Читать книгу The Rancher's Wife - April Arrington - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Hold on to your heart, girl.”

Amy whispered the words and pressed her fingertips to the cold metal of Logan’s truck. By the time she’d made her way back from the stables, the sun had disappeared and night had settled in. The full moon and stars cast a hazy glow over the surrounding fields, lengthening the shadows stretching from the fences and barn.

She grazed her throbbing knuckles over the ring hidden beneath her collar and grimaced, recalling the band on Logan’s hand. Her chest tightened. She shook her head, reached into the bed of Logan’s truck and hefted out one of her black bags.

“Here.” Logan’s chest brushed her back. He reached around her for the bag, his fingers brushing hers. “Let me.”

“I’ve got it.”

Amy hoisted the bag and leaned over to retrieve the second one. Logan scooped it up first. He flicked the cuff of his flannel shirt back and examined the glowing hands of his wristwatch.

“It’s almost six,” he said. “We better get a move on.”

He led the way up the drive toward the main house, the strong line of his back and lean jean-clad hips moving with confidence. Amy’s belly fluttered. She tore her eyes away and surveyed the entrance to the main house which was bathed in the soft glow of the porch lights.

Massive mahogany doors were adorned with lush green wreaths and red ribbons. The colorful cheer extended beyond the wreaths to the crimson ribbon wrapped around the large columns. Poinsettia blooms nestled in the nooks and crannies of the railing lining the porch and the warm glow emanating from inside the house enhanced the twinkling of the white lights draping the posts and eaves.

Christmas. Amy’s steps faltered on the slippery ground. It’d been so long since she’d spent the holidays at home with family. Since she’d left Raintree, the color and comfort of Christmas had faded and the holiday had contorted into a pale passing of a day. A low and lifeless one she’d grown accustomed to spending alone.

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat and strived for a light tone. “Why are all the decorations out already? Mama used to say it was a sin to put up Christmas lights before Thanksgiving was over.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, his words reaching her in puffy, white drifts. “I imagine Betty was beside herself last night when we didn’t make it back like we’d planned. She probably got overanxious and decided to keep herself busy.”

Amy smiled. Next to cooking, her mother’s second favorite pastime was decorating. Not a single holiday passed without Betty celebrating it in style.

“Betty knows how much you used to love Christmas at Raintree.” Logan waited for her to reach his side, his big palm wrapping around her upper arm to assist her up the steps. “She wants to make this visit perfect for you. We all do.”

Amy’s blood rushed at the husky note in his voice and she curled her fingers around the handle of her bag, tamping down the urge to lean in to him.

Hold on to your heart. This time, she wouldn’t mistake friendship for love. What she felt for Logan was old-fashioned lust and misguided hero worship. She’d do well to remember that.

A loud jingle sounded, both wreaths swinging on their doors as a small figure burst out of the house.

“Amy.”

Betty’s red bangs ruffled in the night breeze, her green eyes glistening with moisture.

Amy’s vision blurred. “Hi, Mama.”

She drew her bag in against her thigh and dipped toward the floor of the porch, the length of her limbs becoming awkward. Betty’s short stature had always made Amy wither, trying not to loom over her.

Betty’s warm palms cradled her cool cheeks then traveled down her arms to caress her wrists. She gently lifted Amy’s arms out to the side, trailing her gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes.

“You look beautiful. I think you grew another inch since I saw you last. You’re just as tall as your father was.” Betty dabbed at the corners of her eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad you came home.” She stretched up on her tiptoes, her kiss grazing the curve of Amy’s jaw. “I’ve missed my sweet girl.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Much more than she’d realized. Amy wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. The rich scent of cinnamon and butter lingered on Betty’s white chef’s apron, releasing in sweet puffs with each of Amy’s squeezes.

Amy giggled and nuzzled her cheek against Betty’s silken hair. “You smell like cookies.”

“That’s because I’ve been baking your favorite ones all afternoon.”

“Cinnamon and sugar?”

“Stacked a mile high,” Betty said, laughing. She released Amy and tugged at Logan’s shoulders, kissing his cheek when he bent his head. “Thank you for bringing her home safely, Logan. I was worried the storm would keep you from making it.”

“You think we’d let a bit of ice keep us from your cooking?” A crooked grin broke out across Logan’s face and his dark eyes sparkled. “Not a chance.”

Betty patted his broad chest, her smile widening. “I made your favorites, too. The green bean casserole and sweet potato soufflé are ready and waiting.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Let’s get inside. It’s too chilly out here for comfort.”

Logan nudged the small of Amy’s back, spurring her step on. She followed Betty’s jubilant advance into the cheery interior of the house and found the spacious foyer as warm and welcoming as it’d been in the past. The rich grain of the hardwood floors gleamed, several coats hung from a hall tree bench by the entrance and festive garlands draped elegantly from each banister of the winding staircase.

The low rumble of voices, children laughing and silverware clinking sounded from a large room on the right. Two teenage girls dressed in green-and-black chef uniforms strolled by carting pitchers of iced tea and water.

“You’ve hired some help, I see,” Amy said, noting the girls’ bright smiles and energetic expressions.

Betty nodded. “Raintree has done well the last two years. We’ve had to renovate the family floor and expand to accommodate more guests.” Her eyes brightened. “Logan and Cissy started an apprenticeship program for high school students last year. We have positions for students interested in culinary arts and equine management and the school gives them class credit on a work-based learning program. The kids learn and make money at the same time. And, believe me, those teenagers are a Godsend in the kitchen around the holidays.” She smirked. “Wish I could get your sister to peel potatoes as willingly as they do.”

Amy laughed. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

She glanced at Logan, warming at his lopsided grin. It was reminiscent of him as a teenager. Even then, he’d taken an eager interest in the business side of Raintree and had been determined to build it into a successful guest ranch. From the looks of things, he’d succeeded.

“Seems you’re doing a great job managing Raintree,” she said. “You must be proud.”

Logan shrugged. “It was mostly Cissy’s doing. She and the twins didn’t have much when Dom brought them to Raintree, and she knows how some families struggle. She wanted local kids to have as many opportunities as possible to succeed.” His smile widened. “Dom’s even getting in on the action. He’s trying to talk a friend into partnering so he can offer bull riding clinics.”

Amy smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

The warmth in Logan’s smile traveled upward to pool in his black eyes. The pleased gleam in them calmed her pulse and parted her lips. Lord, how she’d missed him. Missed talking to him, sharing dreams and celebrating successes. She missed her best friend.

“There’s our girl,” a deep voice rumbled.