Any Man of Mine (Holmes Crossing Book 5)

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Did I have a right to be angry with him?

  He had raised hopes and then dashed them and did it all for some silly bet with my brothers. I would be foolish to trust him again.

  And equally foolish and foolhardy to fall for a rodeo cowboy.

  6

  "Could you come in for an interview on Thursday?" asked the very nice man on the other end of my cell phone call.

  It was a quiet Tuesday, and I was filling my cart in the grocery store with provisions for my birthday dinner, which I was hosting and doing all the cooking for. I had been deciding which head of broccoli to choose when the call came.

  I had been tempted to ignore it but, when I checked the number I noticed it wasn't my brothers and it wasn't Casey, all of whom I would have ignored in favour of the delicate job of choosing the perfect vegetable. So, I answered it hoping it wasn't some deranged client demanding that I come over. Now.

  To my surprise, delight and fear, it was the "Attention-Of' man I had sent my resumé to. Dan Crittenden.

  "Sure. That would be fine," I said in a bright voice, trying to absorb the reality of what one little click of a mouse button could set in motion.

  "That's good. I look forward to seeing you then." He told me he would be e-mailing the address of the company and the time of my interview.

  When the nice man hung up, I slipped my phone in my purse, feeling quavery and brave and concerned all at once.

  I had to trust that God would bring me where He wanted me, but I had to confess I was a little nervous at how quickly things were happening. I hadn't expected to hear from this place for another week.

  Nor did I expect my phone to ring again before I could call Tracy,and map out any possible scenario for my future.

  I pulled the phone back out of my purse and glanced at the screen. Neil this time.

  "Hey, what can I do for you?" I asked as I pushed my buggy a little farther down the produce aisle, stopping at an artistically arranged assortment of peppers. I wanted to buy one of each, because they would look so pretty in my refrigerator's vegetable drawer.

  "Are David and Tracy still coming for supper tonight?" he asked.

  "They most certainly are." I said nothing more, wondering if he would make the connection. I had marked the day on my calendar in bright pen and circled it a couple of times, but so far none of my brothers had clued in to the fact that we were celebrating my birthday tonight.

  "And that Juanita girl and her kid? They coming too?"

  "Juanita and Kent will be there, yes."

  When Chip had found out I was having company for dinner, he had asked if Juanita could join us. I wasn't crazy about having her and Tracy in my house at the same time. Especially not on my birthday.

  Tracy got involved with Kent when he hung around her vet clinic before school. Juanita had been distrustful of Tracy's concern for Kent. She had since come to realize Tracy wasn't trying to take Kent away from her. In fact she came to realize Tracy and I had hoped Kent could be reunited with her once Juanita got her act together.

  But I still had my reservations about the combo.

  When I consulted Tracy, she told me she was fine with it. She said it was my birthday party and that I could do whatever I wanted. So I reluctantly said yes to Chip. Now, from the wheedling tone in Neil's voice, I sensed he wanted another favour from me and I suspected it required setting an extra plate. "Why do you need to know?"

  "Well, could I have another person come too?"

  Bingo.

  I dropped a bunch of green onions in a bag and twined a tie around it with a vicious twist of my wrist and beat my brother to the punch. "Yes, James can come."

  His stunned silence was worth the concession. "Really?"

  "Yes. Really." I couldn't fight this anymore. Thanks to my brothers, this guy was encroaching on every corner of my life, so I may as well embrace the chaos and be in charge of it. Besides, it would only be until I moved away.

  I kept the "Attention Of" phone call to myself, gaining strength and comfort from it.

  "Great. I'll let him know." He paused. "What is for supper by the way?"

  "Barbecued steak, baked potatoes, broccoli salad, rhubarb compote, mandarin salad, and Tracy is bringing chocolate layer cake for dessert."

  "Wow." He spoke the single word with a hushed reverence usually reserved for an eight-second ride on a rank bronc completed with a full dismount.

  I waited a beat, wondering if the reason for all this bounty would sink in yet. Especially the chocolate layer cake Tracy was bringing.

  But, nothing.

  "It'll be good," I continued, my faint hope dying. "Make sure you aren't late."

  I hung up, finished my grocery shopping, and for once picked the right checkout line to wait in. I was out the door and back at home in record time. Dad was sitting at the table, reading the paper, and he looked up with a smile when I arrived. It had been awhile since I had seen my father out of his recliner or out of bed and the sight gave me hope. My world was returning to its regular orbit.

  As I washed and wrapped the potatoes, I chatted with my dad and caught up on the events of the day. I didn't tell him about the upcoming interview, unsure of how he would take it. One step at a time, I thought as I put the potatoes on the barbecue.

  I didn't expect him to remember my birthday. Dad always counted on Mom to do those honours. But maybe one of my brothers would.

  Such are the dreams of the everyday sister.

  "Who would have thought a knock-kneed, cross-eyed, skinny girl could have turned into such an amazing and beautiful baker?" Carter said to Tracy, licking the last of the icing off his fork. "Great cake."

  "Now don't praise her too much," David said, leaning back in his chair. "Remember beauty is only skin deep."

  Tracy patted her cheek. "I have thick skin."

  "I can attest to that," David said resting his arm across the back of Tracy's chair. He glanced at me, his mouth quirked in the half smile that had, at one time, broken hearts all over Holmes Crossing. "And I want to propose a toast to Dani." He picked up his wineglass and looked around the table. "Hoping we can share her delightful presence for many, many more years. Happy birthday."

  Carter looked puzzled, Chip confused. Neil took another piece of cake. James frowned his puzzlement.

  My father looked at the calendar, frowning. "Your birthday is today?"

  "The seventeenth. Same day it's been since I was born." I forced a smile and shrugged away the faint hurt I felt at their lack. I was their only sister for goodness sakes. Surely they could have remembered? I couldn't blame James, Juanita or Kent for not knowing. They had no clue and wouldn't have been told. Not by my brothers.

  "Does anyone want more cake?" I said, trying to sound like a bright and chipper birthday girl. "Juanita?"

  "I'm sorry I...I didn't know it was your birthday," Juanita stuttered. She threw Chip an angry glare, but he was too busy finishing the last of his dessert to catch or even feel it. "I would have gotten you something had I known," she said turning back to me, blushing.

  "It's okay." I gave her a forgiving smile, thankful that her presence had caused no tension. She seemed more relaxed and Kent was happy to be with her.

  "Honey, did you want any more?" I asked Kent.

  Kent stuck out his lower lip and blew out his breath. "Nope. I'm stuffed." He fidgeted, glancing back over his shoulder at the television that was still on in the living room, though out of consideration for our guests, Carter had muted the sound. But throughout dinner I could see the flickering images of the hockey playoffs had distracted him

  "Hey, sport, do you want to watch the game with us?" Carter asked, pushing himself away from the table. And before you could say "he shoots, he scores," Neil, Carter and my father were gravitating toward the television, sucked in by a power beyond any woman's control.

  To my surprise, however, James elected to stay behind with Chip and David.

  "This deep connection that guys have with sports teams--is that genetic
or learned?" I asked of no one in particular.

  "Genetic," David said decisively. I could see his head angling toward the living room, underlining his comment.

  He was about to say something else when he frowned and pulled out his cell phone. "Sorry. I'm on call. I should take this." He answered it while he left, which lowered the remaining male portion by half. James still sat at his end of the table, chair titled back, hands folded over his stomach.

  "Can I go watch television?" Kent asked.

  Juanita shook her head. "I promised Adam and Emily that you would be home on time." She glanced at me, seeking my approval. I wasn't her caseworker, but I'm sure she figured I had her caseworker Oden's ear, and she would mind her p's and q's as long as she was around me. "We should leave in about five minutes. It will take us half an hour to get back to Freeman."

  "We better go," Chip said, looking longingly at his brothers already engrossed in the game. But as soon as he looked at Juanita, he smiled and I could see she had his complete attention. My little brother was growing up. "I don't want to get you in trouble with Emily and Adam."

  Kent pouted up at his mom, his little arms crossed on the table. "I don't want to go to Emily's. I want to go home with you, Mommy."

  "In a little while," Juanita said quietly, stroking his head.

  "How is your new job, Juanita?" Tracy asked. "Danielle told me you're working at the nursing home in Freeman."

  Juanita glanced from Tracy to me, as if looking for a hidden agenda. I gave her an encouraging, non-threatening

  smile.

  "I like it," Juanita said. "Some of the older people make me feel sad, a lot of them are really thankful." Juanita tucked her hair behind her ears and fidgeted. "I found a place of my own already."

  "That's great," I said, pleased that she was showing such initiative. Juanita was one of the happy endings I loved to relive. A mother who used the wake-up call issued when her child was taken away from her to change her life and turn it around. When I saw how Kent's foster parents helped her along and supported her, it made me glad to have been a part of it all.

  Juanita got up and cleared the table. "Just leave it," I said. "You better get Kent home on time."

  "Are you sure?" Juanita asked, looking from me to Tracy.

  "It will get done," Tracy assured her. "Don't worry."

  Juanita thanked me again for having her. I got a little wave from Kent, Tracy got a hug. I understood why I didn't get one. I was the social worker, just like the one that took him away from his mother.

  But it was my birthday. It would have been nice to get even one small hug from one small boy. It would have been the only one I got.

  Poor little me.

  Juanita and Kent left with Chip and an awkward silence fell on the room. Tracy looked from me to James, deciphering the connection. I could tell she was about to ask him something just as David returned.

  "Sorry, but we gotta go. Bad foaling at Bredo's." He gave Tracy a sheepish grin. "I will need your help, my dear."

  Tracy took his sheepish grin and passed it on. "Sorry, Dani."

  "Don't worry," I said, getting up from the table, keeping my gaze diverted from the dirty dishes piled on the counter. I would be busy all night. "You better go."

  I knew Misty Bredo, and I also knew she'd had her eye on David from the first blink of his taillights coming into town. Even though David was now married to Tracy and had always been unsusceptible to Misty's charms, she still liked to test the boundaries of that relationship. Better that Tracy went along to defend her territory against any incursion.

  "I feel bad leaving you with all these dishes on your birthday." Tracy's gaze flicked from me to the dishes and then to James, who was also getting up. I was surprised he'd stayed as long as he had. Surprised he hadn't bolted for the living room and the game.

  "Don't worry, I'll help her," James said quietly.

  I wasn't sure I wanted his help. Staying up until midnight and getting dishpan hands on my special day seemed preferable to navigating past James's presence in my kitchen. "I can manage."

  "You can have a nervous breakdown," James said with a light laugh, rolling up his sleeves. "I don't mind."

  "Well, I mind. I have a certain way of doing dishes."

  "Yeah. Lather, rinse, repeat." Tracy raised her eyebrow toward me in a way I could only describe as annoying. She glanced at James. "Just make sure you don't put the wooden-handled steak knives in the dishwasher."

  I tried to give Tracy a discreet glare, but James stood beside her, facing me so all I could do was try for a sudden flare of my nostrils and an unattractive widening of my eyes.

  Tracy's faint wink told me she read me loud and clear but she didn't care. Some friend.

  Then they were gone and James and I were alone in the kitchen. "So why don't you watch the game with my brothers?” I said, projecting reasonable tones. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll be okay."

  He laughed. "Nice try." He ignored me and stacked the empty dishes still sitting on the table, dropping the cutlery in the empty water pitcher. He knew what he was doing.

  I sighed loudly, to let him know I wasn't giving in gracefully. He made me feel uncomfortable on many levels, and working with him in such proximity was only increasing the discomfort level.

  So I stuffed leftovers into containers and stuffed the containers into the refrigerator, all the while trying to ignore James's presence as he scraped and rinsed and loaded dishes into the dishwasher. He said nothing, so I said nothing, but through the clink and thunk of dishes I was fully aware of him beside me.

  Fifteen minutes later I had filled the last plastic container, scraped out the last pot and put away the last piece of cake for my brothers to eat later. I had nothing else to do but wash the pots and whatever didn't fit in the dishwasher, which meant working beside James.

  I chanced a glance over my shoulder and was thrown off my stride to see James looking at me, a smile hovering over his well-shaped mouth. The dishwasher was almost full, and I was surprised to see so few dishes left on the counter. "You seem to know what you're doing," I said, in a feeble effort to cover up the sudden flush in my face at his attention.

  "I've loaded a few dishwashers in my time," he said, picking up another plate and slipping it into the lower tray.

  "I hate doing dishes so much I make sure I pack it as full as I can."

  "I'm impressed. Looks like we'll only have to wash bowls and pots."

  James sucked in his lower lip, angled his head to one side as he held his hands out like a movie director framing a shot. "If I use the top tier of the lower rack for glasses, I could put one of the medium bowls in the upper rack. Depending of course on the weight of the glasses and circumference of the bowl. Donelli's theorem could come into play here."

  "Donelli's theorem?" I couldn't help ask.

  "Friend of mine. Gord Donelli. Not too bright, but a master at loading the dishwasher. His theorem was 'if there is no room, make room.' An elegant concept if properly applied."

  I couldn't stop a chuckle.

  He rearranged the dishes and, as he promised, the bowl fit. He closed the door, studied the controls and pushed the right buttons. "So. Now what, birthday girl?"

  "Pots and bowls. But you've done enough. Go join my brothers."

  He tilted me a mocking smile. "And leave a woman in the kitchen to do the dishes on her birthday? Recipe for disaster."

  I couldn't stop my smile. "You seem to be the only one around here that acknowledges this special day."

  James glanced over at my brothers, who were cheering on their team in a way that could only be described as silly. He turned back to me and shrugged. "Did you tell them?"

  "I had it marked on the calendar." I filled the sink with warm water and squirted dishwashing soap in it, watching the bubbles form.

  "But did you warm them up to the event, so to speak?" He grabbed a tea towel and snapped it once, guy style.

  "They've known all my life what day my birthday is. I can't s
ee how reminding them now will make a difference." I dropped a set of bowls into the sink.

  "Because they're guys, as I hear you're fond of saying," James said, picking up a bowl I had washed and began drying it. "Birthdays aren't an opportunity to score points as much as they are an event that doesn't show up on a guy's radar unless you have an early warning system in place. We need to be told." James gave a half-hearted shrug. He seemed uncomfortable defending my brothers.

  I scrubbed another bowl. "But that ruins the spontaneity. I like to be surprised."

  "Have you ever been? Surprised, that is?"

  I scraped at a caked-on piece of potato on the last bowl and shrugged. "Not really. They keep forgetting."

  "So what would you sooner have? Spontaneous nothing, or planned presents?"

  "I guess I'd like to think I'm important enough to them that they want to find out what makes me happy. Then do it." I glanced over at them again. "I don't think they really care."

  "They might not know exactly what makes you happy, but they do want to see you happy," James said quietly. "And I think you are important to them."

  I could see he was firmly in my brothers' corner, which he had to be. Partners in crime and all. "You need to be clear with them, is all," he said.

  "Oh, I've tried, trust me."

  "Have you? When your brothers talk about you, they give me the idea that you're tough, strong and easygoing all wrapped in one attractive bundle. I never get the impression that you make demands on them."

  "Of course I have. They simply prefer not to listen. And I'm not that tough."

  James frowned. "That's interesting. They make it sound like you could help with branding, break a horse, fix a motor and then make biscuits for lunch."

  I snorted. "That was my mother. I only helped on the farm because I had no choice. I was always more into manicures and frills, but they don't seem to remember that."