by Judy Duarte
Once she opened the door of the local watering hole, she was met with hoots of laughter and the sounds of a country-western song playing on a red-and-chrome jukebox in the back. She almost turned around and headed back across the street to the café, but she’d come this far already. So she clutched the shoulder strap of her purse a little tighter and made her way across the scuffed, scarred hardwood floor to an Old West–style bar that stretched the length of the far wall.
She took a seat next to a couple of brunettes in their early twenties. Both women wore boots, jeans and snug T-shirts. One whispered something to the other, then they both burst into laughter.
About that time, the bartender, a blonde in her midforties, approached her with a smile. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’d like a glass of Chardonnay. Do you have a wine list?”
“I’m afraid we’re not that fancy. It’s still happy hour, so the house white is half price. If you want the premium, it’s...” She paused a moment and creased her brow. “You know, I’ll have to check. It’s something from California, I think. The new owner decided to offer a winery of the month special.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll have that.” Anna wasn’t what you’d call a wine connoisseur by any stretch of the word, but if she was going to take the time to unwind with a glass, she wanted it to be something good. “I’d also like to order a sandwich or something to go.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay and eat here? We’re having a battle of the bands later this evening, and it’s always fun when the dance crowd arrives.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I...can’t stay.” Anna hoped things didn’t get so loud and crazy that she’d hear it all the way across the street.
“Too bad. I’ll be right back with a menu.”
The bartender had no more than turned around when Anna thought she heard her ringtone. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and hurried to answer before the caller hung up.
“Hello?”
There was a mumble on the other end, so she pressed her cell phone against her ear, trying to block out the sounds of a Texas two-step as it blasted out of the jukebox.
The person—a male?—spoke again, calling her by name, but she didn’t recognize the voice. Too bad she’d forgotten to look at the lighted display first.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t catch that. Who is this?”
“Nate Gallagher. You said to call you anytime, but it sounds like you’re too busy to talk.”
“No, I’m not. It’s just...” Darn it. With all the background noise—the laughter and music—he probably thought she was a party girl. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Why don’t I call you tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Oh, no.” What if there was an emergency? What if he needed her—or rather, her advice or counsel. “This isn’t a bad time for me. Just hold on a minute. Let me step outside where it’s quiet.”
She pushed her chair back and stood, but not before one of the brunettes called out, “I’ll have another Jack Daniel’s—straight up.”
The bartender placed a glass of wine in front of Anna, a drink Anna no longer wanted, then told the brunette, “Coming right up.”
Anna reached into her purse, pulled out a twenty and placed it on the bar so the bartender wouldn’t think she’d abandoned her seat without planning to pay for her order.
“Put your money away.” The bartender nodded toward the end of the bar, where a lanky cowboy sat, nursing a bottle of Budweiser and wearing a cocky smile. “That guy over there said to tell you that your drinks are on him tonight.”
Oh, God. Did Nate hear that? If so, what must he think?
The cowboy lifted his bottle and winked at Anna.
“Thank him,” Anna said, pressing the money into the waitress’s hand, “but I won’t be staying.” At least, not any longer than it took to order a hamburger to go. She almost added that she bought her own drinks, but that was way more than she wanted Nate to hear. “I’ll be back.”
Then, without waiting for her change, she headed outside, hoping it would be quieter in the parking lot. And that in the cool of the evening, she could reestablish a more professional persona.
* * *
Nate pressed the phone to his ear, his fingers locked in a death grip. Anna had answered, but there was so much noise in the background—loud music, hoots and laughter—that he wasn’t sure where she was. But she definitely wasn’t at work.
He suspected it was a country-western bar because when she said she was going outside, where it was quiet, he could hear a familiar Toby Keith tune playing in the background.
Well, what do you know? There was a lot more to Anna Reynolds than met the eye. She hadn’t come across as a woman who even knew how to kick up her heels before, but he now had reason to believe that he’d misjudged her.
The sound of a door creaked open then closed. When the background noise settled to a dull hum, Anna said, “Excuse me, Nate. I’m so sorry. I... Well, it’s not...” She paused a moment, as if regrouping. Or was she trying to come up with a better explanation than the one she’d started to give him?
He didn’t blame her for struggling with what to tell him. It really wasn’t any of his business what she did with her spare time. Still, he found himself curious about the life Anna led when she wasn’t working.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I... Well, I could tell you that I’m attending an ice-cream social at the community church, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe me.”
He bit back a laugh, but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “No, that would be a real stretch—unless the church serves whiskey straight up while Toby Keith sings ‘I Love This Bar.’”
“Okay, then. I’ll answer honestly. I’m at the Stagecoach Inn. And for the record, I don’t love this bar.”
At that, he did laugh. When he managed to rein it in, he couldn’t help asking, “Did you stop by after work? It sounds like you might have gone home first to change into boots, jeans and a hat.”
“Would you believe I’m still in my business attire?”
“At a honky-tonk? No way. That sounds almost as far-fetched as the idea of you sitting on a bar stool while wearing a choir robe and eating a chocolate fudge sundae.”
Her laugh, a soft lilt that struck an odd chord inside him, was drowned out by a big rig’s air horn.
“It’s a very long story,” she said. “But it’s the truth. My apartment flooded, and I have to spend the night at the Night Owl Motel. I was hungry and thought I’d order something to go. And the rest... Well, I suspect you heard plenty of it.”
“If I were there, I’d offer to pay for your drinks all night, even if I had to fight the guy seated at the end of the bar.”
“So you heard that, too?”
“Can’t say as I’d blame him, whoever he is. In fact, if I didn’t have a baby to worry about, I’d join you. Friday nights are a lot of fun at the Stagecoach Inn.”
“Speaking of the baby,” she said, “what’s going on? Is everything okay? I assume you called me for a reason.”
“It wasn’t that important. I had a question to ask you and didn’t stop to consider the time. I’ll call you tomorrow, when you’re on the clock...” He couldn’t help adding, “And when you’re not kicking up your heels at one of the favorite local bars.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And your call didn’t bother me a bit. What was your question? And how can I help?”
The weird thing was, the question had been niggling at him ever since he first laid eyes on little Jessie, but it wasn’t that critical to have an answer right now. It’s not like he had any plans to leave the ranch for a while, but that didn’t mean the question wasn’t important.
“Actually,” he said, “I’m
wondering how to go about finding a qualified nanny or babysitter. I don’t want to leave Jessie with just anyone. Besides, I want to do more than interview them or look over their list of references. I’m going to want someone to run a background check on them.”
“It sounds like you’re taking fatherhood seriously.”
She had no idea how serious he was taking that role; how worried he was that he’d fumble the ball that had been tossed his way. But he didn’t want her to think that he’d be a complete failure, especially when it came to finding the right sitter. “She’s so small—and she can’t talk. So she can’t tell me if she’s being mistreated or neglected.”
“I can understand your concern,” Anna said. “I have resource material back at the office. I’ll bring it with me the next time I visit the ranch.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” It still didn’t make him feel good about leaving a baby with a stranger. But he didn’t want Anna to know how tightly his gut knotted at the thought of failing his...daughter. “I’d better let you go. I didn’t mean to interrupt your Friday night.”
“You’re not bothering me,” she said. “I told you before, I only stopped here to get something to eat.”
Again, he couldn’t help but tease her, to throw her off center for a change. “It’s your story, Anna. Tell it any way you want.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve never been one to frequent cowboy bars.”
“Because you’re not into cowboys?”
She paused a beat before answering. “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”
Actually, he wasn’t lying when he’d mentioned being at the Stagecoach Inn right now, seated with her. Listening to that old jukebox, throwing back a couple of ice-cold beers. Laughing, joking, dancing later on this evening. Maybe even taking her home with him...
But Anna wasn’t the kind of woman he dated.
Although right now he wished she was.
* * *
By Monday afternoon Anna learned that her “two nights” at the Night Owl Motel had been extended to an indefinite stay. The plumber had found the problem easily enough, but correcting it was going to be a complicated process. There’d been a slow leak over a long period of time until the pipe had burst completely. As a result, they’d found mold in several walls.
The landlord had assured Anna that the insurance was handling everything and that the studio apartment would be back to normal soon. “In fact,” Carla had added, “once the drywall guys get finished, the painters will come in. I’ve already picked out the carpet, although it’s on backorder and won’t be in for a week or two. But when we’re done, it’s going to seem like a brand-new house.”
That was all well and good, but as a result, Anna wouldn’t be returning home “soon.”
After her workweek ended, she drove out to the Rocking C so she could check on Nate and Jessica. She also wanted to share the information she’d found for him. There was an agency in Wexler that vetted and supplied competent day-care workers. The only problem she could see would be the expense, which was probably pretty steep for a ranch hand’s pay.
Now, as she waited at a stoplight, her blinker indicating her intention to turn right out of the medical center parking lot and onto the highway, she stretched her neck to one side and then the other, hoping to work out the pain and stiffness she’d woken up with this morning. In spite of the clean sheets, the bed at the Night Owl wasn’t very comfortable.
Having to relocate, even for a few days, had been more than an unexpected inconvenience. She really liked her apartment, which was located near the hospital where she worked. It wasn’t very big, and the furnishings weren’t her own, but it was cute and cozy.
Of course, it wasn’t very cute or cozy now. She’d stopped by earlier this morning to check on the workmen’s progress, only to see it practically gutted, with an industrial-sized fan blowing against one wall.
What was she going to do if the removal of that mold took longer than originally expected? She’d have to find someplace else to rent—and that was going to take time.
So now here she was, waiting to pull into the intersection, one hand stifling a yawn and the other on the steering wheel. When the light turned green, she continued down the highway, turned on the radio and settled in for the drive to the Rocking Chair Ranch.
She told herself that she was making the evening visit to accommodate Nate’s work schedule, which was true. But like it or not, there were a couple of other mitigating factors. One was to escape the sights and highway sounds near the motel. But the biggest reason, which she hated to admit, was a growing interest in Nate Gallagher. After their banter the other night, when he’d teased her about kicking up her heels at the Stagecoach Inn, she’d begun to...
No, she wasn’t even going to consider having an attraction to the handsome cowboy. There was no way she’d act on any inappropriate feelings she might have for him. Not while he was a part of her caseload.
By the time Anna arrived at the ranch, it was nearly six o’clock and the sun had set. She parked her car then made her way to the front porch and knocked on the door.
The elderly ranch foreman answered, a grin stretching across his face. “What a surprise. You must be working the night shift.”
Not really, but if Anna hadn’t come this evening, she’d be watching TV in her motel room, the volume turned up to block out the sounds of traffic.
“Is Nate here?” she asked.
“Yep. Come on in.” Sam stepped aside so she could enter. “He’s got kitchen duty tonight.”
Anna couldn’t mask her surprise. “He made dinner?”
Sam laughed. “Are you kidding? We’d have a rebellion on our hands if Joy didn’t cook for us. I just meant that Nate’s stuck with the cleaning detail.”
Anna scanned the large living room, where a group of oldsters were seated near the window. One of them was holding the baby, while the others oohed and aahed over her.
“I’ll let Nate know you’re here,” Sam said.
Anna nodded then crossed the room to look in on little Jessie. The retired cowboy who was holding her glanced up and smiled. “She was fussing a few minutes ago, but once Joy changed her britches and wrapped her up like a little burrito, she settled right down.”
“It’s called swaddling,” Anna said. “It keeps babies calm and content—and they like it.”
“Until they get hungry or poop,” one of the elderly men added. “Then all hell breaks loose.”
Anna couldn’t help but smile at the explanation—as well as the men’s interest in the little girl.
“All right,” a white-haired man said. “Don’t be a baby hog, Raul. It’s my turn to hold her.”
“Like hell, Gilbert. You couldn’t wait to pass her off to Joy the minute she started crying. You lost your turn.”
“Yeah, but only long enough for Joy to change her diaper.”
Anna hoped she’d get to see Nate argue for a chance to hold his daughter, to cuddle her. It was important for them to bond.
“Hey,” a familiar deep voice said.
Speak of the handsome cowboy. Anna glanced over her shoulder to see Nate heading her way, his jeans worn but clean, his shirt neatly pressed, his hair damp as though he’d recently showered. For some reason, the sight of him and his sexy swagger chased away her professional reasons for a visit, replacing them with one that was far more personal.
Still, she offered a “Hey” right back at him.
He continued across the room, closing the distance between them until she picked up a whiff of masculine soap and the musky scent of his cologne. “I guess you weren’t kidding when you mentioned coming to check on me in the evening.”
Was that what he thought she was doing? Checking up on him, evaluating him?
That wasn’t what she meant to do—or r
ather, it wasn’t what she wanted him to think.
“I came by to follow up with you and make sure I’m doing everything I can to help. And I didn’t want to bother you during your workday. I thought an evening visit would give us more time to talk.” She hoped he was buying her explanation.
Nate glanced at the man holding the baby, his hands trembling slightly. Then he said, “Be careful there, Gilbert.”
Gilbert frowned and drew the child closer to his chest. “I got her, Nate. It’s not like I don’t have any experience. Heck, I’ve had five of my own.”
“Yes, but you said your kids were all born full-term and were twice her size.” Something about the way Nate studied the tiny girl, the way he stood nearby as the shaky old man cuddled the flannel-wrapped bundle made Anna think he was coming around.
But she hadn’t seen him hold his daughter yet, let alone give her a bottle. Surely he’d done so already—and often.
She knew that he was relying on the women at the ranch to help him for the time being. And, by the looks of it, the retired men were helping out, too. He’d also asked for Anna’s advice on finding a qualified nanny, which meant he was concerned about Jessie’s safety and care.
But a nanny was also just one more person for him to pass off the baby to.
“Do you want to talk in here?” Nate asked, drawing Anna from her speculation. “Or do you want to go out to the porch?”
The thought of speaking with him in private both pleased and unnerved her at the same time. Would she feel the same way if he were a homely cowboy who chewed tobacco and didn’t feel the need for daily showers?
Now, there was a question that didn’t need an answer.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go outside.”
Nate nodded then headed out the door and onto the porch, with Anna tagging along behind him.
Going outdoors to talk with Nate was becoming a habit, it seemed. It was also an unfortunate one to foster. For a woman with a strong sense of ethics, she’d found herself looking forward to being alone with him entirely too much.