by Finch, Carol
Chance held up his hand before Zack dashed off. “Whoa, rookie. Bad idea.”
“How come?” Zack wanted to know.
“Well, moms can be kind of touchy about having some cowboy stepping in to replace them for ball practice,” Chance explained. “We don’t want your mom to feel left out or unwanted, you know.”
Zack frowned, pondering the logic.
“We’ll practice privately,” Chance continued. “That way we can keep doing each other a favor without hurting your mom’s feelings. Since you and I know how it feels to be left out, we wouldn’t want her feeling that way, too, would we?”
“No way,” Zack insisted.
Chance hobbled over to give the kid a quick hug. “Me either. You can play catch with both of us, okay?”
“Okay.”
When Zack trotted off to play with his dalmatian puppy, Chance ambled back to the bunkhouse. Alexa would likely raise hell with him if she found out what he was doing, but damn it, he couldn’t let that kid go on hiding behind the barn, crying his eyes out because he was a gym-class reject. Zack was putting up a brave front for his mother’s benefit, but there was no question that the kid had been hurting in private.
Willfully, Chance turned his thoughts toward preparations for the cowboys-turned-carpenters’ impending arrival. He was going to play fairy godfather for every member of the Tipton family this weekend. He just hoped like hell that the majority of them appreciated it.
Alexa worked off her frustration in the barn loft. She had so much energy that lugging around the heavy nail gun didn’t faze her. Following the directions Chester had given her during the past few weeks, she set the precut studs on the floor, shoved the two-by-fours in place and nailed the newly constructed wall. She didn’t know how she was going to hoist up the wall by herself, but she vowed to figure that out when the time came.
While working, Alexa muttered a few curses to Howard’s name. How on earth was she going to convince Howard that Zack didn’t need to go chasing around to rodeos without offending the old man who had been generous to her? She should appreciate having a weekend all to herself for the first time since she could remember. But damn it, why couldn’t Howard offer to take Zack anywhere except to a rodeo?
There were plenty of activities that an eight-year-old boy would enjoy. Professional baseball games, a Disney movie, a trip to an amusement park. But this wasn’t really about what Zack liked to do, was it? It was about what Howard wanted, what Howard expected of his grandson.
And Chance, curse him, had fired up Howard when he mentioned inviting a few cronies to play rodeo cowboy for the weekend. Howard ate that stuff up, loved to relive his son’s fame and glory with other men in the rodeo circle.
There were times when Alexa wondered how it would feel to pack a suitcase, grab Zack by the hand and shove off, leaving the responsibility of the house and the ranch behind her. Unfortunately, responsibility had become her middle name, her way of life. She never turned her back on obligation, and she didn’t have it in her to start now. She was stuck in a rut and couldn’t seem to climb out without feeling guilty.
But just once, for one reckless, carefree, selfish moment she would like to live for herself, to follow her own personal whims and thumb her nose at obligation.
Alexa muttered an epithet to Chance’s name for putting such irresponsible thoughts in her head. The man was a bad influence on her, was too damn appealing. She didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to count on him, because he would be gone in a few short weeks. She didn’t need another Dan Tipton tormenting her life. One had been plenty.
Alexa’s thoughts trailed off when she heard the clatter of footsteps on the staircase Chester had built onto the opening of the barn loft. Twisting around from her squatting position, Alexa gaped at the familiar faces of men she recognized from infrequent ranch visits and action shots taken by rodeo magazines.
“What on earth...?”
To her stunned amazement, six rodeo cowboys, equipped with tool pouches, carrying armloads of two-by-four studs, nodded greetings as they strode toward her. Chance brought up the rear of the procession with his noticeable limp. He, too, was laden down with lumber. The task had to be putting excessive strain on his injured knee.
“The guys and I decided to erect a few walls and save the roping and riding until it cools down this evening,” Chance explained with a casual smile. “Al, you remember Skeeter, Jack, Teddy, Lefty, Ray and Sonny, don’t you? They all claim to have passed through here a few times in the past.”
Dumbfounded, Alexa nodded a silent greeting to the bulky cowboys. Then her astonished gaze fixed on Chance’s wry smile. It dawned on her that he had secretly arranged for this barn-raising party and that he was giving her the weekend off from hard labor, if she would agree to cook for the hungry men.
Practice cooking for your bed-and-breakfast, he’d said—or something to that effect. At the time, Alexa had wanted to choke him for what she believed to be presumptuous imposition. Now she wanted to hug the stuffing out of him for accelerating this construction project. Of course, she would never forgive Chance for leaving her beholden to so many men, either, she tacked on silently.
Chance set aside the stack of lumber, then extended a sinewy arm to her. “Hand over the gun, Al. As sheriff of this here podunk town, we got laws against womenfolk packin’ firearms,” he said in his best Old-West drawl.
The comment drew chuckles from the cowboys, but Alexa’s gaze was locked on Chance’s teasing smile. When she handed over the nail gun, Chance lifted it as if it were as light as a pencil.
“Zack is camped out on the couch, watching the Braves take on the Cincinnati Reds on TV. John Smoltz is on the mound. Why don’t you go take a look at the man’s pitching technique and see if you can’t learn to throw with some respectability, Al. Me and the other menfolk got some buildin’ to do here.”
At that moment, Alexa couldn’t find it in her heart to take offense at his playful criticism of her baseball skills. Chance was like a wizard waving his magic wand to fulfill her dream.
Alexa was beginning to understand that Chance was giving her an opportunity, without asking for much in return. He had made it crystal clear the previous night that he wasn’t the kind of man who expected sexual favors or made unwanted advances. Any advances, Alexa knew, would have to come from her.
Conflicting emotions assailed Alexa. She wanted Chance to keep his distance before she got too attached to him. She wanted him to leave—she wanted him to stay. She wanted Chance to be Zack’s male role model, yet she didn’t.
When Alexa continued to stand there staring up at Chance with an indecipherable expression in her cedar-tree-green eyes, he longed to pull her into his arms and assure her that whatever emotion was rumbling beneath that carefully controlled surface could be worked out to a satisfactory conclusion. But hell, he wasn’t sure things would work out perfectly for her, and he didn’t believe in spouting empty promises.
He was going to do this good deed for the year and just let it go at that, he told himself. Even if by slim chance Alexa yielded to the attraction he sensed she was feeling toward him, there was still Howard Tipton to contend with. That old rooster would be crowing at the top of his lungs if any man dared to intrude on the shrine he had erected to honor his departed son.
No wonder Chance had spent his spare time with uncomplicated women who were interested in one-night rodeos. Complex females like Alexa could put a man’s closely guarded emotions in a tailspin.
Before Chance got all mushy and sentimental from staring into that lovely feminine face, he shooed Alexa on her way. “Skedaddle, Al. Us menfolk got lots to do. Your first six guests at the bed-and-breakfast want to get their rooms ready for occupancy.”
“Thank you,” Alexa whispered soulfully, her eyes misting with tears.
“No thanks needed, Al. A pot of stew simmering over the campfire will be appreciation enough,” Chance said in a light tone.
Damn, that watery smile was really hittin
g him where he lived. Most women bled tears when a man handed over sparkling diamonds, but not Al. She got all sentimental over refurbishing a barn. But then, Chance already understood that Alexa was a unique breed of woman who didn’t fit the usual feminine mold.
When Alexa smiled, then walked away, Teddy Cramer lifted a quizzical brow. “Wanna tell us what’s going on here, Butler?”
Chance shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re renovating a barn.”
“No, Teddy is asking what is going on with you and Al,” Lefty paraphrased.
“I’m doing my good deed for the year and you’re helping me. So clam up and get to work,” Chance ordered. “Go build some walls and make damn sure they’re level while you’re at it.”
“He’s sweet on the widow,” Jack and Ray chorused.
Chance raised the nail gun threateningly. “I said get to work.”
With mocking salutes, the troop of cowboys-turned-carpenters marched off like soldiers on parade.
“Hey, Mom, John Smoltz struck out three batters in a row!” Zack reported when Alexa stepped into the living room. “The Braves are up three to zip in the fourth.”
“Has Chipper Jones gotten a hit yet?” Alexa asked.
Thanks to Zack’s avid fascination for the Atlanta Braves, she knew the names and positions of the team’s starting lineup and the ERA of the bull pen.
“Chipper got a stand-up double,” Zack said, in between bites of peanut butter cookies. He tore his gaze away from the TV screen long enough to flick a glance at his mother. “Grandpa says the cowboys are going to practice rodeoing this evening. He said I could take a turn at riding and roping. Do you want to practice, too?”
Alexa inwardly flinched. She hadn’t been particularly pleased when her husband planted Zack on horseback and thrust a lariat into his small hand. Dan had shrugged off her concerns, as he did everything else. Now Howard was pulling the same stunt. Alexa didn’t believe a young boy had any business playing a man’s games, not when highspirited horses and cantankerous cattle were involved.
“I think we should watch from the fence rail,” Alexa insisted.
Zack wrinkled his nose. “I know how to ride already, Mom.”
“Famous last words before you fall off a horse and get stamped on.”
“Aw, Mom,” Zack grumbled. “Grandpa said I could.”
“He isn’t your mother,” Alexa muttered, then whirled away.
She and Howard were destined to lock horns over this, she predicted on her way to the kitchen. She planned to prepare the steaks and fried potatoes Chance had purchased at the supermarket. Howard loved steak—cooked medium rare. When he had his gums wrapped around the juicy meat, she would inform the old man that his grandson would be a bystander, not a participant this evening. Maybe the juicy meat would mellow the old man and make him see reason.
As for Chance, Alexa was still debating between strangling him and hugging him. The surprise he had arranged for the weekend was turning out to be both a blessing and a curse.
Alexa was up to her elbows in peeled potatoes and corn shucks when the phone rang. Zack answered, then came toting the portable phone to her.
“It’s Aunt Debs. She wants to talk to you.” Zack shook his head in disappointment. “Gee whiz, Mom, she doesn’t know who John Smoltz is.”
“Just goes to show you what happens when you slack off on your education, doesn’t it?” Alexa said, then winked. “I bet she didn’t pay attention to her science book when she was in the third grade, either.”
“That means I’m supposed to pay attention, right?” Zack asked.
“You got it, champ. Go cheer for Smoltz for me, will you? Let me know if his pitches are clocked over eighty-five miles an hour.”
Zack tore off to watch the game. Alexa wedged the phone between her head and shoulder. “Hi, sis, what are you up to?”
“I’m headed to the arts and crafts show this afternoon. I wondered if you wanted me to pick up some knickknacks to decorate your bed-and-breakfast.”
Would she ever! Alexa was eager for her sister’s expertise. Debra had the amazing knack of selecting inexpensive items and putting them together in a manner that gave a countrified touch to decor. An art major who had opened her own arts and crafts shop in Willowvale, Debra was the perfect candidate to decorate the B-and-B. Alexa was counting on her sister’s talents to add just the right touch of antiques and Western paraphernalia to provide a memorable atmosphere in the old barn.
“I’ll leave the selection of crafts to your good taste,” Alexa said. “Just don’t forget that I’m working on a limited budget, sis. The bank loan is increasing so fast that it makes my head spin. The plumbing and lumber bills are staggering.”
“Don’t worry about bursting your budget,” Debra replied. “The knickknacks are on the house. I’ll use the crafts and artwork as advertising for my shop. We’ll stick a plaque by your cash register—where you’ll be raking in the dough right and left—announcing that the decor is furnished by Deb’s Craft Mall.”
“Are you sure you can afford—?”
“Yep. Thanks to your encouragement, my business is on its feet. It’s payback time, sis. I’ve waited a long time to repay you for raising me and seeing me through my difficult teens. I was too young and immature and bitter at the time to say thank-you. I’m saying thank-you now, and I plan to help you the same way you helped me. Catch ya later, sis.”
Alexa set aside the phone and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. It wasn’t like her to cry over little or nothing. But Chance’s good deed and Deb’s words of appreciation had bored through the suit of armor Alexa wore to protect herself from stress and frustration.
She was touched, appreciative and grateful, but she didn’t know how to express the sentiment. She was also going to be late putting dinner on the table if she didn’t fire up the smoker and get the steaks on the grill.
Grabbing her special blend of seasoning, Alexa coated the steaks, then carried them out to the patio. Zack’s dalmatian pup licked his lips and stared beseechingly at her.
“You can chew on the bones after dinner,” she said to the spotted dog. “Anything else will earn you a swat on the fanny. So keep your paws and your jaws off these steaks, understood?”
The dalmatian rolled onto its side to sunbathe, but the pup kept a watchful eye on the platter of steaks, just in case one of them plunked on the patio.
While Alexa went in and out the kitchen door, alternately monitoring the cooking temperatures of the meat, potatoes and corn, she heard the rat-tat-tat of hammers, the whack-thump of the nail gun and occasional outbursts of laughter.
No doubt Chance was providing entertainment while the men worked. He had a knack for lightening up glum moods. Alexa knew that for a fact, because he had used the technique on her once or twice when he thought she was taking life too seriously.
Damn, why did he have to be a shiftless cowboy? Why not a pharmacist or a shopkeeper, who put down permanent roots? Why did he have to be the symbol representing the kind of men Alexa had made a pact with herself to avoid, hitherto and forevermore?
Sure as the world turned, Chance Butler would saddle up and ride off into the sunset when his injured leg healed. Alexa would still be entrenched at the Rocking T, raising her son, trying to mellow her hidebound father-in-law and managing her bed-and-breakfast.
Chance Butler has been off-limits to you since the moment he showed up, she thought. Don’t do anything stupid, like get sentimentally attached to him. He’ll be gone and you’ll be here wishing you had kept an emotional distance.
Alexa took her own good advice to heart and concentrated on putting a succulent meal on the table for the cowboys, who would show up at high noon hungry for a feast.
While the cowboys were saddling their horses and sorting out steers to rope and bulldog, Alexa ambled into the barn loft. When she reached the landing, she halted in her tracks, her jaw scraping her chest. To her bewildered amazement, the crew of seven men had erected the walls for every upstairs bedroom, pla
ced two-by-ten headers above each door and nailed the heavy ceiling joists into place.
My goodness, how’d they get so much done so quickly? Chester Whitmier wouldn’t believe it when he showed up for work Monday morning.
Amazed, Alexa wandered into each room, checking the workmanship. The walls were perfectly level and the doorways were exactly eighty inches high. The framework for the private bathrooms in the suites had been nailed together and set aside to await the arrival of the plumbers. The stack of Sheetrock delivered by the lumber company in Willowvale had been carted upstairs. Six sections of drywall had been nailed up on the ceiling in one of the bedrooms and two walls boasted Sheetrock. The room was beginning to take shape, and Alexa felt a surge of eager anticipation pulsating through her.
This was well and truly the shining example of building a dream. She had walls! She had a partial ceiling. Progress!
Before she got carried away, she pivoted toward the stairs. She had to run interference for her son at the rodeo arena. Howard would have Zack mounted and competing with professional rodeo contestants before she knew it.
Chapter Four
With fiendish haste, Alexa strode to the corrals that Dan had built specifically for practicing his skills. Sure enough, Zack was mounted on his Appy pony, swinging a lariat around his head. Frantic, Alexa stalked past Chance, who was leaning on the fence rail.
Chance snaked out his hand to snag her arm before she barreled into the arena. “Whoa, Al.”
Alexa wrenched her arm from his grasp. “I don’t want Zack out there. Howard is determined to raise Zack in his father’s image but I won’t have it!”
“And if you go barging in there, you’ll embarrass the kid,” Chance predicted.
“Better to be embarrassed than to be flat on his back with a broken neck. He’s too young for this!”