Daniel

by Amelia Adams

  He had to admit, he was still a little stunned by his father’s pronouncement that he’d be marrying this girl. Of course, he figured it was his turn—Adam, Benjamin, and Caleb had all gotten married over the last several weeks, and that was just how things went in their family. He just hadn’t anticipated that his girl would be so . . . so . . . He couldn’t even think of how to explain it. She’d just challenged one of the boys to a fight, for crying out loud! He’d never met anyone so gutsy—and so beautiful at the same time.

  Finally, he saw her motorcycle turn into the drive and head straight for the bunkhouse. He stood up. “Catch you later,” he said to his dad and brother, who were still chatting around the kitchen table. “I’ve got some apologies to make.”

  “Good luck,” Adam called out.

  Daniel shook his head. He had no doubt that he’d be needing that luck pretty badly.

  When he reached the bunkhouse, he knocked on the door that led into the cook’s quarters. She opened it immediately, but her face fell when her gaze landed on him. “Oh, hi,” she said, resting one arm on the doorframe. “I’m sorry about the whole fighting thing. You probably don’t allow that here.”

  “No, we don’t, but I didn’t come out here to lecture you,” Daniel said. “I actually wanted to tell you that you did a good job.”

  Her eyes flickered with interest, but she didn’t reply. He plunged on.

  “The boys here operate with a kind of pack mentality. There’s a leader and there are followers, and that’s how it’s always been for them. We teach them to choose good leaders and to become good leaders themselves as part of eventually becoming independent. You could have turned Z in, but that wouldn’t have taught him anything. Instead, you positioned yourself as a leader, and then showed him fairness. I don’t think any of us could have handled it better, and we’re all trained youth counselors. Have you had any training, by chance?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just did what felt right.”

  “Well, you’ve got great instincts.” He paused, wondering how to leap into this next uncomfortable bit of conversation. “I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior at lunch. I wasn’t feeling well and I was worried about one of the boys, and I’m afraid I might have seemed . . . absent.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Absent?”

  “Or something.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “What would you call it?”

  “Ornery. Resentful. Grinchlike.”

  Daniel smiled. “Grinchlike. Very fitting, considering the season.”

  “I thought so. I do have a few other adjectives as well, if you’d like me to share them.”

  “No, I think I get the picture.” He felt the tips of his ears turning red. “I was all those things, and I apologize. It had nothing to do with your delicious meal or anything about you.” Okay, that was a slight coloring of the truth—it had everything to do with the pain she carried inside her, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “May I take you to lunch tomorrow and spend several more minutes trying to dig myself out of this hole I’ve created?”

  “You mean I’d get to eat while listening to you grovel? Like, dinner and a show?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  She seemed to consider it, and then she grinned. “That’s a rather interesting offer. I’d say yes except for one thing—tomorrow’s my first official day, and I don’t know yet how long it will take me to prepare the meals here. I mean, I have a general guess, but where I’m memorizing the kitchen, I can’t promise anything, and I still need to look through the supplies on hand and come up with a menu.”

  Daniel felt a stab of disappointment. “So, that’s a no on lunch?”

  “That’s not a no. Why don’t you come here and eat? Then I can listen to you grovel and keep working. Sort of the best of both worlds, see.”

  “I see.” Daniel was relieved to see a glimmer of a sense of humor shining through her crusty exterior. “I’ll come over around noon, then.”

  “Perfect.”

  He turned to go, but then paused. “You realize, you being here isn’t an accident, don’t you?” Then he walked away, not sure why he’d felt the urge to say that, but just knowing that it was very important that it be said.

  ***

  It took Claire all of five minutes to hang up her clothes and toss her makeup bag into the bathroom. She set the small framed picture of her little sister on the nightstand, and her unpacking was done. After putting her suitcase in the closet, she decided she’d go make a list of the supplies in the bunkhouse kitchen so she could make a menu for the rest of the week.

  She rummaged through the kitchen drawers until she found one that held a bunch of pens and notepads, and she got to work taking inventory. Looked like these men enjoyed meat—she could totally handle that. She grabbed a bowl and rinsed some dry beans to set them soaking—she’d do her favorite recipe for chili. Then she moved on to the cupboards. She could get along quite well here for some time without having to restock anything but produce.

  She sat down to write out her menu, and by the time she should be heading up to the main house for dinner, she felt that she had a pretty good handle on things. If these men went hungry, it wouldn’t be her fault.

  She ran a brush through her hair, decided to change her shirt, and then left, pulling the door closed behind her. She suspected the lock was there for her own peace of mind more than anything—she couldn’t imagine the McClains hiring any shady characters on their ranch, and her biggest threat was probably the boys. Well, she’d already proven she could handle them. At any rate, she went ahead and locked up just in case there was something more going on, then tucked the key into her pocket.

  As she walked toward the house, which was well lit in the gathering twilight, she let herself think about Daniel McClain. She’d been avoiding thoughts of him all day, but she’d have to reason him out eventually. What was up with him? He acted like a total jerk during lunch, apologized like he was being forced into it, and then invited her to lunch like a real gentleman. Split personality, maybe? An artificial intelligence with faulty software? Whatever it was, he had a really great smile, once she’d finally been allowed to see it. Kind of bashful, but definitely charming. That was a dangerous combination. She’d have to stay on her toes with him. He’d already proven himself completely unpredictable.

  Chapter Five

  Daniel scowled down at the can of sloppy joe sauce he held. The boys had created this menu and Caleb had shopped for it before he moved out. Ordinarily, Daniel would have eaten it and not cared, but after tasting Claire’s recipe that afternoon, nothing would ever be good enough again.

  “Daniel!”

  He heard footsteps pounding down the hall. Grabbing a towel from the counter to wipe his hands, he met Christopher in the hallway just as the boy rounded the corner. “Daniel, you’ve gotta come. Hunter’s got a bad stomachache.”

  “All right. You get the hamburger started, okay?”

  “Sure. Just take care of Hunter. He’s really sick.”

  Daniel went down the hall, grabbing his bag from his bedroom before going into Hunter’s. The boy was lying on his side, curled up with his arms across his stomach. The other boys were gathered around him, concern on all their faces.

  “Hey, guys. Why don’t you head down and do your dinner jobs—I need a little room to breathe here.”

  “Sorry,” Jose said, and the boys filed out one by one. Ephraim entered a second later and took the other seat in the room.

  “Hunter, is it all right if I examine your stomach?” Daniel asked.

  Hunter nodded, and Daniel placed one hand on the boy’s abdomen. He immediately felt cramping in his midsection and some nausea. He braced himself for it to get worse—his other experiences with people’s pain that day had made him skittish—but the sickness didn’t get worse than that, and he breathed out with relief.

  “Did you eat anything different today?” he asked, moving his hand to rest on top of the appendix. No, that
was fine.

  Hunter shook his head.

  “What did you have for lunch at school?”

  “Meatloaf. And I had one of those microwave bacon cheeseburger things out of the freezer a little while ago.”

  Daniel chuckled. “School cafeteria meatloaf? No wonder you’re sick. That’ll do it to you every time.” He checked Hunter’s forehead for a temperature, then grabbed a bottle of Pepto-Bismol from his bag. “I’m going to give you some of this, and in a little while, you can have some ginger ale. You’ll probably start to feel better in about fifteen minutes, if the pink stuff does its job.”

  Hunter nodded, and obediently swallowed the medicine.

  Daniel casually rested his hand on the boy’s stomach again and asked his gift to work on behalf of all that was wrong or unwell in his body. As always, his hand grew a little warm, and he knew Hunter could feel it too, but he hoped he could pass it off as a side effect of the medicine. None of the boys knew of his gift.

  He pulled out the stomach pain and the nausea. Each of those symptoms passed over Daniel for a few seconds, and then they were gone.

  He smiled. “I’m going to have you rest for a little bit, okay? But we’ll check on you every few minutes and make sure you’re all right.”

  “Thanks, Daniel. I’m already feeling better—I just need a nap.”

  That was another common part of healing—Daniel was a little sleepy himself now. “Sounds like the best thing for you.”

  The two brothers stood and left the room. Daniel turned off the bedroom light, but left the door halfway open so they’d be able to hear Hunter if he called out.

  “Just food poisoning?” Ephraim asked when they reached the hall.

  Daniel shook his head. “I’m not sure. The meatloaf definitely made it worse, but it looks like this has been going on for a while, not just today.”

  “Like, weeks?”

  Daniel shook his head again. “Months. But it’s not irritable bowel syndrome . . . I’m going to need to research this.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Hey, Benjamin? Has Hunter been having problems with stomachaches lately?”

  His brother’s voice filled the receiver with a crackle. He must have been nearly out of range. “Yeah, he had one from time to time. Gave him Pepto—seemed to help.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Daniel hung up, a little frustrated that he hadn’t been consulted before. As a doctor in addition to being a counselor on the ranch, he’d be in a position to help care for the boy. But his irritation didn’t last long. Stomachaches weren’t often considered serious, and if it wasn’t for his gift, he wouldn’t have known there was anything more serious going on. He couldn’t expect his brothers to know the things he did—it’s not like he could grow plants or talk to animals.

  “Hey, dude, you’ve got to drain the hamburger before you add the sauce,” Nick said, his voice carrying down the hall.

  “I’ve never done this before! How am I supposed to know?” Tyler replied.

  “Duty calls,” Ephraim said with a chuckle, and the brothers headed into the kitchen to get things under control before the whole kitchen went up in smoke.

  ***

  “I didn’t know pancakes could taste so good,” Max said as he returned his plate to the kitchen. “Thanks for breakfast, Claire.”

  She grinned. She loved getting compliments on her cooking. “No problem. So, what have you been doing for food up until now? When did your last cook leave?”

  “About two months ago. She fell in love and got married.” Max laughed. “I can’t really blame her, though. Falling in love’s not so bad.”

  “Oh? Is there someone special in your life?” Claire had liked Max the minute she clapped eyes on him that morning—he was fun to tease.

  “Maybe.” He drawled out the word. “A waitress up in Idaho. What can I say—I’m a sucker for a woman in food service.” He laughed again.

  “That gives me hope, then. I’ve always wondered if I could ever meet someone while stuck in a kitchen.”

  “If you keep cooking like that, I think every man in here’s going to be proposing. Except me. I think I might be a little spoken for.”

  She grinned. “I won’t be too hurt if you don’t pop the question, then.”

  Each of the other men thanked her on their way out as well, grabbing the sack lunches she’d made up for them. She’d get the chili simmering, and then she’d mix up some bread and cookies for the freezer. She loved having things on hand she could just grab in case she ran out of time.

  She’d just added the spices to the chili when she heard a tap on the door. She looked up to see two men peeking their heads into the kitchen. They had to be McClains—the resemblance was undeniable.

  “Hi,” one of them said, taking a step inside. “I’m Gideon, and this is my brother Frank. Hope you don’t mind us stopping by—we just wanted a chance to introduce ourselves.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Come in.” She motioned toward the prep counter. “I’m just getting ahead on dinner.”

  “Smells really good.” Frank sniffed the air appreciatively. “Adam said you could cook, but I thought he was just being friendly because no one cooks like our mom. You might give her a run for her money.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Claire said, even though the compliment warmed her. Then something struck her. “Wait. Adam . . . and I met Daniel . . . and you’re Frank and Gideon? You wouldn’t by any chance have a Benjamin and a Caleb and an Ephraim around here someplace, would you?” That would just be too weird.

  “Um, yeah, we do,” Gideon replied with a smirk.

  Claire pointed a finger at Frank. “And is your name really Frank? Or is it short for something else?”

  Frank laughed. “It’s really Frank. My mother was a little mean to us, but she wouldn’t be that cruel.”

  “I just can’t believe it.” Claire shook her head. “Who would name their children after Seven Brides for Seven Brothers?”

  “Lillian McClain,” Gideon replied. “She does pretty much whatever she wants, and Dad lets her because . . . well, you’ve met my mother. Can you imagine telling her no?”

  Claire considered that. Lillian could probably convince anyone that not only was her idea awesome, but that no other idea could possibly be as much fun. She smiled. “No, I really can’t.”

  “It’s not like she wants to do bad things,” Frank clarified. “She just always has plans and projects and stuff like that going on.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you meant bad things.” Claire motioned to the stove. “Have you eaten breakfast? I just fed the men and was going to put away the leftovers, but if you’re hungry . . .”

  “We’re hungry,” Gideon said with a grin. “We eat breakfast with the boys before we put them on the bus, but we’re always hungry.”

  “Just part of being a McClain,” Frank added.

  She dished up plates for each of them, glad that she wouldn’t have to wrap up leftovers—she hated wrapping up leftovers. Then she washed the skillet and mixing bowls while they ate.

  “These eggs are my new girlfriend,” Frank said after one bite. “Hello, eggs, my darling. Where have you been all my life?”

  “Inside a chicken’s behind?” Gideon replied.

  Claire couldn’t help but snort when she heard that. She hadn’t hung out with men for a while—she’d forgotten how they could make her laugh and shake her head at the same time.

  “So, are your other brothers going to stop by too?” she asked.

  “Probably. Especially after we tell them how good the food is. I mean, they’ll want to meet you too, of course, but mostly the food.” Gideon finished the rest of his food, stood, and rinsed off his plate. “Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got some errands in town before the boys get back.”

  “Me too.” Frank gave Claire a slight slug to the shoulder. “Welcome aboard.”

  She shook her head as she watched them leave. Their short visit really had made her feel welcome. For a second, she wondered what it would
be like to have brothers—any brothers at all. It didn’t have to be seven of them.

  She laughed out loud as she pulled eggs and butter from the fridge. Naming your children after movie characters . . . Her foster mother had loved old Hollywood classics, and she’d watch them for hours a day. “Bless her beautiful hide . . .” Claire began to sing as she plugged in the electric mixer. If they were going to have a barn raising, she’d better get the cookies ready for it.

  Chapter Six

  Daniel smoothed down his hair before entering the bunkhouse kitchen. Now that he’d made his apologies and they were mostly accepted, it was time to get to know this woman, and maybe even make friends with her. He’d save wooing until later—much later. Trust had to be gained first, and he’d messed up so badly, he didn’t know how long it was going to take. Adam, Benjamin, and Caleb had all gotten married within weeks of finding their wives—he’d be the odd man out, he was sure.

  When he walked inside, he saw two sack lunches and two water bottles set out on one of the tables, but he didn’t see Claire anywhere. He followed the sound of running water and found her standing in front of the sink, washing a few dishes. He waited until she turned off the water, not wanting to startle her, and said, “Hi.”

  She turned to face him. “Hi. You’re right on time.”

  “I like being punctual.”

  “That’s good. I like it too.” She grabbed a dishtowel and wiped her hands, then nodded toward the dining room. “Shall we?”

  He took a seat across from her and motioned at the sack lunches. “What are we having?”

  “Ham and Swiss with garlic mayonnaise, chips, and cookies.”

  “Garlic mayonnaise? Sounds good.” He opened his sack and pulled out the contents. “I’m a little surprised, though. I thought . . .”