Giving up in exasperation, she stormed into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. Maybe that would take her mind off Josh Hart and his killer kiss.
Stirring a batch of mashed potatoes when Lance sauntered into the kitchen, all cowboy charm, Molly looked up and smiled. No hidden undertones here. He was a male on the prowl and they both knew it.
“Howdy, darlin’. Need any help?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter crowding her, watching her.
“You can set the table if you want.”
It soothed her pride that he flirted with her. At least one man on the ranch wasn’t anxious for her to leave.
“Could. Maybe I was just being friendly and wanted to watch you work.”
“Get a charge out of watching others work, huh?” She grinned at him. He was nice and friendly. Not like some men she could mention.
“Beats working myself.”
“Actually, you could do me a favor, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Anything, darlin’.”
Molly flushed at his flirting. She wasn’t used to it and didn’t know how to respond. “I haven’t had a chance to finish taking the boxes out of my trunk, including my laptop. Maybe you could bring it all in for me and take it up to my room?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Where are your keys?”
“In my purse, on the dresser in my bedroom. It’s the room at the top of the stairs.”
“I’ll find them.”
Moving away, his boots stomping slightly on the wooden floor, Lance went to find her keys.
Molly put the potatoes back on the stove to keep warm and checked the biscuits. They were perfect, just a minute or two away from being done. She closed the oven door and turned to get the plates and silverware for the table.
She heard the rumble of masculine voices and stopped to listen.
“What the hell are you doing coming from Molly’s room?”
Josh’s voice.
Her heart dropped. Tossing everything on the table, she ran out into the hall.
“—keys so I can unload her car.”
“She ask you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Lance’s eyes danced in amusement as he faced off against Josh.
Molly halted when she reached them. A person would have to be dead to miss the tension that filled the hallway. The two men were of a size. They looked ready to fight at the drop of a hat.
“Is there a problem?”
She didn’t want to be there, but if she was the cause, no matter how unknowing, she thought she should do something to ease the situation.
Josh shook his head and held out his hand to Lance. “I’ll get her stuff.”
Lance hesitated a moment, glanced at Molly and winked. “Fine.” He dropped the keys into Josh’s outstretched hand. “Guess I’ll be setting the table, after all.”
Josh looked at him sharply.
Lance shrugged, grinned, and headed back toward the kitchen. “I offered my services to Molly. She had a couple of suggestions.”
Josh reached out and snagged Molly’s arm as she turned to follow Lance. She looked up, surprised. Shimmering waves of excitement hit her and she wondered for a foolish moment if he planned to kiss her again.
“Lance is my foreman, not some kitchen help.”
“He offered.”
“What other services did he offer?”
Josh grit his teeth. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. But he also couldn’t walk away from her until he knew.
What else had Lance offered?
Chapter Five
Before Josh could say another word, Molly whirled around and rushed to the kitchen. She snatched up the hot pad and opened the oven door. The smell of burnt bread filled the kitchen just as the cowboys began to troop in.
One groaned.
Molly turned, her face stricken, holding the large cookie sheet of biscuits. Dumping the sheet on the counter, she flipped one biscuit over; its bottom was scorched. Turning, she glared at Josh as he followed her into the kitchen.
“This is all your fault, Josh Hart,” she said, scraping them off the pan.
“You should have set the timer,” he said, coming up behind her. Reaching around her, he scooped up one and examined the black bottom.
“Ha. I was doing fine until you caused me to forget cooking.”
She began to place biscuit dough on a second cookie sheet. “I was watching them. I had everything under control until you started berating Lance for being in my room.”
Instant silence filled the kitchen.
Molly closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Shaking her head, she resumed placing the cut biscuit dough on the cool pan. She’d watch this batch without distraction and make sure it didn’t burn. No matter what Josh got up to, she'd concentrate on cooking.
“Pete, start dishing up. Not that it’s the business of any of you, but I went to her room to get her car keys to unload the rest of her things,” Lance said, calmly reaching for the platter of ham.
“And then you had to jump to conclusions and make a fuss,” she whispered to Josh, trying to avoid the interested stare of the men seated around the table.
“What was I to think, seeing a man come from your room?” he whispered in return, his back to the men.
“Think whatever you want, just don’t jump to conclusions about me. You’ll probably be wrong.”
She turned and almost bumped into him. Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed. It was like trying to move a mountain.
“You’re in my way,” she said.
“I knew you’d be a problem.”
“I’m not the problem! If you hadn’t gotten so upset with Lance over nothing, none of this would have happened,” she snapped back.
“While you’re here, I’m responsible for you. Think of me as in loco parentis.”
“Give me a break! I have no need for a father, thank you very much. I’m old enough to live my own life the way I want. Move!”
Josh slowly stepped aside and watched as she stormed over to the stove and grabbed the coffee. He peeled the bottoms off the last biscuits and tossed them into the basket, setting it in the center of the table.
He sat at the head and heaped his plate with the ham and mashed potatoes and green beans Molly had prepared.
There was plenty of food for everyone. Feeling proud of the fact, Molly took the vacant chair next to Josh and began to serve herself. No complaints about going hungry this night. It would have been perfect if the biscuits hadn’t burned.
She glanced up at the odd expressions on the faces of the men. One by one they took a bite of potatoes, and then looked puzzled. Billy added salt and pepper to his, took another bite. His gaze slid across the table and met hers. Smiling gamely, he cut a hunk of ham.
“What did you do to the potatoes?” Josh’s angry voice interrupted her musing.
She looked at him.
“Nothing. They’re boxed. I planned on baked potatoes, but forgot to put them—”
He didn’t need to hear she’d forgotten to put them in the oven in time and had to resort to boxed ones.
“We eat mashed potatoes all the time. They never taste like this.”
She scooped up some and sampled. They were sweet! Suddenly she remembered, she'd been thinking how her heroine would never be caught in a kitchen in her story. Had she been daydreaming again and picked up sugar instead of salt to season the potatoes? Oh, good grief, couldn’t she get one single meal right?
“They do taste a bit odd. Maybe the drying process altered the taste or the milk started to go bad.”
There wasn’t enough money in Texas to get her to confess before all these men that she had been so stupid to put sugar instead of salt into the mashed potatoes.
Josh stared at her.
Nervously Molly took a sip of ice tea and prayed he wouldn't attack her in front of everyone.
“Shall I make a fresh batch?” she asked just as the buzzer rang for the oven.
Grateful for the respite, she j
umped up and withdrew the golden biscuits. Sighing with relief that these turned out perfectly, she gave each man two.
“We’ll make it through with these, but maybe next time you should taste them before serving them,” Josh said.
“Good idea.”
She smiled brightly, more with relief than anything else, and sat back at her place.
“Odd potatoes or not, boss, this beats us cooking,” one of the men said.
Josh had to agree with him.
As housekeepers went, Molly was the worst cook he’d seen. But she kept trying, he had to give her that.
And she was the easiest on the eyes. In fact, she looked downright pretty.
He frowned and forced his gaze away. She was too pretty for the ranch. He remembered his mother. He'd always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He remembered more how loving she had always been, how there had been cookies and milk every day. How she’d baked pies and cakes for the men—because her husband loved sweets.
He never saw her spend time on her hair or her makeup. But she'd always looked glamorous to him.
And she'd been content on the ranch. He never remembered her wanting to go out in the evenings. But he did remember playing games in the evenings, picnics out near where the cattle were when they were too far from home for his dad to come in for lunch.
Her life had been complete on the ranch with her family.
The tragedy of the automobile accident that claimed both her and his father had altered things forever.
He'd thought to find a woman just like her. And believed he had with Jeannie.
She had been pretty as a picture. And his former fiancée had stayed at the ranch several times. Her yearnings to go into town, or Dallas or Galveston he'd put down to not being fully part of the ranch. Which he expected to change when they married.
He should have read the signs. She liked parties, nightclubs and dancing. And pretty clothes. Clothes totally unsuitable to ranch life.
He flicked a glance to Molly as she ate quietly. At least Molly made an effort to dress appropriately. She’d worn tennis shoes today instead of her new boots, but the jeans and cotton shirt were suitable, if a bit snug.
Not that clothes alone made a woman suitable for ranch work.
Not that ranch work was what Miss Molly Forrester wanted. She considered herself a writer.
He wondered when she thought she’d find the time to actually sit down and write. Especially if she kept the house up to the standards she set with the living room and kitchen.
“Nice dinner, ma’am, despite the potatoes,” Jack said, pushing back his chair.
“And the biscuits. The second batch came out good,” Billy said.
Molly smiled, hoping the heat in her cheeks didn’t show. She grew more and more determined to improve her cooking. Breakfast had been perfect. Lunch went well for the men who had been close to the house. Why had she let her mind wander when she cooked dinner?
“I still say it beats me having to cook,” Lance added, tilting back in his chair and sipping from the cup of hot coffee. He smiled at Molly, his eyes studying her.
“It was good,” Trevor said as he rose and headed out.
“Mighty fine, ma’am.”
“Good night.”
One by one the men left the house until only Josh and Lance remained at the table.
Josh looked at Lance. “Had enough?” he asked.
The foreman looked at him and raised his cup. “Still working on this one, boss. But you don't have to stay, Molly can keep me company.”
“She has work to do,” Josh replied.
“When I finish eating,” she said, taking the last bite of ham. She'd pushed her potatoes around but eaten very little. At least she wouldn't make that mistake twice.
“Plenty of food tonight,” Lance said. He glanced at Josh and then smiled at Molly. “You go shopping again?”
“Nope, I called the store and they delivered. They even brought the groceries right into the kitchen. Saved me oodles of time.”
“That's how you play housekeeper?” Josh asked.
“Don't knock it. I’m the best bet you have for housekeeper.” Molly rose and began stacking the empty plates.
“Doesn’t say much,” Josh said.
“You’re the one who drove the others off.”
“Is that what Mrs. Montgomery told you?” he asked, tilting back in his chair, his hands tucked into the front slash pockets of his jeans.
Molly paused a moment, her eyes feasting on him. Then she resolutely moved to the sink.
“Yes.”
“So we have you to blame, boss?” Lance said, setting down his cup, and rocking back in his chair.
“Let’s see, when Rachel first left, it took two weeks to replace her. Her name was Alice. She was allergic to hay. I guess since I insisted we keep hay on the ranch for the animals I could be accused of running her off.”
Lance nodded, smiling. “I remember her. She was the one sneezing all the time.”
Molly tried not to smile while she ran water into the sink.
“And number two?” she asked, intrigued by this unexpected playful side of her austere boss. Especially after a less than perfect meal. Her father would have been ranting and raving for hours at her ineptitude.
“Ah, number two came a week later. Ms. Patricia Dare. Only she dared nothing. She didn’t like the isolation, didn’t like being so far from town, didn’t like the language of the men, didn’t like the wind blowing constantly.”
“Didn't like our wearing boots inside, didn't like our putting our hats on the backs of our chairs. She mostly didn't like anything,” Lance added.
“I didn’t notice any bad language,” Molly said.
“Wait a few days. They’re on the best behavior around you. It’ll wear off when they’re hot and tired and grumpy.”
She slid her eyes toward him. “I’ve seen you grumpy and not heard anything so bad.” Giving up the thought of washing the dishes for a few minutes, she turned off the water and leaned her back against the sink looking at the two cowboys.
Josh grinned and her heart flopped over. Unable to move her gaze, she could only stare and feel more alive than ever in her life. What was it about Josh?
He had two eyes like everyone else. Well, maybe his were more sexy than a man had a right to have, especially when he narrowed them to gaze down at her.
He had a nose and a mouth like everyone else. But unlike anyone else, his mouth had kissed her silly. Her body grew warm with the memory.
“That’s because I’m on my best behavior, too. Sugar in the potatoes notwithstanding, having you is better than us fixing our own meals.”
“I wouldn’t have burned the biscuits if you and Lance hadn’t been having words,” she said primly. She had hoped he wouldn't mention the potatoes. She should have known better.
“We weren’t having words, I simply asked what the hell he was doing in my house coming from your room.” Josh’s grin faded and he looked annoyed. “Next time you need help, ask me.”
“Wasn't any trouble for me,” Lance interjected.
Josh glared at him. “Don't you have some final chores to do tonight?'
“Nope.” Lance looked at Josh in amusement. “I could stay here all night in fact.”
“I could have managed to bring in all my things. Lance offered, so I thought I’d take him up on it. What's the big deal?”
“Yeah, boss, what's the big deal?”
Josh fished the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Lance. His foreman caught them easily.
“Then go get them. Burning biscuits prevented me from doing so.”
Lance rocked down on all four legs of the chair and stood. Grabbing his hat from the back, he put it on. “I'll bring it all up to your room, Molly. Like I said I would earlier.”
“Thank you. The laptop can go on the small desk in the room.”
“There's more room in the office. You can use the second desk near the window, “Josh
said. The light's better there than in your room.”
“I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You won’t have time to be in the office during the day. I do most of the office work during normal business hours. We won’t conflict. If I have to work at night, you’ll just have to put up with my presence.”
Which would probably prove so distracting she wouldn't get a single word written. She knew her imagination would fly if Josh were nearby, but in the right direction?
Somehow she was beginning to see herself as the heroine to his hero. And that was never going to happen.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll get it now,” Lance said heading outside.
“I'll be in the office,” Josh said, rising and walking in that direction.
So much for there being no conflict in the evenings if she wanted to write then.
As Molly did the dishes, she thought maybe Mrs. Montgomery stretched the truth a bit. Josh hadn’t proved impossible—yet. He’d certainly told her off a couple of times, but he had the right of it each time.
And he hadn’t said much about dinner’s disaster.
He’d given her more chances than the other places of employment had, and that was definitely in his favor. She wished he had continued telling her about the other housekeepers. If the first two left for the reasons he’d given, it didn’t make him a demanding boss at all.
Why had the others left so soon after arriving?
Too tired to be creative by the time Molly had her computer hooked up, she opened the file of chapters she’d already written and read through them, editing as she went.
She didn’t know where Josh had gone and refused to admit to being disappointed he didn’t have work in the office that night. The lighting was good. And it was quiet. Maybe too quiet. Not that she wanted him there. What if he asked about her book, asked to read it to him?
Starting at chapter one, she found herself dissatisfied with the descriptions. They didn’t really capture the essence of what she wanted to portray.
She closed her eyes imaging Josh standing beside her. How could she get that description down on paper so all readers would see him as she did?
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