“Yes, Ma.” Cody put the kitten in its padded box bed. “Stay put,” he whispered, rubbing its little head before he hurried down the hall to the bathroom.
“Cats in the kitchen,” Grandma Florence said. “Never heard of such a thing.” Ryder steered her wheelchair to the table.
“You staying for dinner?” Annabeth asked him as she set another place. At this distance it was hard to miss the bandage around his wrist and the dark, greenish-yellow smudge on his brow. “What happened?” She didn’t know which was worse: fighting or bull riding. She wasn’t a fan of either, but Ryder was Ryder.
“Bull wanted me to get better acquainted with the wall of the arena. So I obliged and flew straight into the pipes.” He held up his wrist. “Just a sprain. Almost healed up now.” Ryder cocked an eyebrow, his crooked smile doing a number on her. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”
She sighed, loudly. He laughed.
“Did it h-hurt?” Cody asked, staring at his wrist.
“Nah.” Ryder shook his head. “After breaking my collarbone, this was nothing.”
She remembered visiting him in the hospital then. “You were in so much pain.”
“Your lemon bars helped,” he answered, with a wink.
“I imagine the pain meds did, too.” She shook her head.
“Ma’s l-lem-mon bars are great,” Cody agreed.
“Totally.” Ryder nodded, sitting at the table. “And, since you’re asking so nicely, I’d love to stay for dinner.”
“Ma,” Cody sat. “Can I take T-T-Tom for show-and-tell?”
“Tom, huh?” Ryder asked, serving Florence some spaghetti.
Cody nodded, watching Ryder.
“Good name.” Ryder nodded at the boy.
And, just like that, her son was grinning from ear to ear. She loved to see him smile like that, as if he was a carefree five-year-old. “We can’t take animals to school, baby.” She grinned at him, cutting up Grandma Florence’s spaghetti. “But you can take in a few pictures if you want.”
Cody nodded. “’Kay.”
“Lady Blue’s ready. Parts came earlier this week,” Ryder said around a mouthful of spaghetti. “She’s purring like a kitten—” He winked at Cody. “Good as new.”
“Great.” She poked at the pasta on her plate. If Lady Blue was ready, then so was the bill. She still had almost twenty thousand to pay off on Grandma Florence’s last hospital stay. But she’d figure something out. She always did. “Guess it’s a little harder to work with an injured hand?”
“Not really. I’m good with both my hands.” His words made her warm all over.
“How’s Mags, Teddy?” Grandma Florence asked Ryder. Teddy was Ryder’s father, Mags his mom.
“She’s fine, Flo.” Ryder didn’t miss a beat.
“You tell her I’m still waiting on her chicken pie recipe. That recipe...” Florence sighed and shook her head.
Dinner conversation flowed. Ryder had funny stories from his latest rodeo stint, how his cowboy hat had a hole “clean through it” after getting hooked by a bull. Somehow he managed to make his almost serious injury into a comedy. Cody could hardly wait to show Ryder the model car he was building. And Grandma Florence told them that there was a flasher running around the retirement home.
Sunday nights were her favorite. She didn’t let herself think about the next day, the stress she was feeling—she tried not to.
She’d spent the past year being the principal Stonewall Crossing needed, and hopefully that was enough for the school board. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that her assistant principal Ken Branson knew the right people, had money, and a wife and kids. He was the total package. And serious competition for the job—if he applied.
She realized Ryder was watching her and shrugged off her worries. Her worries would keep until the company was gone and Cody was in bed.
She stood, clearing the table while the others chattered on. When that was done, she pulled out the apple pie she and Cody had made earlier that day. The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and soothed her nerves. She loved baking. She loved cooking. There was something about preparing a meal and feeding friends and family that made her happy.
She cut two decent pieces for Cody and Grandma Florence and a larger piece for Ryder.
He nodded at her when she put the plate in front of him, his blue eyes lingering on her face a little longer than normal.
“You got your momma’s gift in the kitchen, Annabeth.” Florence reached for Annabeth’s hand.
Annabeth took it, kneeling by her chair to savor her grandmother’s moments of clarity. “She said she learned everything from you.”
Tears filled Florence’s eyes. “’Course she did. It’s a momma’s job to train her daughter in the kitchen. What sort of a wife and mother would she be if she couldn’t take care of her menfolk?” She winked at Ryder and smiled at Cody. “She’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become. Your daddy, too.”
“I’m trying.” Annabeth smiled.
“I know, Annabeth.” Grandma Florence shook her head. “You work too hard sometimes.”
“I do what needs to be done.” Annabeth kissed her cheek.
Grandma Florence shook her head. “Who takes care of you?”
Annabeth couldn’t answer that.
“Me,” Cody piped up, kissing her on the cheek. “Right, Ma?”
Annabeth nodded, hugging him to her. “Yep.”
“Lemme see that kitty o’ yours, Cody.” Grandma Florence patted Annabeth’s hand. “Thank you for dinner, Annabeth. You never forget our Sunday dinner.”
“It’s something I look forward to every week, you know that.” Annabeth held her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. This woman had been the one to teach Annabeth what it was to be strong while keeping a sense of humor. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t hear one of Grandma Flo’s bits of wisdom in her head, guiding her.
“Here he is, Grandma,” Cody announced. Tom was squirming in his arms but settled down once he was placed on Grandma Flo’s lap.
“Well, he’s a fine tomcat.” Grandma Florence held the cat up, turning the mewling animal this way and that. “He’ll have long legs. A good mouser.”
“He will be fast.” Cody babbled on, his stutter barely tripping him up he was so excited. And Grandma Florence, bless her, didn’t say a thing.
Now if Annabeth could get the boys at school to stop teasing him, Cody might not be so quiet all the time.
* * *
RYDER PULLED THE dish towel off the hook by the sink. He smiled as he fingered the row of lemons stitched along the trim of the towel. No doubt Annabeth had stitched each one herself. Lemons were Annabeth’s thing. She had a yellow kitchen with lemon-print curtains and lemon-print towels. Hell, she even smelled fresh and sweet like the fruit itself. He swallowed, her scent tickling his nostrils as she leaned closer to place a dish on the rack.
“You don’t have to,” Annabeth murmured. “Rest your wrist.”
He didn’t say anything, just dried off the plates she’d stacked in the dish rack.
What would she say if he told her the injury was her fault? After he’d left the kitten in her hands, he’d spent the rest of the night drinking. He hadn’t had more than a couple of hours’ sleep when his riding and drinking buddy DB picked him up and took him to the rodeo. If he’d been thinking clearly, not torn up with guilt yet wanting her, it wouldn’t have happened. He’d have been thinking about the ride, not her. Not that she’d see it that way. No, she’d argue with him, tell him he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions...
She sighed as he dried another dish. He smiled.
It was the least he could do after inviting himself to dinner. Annabeth always made something special for Florence’s Sunday-
night dinner. Annabeth always made him feel welcome. Florence and Cody made him feel wanted. Two things he never felt at his father’s table. He’d stayed away the past few weeks and he’d missed it. But tonight, he had news he had to share.
All of his hard work, endless tinkering and attention to detail might just pay off. He was a master mechanic; engines just talked to him. And his bodywork was a work of art. Apparently, the owner of a big custom garage in Dallas agreed. According to his boss, John, Jerry Johannsson, known as JJ, had seen some of Ryder’s bodywork and was impressed enough to track down Ryder’s whereabouts. JJ had badgered John, who wasn’t much of a talker, with all sorts of questions. Whatever John had said convinced JJ that Ryder should come for a visit. John wasn’t happy about Ryder’s interest, but he kept his opinions to himself. Maybe now Ryder would finally get out of Stonewall Crossing and away from his past.
As soon as John had told him, Ryder had headed to Annabeth’s house to share the good news over dinner. If there was one person who would support him, it would be Annabeth.
But something was wrong, he could tell. Tension seemed to weigh Annabeth down, and he didn’t like it. Whatever it was, his news could wait until he could fix whatever was wrong.
She tucked a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to her. To her ear...her neck. He spent plenty of time thinking about her—them—even though he knew better. Best thing he could do was find some sweet thing and wear himself out. Hell, the pretty medic that wrapped his wrist had offered to take him home for a more “thorough assessment.” He’d been curious. Her cherry-kissed lips and fiery red hair were tempting. But in the end he’d gone home alone. Just like he had every night since the night he’d shared with Annabeth. And it scared the crap out of him.
“Dishwasher broken?” he asked.
She nodded. “I still remember how to operate a sponge, so we’re good.”
He grinned at her. “Bet I can fix it.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t believe me?” he teased, nudging her with his elbow.
She looked up at him, her hazel eyes so big he paused. “I know you can, Ryder. It’s just...” She shook her head, plunging her hands back into the soapy water. “It’s fine.”
“Sure, if you like washing all your dishes by hand, maybe.” He set the dish in the drying rack and waited.
She couldn’t hold back her laugh, a free and easy sound. “Maybe I do.”
“I know better, Princess.” He took the plate she offered.
“Stop calling me that.” She sighed. “You don’t need to fix it. Okay? It’s not a big deal.”
“Right.” He frowned. “It’s a dishwasher.”
She glanced at him, a tell-tale flush on her cheeks.
He sucked in a deep breath. “What?”
She shook her head, turning back to the dishes.
“What’s eating you, Princess?” he murmured, willing her to look back at him.
“R-Ryder,” Cody held up the kitten. “Tom saw Doc F-F-Fisher. Says Tom is a good cat.”
“My brother would know. Fisher’s all about cats and dogs.” Ryder smiled at the boy and took the kitten, holding it up so they were eye to eye. The kitten swatted at Ryder’s nose. “Plenty of energy.” He laughed.
Cody nodded.
“That’s an understatement,” Annabeth added.
Ryder turned the kitten so it was nose to nose with her. The kitten started purring, his little paws kneading the air. She shook her head, but took the kitten and held it under her chin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re adorable.”
Ryder winked at Cody, who winked back. It was then that he noticed Grandma Florence snoring softly in her wheelchair.
“Naptime?” Ryder asked softly.
“She d-does that.” Cody grinned. “Any new cars?” Cody loved talking about cars—he was a lot like Greg that way. Every now and then, he’d take Cody to John’s garage with him. The boy had an endless fascination with the way things worked. He loved to tinker, putting things together, taking them apart. And Ryder respected that. A man should know how to work with his hands, to take care of things around the house and in the garage.
“Wh-what about the Cadillac?” Cody asked.
Ryder grinned. “Finished.”
“Can I see it?” Cody asked.
Ryder looked at Annabeth in question.
“Not tonight,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes. She handed Tom back to Cody, but Ryder saw the quick kiss she planted on the kitten’s head. “I’ve got to get Grandma home and finish the laundry before bed. Then I have a little work to do.”
He heard the exhaustion in her voice. “What can I do?” Ryder glanced at the clock.
She scowled. “Cody, go get your clothes picked out for tomorrow while I get Grandma’s things together.”
Ryder waited, knowing once Cody was out of the room he was going to get an earful.
“Ryder, you can’t keep doing this.” She pointed around the room. “People will talk.”
“People? Like who?” he asked, resting his hip against the kitchen counter while she wiped down the stove top.
“People,” she grumbled. “Like Lola Worley.”
“Yeah, sure, Lola Worley probably is talking.” He shrugged. Lola was one of three sweet blue-haired ladies who owned the only beauty shop on Main Street. She was courting the owner of the only bakery on Main Street, ensuring she’d hear all the gossip Stonewall Crossing had to offer. Lola had big ears and an even bigger mouth. But, according to some, she had an equally big heart. “What are they talking about?”
“Us,” she snapped, clearly exasperated. “You. Being here all the time. Taking care of things.”
“All the time?” He scratched his head. He hadn’t been here in a long time. Too long. She was worried about him being here? She’d never given a hoot before.
“Things are...different now.” She swallowed.
He stiffened. Damn it all. “Why?” But he knew why.
“Because this is a big deal.” She took the towel from him and hung it up.
His attention wandered to her mouth. So she had been thinking about what had happened between them? He wasn’t the only one losing sleep over that night—
“The interim appointment is up in two months. The school board has already opened the principal position to applicants.” Disappointment hit him hard, but he shoved it aside to listen to her. That was news to him. It explained the tension. She worked hard, harder than anyone he knew. She turned away, pacing the floor. “They have to, I know that, but I need this job.” She sighed. “I’m sure Ken Branson will apply, and he knows everyone.”
“Branson is a tool.” Ryder snorted, trying to ease her mind. He’d never seen her this worked up. He placed his hands on her shoulders, aching to pull her close. “Annabeth, you’ll get it.” He smiled. “I’ve never known anyone as stubborn and persuasive as you, Princess. And that says a lot, coming from the family I do.”
She smiled, relaxing a little.
“It’s just, you’re single and I’m single...” She shrugged.
“Good thing Grandma Flo’s here to chaperone us,” he teased, but knew there was more. “What else is going on?”
She shook her head, but her gaze wandered down the hallway to Cody’s room.
“Cody?” he encouraged.
Her lips tightened, as though she was reining in her temper.
“He okay?” he spoke softly.
“The boys, at school,” she whispered. “They’re giving him a hard time about his stutter.”
His anger was hot and fast, but he suspected she didn’t need that right now. “Kids are mean, Princess, you know that. And Cody is tougher than you think.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Who is it?”
She shook her head
. “Nope.” Her smile warmed him through.
He grinned. She knew him. “What?”
“The last thing I need is you threatening some schoolkids.” She rolled her eyes.
“Kids, no.” He shook his head. “Parents, maybe.”
She giggled. And he loved the sparkle in her eyes as her gaze connected with his. “Ryder—”
“Joking, Princess.” He laughed. “Not that it’s not tempting.”
She nodded. “Yes. Very.” Her expression shifted then, from amused to intense. Her gaze fixed on his, carefully searching. “You don’t owe us anything, you know?”
His hands fisted. “Don’t start that again, Annabeth—”
“Stop, Ryder.” Her smile grew tight. “Greg wouldn’t expect you to babysit Cody and me. Stop doing what you think he wants you to do.”
Yes, he’d promised Greg he’d look out for them, but... How could he explain that he did it because he needed to? Taking care of them made him feel better, too, as though he was important to someone. “That’s not why I do it.”
Her forehead creased slightly. “It’s not?”
“Time for checkers before I go.” Grandma Florence sat up, her sudden declaration sending the kitten scurrying across the kitchen and into his box.
He smiled as Cody’s squeal of delight came from his bedroom. “Think Cody heard you, Flo.”
Two seconds later Cody came barreling into the kitchen with his checkers box. “Ryder, you can play the w-w-winner,” Cody said.
“Deal,” he agreed, squatting in front of the dishwasher. “Gives me time to see what we need to fix this thing.”
“Ryder,” Annabeth started to argue.
He opened the dishwasher and peered inside. “Got a flashlight, Princess?”
“Ryder,” she tried again, her tone sharper.
He smiled. “It’s a little dark in here.” He held his hand out.
“Here.” Cody gave him a flashlight.
“Thanks, champ.” Ryder clicked on the flashlight, inspecting the motor in the base of the near-ancient dishwasher. “It’s the least I can do to pay you back for dinner.” He heard her little grunt of frustration and grinned. “Why don’t you go put your feet up for a second, relax.” He could be just as stubborn as she was. And if she wouldn’t tell him what was eating her, he’d take care of what he could.
Twins for the Rebel Cowboy Page 3