by Sherri Sand
Sierra curled her legs under her. “Hmm. So you are actually looking for a rescue, not a nurse.”
“Ex-actly.” He dropped his head, then tipped his chin to look at her. His eyes were a rich brown, like warm mocha. Her throat constricted. Did she want him looking at her like that? Like they were friends? How could she trust that down the road his eyes wouldn’t hold something more? Or that she might wish they did?
Ross gave her a teasing smile. “Sid is adamant that it’s you or no one. And if you don’t, then I’ll be the guy making his breakfast.”
“You make a mean omelet.”
“So, are you going to come to the rescue?”
She sipped her coffee, then looked at him over the mug, and felt a slight smile teasing her lips. “I think I might be able to help out.”
Sierra’s cell rang minutes after Ross left.
Elise’s whispered. “Is he still there?”
“No, he just left.”
“Well? I’m dying here.”
Sierra squealed. “I have a job, Elise! Can you believe it? And I start tomorrow. Maybe I can save enough to move in a couple months.” She dropped onto the couch, started chewing on her nail. “But I don’t know if I should have taken it.”
Elise settled into the phone call. “Tell me all.”
“Well, he walked in—”
“What was he wearing?”
“Elise!”
“Did he sizzle?”
Sierra bit her lip. “Designer jeans and a green sweater.” She thought they were designer jeans, anyway.
“I’m drooling.”
“Stop!”
“Okay, I’ve wiped my chin, now go on.”
“I apologized about Braden. Elise, he’s talked to my son about college.”
“No!”
“I know! So, Sid came home this morning and needs a caregiver. He sent Ross over to hire me.”
Elise squealed. “God’s talking to you, hon.”
Sierra stilled. Had it been God? How did you ever know?
Her friend’s voice dropped. “Now, why shouldn’t you take it?”
Sierra started chewing on the nail again. “Elise, Ross is too nice, too kind, too….”
Elise finished for her. “Good to be true.”
She drew her legs up on the couch. “What if he is? How will I know?”
“It’s all on faith and common sense.”
“He and Sid are close. I’ll probably see him all the time. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” She sighed. “I don’t want to screw up again. I like being single. Did you know that?” She stood up and paced the room. “I can come and go as I please, not answer to anyone. You know?”
“Hon, he hasn’t asked you out.”
She dropped back onto the couch, biting the corner of her lip. “Do you think he will?”
“Do you want him to?”
“I don’t know. Yes, maybe.” She drew her legs up again, thinking about how he’d looked at her on the couch and she got scared all over again. “Probably not.”
“Well, there you go.”
“What?”
“If he asks, just say no.”
She saw his mocha eyes again, warm on hers. “I don’t think I can.”
Friday morning Sierra slid the key Ross gave her into the lock and slowly turned it. She tiptoed through the small foyer and into the living room.
“Mornin’.” Sid lay on the couch, a cheerful twinkle in his eye. The warmth of his smile gave her a momentary impression of coming home.
“Good morning! I thought you might be sleeping.”
“Nope.” She caught the slight grimace as he adjusted himself on the couch. Then his eyes lit. “So Ross badgered you into it?”
She gave him a cheeky grin. “Nearly made him beg.”
Sid slapped his good leg. “Bet he liked that.”
She chuckled and set her purse near the door. “And why do you say that?”
“Oh, Ross’s never been one to let anyone else steer the boat. If the idea don’t come from him, he tends to sour up.”
“I heard you can be pretty ornery yourself.”
“Tellin’ stories, was he?”
She zipped her finger across her lips. “None that I can repeat.”
He chuckled.
“Ross said he’s taking care of your horses and staying nights with you.”
Sid rubbed his whiskers. “Yeah, I haven’t found anybody else to feed the ponies, so he’s stuck with that job for the time being. And, o’ course there’s no one to keep up their training.”
She held up her hands. “That was not in my job description.”
That brought out a bark of laughter from him. “Well, it shoulda been.”
“All I know is that I’m to feed you and make sure you take your pain medicine.”
A mulish look dragged Sid’s cheeks down. “I don’t need no pain medicine. Besides, I don’t have any.”
Sierra held up a small sack. “Ross called the doctor and set you up with a new prescription since you forgot yours at the hospital. I picked it up from the pharmacy this morning.” And she’d need to get repaid today or her checking account would go into crash-and-sizzle mode.
Sid’s expression turned tetchy. “People get hooked on those narcotics. Ross needs to honor an old man’s predilection against drugs. They can damage yer liver, ya know.”
Predilection? Sierra bit her lip against the smile. Sid must be on the road to self-education. Yep, there on the couch next to him lay a book of crossword puzzles and a dog-eared thesaurus.
“If you can handle the pain without snapping at the cook, I’d be happy to forget I have them,” Sierra said.
Sid relaxed back into the country blue cushions. “I think we’ll get along tolerable well.” A definite twinkle lit his eyes. “Just don’t tell Ross. He’s liable to get snappy.”
Sierra felt her lips twitch into a grin. “I think you two like snapping at each other.”
“Now, I can see why Ross cottons to you so much.”
Heat gravitated to her cheeks in less time than it took to breathe. “No matchmaking. I think I’ll have my hands full enough with you, anyway.”
That delighted him. “It ain’t matchmaking to report the truth. Now where’s the little fellah?”
“Trevor? My mom offered to watch him.”
He gave her a sly look. “Didn’t want the little guy to see you get fired on your first day?”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t quit!”
Sid heaved himself into a more comfortable position again. He pointed in the direction of what looked to be the kitchen. “There’s two checks on the counter in there. One for groceries and one for you.”
“You don’t have to prepay me. If I could just get reimbursed for the prescription that would be great.”
“We might need to get something straight here, missy. I don’t cotton to anyone arguing except me. That check is for you and your younguns. Take it, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Sierra murmured an assent and picked up the tray of empty dinnerware from beside the couch. “I’ll clean up a little and fix you some breakfast.”
Sierra set the tray on the kitchen counter and picked up two envelopes. She slit the one with her name on it and peeked at the check. Shocked, she took firm steps back into the living room. “Sid, this is too much. Are you paying me to take care of you for the next decade or what?”
Sid smiled. “Now don’t go a quibblin’ on me, but just so you know, I have high expectations.” His jowls nearly quivered in anticipation. “What’s your pot roast like?”
Sierra spent the first day doing some menu planning and tidying. Plastic gloves and cleaning supplies were a priority. But mainly she kept Sid company. They watched The Price Is Right later in the morning. When she realized there was nothing but scrambled eggs or more oatmeal to feed him for lunch, she made a quick trip to the grocery store for wheat bread, sliced turkey breast, and some tangerines, as well as a few dinne
r ingredients. In the late afternoon she caught Oprah with him. Who would have guessed?
At five-thirty a chicken-and-rice casserole bubbled as she placed it on the hot pad in the center of the kitchen table. Canned beans and french bread rounded out the meal.
Sid searched the table. “Where’s the salad?”
“Well, I thought beans might be easier.”
“Easier to digest?”
“No. I meant easier on your teeth.” Her mom suggested she stay away from salad. Lettuce and dentures were a difficult combination.
“Never heard of lettuce being hard on your teeth.”
Sierra bit her lip. “I thought maybe you had dentures.”
He looked at her wide eyed, like she was crazy, then burst out laughing. “Missy, I’ve had these teeth over seventy years. And I like salad with my dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
He poked suspiciously at the dark glass of juice by his plate. “What’s that?”
“Prune juice.” Another of her mother’s helpful suggestions.
His eyebrows hunkered down. “That’s what I thought.” He spoke to the glass. “Sierra, I think we need to get a few things straight. I might look old but my plumbing works fine, and I got all my body parts including these here chompers.” He pushed the glass away. “So you go ahead and make my food just like you would for your family.” His eyes caught hers. “With salad.”
She nodded, warm humor budding at his serious expression. “You like salad.”
His nod was succinct. “I like salad. Didn’t have much lettuce growing up. Lived on beans mostly.” He eyed the green vegetable on the corner of his plate with distaste.
Two quick raps on the back door announced Ross’s arrival. “Hi. How did it go today?”
Sid gave a mournful look at the table. “Well, other than the prune juice and the beans, we got along tolerably well.”
Sierra swiped the dishtowel at him and turned to Ross. “I see what you mean by cantankerous.”
Sid laughed. “Now see here, missy. You’ve got cantankerous pointed in the wrong direction. That one’s standing right over there by the sink.”
Sierra grinned at Sid. “No, what I’m seeing is two peas in a pod.”
Sid herded his rice and chicken into a neat pile far from the beans. “Ross, sit down. There’s plenty of vittles.”
Ross walked to the sink and washed his hands while Sierra pulled down another plate for him. As she grabbed the utensils, she glanced at him with a straight face. “Prune juice?”
Ross laughed. “No, thanks.” After she set a fork and knife on the table, he glanced at Sid, then handed her a sheaf of papers. “I picked these up today when I was in town.”
She glanced at him “What … oh, 4-H.” The men were watching her, and she wasn’t sure how to react. “Um, I’m not sure if we’re going to do that.”
Ross gently took her arm and moved her to a chair at the table. He pulled his chair in front of her. “Sierra, your kids need this. Braden needs this.”
His eyes were kind, and she locked onto them. “Ross, you know why I can’t.” Please understand.
He gripped her hands gently. “You’re going to lose Braden if you don’t start letting go.”
She pulled her hands free and leaned back. He rested his elbows on his knees and locked his fingers loosely between them. “I’m not trying to hurt you. You see, I understand what Braden’s going through.” He seemed to hesitate, then looked toward Sid.
Sid waved his fork at him. “You’re doing good. Keep talkin’.”
He glanced toward the side. “Growing up, my dad tried to mold me into what he thought I should be. He wanted his boys to make something of themselves, be different than the regular crowd who graduated and then went to work using their hands. I got pretty angry in high school and hated him for a while.” His eyes found hers. “And I see your fear pushing Braden down that same road.”
Sierra turned to Sid. “You think I should do this? Even after what happened to you?”
Sid nodded, setting down his glass. “I do. It’d be the best thing for them. What happened to me isn’t going to happen to yer kids.”
She stood, the papers wrinkling in her grasp. “I need to think about it.”
Ross rose and pushed his chair in. “I’ll walk with you outside.”
“Now don’t feel like you have to leave. Why don’t you get another plate, Sierra?” Sid raised his fork toward her.
“Thanks, but my mom probably has dinner ready for me, and I have to feed Chance.” She needed to get out of there to think without all the pressure.
“Well, part of the job is for you and those little ones to eat dinner here anytime. You got that?”
“You might regret that invitation after a couple of meals with the chatterboxes.”
Sid gave Ross a grizzly look, though his mouth twitched. “Might be a nice change around here.”
Ross shook his head with a shrug. “A man’s lucky to get a word in around your opinions, old man.”
Sid waved them toward the door. “You’ll be fortunate if I let you have any of this chicken.” He pointed his fork at Ross. “And don’t go running her off.”
Ross walked with her toward the door. “Not a chance.” Outside, he covered a jaw-popping yawn.
“You look exhausted.” She hadn’t meant to voice the thought, but fatigue clung to his face, sharpening the planes.
He rubbed his face. “I was up pretty early. This job is going to be the end of me.”
She walked toward the van. “Why don’t you hire someone to help with the horses? No one expects you to do it all.”
“Sid doesn’t trust anyone else with his ponies.” He shrugged and looked away as they reached her car. “It’s not a big deal.”
She dug her keys out of her purse. “You don’t want to find anyone, do you?”
He shifted his stance, his eyes on the barn.
She crossed her arms. “Ross, do you think you have to prove how much you love him by running yourself into the ground?”
He stared down at her. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”
“Guilt.”
“Guilt for what?”
“That you didn’t hear him out in the field. That Chance escaped from the pasture and got in with Traitor. You feel responsible.”
Ross looked away, anger tightening his features. “Look, I don’t want to talk about that, okay? I just wanted to ask if you could start on my books soon. With Sid getting hurt, things have gotten crazy and I need to get some bills paid.”
She unlocked the van. “Just tell me when.”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” And he stalked back to the house.
Her mom’s kitchen smelled wonderful when Sierra walked in. The pot of chili sat in the middle of the table, the two bowls across from each other. Michael had actually agreed to take the kids for another weekend to make up some lost time.
“Hi, honey. How’d it go?”
“Fine.” Sierra dropped her purse onto the counter and shoved her keys in the cubby next to it.
The buzzer went off and her mom pulled the corn bread from the oven. “Doesn’t sound fine.”
Sierra opened the fridge and got the butter. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Did your dinner turn out?”
“Yep. He loved it, except for the prune juice.” A small chuckle emerged when she remembered his face. “I think he was offended.”
Her mom covered her mouth. “Oh, dear.”
“Yeah, and the no-lettuce-denture-thing didn’t go over so well either. He has all his teeth.”
Her mom pressed a hand to her chest with a laugh. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
Sierra let the grin come out. “Yeah, last time I take advice from you!”
Her mom cut the corn bread, her eyes focused and sharp. “So what happened?”
Sierra sighed. Why couldn’t mom let it go when she didn’t want to talk? She set the salt and pepper on the table, and pulled
the ladle from the drawer. “They think I should put the kids in 4-H.”
“What a marvelous idea!”
“I don’t think it’s so marvelous.”
“Well, I think it would be the best thing for the kids. Especially Braden. You need to think this through, honey.”
Sierra didn’t want to think it through. She wanted to be left alone and not pulled and prodded in directions she didn’t want to go. Her cell phone rang and Sierra jumped up and checked the number on the screen.
She bit her lip and headed for the living room. “Hello?”
“What numbskull doctor put an eye patch on Braden?”
Sierra hoped Braden was playing in another room and not hovering near his dad. “I talked to you about this last weekend. Dr. Remina should have sent you a copy of the paperwork.”
“I got it. But my son’s not going to wear some ridiculous patch like he’s cross-eyed.”
Sierra spoke in slow, measured breaths. “I’d be happy to go over the report with you. Dr. Remina said—”
“Gina tested his eyesight—”
“What?”
“She used to work in a pediatric office.”
“Doing what? Taking appointments? She is not an optometrist.”
“Oh, and you are?”
“Michael, I took him to an expert. His teacher recommended—”
“We have an appointment to have him tested with our optometrist. I researched binocular dysfunction and I’m not convinced that’s what’s going on. I think he needs to straighten up and give a little more effort than he does.”
“Have you considered that he’s worn out and frustrated with school because of his vision issues?”
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
Sierra ground her teeth. “Okay, please let me know what your optometrist finds.” After Michael said good-bye, she stormed into the kitchen and shoved the phone into its receiver.
“I dished up your chili.” Her mom wiped a few crumbs of corn bread into the sink. “Was that Michael?”
“Yes.” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
“He doesn’t want Braden to wear his eye patch and thinks the diagnosis is ridiculous.” She glanced at her mom. “He had Gina give him an eye test.”