by Silver James
That got a laugh out of her, as he’d intended. His expression softened of its own accord. “You walked in here with nothin’. I’ve got some spares around. We’ll get you set up with the necessities and in the next day or two, we’ll go shoppin’ so you can get some stuff that’s just yours. Okay?”
She’d tucked her chin against her chest as he spoke, but she looked up and met his gaze. “Yeah. That’d be nice. Thanks.”
“I’ll be back after I root around.”
Ten minutes later, he had the necessities—toothbrush and paste, shampoo and conditioner of the girlie variety, body wash, hairbrush and comb. He also had a stack of clothing—jeans, shorts, T-shirts, and an unopened package of cotton underwear. “I’m guessin’ at sizes. Tomorrow, you can go through the stash and pick out what you want. Tonight, you can shower and get clean. Pick out a big tee to sleep in, and clean undies. You have stuff to pick and choose from when you wake up. Okay?”
The smile she flashed him was genuine. Pops was a really nice person, a man her dad and the other Wolves would like. Too bad they’d never get to meet him. She figured she might have a day, two at the most before she had to move on.
Later, after the most wonderful shower she’d ever had in her life, after combing and brushing the snarls out of her hair, and picking a tee that said “Go Army” that would get a growl from her dad since he’d been a Marine, she settled into bed. A few minutes later, Pops tapped on the door, the dogs pushing it open before she could invite him in. He only poked his head inside, rolling his eyes as the dogs leaped onto the bed and made a fuss of getting pets before settling.
“Just came to make sure you’ve got everything you need and to say goodnight.”
Joy gave him a shifty-eyed look. “You a big John Wayne fan or something?”
“Why do you ask?”
She ruffled Jake’s ears and pointed to Chisum, who’d settled on her feet. “Big Jake and Chisum. Those are two of his movies.”
That put a grin on his face. He figured she was a bit young to know much about that particular movie star. “Are you a big fan of the Duke’s?”
Her voice went small and hollow. “Sometimes.”
“Get some sleep, sugar. Sweet dreams and don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
He flipped out the light and was closing her door when he caught her muttered, “What does that even mean?”
Pops heard tires scrunching on the road leading to the main house. It wasn’t much past sunrise and he’d been working since before “can see.” Horses had to be fed, stalls mucked, cattle looked after. He would ease Joy into chores gradually. It was part of the rules. Every kid who laid their heads on one of his pillows worked. Part of it was therapy. Part of it was education. All of it had to do with discipline.
He’d peeked in on Joy, drinking his first cup of coffee. Jake raised his head from another pillow, whrfled, and thumped his head back down. Chisum carefully eased off the bed and followed him. Both dogs knew their duties. Pops was just glad Joy was still in that bed sleeping. He’d slept light, worrying she’d take off even though he’d set the alarm.
Stepping to the door of the barn, he watched the little crossover vehicle wind up his drive. It wasn’t an official state vehicle or a squad car. So far, so good. Ambling toward the house, he took off his baseball cap and swiped the beads of sweat left on his forehead with his shirt sleeve. The day was already hot and muggy, even this early. He made it to the porch by the time the snazzy SUV parked next to his truck. The door popped open and no way could he hide the smile at the cloud of black hair crowning that perfect face as Elena stepped out. She wore boots and jeans, and a cute T-shirt.
Don’t blow this, handsome.
“She’s too young for me, Rosie.”
What’d I just say? You pay attention, old man.
“That’s my point.”
He watched as Elena bent over at the waist and damn if things didn’t perk right up—hard and fast enough he had to adjust what came to life behind the buttons of his fly. She dragged a small wheeled bag and a backpack out.
“Good morning, Mr. West.”
“Mornin’, sugar. I thought you were gonna call me Pops.”
Her cheeks flushed and she refused to meet his eyes.
I’m tellin’ you true, handsome. This one has it for you. Bad. Which is all to the good.”
“I’m sort of here in an official capacity. But not.”
“Sounds like you need a cup of coffee and some comfortable furniture to sit on. Got the feelin’ there’s a story here.”
Ten minutes and a cup of coffee later, Elena was installed in the girlie-girl bedroom next to Joy’s. Self-preservation made him put her there. The walls of this old house weren’t paper thin but seducing a woman with an impressionable—and nosy—girl right next door would now be completely out of the question.
Elena explained in no uncertain terms that she wanted no stain of impropriety placed on him. With this in mind, she’d called in for two days of sick leave which would then give her time to file her vacation request. She would stay at the ranch until Joy was reunited with her birth family or a permanent placement was made. That was her story and she was sticking to it. She totally was not there because she found him sexy. And as intrigued as she was by Pops, she concurred with his unconscious decision to place her next to Joy. Less temptation. Because there would be temptation a plenty just seeing this man every day. She’d caught a whiff of him when he poured her a cup of coffee. Honest sweat, sweet hay, horse, and Irish Spring soap. He hadn’t shaved and she’d had to curl her hands into fists to keep from reaching over to brush her fingertips across his scruff.
Pops cleared his throat. Elena was staring at his jawline again and he would have to find a discreet way to adjust his erection—again—if she didn’t stop looking at him like she had never had ice cream and he was a triple scoop banana split with all the sauce, sprinkles, nuts, whipped cream and cherries.
“Ah, Elena?”
She let out a little sigh. “Yes, Papi?”
And damn if he didn’t enjoy the hell out of her calling him that. And she looked damn cute all dreamy eyed with her tongue licking her bottom lip. Yup. Time for a trip to the men’s room. “Make yourself at home. I got stuff to do.”
Chapter 9
Pops’s abrupt departure left Elena sputtering, and slightly embarrassed. She could not go around mooning over the man. He obviously was not interested in her. Not to mention how unprofessional that would be. She was here as a case worker. That was all. She had no ulterior motives for inserting herself so personally into the lives of this man and the little girl they’d rescued. None at all. And she would never acknowledge that she was lying through her teeth.
She squared her shoulders and set about moving in. Which didn’t take long. She was placing her toothbrush in the bathroom across the hall when a sleepy-eyed Joy slouched out of door across the way and wandered in. The girl’s head shot up on a gasp.
“Easy, chica,” Elena murmured. “It’s just me. I’m through in here so it’s all yours.” She gave the girl a shoulder bump as she squeezed past. She paused in the hallway. “You like chilaquiles?”
“Like what?”
“Chilaquiles. Never mind. You will. I’m fixing them for breakfast.” And she was. She still had groceries in her car.
“Uhm…okay.” Joy pushed a straggle of hair out of her face. “Where’s Pops?”
“Probably back in the barn doing whatever he was doing when I interrupted him with my arrival. If he doesn’t come back soon, we’ll find him when it’s time to eat.” She flashed a smile and headed toward the broad staircase.
Puttering in the kitchen, Elena learned she hadn’t needed a grocery run. For a bachelor who mostly lived alone, Pops had a well-stocked pantry, refrigerator, and freezer. This was good. It also gave her an idea of what he liked to eat. She came from a big family. Her mama cooked. Her sisters cooked. So did all the aunts. And everyone ate, enjoying food and family the way large, boisterou
s families did, even if her dad sometimes drank too much beer. This place was quiet. She enjoyed the peacefulness of the country, but she was used to the chatter of her female relatives and the low rumble of male voices from another room.
The house was big, comfortable. Built and furnished for a family. As she deep-fried the corn tortillas, grated cheese, and set out the eggs and salsa, she thought about Pops. David and Rose West never had children of their own. There was nothing in their file about why, but they’d fostered over a hundred children in the fifteen years they’d been married. A few, like Sherman Reardon, who was a member of the fire department now, and his sisters had come due to an emergency in their lives. Others arrived abused and found open arms, no pressure, and a safe home full of love. More arrived full of attitude and anger, unaware that this was their last stop before juvie or jail. Pops insisted the kids work around the place but not like slave labor. Little ones did things like set the table. Older ones worked with Pops around the ranch. Every child—no matter how angry, hurt, or sad—exited Pops’s care with only good words to say.
No matter how long they were here—a few days or a few years—he taught the kids to respect themselves and others. They discovered the value of hard work. They learned they could stand up for themselves. Not one kid who’d been sent here because they were trouble came back through the system or ended up in jail. It was a remarkable record and one Elena admired.
Joy appeared, wearing jeans a little on the baggy side and a T-shirt with a faded Texas Tech logo. She stuck a foot out as if admiring the western boot she wore. “I found these in the closet in my room. They fit. Do you think Pops will mind?”
“Not at all, darlin’.”
Two sets of female eyes swiveled to look at him. Pops grinned, though a part of him fought it. Seeing a pretty woman with an egg whisk in her hand standing in his kitchen caused a twinge in his heart. At the same time, his spirits lifted.
She looks like she belongs here, handsome.
He ignored Rosie’s voice, concentrating instead on Joy. “I’ve got a cedar storage closet full of clothes up in the attic. Y’all can go browse after breakfast. There’s shoes and boots too, though I’m glad you found a pair that fits. Reminds me I need to check all the closets and dressers for stuff. I don’t always remember.” He winked at her before raising his chin and sniffing the air. “What am I smellin’?”
“Fried tortillas,” Elena said. “I’m making chilaquiles. I was just about to cook the eggs. Go wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was still grinning as he sauntered into the downstairs powder room.
Told you so.
“Hush, woman.”
Her tinkling laughter sparkled in his brain and then disappeared. Yeah, so he was probably just this side of loco but having Rosie live inside his head had been a comfort. Why she seemed so all fired ready to pawn him off on another woman required some cogitation. But first, he had homemade chilaquiles to eat.
Joy poked around, found placemats, silverware, and plates. She set the large white-pine table with three place settings then hitched herself up on a wooden barstool to watch Elena scramble the eggs and then build the chilaquiles with homemade tortilla chips, grated cheese, eggs, and more cheese. The cast iron skillet went into the oven while the lady stirred up what looked like it might be hot cocoa but way more. Elena used evaporated milk, chocolate chips, and a bunch of different spices.
When the eggs came out from under the broiler, Elena added the salsa and sprinkled fresh cilantro on the top. Pops came back in time to transfer the heavy skillet to the table while she handed a bowl of sour cream and a plate of lime wedges to Joy. Then she poured a cup of Mexican hot chocolate for the girl and fresh mugs of coffee for Pops and herself. Pops sat at the head of the table and Joy slid into the chair on his left. Elena took the chair on his right and pretended that her heart wasn’t thumping hard—not from exertion, but from the nearness of this man and the feelings welling inside her. Feelings she could ill afford but cooking in his kitchen? Sitting at his table like they were…family? No. She slammed the mental door shut. They were not a family.
Not yet, a feminine voice whispered in her ear.
Two nights later, Pops sat in a comfortable chair on the front porch, booted feet stretched out in front of him. Elena occupied the porch swing, with one foot on the wooden planks of the porch, pushing off gently. Jake snoozed halfway between them while Chisum chased and played with Joy out in the yard. Forty-eight hours. That’s all it took for everyone to settle into a routine that felt timeless. He was up before dawn, his girls sleeping in. If Elena was in the kitchen by the time he finished early morning chores, she fixed breakfast. If not, he cooked and the smell of bacon, ham, and biscuits always brought them downstairs.
Life was good. Which was bad. He didn’t want the easy company. They wouldn’t be here forever. The kids never were. He went into those relationships knowing he was a stopgap measure on their journey. He knew he’d discover Joy’s story sooner or later. He always did. Dealing with the kids carrying scars was like working with a skittish horse. Gentle patience coupled with tough love. He’d reach her heart, find her secrets, and get her moving along the right path. Those bikers weren’t hers. Nope. There were people somewhere who loved this kid, who were looking for her. He knew that in his gut.
“You’re looking serious, Papi.”
Elena’s soft voice washed over him and his breath hitched a bit. This is what he would miss. The companionable silence. Finding her in his kitchen. His knee brushing hers under the table when they ate. Looking up to find her soft brown eyes on him, only to glance down to see her lips curved in a quiet smile. Damn but he missed those times with Rosie. He hated being alone. That’s why his guys and girls from the fire department had standing invitations to drop by whenever and for whatever reason. He was falling down a rabbit hole and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t say goodbye twice. Couldn’t.
“That little gal is gonna try and run again.”
Elena shifted on the swing so she could watch Joy. “You think she is a runaway?”
“No. I think those bastards took her just like she claims. But, I also think she’s terrified of what they’ll do if they find her again.”
“Are you worried about that?”
“No.” He glanced over at her. “But yes. I’m more worried as to why there’s no missing person report out on her. Jack’s looked. Found nothing.”
“Maybe they think she ran away and haven’t made a report yet.”
“She’s a good kid. Polite. No attitude, but lots of secrets. If you had a li’l gal like her and she dropped out of sight, would you wait?”
“No. But just because she’s a good kid, that doesn’t mean she has good parents.”
“That’s a point.”
She went back to her desultory swinging. He went back to studying his boot tips.
You should take her out, handsome.
He choked and had to sit up, coughing.
“Papi?” Elena was up and crossing to him. She thumped him on his back as he bent over his lap. “What’s wrong?”
Handsome… A hint of humor echoed the chiding tone of Rosie’s voice.
“Fine,” he wheezed. “I’m fine. Just swallowed wrong.” He indicated the glass of ice tea on the table beside him. He straightened, pretending that Elena’s hand didn’t feel incredible where it rested against his back. He wasn’t quite sure it happened but about the time he started breathing normally, his breath was completely gone because Elena was in his lap. A playful Jake stood there, panting and grinning. The damn dog had rammed her so that she fell into him, landing on his lap. His arms automatically went around her and the urge to kiss her laughing mouth was so strong he quit trying to fight it.
Elena stopped laughing—not all at once but in gradual steps. She continued to smile, held tilted as she studied his face. “What?” she whispered, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks.
“This is wrong on so many levels,” he muttered.
“You’re young.”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“I’m fifty-five.”
“I know.”
That surprised him. “I’m too old.”
“For what?”
A pretty girl like you who should find a man who will give her lots of pretty babies, he thought. “For everything,” he said instead.
“I don’t think so.” She squirmed a little in his lap, her eyes dancing. “You don’t think so either.”
She had him there. He’d been fighting the erection. but it was definitely present, and with her sweetly rounded butt cuddled against his dick, he might as well send up the white flag and surrender.
“Elena.” Her name was both a prayer and a plea.
Her eyes went soft and that knot of loneliness that had resided in his chest since losing Rosie clenched around his heart, a stranglehold that lasted mere seconds before melting away, leaving him lightheaded.
Kiss the girl, handsome.
He knew better than to argue with Rosie. He never won. So, he didn’t even try. He leaned toward Elena, and she met him halfway. Her lips were soft, moist, and her lashes fluttered down to shadow her eyes as her hands slipped behind his neck. His hands didn’t remain glued to the arms of the chair. One planted between her shoulder blades pressing her against him. The other cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her thick, silky hair. He angled his face, kissed her deeper. Her tongue licked at his lips. Since hers were parted, he took advantage and his tongue explored her mouth. Satisfied with her taste, his lips headed out on a further exploration of her skin. Her jaw, the tender skin beneath her chin, her neck, the spot behind her ear—both of them.
Pops listened to the little hitches in her breathing, felt the tiny shivers, made note of where and when. He paid attention. And the one thing that life with Rosie had taught him is that if a man pays attention to his woman, life is sweet. And dammit it all to hell, he wanted that sweet once more.