by Jill Limber
Apparently, Jolie thought as she watched him press his fingers to his forehead, even though he’d offered her a job, she hadn’t made a very good first impression.
She hadn’t missed how he had emphasized the fact that the position came with a time limit. That was fine with her; all she needed was a temporary position.
Jolie was not going to react to the annoyed expression on Mr. Price’s face as he stared at her. How often had she caved in to her overbearing father when he had scowled at her like that?
Courage, Jolie, she told herself.
Helen knew Griff Price, and she must think it was okay for Jolie to work for him or she wouldn’t have suggested it. She cleared her throat and was about to suggest he sit down and have a cup of coffee.
“Well, are you coming?” The sole of his boot slapped impatiently against the worn flooring.
She did want the job, but found it easier to say she was going to live with courage, harder to actually do it. “Yes, let’s—”
“Come on, it’s late,” he said gruffly, cutting her off.
He jammed his hat back on his head. Then in one fluid movement he picked up her jacket, tossed it to her, lifted her suitcase, turned and strode out of the diner.
Dumbfounded, she watched him disappear into the twilight with her bag.
He might be one of the best-looking men she had ever met, but he had the manners of a boor.
Hurriedly she slid out of her seat, pulled four dollars out of her precious hoard, then slapped the bills down on the table. Exasperated by his rude behavior, Jolie approached Helen, who was setting a nearby table.
“Excuse me, but do you know Mr. Price very well?”
Helen smiled and nodded. “Sure do. I went to high school with his daddy. He comes from a fine family. Prices been running the Circle P spread for almost a hundred years.”
Jolie looked uncertainly at the door. “He didn’t give me a chance to ask any questions,” she said, more to herself than Helen.
Helen smiled. “Oh, don’t worry—”
“You coming or not?” Everyone in the diner turned as Griff Price stuck his head in the door and hollered at her, cutting off what Helen was about to say. Then he left without waiting for her to answer.
Jolie felt the blood rise in her cheeks. She’d made him angry.
Helen gave Jolie a gentle push toward the door. “That boy’s always in a hurry. Margie will fill you in when you get to his place. She’s going to visit her sick sister, but you can talk to her before she leaves.”
So that was why he needed a baby-sitter, Jolie thought as she followed him out the door, her stomach tied in knots at the thought she’d annoyed him. His wife was leaving.
On her way out she hurriedly summed up what she knew about the man, still trying to decide if going with him was a reasonable plan.
He was married, from a good family and offering a job she knew she could do. She had decided to live with courage and do something outrageous every day. Now it seemed as though she was going to be put to the test.
Besides, Jolie thought, her other choice was to bed down in her car in Winslow’s garage.
She assured herself if she didn’t feel comfortable with the situation when she got to their home, she’d ask Margie Price to bring her back to the diner.
By the time Jolie got to the parking lot, he was at the passenger door hefting her bag into the back seat of the biggest pickup truck Jolie had ever seen. She stopped about five feet from the cowboy.
He pointed at the open door. “Get in. I’ve got stock to tend to.”
Taken aback by his abrupt behavior, Jolie inched toward the truck. “Don’t you want references?” she asked.
Not that she could give him any work references, but it seemed like a good question to ask before they got too far out of town.
He stared at her for a moment. “No. Is there some good reason you’re stalling?”
“No, I—”
“You told Helen you’d taken care of your family’s kids,” he said cutting her off and frowning at her as if he thought she might have lied to him.
“Yes, I did,” she said, not quite knowing how she should respond to his lack of courtesy. She shivered as the cold evening air penetrated her thin blouse.
“Good,” he answered, with such a tone of relief in his voice she relaxed a little. “You do want the job, don’t you?” he asked, still staring, his tone back to edgy.
Jolie paused for another moment to shrug into her jacket, then decided she was being foolish to hesitate. “Yes, I do.”
Her other choices sucked.
“Okay.” He took two strides to get to her, grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up and set her on the seat.
Breathless at the suddenness of his bold action and the feel of his hands on her, she scrambled to get her feet in before he closed the door on them.
She took a deep breath and watched him stride around to the driver’s door, hop in, then turn the key in the ignition. The truck’s engine started with a roar.
He muttered something under his breath and pulled out of the parking lot while she was still struggling to find her seat belt. Holding the shoulder strap, Jolie dug down behind the seat to locate the buckle.
Suddenly his big warm hand slid along her hip and fished the fastener out from behind the seat.
She felt a zing of sensation where he’d touched her, then immediately chided herself.
He was married.
And she had sworn off men.
She murmured a quick thank-you. Hoping he couldn’t see her face flush, she managed to connect the two ends of the belt.
The silence in the cab grew until Jolie couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is your home very far?”
He shifted on the seat and shrugged one shoulder. “Nope.”
Jolie waited for more of an explanation, but apparently that was his whole answer. She’d have to try another subject. “Mr. Price, how many children do you have?”
He cleared his throat. “Griff.”
Jolie turned to look at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“My name is Griff. There’s one child.”
Jolie nodded and waited for him to give her more information. He stared straight ahead at the road.
Her annoyance grew until after a few moments she decided one of them needed to show some manners, so she tried again. “Griff, is your child a boy or a girl?”
“Boy.”
Jolie struggled to hold on to her temper. He acted like she was charging him by the word. “How old is your son?”
He started to answer when a ringing phone interrupted them.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled a cellular phone out of his shirt pocket.
Turning her head just a little, Jolie studied him in the gathering gloom. His expression darkened as he listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Scowling, he glanced at the clock set in the dashboard. “When?” he barked into the phone, tightening his grip on the instrument.
His intensity made her uncomfortable. The man certainly didn’t believe in wasting time on conversation. Or manners. Jolie was accustomed to polite small talk, no matter how meaningless.
“Take care of that now.” He barked into the phone.
Jolie shifted her gaze to stare out the window at the empty country and the sapphire sky as she listened to his one-word questions and answers. The landscape that had seemed beautiful and wild a few hours ago now appeared barren. She fought down the urge to ask him to take her back to the diner.
Don’t be a fool, she thought. She was going to be courageous. Besides, she didn’t have any options. She was starting to realize how easy her life had been when she’d let others make her decisions for her.
She chanted her new mantra to herself. Courage, I live with courage. And because of that courage, she had her first job. She had wanted to work right after college, but her father had always had a reason she should wait. A trip, a charity ball to organize, overseeing the rede
coration of the house.
Griff turned off the main road. She glanced at him and decided she wouldn’t let a little surliness get her down. She’d just have to work on those clever comebacks that always occurred to her an hour after she needed them.
She could see a house in the distance, sitting on a broad expanse of open plain. The huge building behind the house was probably a barn. Didn’t ranches have barns?
She thought of a dozen questions, but when she glanced at Griff, who stabbed at the power button on his phone as if he was killing a venomous insect, she decided not to waste her breath.
She’d talk to Mrs. Price.
As he parked behind a small, battered, blue compact car, Jolie stared at the enchanting yellow-and-white Victorian house, complete with wraparound porch and gabled roof, and hid a smile.
The big sour cowboy who had driven her in from Billings did not belong in such an enchanting home. It looked too feminine and had too much charm. His wife must be a lovely woman.
Without a word he opened the driver’s door and climbed out, then hauled her suitcase out of the back.
Jolie opened her door and slid out of the truck, following Griff up the front steps. She stepped through the open door and almost bumped into an old woman in the entry hall.
The woman jammed an ancient black pillbox hat with torn netting over her gray hair while she scolded Griff Price. “About time you got back. Now I got to drive in the dark.”
She thrust a lethal-looking hat pin through the battered crown of her hat and glared up at him.
She glanced at Jolie. “Baby’s asleep.” Without saying another word, she headed out the door.
Baby? For some reason Jolie had pictured an older child. She watched the woman march down the steps and get in the blue car.
By this time Jolie was not the least bit surprised not to get an introduction.
Just as the old woman was closing her car door, Griff hollered down to her. “Hey, Margie, did that feed supplier call?”
Jolie spun around to stare at Griff Price. That was Margie?
Chapter Two
So much for making assumptions, Jolie thought. Obviously Margie was not Griff Price’s wife.
Jolie tore her surprised look away from Griff and looked back to see Margie, driving like someone qualifying for the Indy 500, head out to the main road in a cloud of dust.
Not meeting her eye, Griff took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “She was in a hurry.”
Jolie choked back a sarcastic remark. He turned to go back out the door, as if that was all the information Jolie needed.
Was he just going to leave her standing here? She stepped in front of him, grabbing the sleeve of his sheepskin jacket, blocking his path. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”
He stared at her for a moment with those sky-blue eyes, then shook her hand off his arm and ran his hands tiredly over his face. “I told you. I have stock that needs tending.”
Confused, Jolie looked around. “Is your wife here?”
His face hardened into a scowl. “No wife.”
Jolie’s hand dropped to her side, and she eyed the big cowboy. Now a few of the pieces of the puzzle that hadn’t made sense fell into place.
She suspected she knew why he was acting so rude. His wife had left him with their child. He was hurting and he covered it up with anger. How many times had she watched her father do the same thing?
“I’m sorry.” It sounded trite, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Don’t be.” He said curtly and shrugged one shoulder as if he wanted her to think it didn’t bother him. Abruptly he turned toward the stairs. “I’ll show you the baby’s room.”
She followed him, her heels clicking on the bare wood of the stairs. He stopped at an open door and gestured for her to go ahead of him.
The only light in the room came from the hall. Jolie could see a crib in the corner and assumed Griff’s son was asleep. Then, as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw movement in the small bed.
Jolie turned to ask Griff the child’s name, and the words died on her lips.
He was gone.
He had left her standing alone in the doorway, with no information about his son. Jolie felt the outrage grow inside her.
How could he leave her standing here without even bothering to give her the baby’s name? Angry or not, the man needed to pull himself together for the sake of his child.
Jolie flipped the light switch. The baby boy sat quietly in the corner of his crib, staring at her, his big blue eyes blinking against the sudden light. He had a head of blond curls and was going to grow up to look just like his daddy.
Jolie hoped he ended up with a better disposition.
“Well hello there, little guy,” she said.
Staying where she was for a moment, she smiled at the child, afraid to approach too quickly and frighten him. She knew some babies were afraid of strangers.
He was about the size of her cousin’s youngest child, so she guessed he must be about ten months old. “Did you just wake up?”
Jolie took her jacket off and laid it over the back of a chair. “My name is Jolie.”
Slowly she moved into the middle of the room, then stopped about five feet from the battered crib. “I don’t know your name because your daddy had to leave in a hurry.” And he’s a handsome, rude man, she added to herself.
The baby sat motionless, staring at her with his big blue eyes.
“So this is your room. I don’t know where I’m supposed to sleep.” The baby’s room contained just the crib, an old wooden dresser and a single bed with a bare mattress.
No toys or stuffed animals littered the room. Griff’s housekeeper must be a very tidy woman. “Where’s all your stuff?”
The baby didn’t move or change his facial expression at her inane conversation. He just continued to stare at her. She moved a little closer to the bed and watched him watching her.
“Are you ready to get up?” Jolie had no idea if he was waking from a nap, or had been put down for the night. She took another step toward the bed, feeling as though she was in the middle of a one-person, red-light-green-light game.
When he showed no signs of being alarmed by her presence, Jolie moved all the way to the bars of the crib. He was dressed in a blanket sleeper, and she could tell from where she stood that he needed a fresh diaper.
“How about we get you cleaned up and go find your daddy. I have some things I need to say to him,” she said, not allowing her annoyance to show in her voice.
It wasn’t the baby’s fault that his father had no manners.
She lowered the side of the crib and reached in to get him. He allowed her to pick him up, and when she lifted him up against her chest, he put his head on her shoulder and wound his arms around her neck, then gave what sounded like a little sigh as he nestled into her body.
Jolie felt her heart turn over. In that instant she fell in love with a little boy whose name she didn’t even know.
Jolie sat at the dining room table, her temper simmering just below the boiling point. Holding the quiet baby in her lap with one hand and, with the other, folding clean baby clothes she had discovered in the dryer, she waited for Griff Price to return.
Where was he? Didn’t people who worked on a ranch quit when the sun went down? It had been dark for hours.
She slapped a tiny shirt down on the shiny tabletop. “There’s no excuse for the way he walked out on me,” she said to the baby, careful to use a cheerful conversational tone that masked her feelings.
“Leaving you with a stranger.” Tossing the shirt into the basket, she yanked a faded sleeper out of the small pile.
She kissed the top of his head. “He didn’t say ten words to me on the way here from the diner.”
Jolie took a deep breath, trying to relax, then nuzzled the tumble of clean curls on the baby’s crown. “How does he know I can be trusted with you?”
If he were her little boy she’d
never leave him with someone she didn’t know.
She’d given him his bath, fed him, and he was now ready to be put to bed. Together they had explored the house while she’d waited for her employer to return.
No matter how busy Griff claimed to be, the man should have been home early enough to spend some time with his son. She knew from her training nothing mattered more than the early bonding between a parent and child.
That was why she had spent so much time with her cousin’s children when they traveled and left them in the care of their nanny for weeks at a time.
She assumed this little boy’s mother had already deserted him. If she lived nearby, Jolie reasoned, the ex-wife would be caring for her son. Griff wouldn’t have had to hire Jolie.
Jolie’s thoughts shifted to the child she held. She was worried about the baby. He was too quiet.
He didn’t try to crawl, and he didn’t reach for things. He just watched her and clung to her when she picked him up. He didn’t laugh or vocalize in any way.
Maybe it was because she was a stranger. Tomorrow, when he was used to her, he would probably be more active.
She glanced around the dining room. Something was not right about the home environment, either. Earlier, as she’d wandered through the house getting acquainted with the place, she’d felt uneasy.
The wonderful old Victorian was clean and extremely tidy, but there were no homey touches, no warmth. Nothing that hinted at the people who lived here. As if the clutter of everyday life, the things that told something about the residents, was not allowed to accumulate.
It bothered her. Not for Griff Price’s sake. Whatever had made him such a closed-off grouch was his problem. Jolie’s concern was all for the baby she held in her arms.
As she waited, she smoothed her hand over the little boy’s fuzzy blanket sleeper and enjoyed the weight and warmth of him as he settled back against her lap. “I have some questions for your daddy.”
He turned his head and looked up at her with his big blue eyes. “I don’t even know your name.” Jolie stroked the soft skin of his little cheek.
“I’m not even sure where your daddy wants me to sleep.” She stroked his cheek again, and his eyelids blinked sleepily.