Honorable Rancher

by Barbara White Daille

  Ben with his hair dripping water onto his face the day at Sidewinder Creek when they’d all learned to swim.

  With his clothes tousled after the entire seventh grade had camped out on his daddy’s ranch.

  With his eyes shining when he’d come to visit at the hospital the night Lissa was born.

  Those and other memories—too many memories—she didn’t want to think about.

  Instead, she went down the stairs and focused on P.J., who sat leaning against the arm of the couch, his feet braced on Ben’s thigh. He gestured with both hands and spoke at top speed. “And we were on this huge checkerboard, Ben! There were dinosaurs all over, too. They flew down the mountain—and then they landed. And they smooshed all the flowers flat like pancakes!”

  “Really?” Ben asked. His lips tightened. She knew he was holding back a laugh. “That’s one heck of a dream, buddy.”

  “Yep. It was fun.” Spotting Dana, he grinned. “Mama, Ben played checkers with me all night.”

  “Not quite. Only till bedtime,” Ben clarified, exchanging glances with her.

  “I guess I owe you another thank-you.”

  “Why? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve played games with the kids.”

  She stopped those memories before they could start.

  “If you feel the need for more thanks,” he continued, “I’ll take them for dealing with Stacey’s diaper last night.”

  When he grinned, she bit her lip to keep from smiling back.

  P.J. squealed. “You changed Stacey’s dirty diaper?”

  Ben nodded. “Sure did. I changed yours once or twice when you were her age, too.”

  “Ew-w-w-w.”

  The doorbell rang. Undoubtedly happy for the distraction, P.J. slid from the edge of the couch and ran toward the entryway.

  The sound of the bell had made Dana anything but happy. Who on earth would come calling at this hour?

  Ben raised one eyebrow, probably thinking the same thing. He sat back and rested one bare arm along the back of the couch as if settling in for a nice, long conversation with whoever had rung the bell.

  She swallowed a moan. He could—and did—talk to anyone, anytime. But obviously he hadn’t thought twice about who might find him sitting on her living room couch. Could she somehow casually ask him to leave the room? Or at least to put his T-shirt back on?

  And call attention to the fact that she’d noticed—and been bothered by—his half-nakedness?

  No, she couldn’t.

  She tugged on her belt again. P.J. looked through the side window and then rushed to throw the door wide open. He knew better than to do that with a stranger, which meant the visitor had to be someone he knew.

  Did that make this situation better or worse? It wouldn’t matter either way, if she could just keep the person outside. She hurried to join P.J.

  Her next-door neighbor stood on the doorstep. Dana’s annoyance evaporated immediately. “Clarice, are you okay?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question. Just thought I’d check...” She looked Dana over from head to toe. Then she peered around P.J. into the living room. “Ben?” She proceeded to look him over from head to...torso.

  In spite of the situation, Dana found herself holding back a laugh. Clarice’s inspection had definitely come to a halt at chest level. Eighty-five years old, and the woman obviously still recognized a good thing when she saw it.

  P.J. lost interest and wandered toward the kitchen.

  Clarice’s gaze met hers again.

  For a moment she held on to hope that only idle nosiness had brought the older woman here this morning. Hopes that Clarice’s suddenly steely gaze squashed flat as P.J.’s floral pancake.

  “My goodness. And in front of the children?”

  She gasped. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “No, it’s what I’m seeing. Ben’s truck in the driveway. All night.”

  “I had some car trouble yesterday. He stayed with the kids for me.” Her heart sank. Within the hour, Ellamae would hear about her overnight visitor. Then the word would spread all over town.

  “You want to be careful.” Clarice sent a meaningful glance toward Ben. “Both of you.”

  “Dana’s right, Clarice,” he said easily. “The situation isn’t what you’re thinking. And it would be a real shame to have rumors start just because I gave Dana a helping hand out of pure friendship. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Friendship?” She looked him over again and shook her head. “I need to get back home.”

  As she stalked away, Dana closed the door gently, knowing she hadn’t heard the end of this. And she had only herself to blame for insisting that Ben stay.

  P.J. trotted in from the kitchen. “C’mon, Ben. Mama will make breakfast soon.”

  “We’ll be there in a minute, sweetie,” she said. “Get the place mats on the table for me, please.”

  “Okay.”

  When he had left, she walked slowly into the living room, looked at Ben and raised her brows. “I’ve watched you talk a nervous mare across Sidewinder Creek in the middle of a gullywasher,” she said, “but I think you’ve lost your touch.”

  He rose from the couch. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to hurry into the kitchen with P.J. Somehow she managed to stand her ground.

  “What makes you say that?”

  She choked on a laugh. “Do you really think Clarice will keep quiet about finding you here this morning?”

  He shrugged and spread his arms wide. His biceps bulged and his triceps did something equally devastating, and suddenly she lost all desire to laugh.

  “C’mon, Dana. What do I look like? A fortune-teller?”

  “No. Like a man who had better put his T-shirt back on if he plans to eat breakfast at my table.”

  There. She’d said it.

  And now, though she didn’t quite flee, she racewalked into the kitchen, mentally kicking herself the entire way. She hadn’t planned to invite him to stay for breakfast, but the words had come out of her mouth faster than she could think.

  His half-naked state had driven her to it.

  Grabbing a jar of baby food from the refrigerator, she pressed it against her heat-flushed cheek. The chilled glass helped cool her down a bit. But nothing could stop the rush of guilt and shame that filled her.

  She and Ben hadn’t lied. The situation wasn’t what Clarice had thought—at least, not this morning. Still, her neighbor’s suspicions hit too close for comfort. For safety.

  Whether or nor Clarice had proof of an indiscretion didn’t matter. She would never keep gossip like this to herself.

  * * *

  “ARE WE WORKING TODAY, Ben?” P.J. asked halfway through breakfast.

  “We sure are.” He ate a mouthful of French toast and considered the situation he found himself in.

  Last night, after Dana and the client were safely on their way back to Flagman’s Folly, he’d given a big sigh of relief. And he’d felt inordinately pleased at how the rest of his evening turned out.

  It hadn’t taken much effort to convince her sitter he didn’t mind her going. Truth be told, if she hadn’t left, he’d have stayed anyway. He didn’t care to leave a teenager alone at that hour with the kids.

  On the other hand, when Dana had finally arrived, he’d found he didn’t much like the idea of being alone with her, either. In her dark, quiet living room, he’d gotten to thinking—probably about the same things Clarice had thought. Even though he owned this house, Dana would have kicked him out of the place if he’d tried to put those thoughts into action.

  Still, he’d been happy to bed down on the couch for the rest of the night. It fit right in with his plans for the weekend.

  Besides, she made a great breakfast.

 
“Do you want more bacon?” P.J. asked, pushing the platter toward Ben’s end of the kitchen table.

  “Sure. Thanks, buddy.” He took another couple of slices and passed the platter to Lissa, sitting opposite her brother.

  When she’d first seen him in the kitchen, she’d acted a little standoffish but now seemed to have warmed up to him again.

  Dana, on the other hand, had gotten colder. She’d taken a seat at the far end of the table, next to Stacey’s high chair. She hadn’t said much once they’d all come into the kitchen. Come to think of it, she hadn’t even made eye contact with him since they’d sat down.

  His feeling of pleasure gave way to guilt.

  Leftover guilt from last night, at the way he’d played up his sleepiness. Sure, he’d had a long day and could easily have nodded out on the couch, but he wasn’t as tired as he’d let on.

  Then more guilt this morning, at lounging around instead of getting up and heading out the door. Leaving when he should have wouldn’t have changed anything as far as Dana’s next-door neighbor was concerned, but at least Clarice wouldn’t have woken up to see his truck still in the driveway.

  That was six of one, half a dozen of another, though. He would’ve gone home, showered and eaten breakfast in his own kitchen. But eventually, he’d have come back.

  He still had errands to run and chores to do at the ranch this weekend, but he intended to spend what time he could right here. The more Dana saw of him, the more she’d get used to having him around. And the easier it would make it for him to get closer to her.

  Already his plan had begun to work—she’d invited him to stay for breakfast, hadn’t she?

  P.J. held the nearly empty bottle of syrup out to him. “We need more, please.”

  He smiled. The kids didn’t need time to get used to him.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dana said.

  He had already risen. “No problem. I’ve got it.”

  “Ben knows where to find everything,” Lissa said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s true.” On his way over to the pantry closet, he thought about all the time he’d once spent in this house. Even in the few months just after Paul’s death, he’d been a constant visitor...until Dana had started coming up with reasons to turn him away.

  “Mama, you went out with Mr. Hall yesterday, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I took him to look at property.”

  “Like you did with Caleb?”

  “That’s right.”

  “He’s a rodeo star, too, just like Caleb.”

  “Yes, he is,” her mama agreed.

  Lissa’s eyes shone with the same rodeo fever Nate and the rest of their friends had caught. Having Caleb Cantrell return to town was probably the most exciting thing they’d ever had happen in their young lives.

  In her mind, a plain, everyday rancher just couldn’t compare to the excitement of a real, live rodeo star.

  She put her hands flat on the table and leaned toward her mama. “You really think Mr. Hall will buy a ranch here, just the way Caleb did?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  He frowned down at his plate. Now that Dana couldn’t rightly keep him out of his own house, he suspected she’d begun to use her job as a way to avoid him when he came here to work in the evenings. But she’d just sounded as eager as Lissa had about the idea of a new star in town. Her tone reminded him how much she could use another big sale.

  Why the hell that meant she had to have supper with the man, he didn’t know.

  “Mama,” P.J. said, “Ben looks sad. I think you better make him more French toast.”

  He looked up to find Dana staring at him. Quickly, he glanced toward her son. “I’m not sad at all, just thinking of how many chores I’m going to have to do today to work off this good breakfast.”

  He’d thought of a few other things, as well. And he didn’t much like the direction his mind had headed.

  Maybe Dana didn’t worry about the size of her commission when she drove her new client all over the state. Maybe she hadn’t minded getting stranded with the man last night, either. Maybe her interest in him was just what she’d said to Lissa: she hoped he would settle down in the area.

  Trying not to frown again, he pushed his empty plate away from him.

  For the first time, he wondered if Dana had a touch of rodeo fever, too.

  Chapter Ten

  Dana stared through the kitchen window into the backyard.

  Right after breakfast, Ben had taken P.J. to the far end of the property, where he had begun breaking ground to lay in a row of fence posts. He’d settled P.J. off to one side of his work area with a small plastic bucket and shovel.

  After a couple of quick peeks through the kitchen curtains, she began to feel as bad as Clarice and Ellamae with their spying. But that didn’t stop her from looking….

  P.J. ran back and forth, filling his bucket and then emptying it at the base of a small tree.

  The digging was dirty work. Hot work, too, even though it was still early morning. As she peered through the window again, she saw Ben had stripped off his T-shirt and stood wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Her own hand stilled on the insulated cooler she had just filled with lemonade. She bit her lip in indecision. Half of her knew she should bring the cold drink to him. The other half warned she’d best not go outside.

  Ignoring the warning, she picked up the cooler and a couple of plastic mugs and crossed to the kitchen door.

  When he saw her coming, he set his shovel aside.

  “Looks like you’ve been working hard,” she said. “You’ve made a lot of progress.”

  “Yeah. Slow progress, but I’m not taking any chances on doing anything I shouldn’t.”

  Good advice. She’d do well to take it herself. The skin on her neck prickled, as if Clarice stared at her from next door. But what could she find wrong in Dana offering her landlord cold lemonade?

  Ben gave her a half smile that left her insides shivering. That answered her question, all right.

  He took the mug and tipped his head back to drink from it. She watched the muscles of his throat work as he polished off the contents in one long, uninterrupted swallow.

  Almost unaware of doing it, she swallowed, too.

  When he’d finished, he swept his tongue along the splash of lemonade left on his upper lip.

  Her mouth suddenly felt as dry and cakey as the dirt around them. She swallowed again and wished she’d brought a mug outside for herself.

  P.J. tugged on her arm. “What about me, Mama? I worked hard, too.”

  Face flushing, she turned to him. How could she have let herself get so distracted, she’d neglected her own child? “Right here,” she said, handing him the smaller mug.

  Then she refilled Ben’s and again found herself frozen, watching as he took another drink.

  She told herself to stop staring—and her self argued back. Why should I stop? I’ll make sure nothing ever happens between us again. Still, the thoughts she kept having about Ben, the reactions she kept fighting were all perfectly natural, perfectly normal—even if she could think back almost far enough to recall them both in diapers.

  But those days were long gone. Now, she was a full grown adult female.

  And he was one hot-looking male.

  She ran her tongue across her lips. A sponge-dry tongue that left her longing to take a swig directly from the insulated cooler.

  She could just imagine the uproar she’d get from P.J., who had heard her lecture on that more than once.

  Wasn’t this just wonderful! Not only had Ben shaken her normal reserve, he had managed to undermine her parenting skills—without even knowing he was doing so.

  “You okay?” he asked.

 
She started, realizing that he had noticed her staring at him. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “You’ve got dirt on your face.”

  Looking down, he clapped his free hand against his jeans, raising a cloud of dust, and laughed. “I can’t see myself worrying about a smudge or two when I’m covered head to toe in the stuff.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “P.J. said I’ll need to take a shower when I’m done. Didn’t you, buddy?” He directed the question to her son but kept his gaze fixed on her.

  She had a sudden vision of a steamy shower door and Ben’s naked body half-visible through it.

  “Yep,” P.J. confirmed. “Mama says when we come in dirty, we should go right in and wash up.”

  Ben raised one eyebrow, as if challenging her to deny her son’s words.

  She bit her tongue. Again, somehow, he had turned her parenting skills to work in his favor. This time, she felt certain he knew exactly what he’d done.

  “I’ve got a couple of things to take care of around noon,” he told her. “I’ll plan to stop and shower up before then. I’ve got a change of clothes out in the truck,” he added. “You won’t even have to provide a towel. I’ve got one of those, too.”

  The image that brought to mind was not something she wanted to think about then. “Don’t be silly,” she snapped. “I can certainly give you a towel.”

  He grinned.

  Clamping her jaw tight, she glared at him. No doubt about his challenge now. Whether or not she’d planned to offer him the use of the shower no longer mattered. Because now she couldn’t refuse. She’d gone right along with his plan, just as he had intended.

  He reached for the T-shirt he had tossed onto a mound of dirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

  Immediately, P.J. grabbed the hem of his own shirt and scrubbed his chin with it.

  She tightened her grip on the cooler. “All done with that?” she asked, gesturing toward Ben’s mug. He nodded and handed it to her. “I guess I’ll get back to the house.”

  “I guess I’ll be getting back to work. At least, until it’s time for that shower.”