by Mindy Neff
‘‘Speaking of Nikki, I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night and then overslept this morning.’’
‘‘No problem. You looked as though you needed the rest.’’
She remembered waking up between the covers, knew he would have had to lift her to get her there, knew that those large, gentle hands had taken off her shoes, touched her skin. And she hadn’t even been awake to appreciate it.
‘‘Nonetheless, I’ve never been so irresponsible on the first day of a job in my life.’’ Impulsively she stood on tiptoe and brushed his cheek with a kiss.
The left one.
She wanted to press her lips to that scar on his right side, but knew he would jerk and shy just like that troubled stallion had.
‘‘Thank you for taking care of me.’’
He shrugged, and for the first time since she’d met him, he wouldn’t hold her gaze. ‘‘My pleasure.’’
With a hand barely touching her back, he steered her away from the paddock. Just that fleeting brush of his fingertips, she realized, and he’d guided her as surely as a dance instructor might guide a student. His presence alone surrounded her, swept her along beside him.
She shook her head, decided her blood count must be dropping again and her brain was becoming muddled. Why else would she dwell on Stony Stratton’s power of silent communication? If that’s what it was.
Regardless, the quiet man beside her made her nerve endings hum.
She cleared her throat. ‘‘Where is Nikki?’’
‘‘Over in the stables with Demone.’’
Realizing they were heading in that direction, Eden watched the ranch activity going on all around them. Two horses were hooked to what looked like a giant pinwheel-shaped clothesline, walking contentedly in a circle, necks bowed and heads pointed downward as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Another was in a round corral, a cowboy atop it. With its russet-colored coat gleaming in the July sun, the horse ran full-out, then suddenly skidded to a halt and spun around like a tightly wound ballerina on a music box.
‘‘My gosh, that’s so beautiful. How do y’all get them to do that?’’
‘‘Practice. Trust.’’
The way he looked at her when he said trust made her squirm. It was as though he knew she was holding something back and asking her to trust him.
He didn’t know how very much she did trust, how much she’d had to trust him in order to come here.
But she needed a little more time before she confided in him.
They stepped from the summer heat into the cool, shaded interior of the stables. The smell of animals, fresh hay and leather mingled together, creating its own special aroma. Stalls lined the wide concrete aisle, some standing open as men raked out soiled straw and forked in a clean layer.
She saw Nikki come out of the tack room, a plump, tiger-striped cat draped in her arms, Rosie trotting along beside her.
‘‘Is that dog her bodyguard or her partner in crime?’’ she asked.
‘‘A little of both,’’ Stony said.
Eden stopped him with a hand on his arm. Nikki was so caught up in her conversation with the animals as she went into one of the open stalls, she hadn’t yet seen them.
‘‘How can you be around that little girl and not be smiling all the time?’’
He frowned. ‘‘I do smile.’’
‘‘When?’’
‘‘Now.’’
‘‘You’re kidding.’’ With a laugh, she spied a dusty mirror hanging on the wall over a bench seat and turned him toward it.
She knew instantly that he didn’t want to look. Muscles rigid with tension flexed beneath her palms.
Now it was her turn to frown.
He spun around, away from the mirror. ‘‘I know what my face looks like.’’
She couldn’t believe it. This man actually believed he was unattractive. Who would have told him that? Made him believe it?
‘‘Stony—’’
‘‘I need to get back to work.’’
She let out her breath in a sigh. It looked as though neither one of them was ready to extend any trust.
‘‘Are there things I need to know? About the job,’’ she clarified when his narrowed eyes made it clear he thought she was trying to pry into his personal life. ‘‘Schedules and such.’’
His shoulders relaxed some, and when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed just above the brown bandanna tied at his throat. The movement nearly derailed Eden’s thoughts.
He tugged his hat lower on his brow, the right side dipping slightly more than the left. Habit, she noted. Caused by a wound. A wound not on the surface, but etched on his heart.
‘‘Nikki’s pretty self-reliant. She’s been on the ranch and around the animals since she was a baby. But she’s got a keen curiosity, and although every man on the ranch watches out for her when she’s around the horses and equipment, sometimes she slips out of our sight.’’
Eden nodded. ‘‘So Aunt Lottie and Uncle Ray made it a point to accompany her when she went outdoors.’’
‘‘Not always. They had things to do, also. We just need a heads-up if she comes out by herself.’’
‘‘Got it. Notify the team on duty.’’ She ignored his skeptical look. She adored kids and they adored her. She just didn’t know how much freedom or supervision a five-year-old needed. That’s why she was asking, for goodness sake.
‘‘What about meals? So far I’ve counted six men out here working. Do you all eat together, and if so, are there set times?’’
‘‘I’ve got eight men working with me, but they take care of their own meals. Their housing is over in the west section—the gray building you passed on the way in yesterday.’’
Eden actually felt relief. Although she’d catered parties of five hundred, her energy level lately wasn’t what it used to be. The limitations annoyed her, made her heart ache if she dwelled on it.
‘‘Okay. Anything else? Ballet lessons? Slumber parties scheduled?’’
‘‘No lessons. Hannah Malone sometimes brings her son, Ian, over to play, or Nikki goes over to their ranch. At five she doesn’t have a real active social life,’’ he said dryly.
Eden grinned. ‘‘Okay, no making fun. I’m trying to get the lay of the land here. I thought I had asked Aunt Lottie all the pertinent questions, but I realize I forgot some important points.’’ Domestic ones. Housekeeping-nanny ones. She’d mainly asked her aunt about Stony Stratton.
Stony shrugged. ‘‘We live a pretty simple life out here. I’ll take you into town if you like, introduce you around, show you where to get groceries and stuff.’’
‘‘Oh, I can handle that myself. I stopped on my way in, anyway. Besides, I mingle well, never have had any trouble meeting folks.’’
‘‘Right. I suppose your line of business is pretty social.’’
She grinned. ‘‘I could probably talk a magpie off a fence if I put my mind to it.’’
Stunned, delighted, she watched his lips curve ever so slightly. She held her breath, waited for him to go all the way, frustrated when he didn’t.
It was a start, though. A wonderful start. This man needed to smile. To laugh. And she intended to see to it that he did.
Perhaps that could be her gift to him before she left.
Eden couldn’t imagine what she would do if she couldn’t laugh. Laughter kept away the doom, reminded a person that hope was always possible.
‘‘Okay,’’ she said. ‘‘Two for meals—’’
‘‘Three.’’
‘‘Who’s the third?’’
‘‘You.’’
‘‘Oh. Of course.’’ She’d hoped that was the case but didn’t want to presume too much. ‘‘And these meals take place at what time?’’
‘‘We don’t have a rigid schedule. I’m usually in the kitchen at five—’’
‘‘In the morning?’’ Horror sneaked into her voice before she could check it.
His brows winged up. ‘‘Yes. Is that a
problem?’’
‘‘No, of course not.’’Yes, a big one. She wasn’t a crack-of-dawn, early-riser type to begin with, but more distressing was that lately she wasn’t always so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed even later in the morning. Then again, the afternoons and evenings often gave her trouble, too.
She fixed a competent look on her face, one she’d learned early on in business. Always project confidence. Never let on that you don’t know the recipe. Smile and fake it.
‘‘And supper time?’’
‘‘I’m usually back in by six. But you don’t have to worry about me. I can get along fine. It’s just Nikki that you have to take care of.’’
She gave him back one of the long, quiet looks he was so fond of giving her. ‘‘Did Aunt Lottie only fix meals for Nikki?’’
He shook his head.
‘‘There you go, then. Supper for three at six. Anything else? Special plans for the Fourth of July?’’
‘‘Yes. I’d forgotten. There’s a picnic after church this Sunday and fireworks when it gets dark. Then…’’ He rubbed his brow. ‘‘What day does the actual holiday fall on?’’
‘‘Tuesday.’’
‘‘Right. Lottie used to keep all those details straight for me.’’
‘‘And now you have me.’’ She hadn’t meant the words to come out so suggestively.
Stony swallowed hard. ‘‘Tuesday the neighbors are getting together in the evening at Brewer’s Saloon in town.’’
She glanced away, saw Nikki tiptoeing out of the stall, the cat no longer in her arms, the black Irish setter—her partner in crime—right on her heels.
She looked back at Stony and noticed that he’d seen the little girl, too.
‘‘I ought to go investigate that, don’t you think?’’
‘‘Probably. One of us should.’’
‘‘I’ll go. It’s my job.’’ She started to move away, then paused. ‘‘Is the picnic after church the kind where everyone brings a dish, or is each family responsible for their food?’’
‘‘I’m not sure.’’
He looked so confused she had to smile. ‘‘I’ll find out and make sure that you show up with the right thing.’’
‘‘We.’’
‘‘Excuse me?’’
‘‘We show up. In a town like this, nobody misses a get-together. If you’re sticking around, I imagine they’ll plan a welcoming social in your honor.’’
‘‘For a housekeeper?’’
‘‘For anyone who comes to town, regardless of how long they plan to stay.’’
‘‘I’ll be staying awhile.’’
He studied her for several unnerving minutes. ‘‘I can’t imagine why you’d be happy way out here on a ranch like this. We’re not exactly a hopping metropolis.’’
‘‘Maybe I’m not looking for a hopping metropolis.’’
‘‘What are you looking for?’’
She took a breath, wondered how she could answer him honestly without pushing, without blowing it. ‘‘A chance. A different direction.’’
He stepped forward, brushed a thumb over the fragile skin beneath her eye. ‘‘A chance to heal?’’
She sucked in a breath. Did he know? Did he read her soul the way he read the horses? She put her hand over his, nearly told him what she wanted, what she needed.
Desperately.
‘‘You see a lot, don’t you?’’ she whispered.
He pulled his hand from hers as though he’d forgotten he’d been the one to touch first, as though he had no idea how his hand had gotten joined with hers in the first place.
‘‘It’s hard to miss those dark circles under your eyes.’’
She shrugged, bit her lower lip, was on the verge of blurting out her problems.
Not on the first day, Eden. Be patient.
‘‘I’m fine.’’
It looked as if he intended to debate that statement. In the end he simply nodded. ‘‘Take it slow.’’
Chapter Three
When Eden was nervous or had a lot on her mind, she cooked. And although she’d been assigned by Vera Tillis—who was handling the food organization for the potluck—to fry up some chicken, Eden had also whipped up an apricot cake, a lemon soufflé, three dozen double-chocolate brownies, a marinated vegetable salad and a platter of deviled eggs.
It was a direct result of not being able to sleep the night before, of too many thoughts marching through her brain.
Even after several hours, the scent of baking still lingered on the air, and Eden felt the pull of lethargy from lack of rest. Not smart, she chided herself. Low hemoglobin levels were doing a fine job of zapping her energy. Adding insomnia to the list was guaranteed to knock her on her behind.
She grabbed a fistful of vitamins, downed them with some lukewarm tea, then turned, intending to wake Nikki and get her ready for church.
She gave a startled squeak when she saw Stony standing in the kitchen doorway. For such a big man, he was awfully quiet. Both verbally and on his feet.
His gaze skimmed over her broomstick skirt and button-front cotton shirt, then shifted to the array of food artfully arranged in bowls and on platters.
‘‘Looks like you got double duty on the food assignments.’’
Eden sighed. ‘‘Actually I was only supposed to bring fried chicken. Then I found myself making a cake, and once I looked at it I realized it certainly wouldn’t go far at a town celebration, so I made the souffle´, and then things kind of snowballed from there.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘When it comes to cooking, I tend to get carried away.’’
‘‘If it tastes any way near as good as it smells, it’ll be gone in minutes.’’
‘‘Do you think so?’’
His brows lifted. ‘‘A caterer needing reassurance on her cooking?’’
‘‘Most of the time, no. I’m usually catering for clients and it’s planned right down to the color and fold of the napkins. This is different.’’ She fiddled with the round cake plate, realigned it with the soufflé. ‘‘Kind of like a new artist standing beside her work at her first gallery showing. It’s personal.’’ She wanted these people to like her.
She wanted Stony to like her.
‘‘If you’re wondering how your reviews will come in, I can tell you they’ll be five-star.’’
‘‘Without even tasting it?’’
‘‘I know the people. I know what I smell.’’
She chose a brownie off the platter, moved toward him and held it up to his lips. ‘‘I’m nervous. Aunt Lottie’s shoes are hard to fill. Taste.’’
Stony opened his mouth, felt his stomach flip when she licked her lips, opening her mouth, too, unconsciously mimicking his moves. Her finger touched his lips, and his mind went blank.
‘‘Well?’’
She was waiting for approval. He had no idea what he’d eaten. ‘‘Delicious.’’
‘‘Good. I feel better now.’’
It took every ounce of his control to step back from her. ‘‘I hope you had Vera put the cake mixes and supplies on my account.’’
‘‘Shame on you. I don’t use cake mixes.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
She whirled back to him. ‘‘Why? Did it taste like I did? You weren’t being truthful, were you?’’ She stared at the food laid out on the table, waiting to be wrapped up or packed in ice and loaded in the car, looking as though she wished she had time to start over.
‘‘I’m always truthful, Eden.’’
The way he said her name made shivers go down her spine. He said it softly, subtly, distinctly, in that slow, deep voice. She was beginning to anticipate his mannerisms. A direct look, a pause as though weighing and choosing words.
She blinked. All that over the simple use of her name. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been this nervous, and she was determined to cut it out.
She cleared her throat. ‘‘I should go wake Nikki.’’
‘‘I did it on my way down.’’
‘‘Then I�
��ll make sure she’s dressed.’’
‘‘Did that, too.’’
Then what do you need me for? She didn’t dare ask the question. She might not like the answer. And in truth, she was the one who needed him.
‘‘Well, then. We know I can cook, so I’ll get to it.’’ She held up a hand. ‘‘And don’t even try to talk me out of it. Nothing’s more embarrassing than growling stomachs in church.’’ She took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter, then tied an apron around her waist. ‘‘Usually happens right during that silent pause between the last word of the prayer and ‘amen.’ Sit down.’’ She paused, shot him a look. ‘‘Unless you’ve got something else to do?’’
He sat at the table. ‘‘Already done. So when did you do all this cooking? You weren’t up when I went out this morning.’’
‘‘You went out?’’
‘‘The horses still like to eat, even on Sundays.’’
‘‘Oh. Of course.’’ With one hand she cracked eggs in a bowl, then slid a package of sausage in the skillet and grated some cheese. ‘‘I had trouble sleeping last night.’’
‘‘Something wrong with the room?’’
‘‘Oh, no. It’s perfect.’’ From the refrigerator she took the pan of cinnamon rolls she’d also mixed up last night and popped them in the oven. ‘‘I guess it’s being in a new place. Adjusting.’’
His direct look seemed to say that was a pretty lame excuse—especially given the way she’d zonked out and slept like the dead her first night here.
Thankfully, he didn’t voice the apparent thought.
EDEN UNDERSTOOD why Aunt Lottie loved this town. The people were wonderfully warm and truly, genuinely delighted to welcome her.
As they laid out the food on long folding tables behind the church, Eden couldn’t help but wonder if Aunt Lottie had told any of the ladies her purpose for coming to Shotgun Ridge. It seemed odd that her aunt wouldn’t have confided in somebody, that a close-knit group like this wouldn’t ferret out the reason a longtime resident had up and left on vacation the way Lottie and Ray had.
Actually, Lottie and Ray were staying in Eden’s house in Dallas. They’d traded residences.
‘‘This is a fine-looking spread. You bet.’’