by Marin Thomas
“The meat is excellent, Ellen. And your gravy makes my hash browns palatable.”
“What’s palatable?” Seth asked.
“Appetizing.” Nelson winked at Ellen.
Winked?
Breathe, Ellen. Breathe. He didn’t mean anything by it. She was acting like a foolish ninny…a…a…farm girl. Which is exactly what you are—a dairy farmer. A man like Nelson would never be interested in a woman like her.
It didn’t escape her notice that Seth copied the actions of their guest—putting his napkin in his lap. Using both a knife and a fork to cut his meat. Chewing with his mouth closed. Sitting straight in his chair.
Maybe she ought to rethink her intention to boot Nelson McKade off the premises. Seth could benefit from the influence of a refined man. Good grief, Buck had never taught their son much in the way of etiquette around the opposite sex. How many times had her husband spat tobacco right in front of her face, or belched at the supper table?
Shoving his chair back, Seth announced, “I gotta call Brad and tell him I figured out Romeo’s love life.”
“Not until you clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher.” Ellen flashed her don’t-test-me scowl.
Seth opened his mouth, but Nelson cut him off. “We’d be happy to clean up the kitchen. It’s the least we can do after such a fine meal.”
“You made the hash browns,” Seth grumbled.
Acting as if he hadn’t heard the comment, Nelson instructed, “I’ll rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher if you clear the table.”
“I appreciate the help.” Ellen scooted from the kitchen before her son launched another protest. She slipped her feet into her work boots, left the house and headed for the small pasture next to the milking barn, where the cows rested and fed on grass until the morning milking.
“Ellen, wait up!” Nelson shouted from the front porch, then jogged toward her.
Was he ever going to take off that silly apron? He looked like a clown, but she couldn’t see past his handsome face to laugh at him. “That was quick.”
“I told Seth I’d pay him ten dollars to finish the job.”
“Pay him?”
“I assume he receives some sort of compensation for doing chores.”
Without commenting, she continued around the house and down a path that led to the pasture.
Nelson dogged her heels. “Tell me he receives an allowance.”
“He does not.”
“Why?” His hot breath stirred the hairs at her nape.
“Because—” She stopped, turned without warning, and Nelson plowed into her. He grasped her shoulders, whether to balance her or him she wasn’t sure. His fingers lingered, flexing against her collarbone. Caught off guard by the intimate caress, she blurted, “Because there is no money to pay him.” Darn. She shouldn’t be discussing her financial situation with a complete stranger. An almost complete stranger, she amended, since he’d just dined at her table.
“Listen—”
“No, you listen.” Not in the mood to be harassed, she jabbed his chest.
His gaze narrowed on her finger.
“This isn’t going to work.” She poked him for emphasis. “You don’t have all the answers.” Another poke. “You don’t understand what’s best for my son.”
Grabbing the digit, he held it prisoner. “I may not know what’s best for Seth, but I sure as hell know when a boy requires discipline.”
She gasped. “Are you telling me how to raise my son?”
“No. But whatever your method, it’s not working. He’s surly, disrespectful, lazy and—”
“How dare—”
“I dare because it’s obvious by the state of this farm that you’re barely making ends meet. That you’re working yourself to death while your kid sits on his butt, talking on the phone to friends.”
Ellen’s eyes burned, not because he’d hurt her feelings, but because he was right. “If you’re through lecturing me, I’d like my finger back.”
He released his grip, then insisted, “I have a lot of experience running a business. I can help you get the farm back on solid financial ground and keep an eye on your boy at the same time.”
“Besides the fact I don’t approve of the way you deal with my son, do you honestly believe I’d trust a man who can’t figure out one end of a cow from the other to handle my finances?”
“I don’t see that you have much of a choice.”
Chapter Four
“…climbed steadily in the early part of last week, reaching a high of 242 on Friday’s open. Corn futures dropped lower, closing at…”
Ellen smacked the alarm button on the radio, for once eager to jump out of bed at 4:30 a.m. After a sleepless night filled with dreams—rather, nightmares—of Nelson McKade insisting he could fix her money problems, milking cows at dawn sounded downright exciting.
Swinging her feet to the floor, she sat up and yawned. So what if he had experience running a large business. Only Nelson, a man with an ego the size of his bank account, would assume that the challenges of an import-export company were equal to the day-to-day trials of a small dairy farm.
Nelson spent his day bossing people around, while she spent hers coaxing cows to cooperate. No doubt his employees dedicated their work hours to making him happy, whereas she dedicated her hours to making her cows content. While he wined and dined clients, she took food orders and bused tables.
The idea that Nelson believed he could devise a business plan to improve the farm’s financial situation rubbed her raw like a piece of sandpaper.
Let him try, Ellen. What have you got to lose? “Only my pride,” she said to herself.
Her reasons for not wanting Nelson on her farm had nothing to do with his good looks, or his having made himself right at home in her kitchen or even his having won favor with her son. Her rationale was simple: she resented anyone believing she needed to be rescued.
Shoot, she was doing fine—
You’re not doing fine. The ship is sinking…make that the silo is crumbling.
“Not true. The silo’s tilting is all.” With a little hard work and time, her finances would stabilize. The truth was she’d made some stupid decisions with her money since Buck had died and her naiveté embarrassed her. The thought of exposing those blunders to Mr. Finance made her shudder.
You mean the blunder where you canceled your health insurance this past January?
Without the extra income from Buck’s paycheck, she couldn’t afford the three hundred dollars every month.
I suppose you don’t want Nelson to find out your VISA bill never slips below $5,000.
“Oh, shut up.” Everyone mismanages money occasionally.
Money was the least of her worries. She was more concerned with Nelson viewing her flailing farm as a challenge—something to stimulate his mind and rescue him from the boredom of kid-sitting a teenage boy all summer. Before she left for the diner today, she’d make sure he understood he was to keep his nose out of her business. If he refused, then he could darn well find another farm to learn his life lesson on.
She padded across the room in her nightshirt, grabbed a pair of overalls from the hook on the closet door, stuffed one leg into them, then froze. She’d better wear a bra. Chances were the hired hand would sleep through the morning milking, but just in case he didn’t, she didn’t want him believing she was flaunting herself in front of him—as if one could flaunt a pair of breasts the size of walnuts. After dressing, she braided her hair and stuffed the long rope under a baseball cap.
Halfway down the stairs, she paused. Shoot. She never brushed her teeth until after breakfast. Heck, the cows didn’t care if she had morning breath. She pivoted on the stair and rushed to the bathroom. There she cleaned her teeth, then checked for crusties—as Seth called them—at the corners of her eyes, before walking outside.
The moon, visible in the sky, illuminated her path. She didn’t even want to guess how many trips she’d made to the barn during her lifetime. The hulking sh
adows of the cows loomed. She smiled at Betty’s good-morning moo. As much as Ellen tired of this way of life, she felt a deep affection for her animals.
Inside the milking barn, she flipped on the lights and set up the equipment in front of the stalls. Afterward, she opened the pasture gate and spoke softly to the cows as they filed into the green barn. While the animals crowded around the feeding troughs, she put on a pair of coveralls and a cap, then washed her hands. One by one, she led eight bovines into the prep room, where she cleaned and sanitized their udders, examined them for injuries or illness, then hooked them up to the milking equipment. With a parting pat on their rumps, she reentered the green barn and began the whole process again.
The next time she glanced at her watch it was 6:00 a.m. She walked to the front of the barn and stood in the doorway, from which she had a clear view of the house. After a good minute Seth’s bedroom light flipped on. She hated that he’d had to wake up in an empty house.
Sometimes she yearned for the old days, when her parents had been alive and her father and Buck had taken care of the morning milking. Back then she’d woken with Seth and they’d eaten breakfast together—pancakes and sausage. Now he ate cold cereal and sat alone in the kitchen, with only the radio for company.
Today was the last day of school and she wished she could be at breakfast to share his excitement, instead of being stuck in the barn with the cows and…
Nelson?
Wow.
Wearing nothing but a pair of black, silky boxers, Nelson rubbed his whisker-covered chin. His hair stuck up in short spikes all over his head, his eyelids were puffy and he had an endearing pillow crease in his cheek. He appeared more human, more vulnerable than a man his age and with his temperament had a right to be. “Good morning.” She winced at the breathless sound that escaped her mouth.
“’Morning,” he grumped, rubbing his chest—his nearly hairless chest.
One of the cows lifted her head from the feeding trough and mooed, spewing bits of grain into the air. Ellen ignored the animal, unable to take her eyes off Nelson’s chest. All that smooth, tanned skin…muscle…intriguing ridges and dips. Even his brown nipples were sexy. Buck had been as hairy as a grizzly, and she couldn’t remember ever viewing his nipples beneath all the fuzz.
Nelson’s brow puckered. “What’s wrong?” Nothing. She should kick herself for acting like a dope. She was a widow with a teenage son. The sight of a man’s half-naked body shouldn’t cause a ruckus inside her. She blamed her juvenile reaction on the fact that she was smack-dab in the middle of a sexual dry spell. “How did you sleep?”
“The bed’s hard. The room’s stuffy. And the pillow’s too damn soft.”
What a grouch. Hiding a smile, she added, “Seth starts the coffeemaker before he leaves for school. I’m sure it’s ready, if you care to head up to the house.” When he shook his head, she added, “He’d probably enjoy the company. Today’s his last day of school.”
He studied her as if searching for hidden meaning behind her words. She’d never been around a man who attempted to see inside her. One part of her found Nelson’s interest flattering; the other part, downright annoying.
“I’ll get my clothes and go up to the house.” He disappeared into the small storage room.
Intending to be gone by the time he came out, she moved the final group of cows across the walkway, then paused in the shadows. A few moments later Nelson left the barn, wearing only his underwear and dress shoes, minus socks! Clothes stuffed beneath one arm, he marched up the gravel drive as if storming into an executive board meeting.
The mooing grew in volume, and Ellen had to force herself to continue her duties. However, she couldn’t shake the image of Nelson in his boxers from her mind. What would it be like to be married to the man? He might be a big pain in the backside, but he was entertaining, and underneath his bossy attitude, she suspected lay a heart of gold.
Keep dreaming, girl. You’ve got nothing to interest a man like him.
As she rotated another group of cows out to pasture, she reflected on her marriage to Buck. Before they’d tied the knot, Buck had been happy enough to spend time with her. Then she’d ended up pregnant and everything had changed. Even though her parents had pressured them into marrying, Ellen had naively believed she and Buck had a chance at a happily-ever-after life.
Once Seth had been born, Buck began to change. Other than claiming his husbandly rights in bed—which hadn’t been often—he’d distanced himself from her emotionally. Meaningful conversation had consisted of “Pass the peas” and “I’m driving into town. Need anything?”
Shortly after her parents had died, Buck had become much more vocal. Every time she’d turned around, he told her something he didn’t like about her—her hair was too long. Her nose too big. Her hands too rough. She had too many freckles and she smelled like a cow. Then he’d tell her something she did that bugged him—talked to her cows as if they were human. Wore cotton underwear instead of silk panties. Dressed like a man. And listened to Elvis songs.
One day he’d returned from a construction gig and had insisted on a divorce. In a sense she’d been relieved. But her relief had transformed into deep, painful hurt when he’d accused her of holding him back from life. Accused her of being boring, uninspiring and a rock around his neck that threatened to pull him underwater and hold him there. He’d claimed he wanted a woman who wasn’t afraid to live life—unlike Ellen, who hid from the world behind barn doors.
He’d left the next morning, and less than a week later, she’d received a call informing her that her husband had been struck on the head by a steel beam and had died of a massive brain bleed.
Burying Buck had been easy. Burying his painful accusations, not so easy. She wondered what Nelson thought of her as a woman. Did he find her intriguing? Did he think she was pretty?
What did it matter? The man was here for the summer—if he lasted the three months. Then he was gone—back to Chicago, worlds away from her tiny dairy farm.
Noticing it was almost time for Seth to catch the 7:10 school bus, she unhooked the last set of cows from the suction tubes, dipped their teats in disinfectant, then pressed the chute button, releasing the animals into the pasture.
She was hurrying to the front of the barn, intending to shout goodbye from the doorway, when she spotted her hired hand on the cement stoop. Seth said something that caused Nelson to burst out laughing, then her son ran off toward the road.
Hand poised to wave goodbye, she waited for Seth to glance over his shoulder as he did every morning. She waited. And waited. Finally her arm went numb and she dropped it to her side. Angry, she glared toward the house, but Nelson had gone inside. No doubt he was sitting at her kitchen table, reading her newspaper, drinking her coffee! The least he could do was haul his backside down to the barn help her clean up.
You told Nelson you didn’t want his help.
Well, she’d changed her mind.
Back inside the barn, she slipped out of her cover-alls, then hauled the equipment to the washroom, where she piled it into the sink. He could clean the stuff.
All was quiet when she entered the house. Positive Nelson had his head buried in the stock market report, she padded down the hallway to the bathroom, intent on grabbing a shower. As soon as she flung open the door, her mouth dropped and hung crooked like a gate that had lost a hinge.
“You said I could shower in the house.” He stood naked in front of the sink, shaving—half his face covered in white foam, the other half smooth as a baby’s butt.
Incapable of uttering even a nonsensical sound, she gawked at his body. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a naked man before—just never one put together so well.
“For God sakes,” he muttered, grabbing a towel from the hook on the wall. In a flash he had the terry cloth secured around his waist, concealing—in her opinion—one of his better attributes. She shifted her gaze to his chest in time to watch a water droplet roll down his smooth skin before disappe
aring beneath the towel.
“Why don’t you take a picture? It will last longer.”
When the sarcastic taunt sank in, Ellen averted her gaze to the can of shaving cream on the sink and resisted the urge to pat her heated cheeks. Slowly, as if she expected him to charge, she backpedaled out the bathroom. When both feet were in the hall, she leaned forward, grabbed the handle, then closed the door with a solid thunk.
Before she had time to skedaddle, the door swung back open.
“What the hell is the matter with you, Ellen?” He shoved a hand through his damp brown hair. “Look. I’m sorry. I thought you were going to be in the barn all morning. Next time I’ll use the lock.”
“The milking equipment is ready to be cleaned.” And you have a gorgeous body.
“I’ll take care of it as soon as I get dressed.”
Without another word, she retreated to the kitchen, leaned against the counter and covered her face with her hands. Sucking in a much-needed deep breath, she lowered her arms and glanced at the coffeemaker. A full pot sat on the warmer. A check of the sink turned up a dirty coffee mug.
Nelson had made a fresh pot just for her. She hadn’t expected such consideration. Neither her deceased husband nor her father had ever made a pot of coffee in their entire life. Did all citified men know their way around a kitchen, or was Nelson the exception to the rule?
After grabbing a mug from the cupboard, she poured a cup, then collapsed on to a chair, relieved to be off her feet for a few minutes. The financial section of the Daily Chronicle lay open on the table. Several stocks had been circled in red ink and numbers scribbled along the edge of the columns. She leaned closer…agricultural commodities? What was he up to now?
“You should diversify, Ellen.” He stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing stiff, brand-new jeans.
She’d just seen his naked body. More specifically, his thing, and all he had to say was she should diversify? She glanced at his colored dress socks, peeking out from under the denim. “You could use a pair of work boots. And some athletic socks.”
“As I recall, there’s a Farm and Fleet nearby. Seth agreed to go with me after school. If it’s all right with you, I thought we’d grab dinner while we’re out.” He paused. “Unless you have plans?”