by Donna Alward
“Oh, we’ll be fine. Does it matter which rooms we take?”
“One of the two smaller ones at the end of the hall would probably be best for your son,” he replied. “My sister Liz’s pink room probably wouldn’t suit him. The other is still a bit girly, but at least it’s not pink. You can take the one on the other side.” The master bedroom, the one that had been his parents.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take the pink room? The other is…” she paused. She remembered the look on his face when he’d opened the door, but had no idea how to ask why it hurt him so much. “The other is so big,” she said.
Luke tried not to think of Emily in his parents’ room, covered with the ivory chenille spread that had been on the bed as long as he could remember. He had never been able to bring himself to change rooms, instead staying in the one he’d had since childhood. Nor did he want Sam there. But Emily…somehow she fit. She’d be caring and respectful.
“The room has been empty a long time. You may as well use it. The other is so small. It’s just a room, Emily. No reason why you shouldn’t sleep in it.”
But it wasn’t “just a room”, and as he looked down into her dark gaze, he got the idea she understood even without the details.
“Mr. Evans, I don’t know how to thank you. This means a lot to me…to us.”
Her eyes were so earnest, and he wondered what was behind them. Clearly she was a single mom and things had to be bad if she accepted a short-term position like his and was so obviously happy about it. She hadn’t even attempted to negotiate salary.
“What brought you here? I mean…you’re obviously a single mother.” No husband to be found and insistent on the Ms. instead of Mrs. No wedding ring either, but he saw the slight indentation on her finger where one had lived. “Recently divorced?”
The pleasant smile he’d enjoyed suddenly disappeared from her mouth. “Does it matter if I’m divorced?”
He stepped back. “Not at all. I was just curious.”
“You don’t strike me as the curious type.”
He hoped he didn’t blush. She had him dead to rights and she knew it. He had always been the stay-out-of-others’-business-and-they’ll-stay-out-of-yours type.
“Pardon me,” he replied coolly.
But her lack of answers only served to make him wonder more what had truly brought her here. What circumstances had led Emily Northcott and her son to his doorstep?
“Yes,” she relented, “I’m divorced. Sam’s father is living in British Columbia. I’m just trying to make a living and raise my son, Mr. Evans.”
She was a mom. She had baggage, if the white line around her finger and the set of her lips were any indication. It all screamed off limits to him. He should just nod and be on his way. Instead he found himself holding out his hand, scrubbed clean of the earlier grease, with only a telltale smidge remaining in his cuticles.
“Luke. Call me Luke.”
The air in the room seemed to hold for a fraction of a second as she slid her hand out of her pocket and towards his. Then he folded the slim fingers within his, the connection hitting him square in the gut. Two dots of color appeared on Emily’s cheeks, and it looked as though she bit the inside of her lip.
Not just him then. As if things weren’t complicated enough.
“Luke,” she echoed softly, and a warning curled through him at the sound of her voice. He had to keep his distance. This was probably a huge mistake. But where would they go if he denied her the job? What were they running from? He wanted to know everything but knew that asking would only mean getting closer. And getting close—to anyone—was not an option. Not for him.
He was already in over his head. The fields and barns were the place for him, and he would let Emily Northcott sort out her own family. She could just get on with doing her job.
He had enough to handle with his own.
CHAPTER THREE
THE REST OF the day passed in a blur. Emily began her cleaning upstairs in the rooms that she and Sam would occupy. Sam helped as best as a five-year-old boy could, helping change the sheets, dusting and Emily put him to work putting his clothes in the empty dresser while she moved on to her room. It was late afternoon when she was done and continued on to the kitchen, putting the dry dishes away before tackling the new dirty ones and searching the freezer for something to make for supper. The baked pork chops, rice and vegetables were ready for six o’clock; she held the meal until six-thirty and finally ate with Sam while Luke remained conspicuously absent. It wasn’t until she and Sam were picking at the blueberry cobbler she’d baked for dessert that Luke returned.
He took one look at the dirty supper dishes and his face hardened.
Emily clenched her teeth. What did he expect? They couldn’t wait all night, and she’d held it as long as was prudent. As it was, the vegetables had been a little mushy and the cream of mushroom sauce on the chops had baked down too far.
“We didn’t know how long you’d be,” she said quietly, getting up to move the dirty dishes and to fix Luke a plate. “We decided to go ahead.”
“You didn’t need to wait for me at all.” He went to the sink to wash his hands.
Emily bit the inside of her lip. Granted, dinnertime with the surly Luke Evans wasn’t all that appealing, but it seemed rude to discount having a civil meal together at all. Still she was new here and the last thing she wanted was to get off on the wrong foot. She picked up a clean plate, filled it with food and popped it into the microwave. In her peripheral vision she could see Sam picking at his cobbler, staring into his bowl. He could sense the tension, and it made Emily even more annoyed. He’d had enough of that when things had got bad between her and Rob. The last thing she wanted was to have him in a less-than-friendly situation again.
“Eating together is a civil thing to do,” she replied as the microwave beeped. “Plus the food is best when it’s fresh and hot.”
“You don’t need to go to any bother,” he replied, taking the plate and sitting down at the table. Sam’s gaze darted up and then down again. Was he not even going to acknowledge her son?
Perhaps what Luke Evans needed was a refresher course in manners and common courtesy.
She resumed her seat, picked up her fork and calmly said, “I wasn’t planning on running a short-order kitchen.”
“I didn’t realize I was nailed down to a specific dinner time. I am running a farm here, you know.”
Sam’s eyes were wide and he held his spoon with a purple puddle of blueberries halfway between the bowl and his mouth. Emily spared him a glance and let out a slow breath.
“Of course you are, and I did hold the meal for over half an hour. Maybe we should have simply communicated it better. Set a basic time and if you’re going to be later, you can let me know.”
“I’m not used to a schedule.”
Emily looked at Sam and smiled. “You’re excused, Sam. Why don’t you go upstairs and put on your pajamas?”
Obediently Sam pushed out his chair and headed for the stairs.
Luke paused in his eating. “He listens to you well.”
Now that Sam was gone Emily wasn’t feeling so generous. “He has been taught some manners,” she replied, the earlier softness gone from her voice. “Eating together is the civilized thing to do. Respecting that I may have gone to the trouble to cook a nice meal would go a long way. And acknowledging my son when you sit at the table would be polite, rather than acting as though he doesn’t exist.”
Luke’s fork hit his plate. “I hired you to be a housekeeper, not Miss Manners.”
“I’m big on courtesy and respect, Mr. Evans. No matter who or what the age. If you don’t want to eat with us, say so now. I’ll plan for Sam and I to eat by ourselves and you can reheat your meal whenever it suits you. But I’d prefer if we settled it now so we don’t have any more confusion.”
For several seconds the dining room was quiet, and then Luke replied, “As long as you understand there may be times when I’m in th
e middle of something, I will make every attempt to observe a regular dinner hour.”
“I appreciate it.”
“And I didn’t mean to ignore your son.”
“He has feelings, too, Mr. Evans. And since his father left, it is easy for him to feel slighted.”
Luke picked at the mound of rice on his plate. “I didn’t think of that.”
“You don’t know us yet,” Emily responded, feeling her annoyance drain away. Luke looked suitably chastised, and she couldn’t help the smile that she tried to hide. She’d seen that look on Sam’s face on occasion, and it melted her anger.
“Look, I put in an effort for our first dinner here. I might have gotten a bit annoyed that you weren’t here to eat it.”
Luke lifted his head and met her eyes. Her heart did a weird thump, twisting and then settling down to a slightly faster rhythm, it seemed.
“I have lived alone a long time,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it. You might need to be patient with me.”
“Maybe we all need to be patient,” she replied, and he smiled at her. A genuine smile, not the tense tight one from this afternoon. The twist in her heart went for another leap again and she swallowed.
“There’s cobbler,” she said, a peace offering.
“Thank you, Emily,” he answered.
She went to the kitchen to get it, hearing the way he said her name echoing around in her brain. She’d fought her battle and won. So why did she feel as if she was in a lot of trouble?
After the supper mess was cleaned up, Luke went out to the barns and Emily put Sam to bed, following him in short order. She was exhausted. She vaguely heard the phone ringing once, but Luke answered it and the sound of the peepers and the breeze through the window lulled her back to sleep.
But the early night meant early to rise, and Emily heard Luke get up as the first pale streaks of sunlight filtered through the curtains. The floorboards creaked by the stairs and she checked her watch…did people really get up this early? She crept out of bed and tiptoed down the hall, looking in on Sam.
He looked so much younger—more innocent, if that were possible—in slumber. He wasn’t a baby any longer, but it didn’t change the tender feeling that rushed through her looking at his dark eyelashes and curls. He was so good, so loving. So trusting. She didn’t want what had happened with his father to change that about him. It was up to her to make sure he had a good life. A happy life. She was determined. He would never doubt how much she loved him. He would always know that she would be there for him.
Back in her room, she slid into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, moving as quietly as possible. She wanted to get an early start. Make a decent breakfast and get a load of laundry going so she could hang it out on the clothesline. The very idea was exciting, and she laughed a little at herself. Who knew something as simple as fresh-smelling clothes off the line would give her such pleasure? Despite Luke’s reticence, despite getting off on the wrong foot last night at dinner, she was more convinced than ever that she’d done the right thing. She’d taken him on and he hadn’t given her the boot. She’d be the best housekeeper Luke Evans ever had. And when she got her feet beneath her, it would be time to start thinking about the future.
She was beating pancake batter in a bowl when Luke returned from the barn, leaving his boots on the mat and coming into the kitchen in his stocking feet. Emily had found a cast-iron pan and it was already heating on the burner. He stopped and stared at her for a moment, long enough that she began to feel uncomfortable and her spoon moved even faster through the milky batter.
“I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”
“I heard you leave a while ago. I wanted to get an early start.” She dropped a little butter in the pan and ladled a perfectly round pancake in the middle of it. “You’re just in time for the first pancakes.” She was glad he was here. Now he’d get them fresh and hot from the pan, better proof of her cooking abilities than the reheated dinner of last evening. She wasn’t opposed to hard work, and it felt good having a purpose, something to do. It was just a taste of how it would feel when she got a permanent job and could provide for herself and for Sam.
“Lately I’ve been grabbing a bowl of cereal. Pancakes are a treat. Thank you, Emily.”
His polite words nearly made her blush as she remembered how she’d taken him to task for his manners at their last meal. She focused on turning the pancake, the top perfectly golden brown. “I’m glad you get to enjoy them fresh, rather than warmed up, like last night’s supper.” She flipped the pancake onto a plate and began frying another. “Besides, when you sleep in you miss the best part of the day, I think.”
She wanted to ask him if this was his regular breakfast time but held back, not wanting to harp on a dead topic. Still, she felt as if she should already know, which was ridiculous. How could she possibly know his routine, his preferences?
Everything about Luke Evans was throwing her off balance and she was having to think and double-think every time she wanted to ask him something, measure her words, trying hard to say the right thing and not the first thing that came to her mind.
“What time do you want lunch?”
“I’m used to just grabbing a sandwich when I come in.”
She put down the spatula. “A sandwich? But a working man can’t live on a sandwich for lunch!”
He laughed then, a real laugh aimed at her open-mouthed look of dismay, she realized. She picked up the spatula again, trying to ignore the light that kindled in his eyes as he laughed. When Luke was grumpy, she wished he were nicer. But when he was nice, something inside her responded and she wished for his sterner side again. She didn’t want to have those sorts of reactions. She wasn’t interested in romance or flirting. She didn’t know how, not after so many years with one man. She was never going to put herself in a position to be hurt like that again either. She deserved more. So did Sam.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“You sound like my sisters. They both fuss and flutter. I haven’t starved yet, though.”
The awkwardness had seemed to fade away between them, but what arose in its place was a different kind of tension. It made her want to hold her breath or glance over and see if he was watching her. She couldn’t help it—she did, and he was. His blue gaze was penetrating, and she had the simultaneous thoughts that his eyes were too beautiful for a man and that she wished he still wore his hat so they would be at least a bit shadowed.
She handed him the plate of pancakes, taking care to make sure their fingers never touched. “Fresh from the pan.”
“They smell delicious. And about lunch… I try to come in around noon, when the boys take their break. Sometimes when I’m haying I take my lunch with me though. I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Emily bit her lip and turned back to her pancakes, feeling a warmth spread through her. His tone at the end had held a little hint of teasing, no malice in it at all. She could nearly hear the echo of Rob’s angry voice in her head, telling her to stop nagging. She had told herself his leaving had been out of the blue, but things hadn’t been right for a while before he left. He had complained about her always trying to tie him down to a schedule. She hadn’t. But she’d taken pride in her “job”. She loved it when they all sat down together. It had been a bone of contention between them that they didn’t eat dinner as a family. Since he’d left she’d made it a point to sit with Sam over dinner and talk about their favorite parts of the day.
But Luke wasn’t her family, he was her boss. “It’s your house,” she said quietly. “I overstepped last night. Whenever you want your meals, I’ll make sure they’re on the table. That is what you pay me for, right?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“You got all…meek all of a sudden. If you want something, Emily, just ask. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.”
She swallowed. Had she become so used to tiptoeing around Rob that she’d forgotten how good honesty and
straight-talking felt? She took a breath. “Okay. It would be helpful if I knew what time you’d like your meals so I can plan around them.”
His chair scraped against the floor as he rose, came forward and reached around her for the maple syrup. His body was close—too close. When she sucked in a breath, she smelled the clean scent of his soap mixed with a hint of leather and horses. Oh, my. Heat crept into her cheeks.
“Was that so hard?” he asked.
Her brain scrambled to remember what they’d been talking about. Oh, yes. The timing of meals. “Um…no?”
He retrieved the syrup and moved away while Emily wilted against the counter.
“I’ll try to let you know when I plan to be in,” he said, pouring syrup over his pancakes. “You were right, so don’t apologize. It’s just business courtesy, that’s all.” Luke dismissed it with a wave and picked up his fork.
Just business. He was right, and Emily felt chagrined at her earlier behavior. She was far too aware of him and he was her boss. Why shouldn’t she simply ask questions? She would of any other employer.
“I have to run into town this morning to pick up a part for the baler. I’ll make a stop at the hospital, too, I guess. Cait and Joe had a baby girl last night. Anyway, if there’s anything you need, I can get it while I’m there.”
A baby! He said it as blandly as he might have said Rain is forecast for today, and it left Emily confused. What was she missing? She remembered the first moments of holding Sam in her arms after his birth, and despite Luke’s tepid response she knew his sister and brother-in-law had to be over the moon. As brother and uncle, he should be, too. “A girl! Lovely! They must be so happy.”
Luke went to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup, then took down another and held it out, asking her if she wanted some. She nodded, wondering why he wasn’t excited about the baby. After his reaction to Sam yesterday, she was beginning to think her assessment that he didn’t like children was dead-on. “Is everyone healthy?” she asked, hoping there were no complications.