“Your father poured so much of himself into this place,” his mother said, as if sensing the direction of Noah’s thoughts. “He wanted so bad for me to see it back as it was when my grandfather ran it.”
Noah said nothing to that. Though he loved his mother, he often wondered whether she knew how his father had treated him and turned a blind eye, or if she really didn’t know.
If it were the former, reminding her of that would only make him bitter that she hadn’t taken his side. If it was the latter... Did it really matter anymore? His father was gone and the ranch was fading. It was time for the ranch to be sold and this part of his life to be over.
“I’m going to see about supper,” Noah said, turning back to his mother. “You just rest.”
“I will, but you make sure to call Shauntelle about that cake. And those meat pies.”
“Of course,” he said. He would have preferred to leave it be, but he knew his mother wouldn’t let go until he did as she requested.
“The card is in my purse. Just take it out of there.”
Noah did as directed. “I’ll call her right away.”
She smiled at him, then turned her head, pulled the blankets around her and closed her eyes.
He left, closing the door quietly behind him. As he walked down the hall to the kitchen, he flicked Shauntelle’s card between his thumb and forefinger, not sure what to do. Shauntelle and her daughters confused him. He preferred to keep his distance, for his own sake as much as anything else. Which meant he had to make up some excuse when his mother’s cake didn’t show up. Poor cell service, or Shauntelle didn’t answer his call.
Once he was in the kitchen, however, a new dilemma faced him. He had to make supper, and he had no idea what was in his mother’s house. He opened her refrigerator and was dismayed to see that all it contained was two eggs, half a jug of milk, a small tub of margarine and a few containers with questionable contents.
The freezer held an open box of frozen waffles, a single frozen burrito, some fish sticks and, inexplicably, a large bag of ice. And when he went downstairs to check the chest freezer, it was gone.
Eggs and waffles it was, he thought with a sigh, yet another flash of self-reproach washing over him as he trudged back up the stairs. No wonder his mother had been feeling so poorly. If this was any indication of her eating habits, he was surprised she was as spry as she was.
He’d have to get some grocery shopping done tomorrow.
He was about to pull his phone out to make a grocery list when he caught the flash of light off a vehicle pulling into the yard. Frowning, he walked around the counter and to the door just off the kitchen.
As he stepped outside, his heart did an unwelcome leap in his chest. Shauntelle was getting out of her car.
One of the twins hung out the back window and waved at him, grinning. “We’re bringing you your cake and meat pies!” she shouted. Then the back door opened and the girls piled out.
“I told you to stay in the car,” Shauntelle called out, closing the door with her foot, her hands full.
“Is your mom okay?” one of the girls asked, running up to him. “Will she live?”
This one was Millie, he guessed, from the way her bandanna hung crooked on her head. The other, Margaret, looked more put together. More reserved. But she was right behind her sister, looking just as eager for news.
“Millie,” Shauntelle reprimanded her daughter, then gave Noah an apologetic smile as she followed the girls. “Sorry. She’s a bit dramatic.”
“I kind of guessed that,” Noah said.
“We brought you your cake and meat pies,” Margaret put in, her hands folded primly in front of her. “We told Mom that you paid for it and we had to deliver it, just like we do for all the other people who order her stuff.”
“Well, thanks for that,” Noah said. In spite of his discomfort around Shauntelle, he was truly grateful for the meat pies. At least he and his mother would have something more substantial than waffles and eggs for supper.
“How is your mother?” Shauntelle asked, concern edging her voice.
“She’s resting. Verdict is a broken leg, but I think you probably figured that out.”
Shauntelle winced as if remembering the awkward angle of his mother’s leg. “How long will she have to have the cast on?”
“Six to eight weeks.”
Shauntelle nodded slowly, as if absorbing this information. Then she held out the boxes she was carrying. “And here’s your purchases. The top box is the cake, the other two are the meat pies.” She handed over the stack of pink-and-white-striped boxes, which he recognized from helping make her deliveries.
“Thanks again.” His hands brushed hers as he took them and, to his surprise and dismay, he couldn’t stop the faintest tingle of awareness at the contact.
He shook it off, getting a firm grip on the boxes, not sure what to do next. It would seem rude not to invite them in, but he could see from the way Shauntelle was edging away that she was anxious to leave.
“This is a really nice house,” Margaret said, grinning at him.
“Thank you.”
“We should get going, girls,” Shauntelle said, confirming his suspicions.
He caught a panicked look flashing between Millie and Margaret, then the one gave the other a poke.
“Um, I’m really, um, thirsty. Can I have a drink of water?” Millie said suddenly.
“No. You can wait until we’re home.” Shauntelle placed one hand on Margaret’s shoulder.
“And I have to go to the bathroom,” Margaret said, pulling away from her mother. “Really badly.” She hopped from one foot to the other, her face contorted to show him her clear distress.
Noah felt momentary confusion, not sure how to proceed. He knew Shauntelle wanted to leave, and from the way the girls were looking at him so expectantly, he had a niggling suspicion they were either stalling or trying to find a way to get into the house.
Nonetheless, he couldn’t refuse a young girl access to a bathroom.
“Of course. Come in,” he said, holding the door open with one hand, balancing his boxes in the other.
Shauntelle shot her daughters a warning look that they didn’t catch, but Noah did.
“Yay.”
“Thanks.”
They scooted past him into the house, Shauntelle holding back. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” he said, though he guessed she didn’t think so from the way her lips were clamped together. He guessed the girls would receive a talking-to once they were all back in the car.
But for now, they were in his house, waiting.
“Can you tell me where the bathroom is?” Margaret asked, giving another little hop just to remind him.
“Just down the hall. First door to the right,” he said, nodding with his head in the direction of the washroom.
Margaret nodded, then scooted off. Millie was about to follow when Shauntelle clamped her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You stay here, missy,” she said, her tone brooking no opposition.
But Millie didn’t seem fazed.
“This is such a nice house,” she said, rocking back and forth on her feet. Her bandanna fell down over one eye, and she shoved it back with an impatient flick of her hand. “It looks even bigger from the inside.” She looked like she would have dearly loved to wander around, but Shauntelle held her shoulder.
“Would you still like a drink?” Noah asked, opening a cupboard door and pulling out a glass.
“Oh yes. I’m parched,” Millie said, eyes wide as if just remembering how thirsty she really was.
“Seriously,” Shauntelle breathed, rolling her eyes.
“I’m sorry. All I have is water.”
“Water is very healthy,” Millie said, flashing him a bright smile as she took it from him.
“You�
��re a real gentleman,” she said, then took a dainty sip, still looking around. “Oh, look, you can see the mountains.” She took a step toward the arched entrance between the kitchen and the living room, but Shauntelle stopped her again.
“Drink up, Millie. We have to get going.” She gave Noah another apologetic look. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”
Though Noah sensed Shauntelle’s discomfort, the girls entertained him. They were cute and fun and made the house come more alive than it had been for as long as he’d lived here.
Then Margaret joined them, also looking around the house, eyes wide. “You are so lucky to live in such a fancy house.” She looked over at her sister. “The bathroom has a bathtub that you could almost go swimming in!”
“Really? Can I go—”
“To the car, girls. Now.” Shauntelle’s firm voice showed she meant business.
Noah guessed the girls had pushed things as far as they dared, because they gave him a quick wave of their hands, and then skipped out of the kitchen. The door fell shut behind them, and Shauntelle hesitated a moment.
“You don’t need to apologize again,” he said, giving her a careful smile. “Your girls are pretty cute.”
“They have their moments.” Shauntelle shook her head but then shared his smile, and as their eyes met, he felt it again. That peculiar jolt of awareness she’d created.
He shook it off and took a physical step away from her, as if to remind himself to keep his distance.
Her smile faded at the same time, as if she was thinking the same thing.
“Thanks for indulging my daughters, and please say hello to your mother from me,” she said, giving him a tight nod.
And then she was gone.
Noah stood in the kitchen alone for a moment, the echo of the girls’ happy chatter seeming to linger. He felt a moment’s melancholy. He wondered when was the last time this kitchen had heard the sound of cheerful voices. He had a few vague memories of playing games here with his mother while his father was out working. Sitting up one night to see the New Year in while his father slept on the couch. But not a lot of bright chatter.
He turned away from the room, glancing out the window just as Shauntelle got into the car. She was laughing as she put her girls in the back seat. They must have said something to ease away her frustration with them.
The sight dived into his lonely soul, and he couldn’t look away.
But as he watched, he saw her look back at the house and her smile disappeared.
Had she seen him watching her?
He shook off the question. Didn’t matter. He would do well to keep his distance from Shauntelle and her family.
He knew exactly how they felt about him, and in spite of everything, he couldn’t help but agree.
Chapter Five
“Can we go say hello to Mrs. Cosgrove?” Millie tugged on Shauntelle’s arm as the church service wound to a close. “She and Noah are in the back of the church.”
Shauntelle had been far too aware of both Noah and his mother since her daughters first pointed out that she was in the back, sitting with her leg up on a chair, Noah beside her.
She suspected her daughters’ newfound fascination with Mrs. Cosgrove had something to do with all the drama surrounding her breaking her leg at the market, but at the same time, their interest in Noah concerned her.
Especially when they practically barged into the Cosgrove home yesterday demanding drinks and bathroom privileges. The memory could still make her squirm. Mostly because it happened in front of Noah.
He had been on her mind too much the last couple of days. Ever since he had helped her out on Friday. Then yesterday at the market when his mother collapsed, and they had shared that moment. It was just a touch, his hand covering hers for a second. With anyone else, it would have meant nothing. But in spite of her feelings about what happened to her brother, or maybe because of them, she found herself overly aware of him.
She shook her head as if to rid herself of the notion. You’ve got your life planned out, she reminded herself. There’s no room for a man.
She’d spent too much of her previous marriage arranging her plans and life around Roger. She needed to focus on herself and her daughters for a change.
Besides, Noah was exactly the wrong person for her. Case in point, the frown her mother was giving her daughters as the last notes of the final song rang out.
“Surrender to me that which holds you fast, Let go of hate and fear, return to me at last.”
The words seemed especially apt given the uncertainty of the arena and her future.
Help me Lord, she prayed. Help me know what to do.
But no sooner had the prayer been formulated than her daughters scooted out of the pew and away from her.
She made a futile snatch at Millie’s sweater, but both girls were already in the aisle, pushing past people in their rush to get to, Shauntelle suspected, Noah and his mother.
By the time she caught up to them, the girls were sitting on either side of Mrs. Cosgrove’s chair.
“Is your leg better?”
“When will you be able to walk?”
“We sure like your house.”
“Can we come visit you?”
They were peppering her with questions, and Shauntelle fought down a flush of embarrassment at her daughters’ forthrightness.
“Millie, Margaret, let’s not pester Mrs. Cosgrove,” Shauntelle said, her voice firm, then she turned to Fay Cosgrove. “I’m sorry for my daughters’ rudeness,” she said. “They are overly interested in your recovery.”
Fay just smiled, patting Margaret’s hand. “That’s fine. I suspect I gave them quite a scare.” Fay looked past her to her son. “I think I gave Noah one as well.”
Shauntelle slanted a quick look Noah’s way, disconcerted to see him looking at her, his expression serious.
Then he turned his attention back to his mother. “Of course you gave us a scare,” he said. “As for your questions,” he said to the girls, “my mom will have to wear the cast for six to eight weeks. She has crutches that she uses to get around. But she’ll be okay.”
Shauntelle was thankful for the assurance Noah gave her daughters. She could see they were more relieved because of it.
“But you know what,” Mrs. Cosgrove was saying to the girls. “I missed you visiting yesterday. Maybe you should come again so we can talk more.”
“Yay. That would be fun.” Millie turned to her mother, her eyes bright with expectation. “Can we come today? They have horses.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Shauntelle said, giving her daughters a gentle tug, wondering how to shut this down without any pushback.
“But why not? We just got invited.” Millie pouted and pulled away, clearly upset with Shauntelle’s reply.
But Shauntelle was still holding her hand, and Millie’s sudden movement threw her off balance. Right toward Mrs. Cosgrove’s leg. She flailed her arms to avoid hitting her, and then a strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her away.
Noah held her closer than she liked, creating a curious mix of discomfort and assurance.
“Sorry,” he said, holding her flustered gaze as she struggled to regain her balance. “I thought you were going to fall against my mother.”
“I thought so too. Thanks for stopping me.” She finally got her feet under her, looking up at him, ready to pull away.
But in the dark brown depths of his eyes she saw an indefinable emotion. Regret? Sorrow?
She found herself unable to look away as it became suddenly harder to breathe. Her heart rolled over in her chest as the warmth of his arm registered.
He is responsible for your brother’s death.
Just then Owen Herne joined them, giving her a chance to reorient herself. Get herself emotionally as well as physically centered.
“How are you doing, Mrs. Cosgrove?” Owen was asking.
“Oh, I’ve been better,” she said, flashing a weak smile. “Millie, can you hand me my crutches?” she asked, her hand on the back of the chair to hold her balance.
Millie was only too happy to oblige.
“So I heard you need a contractor for the arena,” Mrs. Cosgrove was saying as she fitted the crutches under her arm.
“Yes. The guy we had hired quit on us.” Owen’s heavy sigh easily reflected Shauntelle’s own feelings about the situation.
“Noah’s a contractor, and he’s got to hang around for a while.” Mrs. Cosgrove turned to him. “Don’t you think this will be a perfect opportunity to help out the Rodeo Group?”
Shauntelle caught Noah’s narrowed eyes, and for a moment she felt sorry for him. His mother reminded her of her daughters. They liked to use public moments for their own agenda.
“Would you?” Owen asked. “I know I mentioned it before. It would be a lifesaver. We’ve got volunteers and some licensed guys, but we can’t do the work unless we have a general contractor. Which you are.”
“If you help, my mommy can get her restaurant,” Margaret put in, hanging on to his arm. “She really, really wants this restaurant. I heard her say so to my gramma, even though she thinks you’re an evil man.”
Shauntelle felt a very unwelcome flush warm her neck and cheeks. Seriously, what had gotten into her daughters? Since meeting Noah and his mother, they had lost all semblance of decorum.
She turned to Noah to apologize yet again when she caught a wry look creep across his face.
“Sounds like this might be a chance to redeem myself,” he said.
A Cowboy for the Twins Page 6