That was why he was so cranky.
Resolved, she wrote a new number five down.
Can she help out with any chores?
Her head was hurting after just writing those few things down, and her eyes felt itchy and tired. He’d said the doctor told her not to read, so maybe writing was included in that. Well, she had to do something. She drummed her pen on the paper and thought about those little bags of fudge. Those were tasty, of course, but not much of a meal. She imagined he’d be hungry after working all day.
Well, she could cook, couldn’t she? Cheered, she headed to the kitchen and began to pick through the cabinets. She could make him a nice lunch to say thank you, and in the meantime, she’d stay busy. Pancakes and bacon, she decided after looking through the ingredients in the kitchen. The bacon felt . . . forbidden, which was weird. Maybe she was on a no-bacon diet before all this? Either way, he was a guy and he’d probably eat enough for both of them.
With that decided, Cass found a frying pan, began to heat it up, and got to work, humming to herself.
Lunch today, and maybe she’d make some Christmas cookies later tonight. Who knew? She had all the time in the world to cook. Glancing over at Frannie, who was wagging her tail hopefully, Cass beamed. “Lunch is on me today, girl. You and your dad are gonna have yourselves a nice feast.”
* * *
• • •
Normally, Eli would stay out until the sun set and eat enough dinner to make up for the fact that he hadn’t stopped for lunch. But with the vulnerable woman back at the house, he didn’t feel right staying out all day. So he finished putting down a round of cake for the cows, broke the ice on the water one more time, and then headed in for a quick lunch and to check on his “guest.”
The smell of . . . something . . . hit him the moment he went inside. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Something akin to burned bacon and glue. That was damned odd. He pulled off his hat and overcoat and hung them in the mudroom, then stuck his head into the kitchen to see what was going on.
The kitchen was hazy with old smoke, and Cass stood near the stove, sighing as she poked at a few bits of charred bacon. Frannie was at her feet, wagging her tail eagerly, waiting for scraps. As he watched, she picked up a blackened bit and handed it to the dog, who snatched it up. “We won’t tell your dad about that one.”
“Tell me about what?” he asked, stepping forward.
She gasped, turning around so quickly that she hit the handle of the frying pan and it went skidding across the stove. He snatched up a potholder and grabbed the handle, stopping the thing before it could slop grease everywhere. “Oh. You’re back. Is it lunchtime already?” She looked over at the clock and then rubbed her eyes. “I lost track of time.”
“And that’s why you burned the bacon?” he guessed. “You walked away?”
“Uh, actually I didn’t.” Her cheeks turned pink, which made her bruises stand out more. “I guess I’m not a very good cook.”
Eli looked around at the mess on the countertops. Maria considered the kitchen “hers” and kept everything as neat and tidy as possible, with nothing left out. She’d have a stroke if she saw what Cass had done to her kitchen in the space of a few hours. Cabinet doors hung open, their ingredients scattered all over the countertops. A fine coating of flour covered everything as far as the eye could see—even Cass. Several plates had what looked like a breakfast of some kind on them. He supposed she’d tried to make pancakes, but the sad little creations on the plates didn’t much look like that to his eyes. They looked more like melted biscuits. She’d used a heck of a lot of flour, too, and that would make Maria throw a fit as well, since the food supply had to be accounted for.
But Cass looked so sad standing in front of her cooking failures that Eli didn’t have the heart to chastise her. He patted her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s all perfectly fine.”
“You say that,” she muttered, “but you haven’t tried one of my pancakes.”
“I’m sure they’re fine—”
“Frannie won’t eat them.”
He paused. “Uh . . .”
“Yeah.” She picked one up and knocked it against the counter, and the thing splintered and crumbled like it was made of brick mortar instead of flour. “I’m no pancake expert but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to do this.”
Eli did his best not to laugh. “No, ma’am.”
Cass gave such a sad sigh it took everything in him not to laugh all over again. “Do you have pigs on this farm? Maybe they can eat these.”
“No pigs,” he told her. “We’re a cattle ranch.”
“Drat.”
He took the hard pancake out of her hand. The only place it was going to go was the garbage. Pretty bad if the dogs wouldn’t even eat it. Even now Bandit and Jim were giving him hopeful looks that had a lot more to do with the bacon than the pancakes, he suspected. “If you’re hungry, I can whip you up some proper pancakes.”
She sighed unhappily and gazed at the pancake in his hands. “That defeats the purpose of me making you lunch.”
Eli stared down at her in surprise. It was probably a bad time to realize that she didn’t come higher than his shoulder, or that her tousled brown hair had even more curl in it than he thought. Or that she was the perfect size to fit under his arm if she were his. It wasn’t right for him to think about stuff like that. She was injured and afraid.
But she’d tried to make him lunch. Him. As if she wasn’t the one that was hurting and didn’t have her memory. He felt a rush of warmth for her. Even if she was a stranger, she had a good heart. “You didn’t have to do that,” he told her.
“I wanted to. You’ve done so much for me and I don’t have any way to repay you.” Cass’s bright blue eyes looked up at him. “Unless you can think of some other way I can thank you.”
He felt his cheeks grow hot. It was clear from the way she was looking up at him that she didn’t realize what she said. He sure wasn’t going to point it out to her. Wouldn’t be right. “No need to pay me back,” he said gruffly. “Just doing what anyone would do in that situation.”
“Most people wouldn’t give me their room or not mind that I borrowed their clothes.” She fingered the collar of her shirt—his shirt. “You’ve been very kind.”
And that made him feel like an ass, because his thoughts hadn’t been kind. Hell, they’d been downright resentful most of the time. She was another problem he didn’t want. He had enough on his plate with the others being gone during the holidays, and with the blizzard dumping several feet of snow on the mountain, it meant that he’d have to feed the cattle twice as much just to keep them warm. It was all extra work, and he didn’t have spare time as it was.
But it wasn’t her fault, either. It wasn’t like she’d asked to crash her car into a tree and end up with no memories. She certainly hadn’t asked to be stuck up here with him through the holidays. Somewhere out there, someone was missing a daughter, or a girlfriend, and worried sick about her. “I’d have done it for anyone,” he said, and that was that.
“Well, I appreciate it,” Cass told him. “And the good news is that I think I’ve figured out the pancake batter, so I’m happy to make another batch for you.”
He grunted. She looked so hopeful he didn’t have the heart to tell her no. She held the bowl out to him for his approval, beaming, and he had to admit, it did look an awful lot like batter. But just in case . . . “How many eggs did you put in?”
Cass blinked her pretty blue eyes at him. “Eggs?”
“Yeah, eggs.”
Her gaze went wide. “Oh. Maybe that’s what I’m missing.”
He was in for it now. “Maybe so.”
“I’ll add them to the batter and get it going,” she told him, excited. Then she paused. “You think two is enough?”
“Two’s fine for starters.” Well, if the other panca
kes didn’t have eggs, maybe he could feed them to Maria’s chickens.
“Wonderful. You go wash up.” She gave his arm a little pat.
That small touch felt like rocket fuel through his body. How long had it been since a young, pretty woman had touched him? How long since someone had been thoughtful enough to make him lunch? Maria had, of course, but it was Maria’s job to look after the ranch hands. No one ever did things for him just because.
It was humbling, and it was appreciated, and he was going to eat every damn disgusting pancake she put on his plate. So Eli went and washed his hands and then returned to the kitchen, sitting at the table. As he did, he saw her list.
1. What kind of car was she driving when he found her?
2. Did he know where she was going?
3. Who else lives here?
4. Can she decorate for Christmas?
5. Can she help out with any chores?
Next to number five, she’d scratched out Is he married? He looked over at her in surprise, but she wasn’t facing his direction, concentrating on beating eggs into the pancake batter. “I’m not married,” he blurted out.
“What?” Cass turned around, a big yellow bowl clutched in her hands. She was getting batter all over his shirt, he noticed, but it was kind of cute.
He tapped a finger on her list. “You wondered if I was married. I’m not.”
Her face turned bright red. “Oh. Uh. That was just me being nosy. I’m sorry. I crossed it out.” Her voice held a hint of panic. “It’s none of my business.”
Seeing her get all flustered like that felt . . . good. He didn’t know why, because it shouldn’t matter. But it did matter to him for some crazy reason. “Never been married,” he admitted. “Most women aren’t big fans of the ranch life. Too much work and not enough reward.”
“Oh.” She leaned over the batter, stirring it slowly. “Is that how you feel, too? That there’s not enough reward?”
“I think it’s in some people’s blood,” Eli admitted, though saying how he felt wasn’t something he was comfortable doing. Not many people asked cowboys why they did what they did. You either were a cowboy or you weren’t. No analyzing to it. “I came out here one summer because I needed a job, and never went back.”
“You’re lucky you found your calling,” Cass told him. “Some people never do.”
“You find yours?”
“I have no idea,” she said with a chuckle.
He felt stupid. Of course she didn’t know. She’d lost her memories. “How’s your head doing?”
“It feels like it was split open and someone stuffed what was left of my brain back in there.” She smiled over her shoulder as she poured batter onto a hot skillet. “But it’s better than it was earlier, so I’m hopeful that something will jog loose at some point.”
“I’ll get you some more aspirin,” he told her, and then they fell into an easy silence while she cooked. It was interesting, how nice it was to just be in the same room with her and not feel like he had to make conversation. He was prone to silences on the best of days, and around strangers, he wasn’t much of a talker. But she wasn’t demanding, and that was good.
He did keep thinking about that note she’d written down, though. She’d wondered if he was married. Heck, he wondered if she was married, too.
Eventually, two of the pancakes were ready and she gave him both and a few pieces of cold, too-crispy bacon, and then sat across from him with a hopeful expression.
Swallowing hard, Eli wondered if it was too late to escape back to the barn. All three dogs were watching him with interest, just waiting for their chance at scraps. He decided to avoid the bacon and go straight for a pancake. It cut all right, and he put a piece into his mouth. Rubbery, chewy, and tasted like eggs and salt. “S’good. Thank you.”
The smile that lit up her face took his breath away. Didn’t matter that her nose was swollen and both of her eyes were shadowed in huge bruises.
She was beautiful.
He forced himself to eat bite after bite, watching her as she got up and returned to the stove to cook more of the pancakes. She slipped the dogs a few more bites of bacon, and he probably should have told her not to, but he didn’t have the heart. It was clear she loved the dogs almost as much as he did, and it was nice to see. Besides, the dogs worked hard. They could have a little bacon now and then. He methodically ate as she flipped more pancakes, thinking about what he needed to get done that day. There were saddles to be repaired, and he had to muck out the horse stables and spread fresh hay, and repair the spooler that spread the hay for the cattle. Usually it didn’t matter that there were a million small chores that mounted on the ranch every day, because he had help. When the other hands were gone, it didn’t matter if he was the only one here because he’d just buckle down and get everything done.
But having Cass here threw a wrench into things. He was torn between wanting to take care of her and keep her company, and the things he needed to get done around the ranch. It felt wrong to leave her alone for long periods of time, knowing that she had a head injury . . . but the cattle couldn’t wait for her head to heal. They needed tending every day, along with all the other animals on the ranch.
She was fine, he told himself, chewing through another rubbery bite of pancake. She’d understand that he needed to work. That he couldn’t stop the entire ranch just to tend to her. She hadn’t even asked that, so he had no idea why the thought was in his head.
Cass sat down across from him with her own stack of pancakes, took one bite, and then gave him a horrified look. “You are such a liar. These are terrible!”
“Yeah, they are. But you worked hard on ’em,” he told her, and ate another bite, just because.
CHAPTER NINE
After lunch, he checked her head and her pupils again, just to make sure that everything looked okay. Her face was more swollen today than yesterday, but she seemed more alert, so he took that as a good sign. He was putting his coat back on to go out to the herd again when the phone rang.
Cass gave it a worried look and then turned to him. “Should I answer that?”
“Nah, I’ll get it.” It was probably Doc again. No one else would be calling the ranch because they knew he was the only one here. He moved to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Feliz Navidad, mijo!” Maria called out cheerfully to him. In the background, he could hear music playing and the sound of one of her children chattering up a storm. “Well, almost. Close enough. How are you holding up? I heard the storm was pretty bad. Did you see the fudge I left for you?”
“I did, and yes, and fine.”
She laughed, then clucked her tongue at him through the phone. “So talkative. How are you holding up by yourself? Are you lonely?”
There was a knowing note in her voice that made him scowl. Doc had gotten to her. He was a good vet, but damn if the man wasn’t a terrible gossip. “Doc called you, I take it.”
“He did,” she gushed, as if she couldn’t keep the news to herself. “He told me that you rescued a pretty woman and pulled her from her car and now she’s sleeping in your bed and she doesn’t remember who she is. What does she look like? Do you like her? Is she young? Pretty? You have to tell me the details, mijo.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Doc would make it sound like a hookup. His imagination was probably running away with him over on the other side of the mountain, from all the “excitement” of the mystery woman. “It’s fine.” He watched as Cass left the kitchen, heading down the hall toward the laundry room. He lowered his voice so she wouldn’t hear him talking about her. “Her name’s Cass and she hurt her head. When the pass clears, she’ll be on her way. Nothing to any of it.”
Maria made a noise of disbelief. “Nothing to it! You are the loneliest cowboy I have ever met and now you’re stuck with a woman
for the next few weeks? I can’t decide if you’re going to kick her off the mountain or marry her. This is you we’re talking about, after all. You haven’t told me if she’s pretty yet.”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment’s thought. Cass had lovely dark hair; big, soulful eyes; and a happy smile. He hadn’t paid too much attention to her figure but what he’d felt through his shirt when he put his arm around her waist felt . . . mighty nice. “But that doesn’t matter. She’s just staying until she feels better—”
“Oooh, mijo!” Maria’s voice was getting a squealy note of excitement in it. “You need a girlfriend! Maybe she’ll want to stick around after the snow’s gone, date herself a nice handsome cowboy—”
“You’re reading too much into this, Maria,” he warned her. It was gonna be bad enough when they returned and would give him crap about being up here alone with Cass. He didn’t need it over the phone, too. He didn’t blame Maria, though. She treated everyone at the ranch like they were her children, even Old Clyde. To distract her, he changed topics. “How are your girls?”
Maria made an exclamation in her throat. “Ay, pobrecita. My youngest is pregnant again. With twins this time. She has been puking all day long. I’ve been cooking all kinds of things for her to eat but she’s still too skinny.” She tsked again. “It’s a good thing her mama’s here to fatten her up. Now, did you eat the fudge I left out for you?”
He chuckled. “I haven’t yet, but I will.”
“I made treats for your little Francesca, too.”
“That’s because you’re the best,” he told her, and he could hear her pleased laugh through the phone.
All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy Page 6