything could ruin it—she’d learned that with her marriage to Josh.
“What about you?” he asked. “If money weren’t a problem...”
“I’d build a business of my own,” she said. “I’d buy a house—big enough to turn into a bed and breakfast—and I’d set up my life so that I could be completely self-sufficient. It would be a simple life, but mine. Only mine. You know?”
Colt’s gaze was riveted to her as she spoke, then he nodded slowly. “Yup. I get it.”
“People try to set up the single mom a lot,” she said with a short laugh. “They toss any man with a pulse in my direction. Doesn’t matter if we’d have nothing in common—if he’s single, they’re going to suggest him.”
“You obviously aren’t interested,” he said.
“I’m not. All I want is a life of my own. No husband. No other pressure. No constant trying, trying, trying to keep a relationship alive. I just want...something easy. I want to worry about raising two girls and building a career that will provide for us. And that’s it.”
She was saying too much, and she clamped her lips shut. What did this man care about her yearning for some financial freedom?
“Yeah, I get that, too,” Colt said, resuming the lunch preparation again. “And I’ve got a bit of family around, but mostly it’s the Marshalls. In a town this size, you get pulled in whether you’re a blood relative or not, so there’s a lot of friends of Josh’s cousins and the like who get tossed in my direction. It’s hard for people to understand when someone doesn’t want to get married. They think you just haven’t met the right one.”
“I did meet the right one,” she said. “And our marriage was short, but I’m ready to just be alone.”
“I’m the one guy who can understand that.”
Yes, he was, wasn’t he? They might have different views of the value of marriage, but they both agreed on their desire to avoid it.
They exchanged a look, and Jane laughed softly. “I’ll make a deal with you, Colt Hardin. We’ll never try to set each other up, and if there are any big family gatherings, we’ll sit together so we have someone to talk to without any pressure.”
“I just avoid the big family gatherings, but your idea isn’t bad,” he said with a chuckle.
“We might end up friends yet, Colt,” she said, pulling a long-handled spoon from a drawer and giving the pot a stir.
Colt didn’t answer, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw him tossing an apple into a lunch bag, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced up, met her gaze and she saw the sparkle of humor in his dark eyes.
“Turn up the heat, or that pot will take a year to boil,” he said.
Yes, they might end up friends yet. She’d been longing for a family, and she couldn’t exactly be choosy. These were her daughter’s relatives, and she’d make the best of it.
* * *
Colt could feel her eyes on him as he turned back to packing the last of the bag lunches. She made him feel uncomfortably aware of her presence in the kitchen—the soft tink of the spoon against the side of the pot as she dipped it in for a quick stir, the softness of her pale hand as she tucked away a stray tendril of dark hair. Even in that ridiculous hair net she looked beautiful. Was it okay to notice that if they were both agreed on their unwillingness to get into a relationship?
It was a relief to know that she wasn’t looking for marriage, either. It took the pressure off. He was so used to fending off the advances of single women in Creekside that it was oddly liberating to be standing in the kitchen with a woman he didn’t have to disappoint.
He folded the last lunch bag and lined them up in a tray. He should go—she could take care of the rest. That was why she was here in this kitchen, after all, to free him up to do his own work.
“Okay, I should—” he started.
“Oh! It’s boiling!” Jane interjected. “I need a longer spoon than this. Is there one?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Colt said.
Colt crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer that had ladles and serving spoons, but not what he was looking for.
“Hold this,” Jane said, handing him her current spoon and pulling open the drawer next to the one he’d been looking in. She was right—that’s where they were.
“Is this bigger?” She held one up. “Nope.”
Back into the drawer she went, and Colt stood there watching her. He wasn’t supposed to be hanging out in the kitchen with this beautiful interloper.
“Here we go,” she said, and she held up a wooden spoon with a longer handle. “This will work. Sorry, you probably didn’t need to hold that.”
Colt laughed softly and dropped it into the sink. “You sure you’ll be okay here?”
“I’ll sort it out,” she replied with a shrug.
Outside the kitchen window, it was still dark. He couldn’t make out any details, since most of what he could see was the kitchen reflected back at him. But across the gravel parking area he could see a couple more lights come on in the bunk house, piercing through his own reflection.
“If you need anything, you can call me on my cell,” he said. “The guys are nothing to worry about. They’ll eat up and go.”
“Okay.” She glanced over, smiled.
“Okay,” he repeated, then cleared his throat. “I’ll...um...see you later, then.”
“Yep. See you.”
Colt headed back over to the tray of packed lunches and picked
it up. It wasn’t heavy so much as awkward, and he balanced it with both hands as he headed out the swinging door to the side table where those bagged lunches always waited. He set down the tray and glanced over his shoulder once more toward that kitchen door that was still swinging its way back to a resting position. It would be easier to dismiss her if she weren’t quite so attractive. And he didn’t mean that in a strictly physical sense, either. Because she was definitely pretty, but she was the kind of woman who made him want to hang around and hold spoons if that was what it took to spend a few more minutes with her. He’d have to practice a whole lot more self-control than this.
Work was waiting. He’d leave her to her job and get to his.
* * *
The day was a busy one, and by noon, Colt had three responses to his online posting for a cook. That was a quick turnaround, and he was grateful for it. Two of the applicants had only minor cooking experience, but the third had all the qualifications he was looking for. Colt gave him a call and asked him in for an interview at three.
Paul Vich was an older guy, dressed neatly with a bristly gray mustache. He came up the drive in an old Ford ten minutes early. Colt drove him down to the canteen for the interview in his ranch truck, leaving Paul’s truck parked up by the house. The dining room was empty, and when he glanced into the kitchen, Jane was there and the lasagnas were out of the fridge and on the counter. He paused and watched her through the glass window in the door for a moment. She was fiddling with the stove settings, it seemed. He pushed the door open, and she glanced back.
“Hi,” Jane said. “Checking up on me?”
“A little bit,” he admitted. “I’m doing an interview for a cook.”
“Oh, good. Because I’ll do my best, but I don’t normally cook for twenty...” She made a face, and Colt chuckled.
“We’ll see how it goes. You okay, there?”
“I think so.” She hit a button, opened the oven and stuck her hand inside, then nodded. “There we go. That was the oven this time.”
She was handy. Was that even something a woman wanted to hear? But she seemed to take on a challenge without too much fuss, and that was a quality that Colt was forced to admire. He’d half expected Jane to be a bit helpless—widowed, mother of twins, overworked and needing a break somewhere—but she wasn’t and he realized he liked that. She was not just an extra responsibility around here—she was actually helping out, and right now that took a load off his shoulders.
Colt went back into the dining room where Paul was waiting. Colt sat down and went over the résumé with him, asking him some questions about his certifications and cooking experience. He was calm and collected, answered all the questions after a brief pause and a furrowing of his brow.
“We need someone who could start right away,” Colt said. “When are you available?”
“I could start tomorrow.”
“It’s a live-in position. That a problem for you?”
“Nope. I could do that.”
Too good to be true? Colt wasn’t sure. He didn’t know this fellow from Adam, and for all he knew the résumé might be a complete fabrication. But he didn’t have a lot of time to be picky, either. He’d check his references, but he wanted Peg’s opinion, too.
“There is one more person I’d like you to meet,” Colt said, and he pulled out his phone and tapped in a text then pressed Send.
“The current cook?” Paul asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No, she’s just standing in,” Colt replied, glancing back toward the kitchen. “Let’s head back to the house.”
This was where Colt needed Peg’s insights. She’d never been stingy with her opinions before, and he’d be glad for them today. He got a return text and glanced down at it. Peg was at the house, as he’d been relatively certain she would be, considering that Jane was here in the canteen.
Colt drove Paul back up the winding drive, and Paul made small talk as they went. Colt learned that Paul was widowed and had two married daughters. He currently lived in town with one of them.
“You sure a live-in job is going to work for you?” Colt asked him as they hopped out.
“I’ll be level with you,” Paul replied. “I love my girls and I love those grandbabies, but I miss horses and cattle and some quiet in the mornings. I think my daughter’s marriage could use a bit of space, too, truth be told.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“They need time alone. That’s all. And having me kicking around isn’t helping. A live-in position would give me an excellent excuse to get out from underfoot. I’m supposed to be retired, but I’d rather work another couple of years yet. I’m not worn out yet.”
“That makes sense,” Colt admitted. “Come on inside.”
Colt parked in his regular spot and hopped out. Paul followed him to the side door, and they went inside together. The kitchen was empty, but he could hear a toddler’s wail coming from deeper inside the house. Peg had her hands full this afternoon, it would seem. A patter of little feet came through the living room, and one of the toddlers ran at full speed into the kitchen, a new diaper clutched in one hand and a beaming smile on her face. She lurched to a stop when she saw the men, looked between them for a beat, then launched herself at Colt with a squeal.
Colt didn’t have much choice but to bend down and scoop her up, or she’d have collided with his dusty jeans. The toddler squirmed around and reached for his hat with one pudgy hand.
“Hey, there,” Colt said to the girl. “Where’s your sister?”
The wailing from the other side of the house stopped, and Colt looked over at Paul and shrugged. “Kids, right?”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve got a grandson a little younger than this one, and a granddaughter a little older. But they keep you busy.”
The girl managed to get a hold of his hat at that point, and Colt took it off and dropped it on her head. It covered her face completely, and he could hear the hollow echo of her giggle from inside. He pulled it up so he could see her face, and she giggled again. Man, this kid was cute. And he still couldn’t tell if it was Suzie or Micha. If Jane were here, she’d clue him in.
“Again!” the toddler squealed, pulling the hat down. Colt chuckled, and then the second toddler erupted into the kitchen, Peg a few steps behind.
“How old are they?” Paul asked.
“Two,” Colt replied. That was one thing he was certain about.
“Enjoy this. They grow up and get married faster than you’d think,” Paul said with a chuckle.
Colt realized that Paul was assuming the girls were his, and he was about to correct him when Peg came forward with a smile.
“I’m Peg Melton,” she said, and she shook Paul’s hand firmly. “So you’re here about the cook position?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Paul pulled off his hat and tucked it under his arm.
“I’m going to cut right to the chase here,” Peg said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re older than we usually get applying. Why aren’t you retired on a porch?”
“Retired?” Paul eyed Peg for a moment, and Colt could see them both sizing the other up. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m needed,” she retorted.
“Well, I’m not needed,” he said with a shrug. “I was retired. I sold my house and put my money in with my daughter and her husband for a nice big house we could all live in together. Turns out, I’m underfoot. So I’ve decided to put off my retirement for a stretch and give my daughter some space.”
“Where’d you come from?” she asked.
“Originally? Venton. Two hours west. My daughter’s husband was a schoolteacher out there, but he just transferred to Creekside High last September.”
“Ah.” Peg chewed the side of her cheek. “You’re not married?”
“Does it matter?” Paul’s brows rose.
It was actually an illegal question, a
nd Colt needed to put a stop to this right quick. “No, it doesn’t,” he said quickly. “That’s not something we can even ask.”
Paul didn’t take his eyes off Peg, but a small smile came to his lips. “I’m widowed.”
“Were you happy?” she asked softly.
“Peg, this is way off track here,” Colt said, and at that moment, the other toddler started tugging on his pants. At a loss of what to do, he bent down and scooped her up, too, so that he had both girls in his arms as he shot a blazing look at Peg. The last thing he needed was to be sued for unprofessional hiring practices.
“I was real happy,” Paul replied. “And I hope my daughters have as much happiness as I did. But sometimes in the beginning there are some bumps before you get there.”
“I’d agree with that,” Peg said with a nod. “Who cooked in your home?”
“Me,” Paul replied with a shrug. “When I had time. I liked it. She hated cooking.”
Colt looked helplessly down at the toddlers. The second little girl had found his shirt pocket and was pushing a damp little hand down into it.
“Are you a Christian, Paul?” Peg asked after a beat of silence.
“Peg, we are so far past legal here, it isn’t even funny!” Colt exploded.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” Paul said with a low laugh. “If that sets your mind at ease, at all.”
“Hmm.” Peg didn’t look convinced.
“Okay, we’re done here,” Colt said, and he tipped both toddlers at once into Peg’s arms, plucking his hat out of the one toddler’s sticky grasp. She squished up her face, her eyes welling with tears, and on instinct Colt bent down and kissed the top of her head.
“Sorry, kid,” he whispered. “I need that. I look dumb without a hat.”
Then he turned and strode back to the front door, pulling it open.
“Thank you for coming by, Paul,” Peg said.
“Yeah, thank you,” Colt added, then gritted his teeth in annoyance. He’d figured Peg would have been more discreet than that. “I’ve got your number here. I’ll give you a call.”
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