"What of it?" Seth stalked to the sink, his plate in hand. "Sorry I don't have somewhere more important to go. Like maybe paying house calls to old biddies who only want the attention of a red-blooded young doc like yourself. Or the oh-so-important decision to inseminate the cows by June 1, just like we've been doing at the Cold Creek for fifty years."
The bitterness in his voice shimmered in the air and she saw Jake open his mouth, then apparently think better of whatever he was going to say. He closed it again as Seth headed for the door.
"Thanks for dinner, Caroline," the youngest Dalton brother said, with none of his customary charm, then he slammed the door behind himself.
"Sorry about that." Jake looked annoyed. "Out of all of us, Seth seemed to get most of our father's temper."
She shrugged. "It wasn't aimed at me."
In truth, she felt sorry for him. She wasn't sure why but Wade seemed to discount Seth's ability to help shoulder more of the burden of running the Cold Creek.
None of it was her business, Caroline reminded herself again as she said goodbye to Jake then helped the children through their bath routine—washing hair, finding bath toys, wrapping Tanner's arm and helping him keep it above the water.
As she went through their routine, she thought about the things she had observed that day, of the three motherless children starving for their father's attention.
They each exhibited behaviors she believed were directly linked to Wade's distracted parenting. Natalie had stepped up to mother and boss everyone around; Tanner was a bundle of energy who seemed to find trouble everywhere he went; Cody was clingy, hungry for affection.
And then there was Wade, who buried himself in work, and Seth, who would like to.
Not that she planned to jump to any rushed judgments, Caroline thought wryly.
She had only been here thirty-six hours. She couldn't expect to know and understand all the dynamics of the Dalton family in such a short time. Besides, even if she was spot-on with her assessment, none of it was her business. She was only the temporary help.
After she settled the boys in bed, she crossed the hall to tell Natalie good-night. She found the girl in her bed, her long dark hair still damp and a book propped on her knees.
Nobody walking in this room could ever doubt the girl was horse crazy, Caroline thought with a smile. The walls were covered in horse posters, a knickknack shelf that ran around the entire perimeter of the room about eighteen inches from the ceiling held dozens of horse figures in all colors and sizes, and the bedspread covering those little knees was, of course, equine in design.
"May I come in?" Caroline asked from the doorway.
"Yeah."
She sat on the edge of the bed, drawn to this little girl despite her bossiness. Something about Natalie reminded Caroline of herself, though she wasn't quite sure why.
She had been quiet, almost shy, something that certainly couldn't be said of Natalie. Heaven knows, even if Caroline had shared a similar obsession for anything like Nat's with horses, she and Quinn had never stayed in one place long enough for her to have a collection like this one.
"What are you reading?" she asked.
"Misty of Chincoteague."
"That's a great one."
Natalie shrugged. "It's okay. I've read it three times before."
"Don't you think the very best books are those you can enjoy more every time you read them?"
"I guess."
They lapsed into a not-uncomfortable silence and Caroline wondered what it would be like to have a daughter of her own. It wasn't an unreasonable idea since she had friends with children this age. Still, her mind boggled at the thought.
"The birthday party for your father was very nice. Your hats showed great creativity. I set them aside while I was cleaning up the dishes. I thought maybe we can put them away and save them for whoever's birthday is next in your family."
"That's Grandma," Natalie said. "Her birthday is in November. Mine's not until March."
"We can put them in a box for your grandmother's birthday party, then. She'll love them."
Natalie closed her book, shifting her legs under the comforter.
"My grandma's not coming back, is she?" she said after a moment.
Caroline drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected question. Where did that come from?
And wasn't this the kind of thing Wade should be discussing with his daughter? she thought, irritated at him all over again. If Natalie needed reassurance, she should be able to turn to her father for it, not to a virtual stranger.
But she was here and Wade wasn't, so it looked like she was nominated. "Oh, honey. Of course she's coming back."
The girl's hair rustled as she shook her head. "I heard Uncle Jake and Uncle Seth talking about it. They said how she eloped with your dad. Is it true?"
Caroline squirmed under Natalie's accusing look. She had been the one to tell the girl only that Marjorie had gone on a trip with a friend.
"Yes," she finally admitted.
Natalie nodded, her eyes solemn and sad. "So she's not coming back, then."
"Why do you say that?"
"My friend Holly's big sister eloped. She ran away to get married and she never came back. She lives in California and she's gonna have a baby. What if that happens to Grandma?"
Despite the gravity of the conversation, Caroline had to bite back a smile at the idea. "I think I can safely promise you that's not going to happen, honey."
"But what if it does? What if she doesn't come back? Who's gonna take care of me and Tanner and Cody?"
"You still have your dad," she pointed out.
"My dad's too busy with the ranch. He doesn't have time to take me to Girl Scouts or make cookies for my class when it's treat day or fix my hair in the morning. Grandma does all that stuff. If she doesn't come back, who's going to do it?"
"Your grandma's coming back. She said so."
"But what if she doesn't?" Natalie persisted.
"Well, your dad will probably hire somebody to help him."
Natalie didn't look at all thrilled by that idea. "Like a babysitter for all the time?"
"Something like that."
The girl peeked at Caroline under her lashes. "Would you do it if he hired you? You fixed my hair today and the braids looked even better than Grandma's. And your roast beef was the best we ever had, even my dad said so."
"Oh, honey," Caroline said helplessly, not sure how to answer.
"That means no, doesn't it?"
"I can't just stay here. I have a job and a house back in California."
"You could if you wanted to. You just don't want to."
"That's not true. Anyway, you don't have to worry about this, Natalie. Your grandma says she's coming back. Has she ever lied to you before?"
"Yes. She promised she would take me to Girl Scouts today to make scrunchies and she didn't."
Okay, Nat had her there. Caroline sighed. "I know your grandma and I know she loves you very much. She said she's coming back and she will. Whatever happens, I also know your dad will make sure you have somebody nice to take care of you and your brothers."
She brushed a kiss on Natalie's forehead. "Now go to sleep and stop worrying."
Though she still looked unconvinced, Nat nodded and rolled over, her cheek pressed against yet another horse on her pillow.
Chapter Eight
Wade had been working eighteen-hour days from about the time he'd hit puberty. It was a fact of life on a ranch, something he was used to. When work needed to be done, a man didn't sit around complaining about it, he knuckled down and did it.
If you put off doing what was needed, you only ended up having twice as much to do the next day.
He was used to days when he didn't have five minutes to grab a sandwich, when the minute he finished one task, a dozen more crept up to take its place on his to-do list.
Still, by the time he returned to the ranch house the evening of his birthday dinner, he was more than ready to find h
is bed. His muscles ached from a hard day of physical labor and his brain was weary from racing around in circles trying to work out the last-minute details before the camera crew arrived on Monday for the pre-interview shots.
He would have loved nothing better than lounging in front of ESPN with a beer and the remote right about now. But since not too many football games were played at eleven on a Thursday night, he figured he would just have to settle for a hot shower and Letterman, while he gave his mind and body time to settle down.
Maybe he could find a piece of birthday cake left, he thought as he parked his pickup at the house and flicked off the headlights. It had been a mighty good cake, even though he'd been too rushed earlier to really savor each bite.
He would have to make sure he remembered to tell Nat she'd done a good job with it, even if Caroline had helped her. As he was pretty sure his daughter would still be in bed before he left in the morning, he'd probably be best to leave her a note about it.
The thought left him feeling vaguely guilty, but he pushed it aside. Another few days and the TV interview would be done. He would still be busy, but at least he wouldn't have that hanging over him, too.
The house was dark except for a small light glowing in the kitchen. It was a silly thing but somehow seeing that glow and knowing Caroline must have left it burning for him warmed him and managed to ease the ache in his muscles just a little.
The night was cool and crisp as he walked into the house, and all was quiet on the Cold Creek.
Wade hung his hat and jacket on the mudroom hook then walked into the kitchen, his mind on cake and, regrettably, on Caroline.
He found both delectable things in the kitchen, the cake on the table and Caroline sitting at the breakfast bar with a laptop open in front of her and papers fanned neatly around her.
She looked up when he walked in, her forehead creased with concentration. Her hair was slipping free from her ponytail and a honey-brown strand lay across the curve of her jawbone, he noticed. She brushed it away, giving him a distracted smile.
In the pale glow from the laptop and the light above the stove, she looked soft and sweet and delicious, and his body instantly jumped with hunger.
"You're still up." It was a stupid thing to say, but for some reason he couldn't seem to hold a coherent thought.
She nodded. "I had some work to catch up on. This seemed a quiet time to do it."
They were alone in the kitchen, the children presumably asleep long ago. "What kind of work?"
"Notes on some of my clients to help me prepare for sessions with them when I return next week."
He almost made a derogatory crack about her work but the words caught in his throat.
He might not see the use in paying somebody else to tell you how to live your life but she was staying in his house, taking care of his kids, and it didn't feel right to give her a hard time about her career.
It was one of those clumsy moments when he couldn't say the first thing that came into his head but couldn't think of anything else to take its place, and they lapsed into an awkward silence.
He was about to excuse himself and head to bed when she finally spoke. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "There's roast beef left and plenty more cake. I could make you a sandwich if you'd like. With the roast, of course, not the cake."
His mouth watered and dinner seemed a long time ago. On the other hand, he had a funny feeling it wouldn't be exactly the smartest idea he'd ever come up with to fix a snack and sit down to eat it across from Caroline Montgomery, just the two of them in the middle of the night in a warm, cozy kitchen.
Not when he couldn't seem to shake his crazy, unwanted attraction to her.
Since he didn't see any other choice besides grabbing his cake and running away like a coyote-spooked yearling, he opted to pass on the whole thing.
"I'm good. But thanks. You, uh, did a good job with dinner."
"I only made the roast and the potatoes. Natalie did the rest. She worked very hard to give you a memorable birthday dinner."
Did that carefully bland voice hide censure or was it only his guilty conscience?
"Yeah, I was just thinking I should drop her a note about it before I took off in the morning. Tell her what a good job she did and all."
"I suppose you could do that," she said slowly.
"You have a better idea?"
He did his best to keep any trace of defensiveness out of his voice but he wasn't sure he succeeded.
"I just wonder if perhaps it would mean more to her if you could take the time to tell her in person."
A lecture from this woman would be just the thing he needed to cap off a perfect day. He braced himself. "Maybe, except I'm usually gone before she gets up for school."
"I've noticed." She carefully slid the cap onto her pen and rose from the bar stool. "You're gone before your children awake and not back until long after Natalie and the boys are in bed. I can't help wondering when you do see your children."
Here we go. By force of will, he shoved back the wall of guilt that threatened to crash over him. "I see them."
"When?" she persisted.
"I try to make sure I'm home with them at dinnertime, unless I absolutely can't break away."
"And then you go again."
"Sometimes." Most of the time, he admitted. Not that it was any of Caroline's business. "I also usually have the chance to see the boys for a couple minutes at lunchtime and take them on errands with me when I can."
"Do you think that's all they need from you?" If her voice was at all sarcastic, he would have blown up at her. But she spoke calmly, rationally, and somehow that made it seem worse.
"It's all I have to give them right now. I'm sorry if that doesn't fit your storybook image of what a perfect father ought to be but I'm a little busy here trying to provide for my family."
"You seem to be doing an excellent job of that. Your children don't lack for anything, except maybe your attention."
"Thank you for that two-second analysis, Dr. Montgomery. You'll be the first one I'll turn to if I want an opinion on how to raise my children from a total stranger who has no children of her own and who knows nothing about my situation."
She drew in a sharp breath and her soft, lovely skin seemed to pale a shade.
His guilt kicked up a notch but he shoved it back down. No. This wasn't his fault. She'd asked for it, butting in to things that weren't her concern. If she couldn't take his reaction, she shouldn't have yanked his chain.
He waited for tears or any of those other dirty tricks women used when they were challenged during an argument, but she only nodded. "Fair enough. You're right. I've only been here a day and can't pretend to know all there is know about you and your family. But let me ask you something. What does Natalie want to be when she grows up?"
Another feminine tactic—throw in a non sequitur. What the heck did one thing have to do with the other?
This he had to think about for a minute. "A nurse?" He heard the question in his voice and quickly repeated it with more confidence. "She wants to be a nurse."
"Maybe. But what she most wants to be at this moment is a barrel racer, like her mother."
Really? He hadn't even realized Nat knew of Andi's high-school rodeo days.
Before he could answer, Caroline went on. "What's her favorite color? What friend asked her to sleep over tomorrow night? What grade did she get on her math test, the one that was the highest in her class?"
He glared at her, angry at himself for not knowing the answers to her interrogation and angry with her for pushing him on this when it was none of her damn business.
Though it strained his self-control to the limit, he managed to contain his temper.
He wasn't about to engage in a shouting match with Caroline Montgomery in his own kitchen. No good could possibly come of it. And besides, there was a very real chance he would lose, since everything she'd said was right on the money.
"I don't know," he finally said quietly. "I'm sure
it just makes your day to hear me admit that. I don't know those things about my daughter. I guess that makes me the world's worst father."
To his considerable dismay, she reached out and touched his arm, and he felt the heat of it through every nerve ending. "Of course it doesn't make you a bad father. I never meant to imply such a thing. You're busy. It must be hard work running a ranch of this size. I understand that."
To his relief, she withdrew her hand and frowned. "But I'm not so sure your children do."
"They will. My brothers and I figured it out."
He didn't add that he and his brothers hadn't much minded their father being consumed by the ranch all the time as long as it had kept the son of a bitch away from them.
He couldn't be a completely lousy father—how could he be, since he wasn't anything like Hank Dalton? He was never cruel to his children; he didn't taunt them, or berate them or make them feel lower than the lowliest vermin on the ranch.
"Did you?" Her voice was soft but it still cut through his memories like a buzz saw.
"Did I what?"
"Understand about your father?"
His glare sliced at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She shouldn't have said anything. This wasn't at all what she'd wanted to talk to him about tonight. She was concerned only for his children, only Nat and the boys.
Still, in the day and a half she'd been on the ranch, she had begun to wonder if anyone at the Cold Creek was truly happy. Wade certainly didn't seem to be, and this evening at dinner she had witnessed firsthand Seth's unhappiness.
She couldn't put her finger on why she thought this, but there was a kind of sadness to the ranch, a deep and profound melancholy that seemed to permeate the air.
She'd thought it was because he and his children were still grieving for the wife and mother they had lost, but now she wondered if it went deeper than that.
For a moment there after he'd mentioned his father, she had seen something in Wade's eyes, an old pain that suddenly made him seem big and lost and lonely, and that tore at her heart.
"Nothing," she murmured. "I'm sorry. None of my business."
He leaned forward suddenly and was once more the hard man she'd come to know.
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