by Caroline Lee
Besides cooking and her sewing, and the less-frequent chores like laundry and soap-making, she needed to keep the house neat. She’d gotten permission to enter their bedrooms, and keep them tidy. Ash didn’t leave her anything to do except dust; his room was minimalistic and orderly, with one dresser only half-full of clothes, a night stand and oil lamp, and the largest bed she’d ever seen. On her first foray into the room, it had intimidated her enough that she’d left almost immediately. But on the second day, she noticed the way his blankets were piled around the footboard, and crossed the room to make the bed properly. She supposed that he couldn’t do it with only one arm, and so she made his bed for him every morning, the way she’d been taught as a girl. He never said anything, but she liked to imagine that she was making his life a little easier.
Nate’s room, on the other hand, was a disaster area! The boy didn’t seem to use his dresser at all, preferring instead to pile his clothing up on the backs of one of two chairs, or over the bookshelf stacked high with tools, nick-knacks, and a few books that looked like they’d been read many times. It felt wrong to be sorting through a young man’s treasures, but she’d been hired to clean, and so she did. When he saw what she’d done, he grinned unrepentantly, and hugged her with a cheeky “Thanks, Molly!” She’d blushed, and thereafter unconsciously treated the boy more like a younger sibling than an employer.
They both continued to enjoy her baking, and she put extra effort into making them daily little treats, knowing that they hadn’t had them in a while. Nate seemed to like whatever she made, but Ash particularly liked her cookies. So one afternoon, when she’d pulled an absolutely perfect batch of sugar cookies out of the oven, she decided that he needed to taste them now, when they were crisp on the outside and soft in the middle. So she bundled some of them into a towel, threw on her shawl, and ducked outside.
The sun was bright, and the glare off the snow caused her to squint. But she was glad for the slight warmth it provided; she didn’t even need to cover her head, but just draped the thick wool shawl around her shoulders. Of course, it was still cold enough for the slush to have iced over, but it wasn’t as frigid as it could be on days without the sun. She held on to the rail as she picked her way carefully down the front steps, but then she was able to hurry towards the barn. In her time here, she’d been outside enough to see the beauty in the simplicity of the buildings, and what she initially thought was stark, she now appreciated as utilitarian.
She came around the side of the barn, and stopped short at the sight of him in the corral. Ash was working with a large horse, whose coat was as dark as his hair, his shirt unbuttoned clear down to his naval, and his sleeves rolled up. She could see the sweat clinging to his temples from where she stood, as she watched him chase the animal and yell out commands. He didn’t try to mount the horse, or use any tack. He appeared to be training it with just his hand and his voice.
Molly thought it was the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen. He was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. He was more than a match for the big horse, and she drifted over to the fence to watch him.
The sun must have become warmer, to account for her sudden flush, and the way her palms were sweating. It probably also accounted for the warmth in her belly and across her chest. She sighed, dreamily, content to lean on the upper rail and watch him all day.
Ash wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, but he felt her gaze between his shoulder blades, and when he turned, there was his housekeeper watching him. She didn’t often come out to the outbuildings, and Ash assumed it was because she saw the house as her domain and the barns as his. But here she was, looking downright sexy with that windblown hair and pink cheeks. She was watching him with a dreamy look, and he had to grin. What was it about this woman that made him smile so much?
He dismissed the yearling with a firm word and a fond slap on the rump, and the animal moved to the far side of the corral. Ash ambled towards her, wondering why she was there.
She didn’t say anything to him when he joined her at the fence, resting his elbows on the rail next to hers. Their faces were only inches apart, and she was slow to realize that. When she did, she straightened hurriedly, and her fluster pleased him. He was beginning to suspect that Molly Murray might be as attracted to him as he was to her.
She could cook like a chef, kept his home orderly, could lend a hand out in the barn when necessary, and looked like a goddess. What more could a man want? He’d been thinking more seriously about asking her to stay on the ranch, which would mean marriage. Whereas even two months ago that thought would have made him cringe, thinking he was satisfied with the way things stood, he was now realizing that Molly was the perfect partner for him.
And he aimed to prove it to her.
“Howdy, ma’am. Just thought you’d come out to say hello?”
She flushed, but didn’t look away. He liked that forwardness about her. It showed that she was strong enough to survive out here in the Cheyenne nothingness. Still, her stammer was endearing. “I… uh… made cookies.” She held up a bundle, and then quickly broke eye contact to open it up.
He smiled, again, at the top of her head, his pleasure at her visit divided between the prospect of her baking and her own presence.
In fact, he was so focused on her that he barely appreciated the absolute delight of biting into the sugar cookie she handed him. She took one for herself, and he couldn’t help but stare at the pink tongue that darted out to lick crumbs from those perfect lips.
“These are really good, Molly. Thanks.”
She smiled slightly, still looking flustered. “I’m glad you like them. They came out so well, I thought you should have a few now, rather than after dinner.”
She’d missed some crumbs, there on her chin. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from reaching out to brush them away, with one callused thumb. She didn’t seem to mind his touch, and was that a shiver he saw right before she closed her eyes? “You spoil us, Molly.”
She was slow to regain her control. “You deserve it. You work so hard, and cookies are the least I can do.”
“It’s been real nice having you around. Not just for your cookies, either.” She blushed, but was smiling. It made him want to kiss her.
In fact, he was leaning in towards her when he realized what he was doing, and slowing straightened. He didn’t want to push her, to frighten her. He was finding that he wanted to taste her—taste the sugar cookies on her lips—more than he’d wanted anything in the past. But he also didn’t want to overwhelm her.
She was holding her breath, and that realization made her even more appealing. Maybe she was willing to be overwhelmed…?
He didn’t want to rush things, but he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. He ran the fingers of his good hand down her cheek, feeling the dimple under his fingers as she smiled. “…Real nice.”
“I’ve… I’ve enjoyed being here. You’ve welcomed me. Made me feel almost like part of your family. That’s been very nice.”
“Well, we think of you as part of our family. I want you to feel at home here.” He wanted her to be at home here on his ranch, but hadn’t quite figured out how to ask her.
“I do.” Her whispered confession made his heart leap, and a small grin pull up the corners of his lips.
He’d do it. He’d ask her to marry him. To stay here and be his partner and part of his family and make his home complete.
She must have seen something in his face, because her breath hitched again, and she straightened suddenly.
“I have to… dinner shouldn’t be left to burn.” Was her hand shaking, when she tucked an errant curl behind her ear? He wanted to believe that his touch had flustered her.
He nodded slowly, watching her, thinking how nice she looked there in the afternoon sun. She sure looked like she belonged here. With him.
She left him the bundle of cookies, and he promised himself that he’d take them into the barn to share with Nate, right after he f
inished watching her walk away. He leaned there on the fence, munching on a perfect cookie, enjoying the way her dress swung around her bottom. She looked back at him twice, and both times he saw her smile.
Yep, Molly Murray was the woman for him.
CHAPTER SIX
Molly was… happy. Happier than she could remember being, at least since her mother died. Happier than she thought she had a right to be, living a life so different from what she’d always assumed. She was a little disturbed to discover how easily she was forgetting her dream of opening a bakery, and thinking about how nice it was to run a household, instead. She’d just always assumed that she’d open a bakery, like Papa, and that’s what she’d been working towards for so many years. But now she was questioning if that’s what she really wanted.
She liked being here, stuck out in the middle of nowhere with two men who were no longer strangers. She liked Nate’s irreverence and Ash’s patience and heated glances; she liked them. They made her feel like she was part of their family, and that was… well, that was a lovely feeling. She liked mealtimes the best, when they would linger over her creations, and their praises made her feel warm. If they didn’t have any pressing concerns, they would talk until the fire burned down; she best loved hearing stories about the lives they’d carved out of the Cheyenne wilderness.
Fair’s fair, though; she told them all about her life in Chicago, and the bakery she’d run with her stepfather, and the dreams she’d had that burned in the Great Fire. She’d missed Papa after his death, of course, but theirs had always been more of a business relationship, each confident in the other’s skills and interests, each committed to making the bakery successful. She’d grown to love him for the way he accepted her with her mother, and she’d admired him for his abilities. Molly glossed over the details of his death, but told them how she’d been driven for a long time to open her own bakery or coffee shop. It had been impossible in Chicago, after the creditors took what the fire had left them, but she still had hopes for Salt Lake City.
Ash put down his fork, taking the time to arrange it beside his plate. She found that she liked the deliberate part of his personality, so different from what she’d assumed the first time she’d seen him. He finished chewing the last of his biscuits and gravy, and pierced her with that soft gray she was finding harder and harder to resist.
“So you figured you’d head out here and open a business?” She nodded. “Five years ago I would’ve called that a dumb idea, but with the railroad bringing folks in all the time, it might’ve worked.”
“That was my thinking, yes. I needed a job to tide me over until I could find a property to lease, and work out an arrangement with a supplier.” She toyed with her biscuit. “I’d thought Cheyenne would have been different from the smaller towns I’d visited along the railroad. But no one was particularly interested in hiring me.” They kept making lewd suggestions.
He nodded, as if he could hear her thoughts, and she wondered if maybe he could when he said, “I’ll bet they made some suggestions of where you could get work, and you didn’t like the sound of that, huh?” She blushed and looked away. The topic was entirely unsuitable for discussion with one’s employer, so why did her breath hitch at the knowing look in his eyes?
Nate’s mouth was full when he spoke up. “No one would’ve hired you, and no one would lease you a store, either.”
Molly couldn’t help looking hurt. “Because I’m a woman? I’m perfectly capable, I—”
Ash interrupted in that slow drawl of his, “We know that, Molly. But out here, a woman alone is… well, there’s something wrong there. You know how few marriageable women there are out here?”
“You’re saying I need a husband to find work? To open my own bakery?”
“No.” Ash didn’t look away, and she was disconcerted by the intensity of his gaze. “I’m saying that you need a husband to take care of you, to keep you warm at night, to rely on you to cook and clean and tend house, and to raise his children.” Oh my. His words invoked images of her keeping his house and raising his children and… kissing him. She was almost sure that hadn’t been what he meant, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she? And that’s just what it would be, a dream, but Molly couldn’t stop herself from imagining how it would feel to be held by someone so big and strong and… She sighed.
“…at least, that’s what all those people you asked for jobs were thinking.” He took a big gulp of coffee, but she wondered if she had imagined the twinkling in his eye. After he swallowed, he shrugged nonchalantly. “People in Cheyenne are traditional. They see a young, unmarried woman looking for work, and figure she’s good for marriage or whoring. If you were married, they’d probably happily welcome you as a baker, or whatever. But they’re suspicious of things they’re not used to, and figure you need a husband.”
Molly pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to respond, when Nate distracted her. “So why don’t you? Get a husband, I mean.”
Her jaw dropped at the boy’s forwardness. “I hardly think—”
“Hey, now!” He held up his fork as if to ward her off. “Don’t get upset, I’m just asking.” He shrugged. “I mean, Ash’s right, there’s not a lot of marriageable women out here, and you’d have your pick of men. Especially since you can cook like this.” He smiled and took another bite, and despite her discomfort with the topic, she couldn’t stay angry at the scamp. Around the food in his mouth, Nate mumbled, “So why don’t you just get married, open your bakery?”
She blushed, and looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. She wasn’t sure how to explain a debate she’d had with herself, many times. She took a deep breath and started hesitantly. “My stepfather was a good man, and I grew to love him. He was the one who told me I should have my own bakery, and I guess that’s why I’ve worked so hard for it. My mother probably came to love him, I think, but not as much as my real father. She told me once that he’d died before they had a chance to be married, but I’d always wondered…” She sneaked a peek at Ash impassively sipping coffee, and saw that he didn’t look scandalized to find that she’d been born out of wedlock. “She raised me by herself, but grew tired of the whispers, and so she married my stepfather to give me a name, and gain respectability. And it worked, but she was never…” Molly sighed, remembering. “She never seemed truly happy. Like she’d settled, just so she could be respectable.”
Not able to look at Ash, she responded to Nate, since the boy had been the one to ask in the first place. “I saw them together, and even though Papa was happy, I’d always told myself that I wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t give up my dream, just because society told me that’s what women my age should do.” She shrugged and looked down at her hands again. In a smaller voice, she confessed, “It hasn’t been too much of a struggle, truthfully. I haven’t had much experience with courting.”
Nate swallowed audibly, and was very obviously not looking at her when he said, “I dunno. At least you were respectable. You and your sisters had a roof over your heads, and a nice life.” His voice was too nonchalant, and Molly remembered too late that he’d been born in a similar circumstance, and his mother hadn’t had the chance to marry. He must have been thinking about his young life, so full of prejudice and want, when he shrugged. “Seems to me that her ‘settling’ for your stepfather worked out okay. For you, at least.”
He was right, but then, so was she. “I’m grateful she made the choice she did, but I’m hopeful that I won’t ever be put in a situation where settling is the best option.”
“What do you mean by ‘settling’?” Ash’s voice was as soft as his eyes, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He was as still as always; it wasn’t the tautness of an animal before a strike, but a relaxed waiting on her answer, as if it was important enough to warrant his full attention.
She felt a little breathless when she replied. “Marrying a man I don’t love, who doesn’t love me, just because it’s proper.”
He didn’t say anything, but his gaze
was warm. Hot, even; she felt like there were little sparks igniting between them, but she couldn’t look away. He made her feel safe, and comfortable, and he was sitting across the table just looking at her, for goodness’ sakes!
Flustered, she broke eye contact and stood up, piling her utensils on her plate and grabbing the biscuit pan. She hurried them over to the sink, trying not to think about how handsome he was, sitting there with the top few buttons of his shirt undone.
But when she came back to the table to take his plate—still not looking at him—his hand on hers stopped her. Startled, she glanced at him, and was again arrested by the spark in those ash-gray eyes. Slowly, without dropping her hand, Ash stood up.
Molly was forced to back up, but her bottom hit the table, and he stepped closer. With nowhere to go, she held her breath, and forced her chin up, not daring to let him see how rattled his close masculinity made her. His thick, dark beard covered the lower half of his face, and made him seem stoic, but she could tell he was smirking under all that hair.
Now that he had her trapped, he slowly lifted his right hand, still holding hers, and brushed it against his lips. Her eyes grew wide and her heart pounded. Was that…? Was that a kiss? Did he just kiss her fingers?
His voice was low, and they were standing so close she could feel the rumble in his chest. “And if you did fall in love, dear Miss Murray?”
And her jaw dropped. Literally dropped, mouth agape. He was flirting with her, she was sure of it! Was this what courting was about? Being so breathless at the nearness of a man that she couldn’t answer him? Could barely gain enough control to pinch her lips together, so she wasn’t standing there like a fish? Wanting nothing more than to push herself closer, to see if he felt as strong as he looked?
She saw the white of his teeth when he smiled. “Because if you do fall in love, that wouldn’t be settling, and then you could marry. And follow whatever dream your heart desires.”