Honorable Rancher

by Barbara White Daille

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  At Tess’s expression of relief, she tried not to cringe. She had meant what she said—of anyone in town, she’d have chosen her best friend to work on any project concerning her own family.

  Except this project.

  It wasn’t Tess’s participation on the committee that bothered her, but the fact that the committee existed at all.

  “Talk to me, girl,” Tess persisted.

  Dana adjusted the light blanket over Stacey’s legs. A useless delaying action because no one was going to come along to save her. And right now, she wanted that—no matter how many times she’d insisted to Ben that she could handle things herself.

  She pushed the stroller forward again and sighed. The kids had taken off again. She couldn’t use them for a distraction.

  Her luck had finally run out.

  Then she met Tess’s stare and recognized the uncertainty in her best friend’s face. For that reason alone, she had to talk. Not about Paul. She couldn’t, especially after what had happened with Clarice. But she needed to ease Tess’s worry—and badly needed to confide in her about Ben.

  She and Tess and Ben and Paul had all grown up together. Had known each other forever. If anyone could help her with this situation, Tess could.

  “I wasn’t very open with you when Caleb came back to town—” Tess began.

  She shook her head. “That’s not it at all, believe me.”

  “All right, then what is it?”

  After a long, deep breath, she muttered, “It’s Ben.”

  Tess gasped. “He’s objecting to the monument?”

  “No, it’s nothing to do with that. It’s... He’s taken over my life.” She tried to smile. “Or at least, it feels that way. It was bad enough when he just owned the office building. Now that he’s bought the house, too, he shows up almost every day. Every time I turn around, he’s there.”

  “He’s being helpful. That’s just Ben.”

  She could have screamed. How could she expect Ellamae and Clarice to back off, when her best friend felt the way they did? “I know that’s just Ben. And he’s very helpful. But he wants to do things for me—things I can do for myself—and it’s getting on my nerves.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s worse.”

  They walked for a few yards, then Tess said softly, “You know, I would feel lost if something ever happened to you.”

  Dana stared in surprise. “Same here. You know that.”

  “Well, then. Ben and Paul got to be best buddies back in kindergarten, just as you and I did. He probably feels lost now. Maybe he’s trying to stay close to Paul through you and the kids.”

  She gripped the stroller. “I never thought of that.”

  “And you know how most guys are when it comes to talking.”

  “Not Ben. He’s never had a problem with talking about anything.”

  “Except his feelings.” Tess’s voice rose. “I’m sure that’s it. He’s been quiet—different—for months now. I think you need to talk to him.”

  She clutched the handle with such force, her knuckles turned white. “Talk to him?” That’s just what she wanted to avoid.

  “Yes. Get him to tell you what’s on his mind. That way, he’ll start opening up.”

  “You could be right—” she began. But I’ll never know.

  Tess nodded emphatically. “I’m sure I am.” She sighed in obvious relief at having come up with an idea that would help.

  Dana tried not to cry in frustration. She should never have said anything, never have gotten Tess involved at all. Her suggestion didn’t help. It only made things worse.

  She had no intention of talking about Paul. And no desire for any heart-to-heart conversations with Ben.

  But now that she had gotten Tess involved, now that Tess believed her suggestion had been accepted, she would want to know how things were going. She would expect to hear progress reports. She would be eager to learn what Dana had done to help their good old friend Ben.

  * * *

  ALL TOO SOON, P.J. FINISHED his ice cream and Tess drove them home.

  As P.J. and Lissa climbed out of the backseat, Dana cradled Stacey in one arm. She handed Lissa the baby’s car seat. “I’ll see you in the office on Monday,” she said to Tess. “Good luck with Jared tomorrow.”

  “Okay. And good luck with...you-know-who.” Tess smiled.

  “Thanks.” Dana closed the passenger door and waved goodbye.

  “Ben’s truck is here again,” Lissa pointed out.

  She’d already noticed that. “Yes, I see it.”

  At that moment, the front door opened. Ben stepped out onto the porch as if he’d been lying in wait. Desire ran through her, followed by a breath-stealing surge of awareness. No getting away from it. Good old Ben was a good-looking guy.

  After working in the yard that morning, he’d changed into a snug, soft green T-shirt that accentuated his muscles and played up his dark hair and eyes. Before lunch, she had walked into the living room and seen him standing there with the moisture from his shower—that shower she’d fantasized over—still dampening his hair. Her reaction to the sight had made her ten times more eager to accept Tess’s invitation.

  But now she was home, and there he stood again, looking as good as any hero from the romance novels she read. And leaning against the porch railing as if he owned the place. Now, annoyance mixed with desire until she reminded herself he did own this property and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  “Did you have a good lunch?” he asked.

  “We sure did,” P.J. said. “And we went for ice cream.”

  “Yeah? Where’s mine?”

  “We didn’t bring you any.” Lissa’s glance flew to Dana and then away.

  Was she upset about finding Ben here again? Or that they’d left him out of their plans?

  Dana still wasn’t sure what impact his absence had had on her children. Or whether it had been wise for her to let him back into their lives. As she couldn’t decide, it was no wonder if Lissa felt confused, too.

  He shrugged. “Well, then, I guess it’s only fair I ate up all the spice cookies.”

  “You did?” P.J. gasped, and raced past him into the house.

  Lissa stared at Ben. “You didn’t really, did you?”

  “No, not really.”

  Dana followed her into the living room. “Lissa, you do know Ben was just teasing. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

  She shrugged. “But...but P.J. didn’t know that.”

  “That’s true.” And worse, she probably shouldn’t have jumped to Ben’s defense. Too late, she bit her tongue, thinking of the irony. Like Tess, she had fallen back on the old standard phrase, on the townsfolk’s common cry: that’s just Ben.

  “Daddy wouldn’t tease me or P.J. about the cookies.” Frowning, she went up the stairs.

  Resting her chin on the baby’s head, Dana watched her go.

  Ben stepped into the house and closed the screen door. She couldn’t tell by his expression if he had heard Lissa’s comment.

  P.J. ran toward them from the kitchen. “You did not eat all the cookies!” he exclaimed. “Mama, can I have some?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, young man. You just had a taco, tortilla chips and a dish of ice cream. That’s enough for now.”

  He frowned but nodded. “Can we have some after supper, though?”

  She tried to hold the kids to one sweet a day. But rules were meant to be broken—once in a while. “Yes, that will work.”

  “You gotta wait till after supper,” he told Ben.

  “No problem. I can do that.”

  She turned and stared at him. “I’m sorry, but...weren’t you planning to go home
before then?”

  He rubbed the back of his head. “Well, to tell you the truth, I had every intention of it. But I heard how your washer sounded this morning, so I came back here and tore it to pieces.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I sure did.”

  She fought back a groan. The evenings she’d spent away from home this week, trying to avoid him, had forced her to do something she would never usually do. Let the laundry pile up.

  Mentally, she began running through a list of all the wash she needed to get done, including the outfit she’d dug from the depths of her closet to wear to the meeting on Monday night. She needed her washing machine—in one piece.

  “Good thing I took it apart, too,” he said. “Left any longer, you might’ve needed a whole new tub. I’ll have to go pick up a few parts. Judging by the pile of baskets next to the washer, I reckon you’ll want it together again by tomorrow. Otherwise, it’ll have to wait until Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday!”

  He nodded. “Town council meeting on Monday. So I thought I’d keep working on it tonight.”

  “Good idea,” she said faintly.

  “That’s what I thought.” He turned to P.J. “Hey, buddy, how about we take a ride to the hardware store later, and then pick up a pizza for supper?”

  “Yeah!” P.J. yelled.

  “There’s no need for that,” she said. “I’ve got homemade soup thawing in the refrigerator. Unless you’ve already eaten it all?” The words, spoken half-jokingly, made her stop and think.

  He laughed. “No, I didn’t touch anything in the refrigerator.”

  “What did you have for lunch, anyway?”

  “Not a thing. Not even that plateful of cookies you left me. I came right back and got busy wrestling with the washing machine so I could find out what it needed.”

  Nothing like piling on the guilt. But she couldn’t complain. A serviceman would cost a small fortune. At least Ben had offered to make the repairs. She would pay for the parts.

  “I’ll pick up the pizza,” he insisted. “It’s the least I can do. After all, you fed me breakfast this morning. Besides—” he grinned “—I’m already invited for dessert.”

  * * *

  AFTER SUPPER, BEN TOOK P.J. up on his request to read him a bedtime story while Dana put Stacey to bed and Lissa closeted herself in her bedroom.

  Earlier that evening, Dana had made a big green salad and set out all kinds of vegetables to go along with their pizza. Seeing the food on the table had almost made him feel guilty for deliberately tearing her washer apart.

  Almost. After all, the machine had made an awful racket the last time he’d heard her using it. And he hadn’t been kidding about the condition of the tub.

  But most of all, fool that he was, he hadn’t been able to pass up the excuse to hang around tonight.

  Now, while he tinkered in the utility room, she worked not five feet away from him, washing dishes.

  “P.J. sure called it right about those cookies,” he said. “They were great. Better than any store-bought ones. Maybe you ought to go into business.” Eyeing her over the washer, he saw a small smile touch her lips.

  “Thanks, but I have a career. I’ll keep the cookies for my kids. I don’t bake for them often enough as it is.”

  Because she had that career. Because she didn’t have a husband and had to take care of everything herself.

  “Maybe that’s not so bad,” she continued. “You know what they say about too much of a good thing. And I could say the same about take-out food. We don’t do that very often, either.”

  Because she was a good mama who wanted to make home-cooked meals for her family. And because she didn’t have the money.

  “The tacos last week. The pizza tonight.” She looked over at him. “Those were real treats for them. Thank you.”

  At the sight of her smile—now wide and full and directed right at him—he nearly lost his grip on the wrench in his hand. He hadn’t bought that food to earn her thanks. Or even to impress her. But if it would get him a reaction like that again, he’d clean out Harley’s General Store to fill her kitchen cabinets.

  Knowing he had to watch his own response to keep from scaring her away, he simply shrugged. “My pleasure. Nice for me, too, to have supper with you all now that my parents have gone.”

  “You must miss them.” She stared down into the dishwater.

  Damn. What a stupid thing he’d said. His parents had “gone” when they’d retired to Florida. A big difference from Dana, whose husband had died.

  Again he wondered if he’d misjudged her over the memorial for Paul. Over the feelings she tried bravely not to let show.

  He bore down so hard, the wrench slipped and flew from his hand. It went clattering into the space between the washer and the wall.

  “Dang.”

  “Can you reach it?”

  “I’m checking.” He leaned over the machine and thrust his arm as far down as he could behind it. “I’ll never get it without moving the washer. And I just leveled it off again.”

  “Maybe I can try?”

  She came to his side and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Dropping the cloth on top of the dryer, she put her hands flat on the washer as if planning to boost herself up.

  “You won’t be able to get to it, either,” he said.

  “Is that so? Isn’t that what you told me when your favorite marble rolled behind the bookcase in the school library?”

  “Well...maybe.” He grinned.

  “Maybe nothing, mister.” She laughed. “I saved your butt that day and you know it. Mrs. Freylin would’ve had a fit if she’d seen you trying to tip those shelves.”

  “Okay, okay. I admit, you saved me. But that was a long time ago. Your arms were thinner then.”

  “And they’re still not as big as yours. I can probably—” She stopped.

  He had reached out to keep her from climbing onto the washer. His fingers easily encircled her wrist. Her skin was firm yet soft, warm to his touch and still damp from the dishwater. Slowly he ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist, brushing away the moisture.

  Her arm trembled against his fingers. Or maybe the tremor had gone through him.

  No laughter. No smiles.

  She looked away and took a breath so deep, her chest rose beneath her sleeveless blouse. She’d left the top two buttons undone, and in the shadows beneath the fabric he could see more soft, pale skin.

  For sure now, his hands shook as he fought the urge to reach up and run his fingertip down into that deep V. But, damn—he wanted more than that. Not just the chance to touch her there. Not just her body, either.

  He wanted her. He always had.

  He reached up. Tilted his head down. And froze at the sight of her expression.

  A split-second later he dropped his hand. “Dana, I—”

  “No. Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I’m sorry.” She rushed from the utility room and through the kitchen.

  He stood there, unable to believe what he had come so close to doing. Unwilling to admit the risk he wanted to take.

  And damned unhappy to realize he’d caused that stunned look on her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dana held back a sigh of exasperation and despair. How could things keep going from bad to worse?

  Last night Ben had tracked her down in the living room to let her know he needed another part for the washer. He had told her he would be back before noon today. And he’d assured her—more emphatically than she wanted to recall—that what had happened wouldn’t get in the way of their friendship.

  Then he had left. In a hurry.

  How could she blame him, after that moment in the utility room when he’d caught her staring at him? Ogling him the way Lissa and
her friends ogled Jared Hall—and Caleb, before he’d become simply Nate’s daddy. And then, just as Ben had started to kiss her, she had run away.

  With the mixed messages she kept sending, it almost wouldn’t have surprised her if he hadn’t come back today.

  Almost, because of course, he would. He was Ben. He would never back down after he’d given someone his word.

  She needed to prep meals for the week but couldn’t bear the thought of working alone with him in the utility room, just a few feet away. So she’d tempted the kids into the kitchen with more cookies.

  Nothing had gone right this morning. Nothing had gone right in her life for a while. Her children didn’t provide the distraction she’d hoped for. Her next-door neighbor had the best intentions, Dana knew that, and the truth in those accusations had crushed her. And Ben—good old Ben—still tempted her...with something even sweeter than cookies.

  He came into the kitchen now as if her thoughts had brought him to her. As she pulled the first trays out of the oven, he moved to her side. “Smells good.”

  “Yes. How’s the washer coming along?” she asked pointedly.

  “Nothing to worry about. Got that all under control.” He gestured toward the trays. “You planning any extras for me?”

  “Ben,” she said under her breath, “you’re as bad as P.J. was when Tess invited us for lunch yesterday. You know you’re supposed to wait until you’re asked.”

  “Huh. If that’s the case, I could be waiting an awfully long time.”

  She looked up, but he had walked over to P.J. and Lissa. Biting her lip, she turned back to the trays. It had been a long time since she had invited him into their home for any reason. And to tell the truth, if he hadn’t bought the house, he wouldn’t be here now.

  Had Tess been right? Had he waited all this time—all the months since Paul’s death—for an invitation that had never come? Had he bought the house as a last resort, only so he could see more of his best friend’s children?

  She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat.