She took a bite of food and spoke around it. “I have a small electric keyboard. I can’t play well—I never got lessons and can’t read music—but I like to bang on it sometimes, pretending the noise is wonderful.”
Ben grinned. “I do the same with my guitar. I guess a lot of people have a musician inside them that the rest of the world hopes never gets out.”
Sissy startled herself by giggling. “Sometimes at night, I jerk awake and hear music coming from the keyboard. Just random notes, even worse than my playing. I began unplugging it at bedtime, but sometimes I still hear the keys clacking.”
He gave a low whistle. Finn lifted his head, realized they weren’t going anywhere, and settled back against Sissy’s ankle. “No wonder you’re starting to believe in ghosts. If I woke up and heard someone plucking my guitar strings, my hair would stand on end.”
Somehow it made her feel less ridiculous to hear him say that. She felt as if she were confiding in a good friend. That realization made her nerves jangle, so she decided to shorten her story. “But what really bugs me is that things keep disappearing!”
“Things other than candy bars?”
“Mostly small stuff,” she replied. “Tonight, my wristwatch wasn’t where I left it this morning before I started cooking, but my ring was still there. How does that make sense?”
She toyed with the band, making the stone, mounted in patterned gold, slide back and forth on her finger. Ben whistled. “Is that a mood ring?”
Sissy tucked her hand out of sight. “I realize hardly anyone wears them now.”
“I think you can still buy them, though. I remember my mom wearing one when I was a kid.”
“My mother gave this one to me when I was about twelve. I only wear it because it used to be hers.”
“Did you lose her?”
Sissy’s mouth went dry. She had lost her mom, but not in the way he meant. “Yes.”
His expression turned solemn. “I’m sorry. You must have been really young when it happened.”
“Around eighteen.” Sissy sighed. “So I’m glad the ring didn’t vanish. But I’m still bummed about my watch. It wasn’t expensive, but I can’t easily afford to buy a new one right now. Not that I’m broke or anything. I’m just trying to stay on a strict budget. Once I improve the coop and run, I’ll save to remodel the café.”
He fingered a fry but didn’t eat it.
“You know what’s really strange?” Even as Sissy asked the question, she wondered what she was thinking. Prolonging the conversation postponed the moment when he would leave. She hadn’t asked him to come in so they could become best buddies. “When I realized my watch had vanished, there was a piece of foil on the shelf where the watch had been. That was when I heard you banging around out in the yard. And now even the foil is gone.”
“You left a lot of people here in the café while you were outside trying to catch chickens,” he mused aloud.
“Are you suggesting one of my customers stole my watch?” Sissy shook her head. “That’s hard to believe. Besides, it isn’t worth much. Twenty bucks, maybe.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine, too. I grew up here. I like all those people.”
Sissy searched his gaze. “Who do you think might have done it?”
He straightened on the stool. “Damned if I know. None of the people who came out to help us, that’s for sure. Who stayed inside?”
“Nobody that I know of. Ma Thomas and Marilyn, maybe, because they’re older, but they’re my friends. As often as possible I treat them to a late lunch so we can visit. They tell me wonderful stories about my aunt Mabel. I never got to meet her, and they’ve helped me feel as if I know her. Neither of them would ever steal from me.”
“I’m certain I saw Ma and Marilyn outside, which means the café was empty. Maybe someone came in from the street. In all the uproar, we may not have heard the door buzzer. It’s a more likely explanation than a ghost playing pranks.”
“Yes, and it’s Friday. Or was. A lot of tourists come through town to see the legendary creek and natural bridge. Maybe it was somebody we don’t even know.”
He smiled. “Right. That’s easier for me to swallow. As for the foil lying where the watch was, isn’t it possible that a small piece jerked loose from the roll and landed on the shelf while you were wrapping food?”
She supposed it was, but how had it gone up to the shelf instead of down? “Maybe. But where did it go later?”
“The back door was opened a few times. Maybe a draft of air blew it off the shelf.”
The kitchen was situated on one side of the building with a dividing wall between it and the dining area. Sissy doubted that a draft coming in the back door could be strong enough to travel through the storage area and into the café.
“It’s possible,” she conceded. “But what about my missing candy bars and all the strange noises I hear? And don’t forget my keyboard playing all by itself.”
“Well, given your passion for Snickers bars, maybe you are sleepwalking and eating them without realizing it. You work so hard, it’s not a stretch to think you’re burning off the calories.”
It was an unwelcome thought, but she couldn’t totally discount it. On the nights when she ate other brands of candy, she went to bed craving a Snickers bar. “Maybe.” She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s hard to believe, though. Eating in my sleep? But I’d rather think that than blame it on a ghost. Ever since childhood I’ve been relentlessly rational, and it makes me uneasy when I start going off into zany land. I never even believed in Santa Claus.”
Ben grinned, and then as he studied her face, the smile faded. “I thought everyone believed in Santa Claus until at least first grade.”
“Not if Santa never comes.”
The instant that came out, she wished she hadn’t said it. Her past was private, and she’d just revealed something to him that she’d never told anyone. Maybe she was loose-tongued because of exhaustion. She’d been working without a break since the wee hours of the morning. Whatever, the sooner she got him out of here, the better. Her miserable childhood was none of his business, but there was something about him that made her forget to hold her secrets close.
This whole situation frightened her. She was telling him things she would never reveal to anyone else. With a grin, he could make her knees feel weak. He seemed so nice. But was he? She’d learned the hard way never to trust her judgment when it came to men.
Straightening from the counter where she’d been resting her elbows, she glanced at his empty plate. “Would you like any dessert?”
He shook his head and placed a hand over his belly. “No, thank you. It was fabulous, though.”
“Well, I’ve still got breakfast prep to do, so I’d better bust it out.”
He nodded. “Yep. We’ll both be tapped out when our alarms go off in the morning.”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she heard herself say. Gently pulling her shoe from under Finn’s head, she began gathering their dishes. “I’m just tired and still have a lot of work to do before I can call it a day.”
“I hope you have an uneventful night,” he said as he swung off the stool. “This building is ancient, you know. It’s bound to creak and settle. That alone might spook me and put my imagination in overdrive.”
Most guys Sissy had known would never admit that a creaky old building might spook them. “It does get a little spooky here at night.”
“I can only imagine. As for the keyboard pinging or clacking, maybe you have mice. The keys on some electric boards depress easily. Perhaps your guest musician has four tiny feet.”
“Mice?”
“You’re not afraid of them, I hope.”
“No, of course not,” she replied, her stomach clenching. “If the keyboard clacks, I’ll cling to that thought for comfort. Thanks again, and good night.”
*
* *
Ben paced off the distance between Sissy’s back porch and his truck with such speed that Finnegan, running beside him, lost his footing on the ice and did a belly slide. Ben bent over his dog.
“Are you okay, pal?”
The pup struggled to get back up, but his legs sprawled sideways, putting him belly down again. Ben lifted him, set him on his feet, and ruffled his ears. “Sorry. I forgot you aren’t wearing studded boots.” Ben straightened and cast a glance at the age-darkened building behind him. Something about the way Sissy had ended their conversation felt off to him. “I hope I didn’t say or do something to offend her.”
Finn sat down, cocked his head at Ben, and whined. Ben decided it was a sympathetic reply in dog-speak. Snapping his fingers, he led the way, slower this time, toward his truck and opened the door so the pup could jump inside. Following behind the dog, he swung up onto the driver’s seat and cranked the engine until it roared to life.
For a moment, Ben sat with his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield at the trees, illuminated by headlights. Then he took a deep breath and slowly released it. Something had shifted between him and Sissy, and whatever it was had frightened her. He’d seen that in her eyes. It was going to take a lot of patience and understanding from him if he was interested in getting to know her better.
To Finn, he said, “And how could I not be interested? I couldn’t believe she invited you into her café tonight to eat. Even sweeter, she gave you seconds. And today I never once saw her act as if getting your hair on her clothes disgusted her.”
Finn went “Grr-umph!”
Ben grinned. “So you like her, too? I can’t say I blame you. I’d bet my best Stetson that she wouldn’t be scared of my horses, either, or get all bent out of shape if she stepped in cow manure.” Ben fell quiet. Then he added, “I’d never tell anyone but you this, pal, but I’ve got a gut feeling about her. That maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found a lady who won’t try to change me, someone I could build a future with.” He glanced at his dog. “Remember the blonde who tried to make me ditch my Western wear and go metrosexual? That went over with me like a rainstorm during a Fourth of July picnic.”
Finn barked, which made Ben laugh.
“Okay. You’re telling me not to get ahead of myself, and you’re right. But I can’t help it. She’s a hard worker. She’s prideful, as she put it. When I offered her a screaming deal, she refused to pay me only sixty a day. But you know what I like most about her? She seems to like animals. I’ve tried meshing with women who don’t, and it never works. They’d make you sleep in a doghouse.”
Finn’s answer to that was a low growl.
Chapter Four
Ben considered himself a morning person, but when the alarm went off at four thirty he wanted to reconsider the whole thing. He hadn’t gotten to bed until the early hours, and even then thoughts of Sissy had held sleep at bay. Part of him wanted to shut off the alarm and forget about it, but the other part reminded him that the person partially responsible for his lack of rest was expecting him to show up. That got him moving. A quick shower helped chase away the cobwebs, and two mugs of coffee had him ready to face the day.
He took the third mug outside with him. The frozen air burned his lungs like dry ice. According to his weather app, the temperature would rise when the sun came up, treating the residents of Mystic Creek to another day of Indian summer. He would welcome that. He enjoyed doing physical work outdoors, but given his druthers, he preferred to break a sweat right away. It somehow energized him.
As he stood on the porch, looking out at his spread, he realized again how good it was to be back. Instead of flat, barren fields as far as he could see, his view looked out over his stable, an enclosed riding arena, a hay barn, and a crisscross of white fences. Along with the rich aroma of French roast coffee, he inhaled a mixture of scents: manure, hay, grain, cows, chickens, and horses. He enjoyed the potpourri of ranch life. It was a great start to what would be a long day.
Home. He sure didn’t miss being on the road to earn his living. This acreage, a half section, would provide him with enough income to live comfortably, and he could train or shoe horses for extra spending money. It was going to be a good life. All he needed was a wife he adored and kids to fill up the gigantic house that yawned empty behind him.
Careful not to spill the coffee, Ben crossed his property to feed all the animals, avoiding mud wallows and manure piles as he went. Unlike Sissy, he kept only twenty hens and one rooster, which supplied him with enough eggs to share with his two sisters and his brother Jonas when he rolled in from college. He sold any eggs he didn’t use.
After going through his morning routine, he’d go to the horse barn, toss hay, fill water troughs, dispense vitamins and bran, and then exercise the three horses he hadn’t had time for yesterday. He also needed to fix a section of fence. He probably wouldn’t get to Sissy’s place until around nine. He hoped she wouldn’t turn her flock loose before he could do a temporary repair on her old run. It was still icy this morning, and he didn’t relish the thought of another chicken chase.
* * *
Ben arrived at the Cauldron an hour later than he’d hoped. The bed of his pickup was piled high with posts and rolls of sturdy wire. He had no intention of telling Sissy that he had purchased the material. He suspected she was tight on money. Well, not tight, really, if she’d told him the truth, but short on discretionary dollars. He wasn’t what anyone would call wealthy, but he could afford to blow a few bucks, and when the run was completed and it was time to erect a new coop, he did have a heap of extra lumber and siding left over from when he’d built his own.
His first order of business was to stretch a length of wire atop the sagging chicken mesh that she’d used to create her run. That would keep her chickens confined while he erected a new and much larger enclosure around the old one. Until the situation was under control, Ben would have Finn herd the flock back into the tiny coop before he left each night.
* * *
While loading the two commercial dishwashers after the breakfast rush, Sissy heard hammering and clunking sounds coming from behind her café. For an instant, she wished she could go out and oversee what Ben was doing, but she didn’t have time. She scrubbed egg yolk off a plate. Her movements lacked their usual fluidity. She loaded these dishwashers three times a day, and she’d developed a rhythm, which had deserted her because she couldn’t think how to deal with the man in her backyard.
Her first inclination, upon rising, had been to tell him she’d changed her mind about hiring him. But then she’d hurried out to feed and water her imprisoned chickens and realized that, however more comfortable she might feel if she sent Ben packing, her chickens would suffer for it. She just couldn’t do that to them. Mr. Cowboy GQ would build them the home they deserved, and in the interim, she needed to deal with his presence.
For her, the question was, how? She had been so distracted during the morning rush that she’d missed half the funny story the VeArds had told her. Then she’d forgotten to give Christopher Doyle his usual tiny pitcher of cold water to dilute his coffee. José Jayden, who operated a Mexican restaurant next door, had asked three times for a refill, and she’d forgotten that, too. Then she’d overcooked Crystal Malloy’s poached eggs.
She’d just ignore Ben, Sissy decided as she polished the stainless steel counters. By the time she reached the grill to give it a good cleaning, she was frustrated with herself. If she intended to ignore the man, why did she keep thinking about him? He was starting a job that she would pay him to do, end of story. Right? He was outside. She was in here. If she played this right, she’d see him only when he came in for meals, and even then, she could stay busy in the kitchen while he ate. On an average day, she was in the cooking area more than she liked. After prep work, she could take breaks, but normally she didn’t. There were always other things to do.
“Morning!”
a deep male voice called from the dining room.
Sissy jumped with such a start that she dropped the cleaning rag on the floor. She glanced at the pass-through window and saw Ben mounting one of the barstools as he might a horse. With a grin, he swept off his Stetson, a black one today, and set it on the stool beside him. On a handsome scale of one to ten, he rated at least a fifteen. She moved toward the archway that opened into the dining room.
Thrusting strong fingers through his golden brown hair to straighten it, he said, “I know I’m late. It took me longer than I expected to gather up all the stuff I needed at my place, and I had to repair a section of fence.”
“I expect eight full hours of work from you. You didn’t get here until ten. What kind of schedule is that?” She felt like a bitch the instant the words came out, but she didn’t have an erase button.
His smile disappeared. He placed his bent arms on the service counter. “I should have warned you. Mornings at my place are busy.” Those hazel eyes studied her intently for a moment. “I’ll work until six. You’ll get your eight hours out of me.” His gaze swept slowly downward, as if he were committing every curve and indentation of her body to memory. She regretted taking off her chef coat. “I have animals on my farm that expect breakfast. Forty cows, six horses, twenty chickens, and a weanling pig.”
“Won’t all those animals want dinner as well?”
“Oh, yeah. But my hired man takes care of that. I do the mornings because my horses need special handling to keep them on top of their game. Today I’ve got an extra horse being delivered, a dun mare that’s been acting up when she’s ridden.”
Sissy realized she was talking to him. Conversation would not come with his meals. She’d offered him food, not companionship. “What do you want for breakfast?”
Was he going to come in this late for breakfast every day? She’d be doing her lunch prep, and fixing him something special in the middle of all that would be a pain in the neck.
Mulberry Moon Page 5