The Rancher's Family--A Clean Romance

by Barbara White Daille

  “If that’s the secret, I wish you’d kept it to yourself.” Her smile took the sting out of her words and revealed those dimples he’d seen last night.

  “You’re not alone.”

  “Or were you just showing off, cowboy?”

  “No, ma’am.” He shook his head for emphasis. “What man wants to make a jackass of himself in front of a lady?”

  “I wouldn’t say you did that. But I wish I’d had my phone here to catch a video of you in action.”

  “I’m just as glad you didn’t. I don’t need anybody to believe I’m more of a fool than they already think.”

  “A fool?” Frowning, she dropped the balls of yarn into the drawer. “Why would anyone think that?”

  “Forget it.” He scrambled to his feet. This woman somehow made him run off at the mouth. And now he was just plain fixing to run.

  He picked up the remaining balls of yarn and tossed them into the drawer. Once he’d put the drawer back, half-open, he rose. “The dresser is far enough out of your way, you should be okay leaving it like this for now. And speaking of leaving, I’ve got to clean up before I go for the kids.”

  It was too early to get them from Rhea’s, but he needed more air. More space. Some time away from... From this room.

  “I’d like to work here for a while yet,” she said. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “No problem.”

  She did have a problem, though, considering she hadn’t stopped frowning since he’d said too much. Why he had felt he could let down his guard with her, he couldn’t understand. He never should have said anything about Patty. And he never should have opened his mouth about what folks might think of him.

  Maybe he was even more of a fool than they thought he was.

  * * *

  JED FOUND ANDI in the office behind the registration desk. “Is Cara still over at Wes’s?”

  “Yes. I just talked to her a little while ago,” Andi said.

  Why that conversation would have made her look so grim, he didn’t know. But he didn’t like seeing any of his girls upset about anything. He took the chair beside the desk and studied her. “Why don’t you seem happy?”

  “Because Cara didn’t sound happy. She had a chance to look at Patty’s crafts, and everything’s great with that. There’s literally a roomful of handmade things of all kinds, and she says the quality is exactly what she’d hoped.” Her brief smile settled into a frown again. “But there’s something wrong. I don’t mean about the crafts. Something else worrying her, more than what she already told me about breaking up with Brad.”

  Jed didn’t like seeing any of his granddaughters’ friends unhappy, either. “If she’s not volunteering the information, maybe you need to ask her straight out.”

  “You’re probably right. I feel terrible. Ever since she got here, I’ve been so focused on getting her to help Wes and now the idea of selling the crafts and... Well, that’s almost all I’ve talked about. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before now there’s something else bothering her.”

  He patted her hand. “That’s not all on you. Cara’s a quiet one, always has been. You told me that, and I’ve seen it for myself. If you didn’t catch on, it’s because she didn’t want you to.”

  “That makes it even worse. I’m her best friend.”

  “Which means she’ll have her reasons for not telling you, I’m sure.”

  “She won’t after I get her alone for a while tonight.”

  He laughed. “That’s my girl.”

  “And I have to do something to convince her to stay. The good thing is, at least the inventory she’s going to make of all Patty’s crafts will take a while.”

  “If you’re busy here getting ready for the next wedding, you won’t be able to help her out, will you? That’ll make her job take even longer.”

  “Oh, I like that!”

  “I thought you might.” He grinned. “Then when she’s close to finishing, we’ll move on to the next step—getting her more involved in your ideas for the business. That’ll provide some reasons you need her here. And if she starts up about her room, you make sure to tell her I won’t hear about her paying for it.”

  “I will.”

  “You know, this is one of those times I think it’s wise to call in reinforcements. I’ll get in touch with Mo.” His old friend Mo O’Neill belonged to every women’s group at the community center.

  “Another great idea. I’m going to want to talk to all the ladies in the crafts circles.”

  “And you may want to give Rhea a call.”

  “Rhea? Why? She’s too busy with the day care to have time for making crafts.” Her eyes narrowed. “You mean because she watches Wes’s kids. Grandpa, you are trying to get Cara and Wes together, aren’t you?”

  “If I admit the possibility, you’re not going to make a fuss, are you? You agreed they’d make a good match?”

  “Definitely. But I don’t want Cara to get hurt again if something goes wrong.”

  “Wrong?” He laughed. “You need to have more faith in your old grandpa. My matchmaking skills have never let us down.”

  * * *

  “WE’RE HO-OME!” MARK sang out from the back seat of the pickup truck, as he always did when they made the turn into the front yard.

  “Ho-ome!” Tracey echoed.

  “Yes, we’re home.” Wes gave the expected response while half-distracted by the car still parked outside the house.

  He looked at his dashboard clock. Nearly two hours since he’d showered and left to go into town to the sitter’s. Normally, he’d have arrived much later, after most parents had already picked up their kids. Today he’d walked into a full house. Rhea’s other charges had greeted him like a long-lost friend. Mark had insisted on showing him the finger-painted pictures he’d done that day, then had him look at all his other friends’ creations.

  Wes checked the clock again. Yep. Nearly two hours, and Cara hadn’t left yet. Good thing he didn’t need to pay her overtime.

  He helped his son from his car seat. Mark, usually more aware of his surroundings, raced from the truck to the kitchen door at the rear of the house without seeing the car. Also a good thing.

  “Ho-ome, Daddy,” Tracey said, as if she felt he needed the reminder.

  “Right. Let’s go, little girl.”

  “Go, go, go,” she chanted all the way to the back porch. Go was one of her favorite words.

  In the kitchen, as expected, Wes found Mark already at the table with his coloring supplies. “Be right back. I’m going to take Tracey upstairs. It’ll be a little while before we start supper.” Yeah, he’d picked up the kids that early. Maybe he should have stopped at the hardware store first to kill time.

  This afternoon, he’d been driven to leave the house. Now he was just as drawn toward the rear bedroom down the hall. To see how far Cara had gotten. To judge how soon she would be ready to finish the job.

  She knelt in front of a pile of opened boxes. If he’d taken the same position when he’d yanked open that drawer earlier, he wouldn’t have landed the way he had or made any stupid statements. Maybe. She looked over her shoulder, then scrambled to her feet, eyeing him and the baby.

  “This is my daughter, Tracey,” he said.

  “Hi, hi, hi,” Tracey chirped. Another of her favorite words.

  “Hello, Tracey.” Cara’s smile seemed forced. “She’s very cute. I didn’t expect—”

  She stopped, her cheeks turning as rosy as Tracey’s did when she was cranky from being overtired. The thought left him swallowing a laugh.

  “I mean, you’re back already.” She glanced at her watch. “Forget that. It’s later than I thought.”

  “How far along did you get?”

  “Not that far. I finished up in your room first. And I just got off the phone after talking for quite a while with A
ndi. In between, I made a start on the dressers. They’re mostly filled with yarn and thread and crafting supplies. I don’t think those will be something she would sell.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “She’s planning to come out to look everything over with me, though, so I’ll show it to her.”

  “Sounds good. Tell her I’d be happy if she’d donate the supplies to the women’s clubs. They do a lot of knitting and sewing and everything else.”

  “That’s very nice of you.”

  Yeah. Nice of him to find a way to get rid of more memories.

  He crossed the room to look down at the boxes she’d returned to kneeling beside.

  Squealing, Tracey leaned forward, almost toppling from his grasp. “Whoa, girl.” He wrapped his free arm around her to hold her close but hadn’t counted on those long arms of hers.

  She grabbed a strand of Cara’s wavy hair and tugged. “P’etty!”

  “Yes, it’s pretty.” Hadn’t he warned himself again and again not to notice? And now before he could stop himself, he’d gone and put it into words. Hopefully, Cara thought he was just echoing the word for the baby. “But we don’t pull hair, Tracey.” He reached for her fingers at the same time Cara did. Their hands collided.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got it.” Carefully, she pried open Tracey’s fingers. Tracey promptly clamped them around her thumb. Cara’s laugh sounded shaky as she worked her way out of the new hold. “She’s a strong little girl, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is. Aren’t you, baby?” he asked, tickling her under her chin till she giggled. “Strong, just like your big brother.”

  Cara knelt beside the box again, moving out of hair-pulling range. “Before I go, I just want to finish sorting this box I’ve been working on.”

  “Sounds good.” He should go, too, to put Tracey down for her nap. Somehow, his feet didn’t want to move in the direction of the door. Instead, he wandered over to the closet. “Looks like you didn’t get going in here yet.”

  It took her a moment to answer. “I’ll probably wait and tackle that last.”

  “You make it sound like a challenge. Considering it’s so neat inside, I’d think it would be the easiest part of the room to handle.”

  “That’s why I’m leaving it till the end.”

  Her voice didn’t ring true. “Any reason you don’t want to go in there?”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “No.”

  Tracey yipped and rubbed her eyes. Crankiness factor on the rise. “She needs a nap. See you downstairs later.”

  Wanting to kick himself, he left the room. Cara’s comment about letting the easiest part of the job go till last made sense. So what if his curiosity nudged him, making him wonder why her tone and words didn’t match?

  He wasn’t interested in her. Couldn’t be interested in her. And he needed to start reining in his thoughts. Now.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IN THE KITCHEN AGAIN, Wes got busy assembling what he needed for supper, determined to distract himself from thoughts of the woman upstairs. What did it matter to him how she wanted to handle her work? Or how her hair looked?

  And here he was, thinking of her again.

  Mark still knelt at the table with his crayons and drawing paper. He looked up now, as if just realizing Wes had come back to the room. “Where’s Tracey? Nap?”

  “Yes. She’s going to sleep now.”

  Footsteps sounded overhead, followed by the creak of a floorboard.

  Mark’s eyes opened wide. “Who’s there?”

  “That’s Miss Cara. She’s upstairs.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “Miss Cara going to sleep now, too?”

  Imagining Cara cranky had made Wes laugh. The image now springing to mind did anything but that. He shook his head, both to chase away the vision and in response to Mark. “No, Miss Cara’s not going to sleep now.”

  He appreciated knowing his boy had an extensive vocabulary and a great imagination, yet he didn’t always like the answers he had to supply to Mark’s questions. Considering what his son had said last night, this answer would be one he disliked giving most of all. He took a seat at the table. “Remember, I told you, Miss Cara is only here for a visit.”

  The sight of his son’s crestfallen expression lodged a lump in Wes’s throat. While Mark had cried for his mother during the months after her death, he’d never asked where Patty was or when she was coming home. Wes hated to admit it, but put to the test, he didn’t know how he would have answered.

  “Miss Cara is upstairs working,” he amended. “She’s...going to be helping Daddy with some...some baby things he needs to send away.”

  Mark’s mouth fell open. “Tracey?”

  “No, not Tracey. I would never send the baby or you away.” This was too close to the questions he had feared he’d get from Mark about his mother. But until Mark asked outright or became old enough to understand, Wes wouldn’t bring up the issue. He ruffled his son’s hair. “Miss Cara is just taking care of some things your mommy made with her crafts.”

  “Miss Cara help?” Mark asked. When Wes nodded, the boy dropped the crayon on the table and slid from the bench. “I help, too.”

  “I don’t think she needs any assistance right now.”

  “I’m not ’sistance. I’m Mark.” He nearly ran from the room.

  Shaking his head, Wes watched him go. How had his son grown so big in such a short time? Become so determined, so sure of himself? However it happened, Wes was glad to see Mark’s independent streak reassert itself. Over the past year, he’d gotten too needy, too clingy.

  Wes had himself to blame for that.

  Mark rushed back into the room, followed by Cara at a slower pace. “Daddy, Miss Cara’s here!”

  Wes forced a smile. “Are you both all done working?”

  Mark nodded and took his seat at the table again.

  Silently, Wes looked at Cara.

  “He wanted to help,” she said. “I told him I’m sorry but I’m finished for the day.”

  “Sounds good.” He rose. “I’ll walk you out. Be right back, Mark.” He kept the door open and stood on the porch beside Cara. Just the way it had this morning, her hair shone golden red in the sunshine.

  “Will the same time tomorrow morning be okay with you?” she asked.

  “That works.” After a glance into the kitchen, he kept his voice low and asked, “Did you tell Mark you’d be coming back?”

  “No. I thought that might not be a good idea.”

  “You thought right. If he knew you were on your way here, I’d probably never get him out of the house to go to the sitter’s.”

  “I’ll plan to be gone earlier tomorrow afternoon. He won’t see me at all.” She paused. “But he does seem...eager for company.”

  The hesitation—the signal she had worded her statement carefully, the way he had with Mark—made Wes’s spine stiffen. “He’s a friendly kid. And he gets plenty of playtime with his friends at Rhea’s nearly every day.”

  “I’m sure he does. Still, he’s got a lot of energy, and kids can’t turn that off. I bet they wouldn’t mind if you brought him over to the Hitching Post to play with the kids there once in a while, too. On the weekends, maybe.”

  Wes knew the signs. Jed Garland, at it again. Gesturing, he led her down the porch steps. “Did Jed put you up to this?”

  She frowned. “To what?”

  “Trying to get me to visit the Garlands. To hang out. To socialize. Bad enough Jed sends his invitations through my brother—he’s a hand on the ranch over there. Is the man using you as a messenger, too?”

  “Using me? Put me up to this? Why would you think that? You just told me yourself Mark’s friendly, which I’ve already seen for myself. And friendly kids like to play with their friends.”

  “Yeah.” Wes sighed and ran a hand t
hrough his hair. “Guess I sounded half-paranoid. Not my intent. I meant, Jed’s been trying every way he can to get me over to the Hitching Post.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “He thinks—” He snapped his jaw shut.

  After a moment, she asked, “Does this have something to do with what you said this afternoon?”

  Like his son, this woman didn’t miss much. “About folks thinking I’m a fool? Maybe.”

  “But why?”

  What? Why? Darned if she didn’t sound like Mark, too, with all the questions. And darned if he didn’t want to do his best to answer, only because that’s what he did with Mark. But unlike with his son, he didn’t owe this woman a complete answer. “They think I need to get out more,” he said. “As if I have the spare time.”

  “I don’t know much about running a ranch, except what I’ve seen at the Hitching Post. That’s enough to tell me it’s a huge job, even with all those cowboys on the payroll. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to do the work all alone.”

  “It’s no problem,” he said flatly. “My brother gives me a hand if Jed can spare him, or if not, the local ranchers are good at helping one another. And when it’s a busy time for us all around here, I hire transients and day laborers, good men who come back to me every season. So don’t waste any sympathy on me. Jed and everyone else shouldn’t, either.”

  “Maybe they’re concerned about your kids, too,” she said in a softer tone.

  “I love my kids.”

  “I know you do. That’s plain enough for anyone to see.”

  “And I can take care of them.”

  “Of course, you can. But—”

  “No buts. We’re doing just fine. And if Jed Garland asks, that’s exactly what you can tell him.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Cara arrived back at the hotel, the Garlands and their guests had gathered in the dining room. Everyone was still swarming around the room, which was now full of the party atmosphere that usually kicked off the evening meal at the Hitching Post.

  Andi saw her and came to her side immediately. “We thought we were going to be minus a guest at the family table tonight,” she teased.