Читать книгу The Rancher's Twins - Carol Ross - Страница 10

CHAPTER TWO

“IT’S OFFICIAL, I’M TERRIFIED of our unborn child. I know Jon’s twins are only five, but because there are two of them it’s like you can double the devious factor. No, not double—quadruple.”

Sofie was speaking to her husband, Zach, in that hushed tone people use when they’re all worked up and think they’re being quiet, when in fact the opposite is true. Jon could hear every word from where he sat on the long antique church pew that stretched nearly the length of one wall in the mudroom, the rectangular entryway adjacent to his kitchen. Since his foreman, Tom, had fixed the cattle guard, Jon had been able to medicate the calf and check on the pregnant cows and heifers. With the weather holding, he and Tom decided the generator could wait.

The opposite wall was lined with a shoe rack, two boot dryers and a series of pegs and hooks for various layers of outdoor clothing necessary when working daily in the elements of Montana—rain gear, wool jackets, parkas, hats, gloves and the like. The other end of the narrow room led to a half bath, while taking a left brought you into the kitchen.

As always, Trout sat patiently on the thick rug waiting for Jon to towel off his muddy paws and belly. Jon had heard the water running when he entered. That, mingled with the soft music from the satellite radio, the one extravagance he allowed himself, explained why Sofie and Zach hadn’t heard him yet.

He tensed at Sofie’s comments even though he knew what she said was true. His girls were out of control—“holy living terrors” their last babysitter had called them. She’d lasted three days. He did his best to tamp down the despair eating away at him like a slow-moving but persistent acid. Mercifully, some of that feeling would be alleviated today.

The sound of Zach’s chuckle made Jon smile. He removed his boots, not feeling even remotely guilty for listening in on his best friend’s conversation with his wife.

Zach said, “They remind me of Brenna and Tess. Trust me, Sofie. They’re normal. They’re growing up without a woman’s influence and thousands of acres of ranch land as their playground. They’re a little rough around the edges is all. Our kids probably will be, too. This is good practice for you.”

Even if Zach didn’t entirely mean it, Jon loved him for saying it. Brenna and Tess were Zach’s younger sisters. Not twins, but at only thirteen months apart, they might as well have been. Jon would be thrilled if his girls grew up to be like the Carnes sisters.

Sofie, on the other hand, had grown up in Seattle. Despite the fact that she seemed to be settling in well with Zach, she didn’t get it. Not really. Not in the way that someone who grew up on a ranch did. He said a silent thank-you that he didn’t have to worry about that with his new nanny.

She went on, “Oh, they’re adorable, don’t get me wrong. And they can be sweet, but so can grizzly bear cubs. That’s the problem. Cute and out of control is a dangerous combination. I found Gen in the small pasture with the cows and newborns this afternoon. Abby was literally climbing through the fence to join her when I caught up with them. All this, after I expressly forbade them from going anywhere near there. I’m getting too pregnant to keep up with them.”

“Sofie, honey, they’re fine, though, right? Nothing happened.”

“Okay, next time Jon is in a bind you’re going to watch them. It will be good practice for you. You’ll see. If one of the cows would have seen Gen as a threat...” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened. And the scary question is, what were they planning to do once they both got in there? Gen had a rope.”

Jon stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Sofie. There won’t be any more binds, or there shouldn’t be, anyway. Not with a real nanny on the job.” The conversation illuminated why Jon had chosen this particular nanny agency. He’d been able to request specific criteria regarding his new employee. They were sending him a nanny with ranching experience.

He looked around. “Speaking of, I’m assuming she’s not here yet?”

“Nope. Hasn’t shown.” In a softer tone, she asked, “You’re sure she’s coming?”

“What, you think I’ve been blacklisted? Like there’s some sort of club or network where nannies and babysitters go to talk about their bad experiences? Stay away from those Blackwell cubs. They look cute but they’re nothing but trouble.”

Zach laughed as he crouched to give Trout a pat. “Hey, Trout. How’s the best dog in the world?” Trout’s tail went wild as he settled in next to Zach.

Sofie let out a gasp and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “You heard all of that?” Tears welled in her eyes, which made Jon feel terrible for making a joke.

“Jon, I’m so sorry. I’m awful. I didn’t mean it. They’re wonderful kids it’s just that—”

Crossing the kitchen, he wrapped her in a hug. “You’ve never been awful for even two minutes in your life, Sofie Carnes. I’m teasing. I know they can be difficult.”

“No.” Her head shook against his shoulder. “No, that was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it.” The words were muffled as she cried into his shirt. “I’m not myself. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re pregnant.”

Zach grinned and mouthed a thank-you behind Sofie’s back.

Sofie lifted her head. Jon handed her a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. She stared at it.

“It’s clean, I promise.”

“I know.” Taking it from his hand, she snuffled out a laugh through her tears. “It’s just that I still can’t believe I live in a place where men use tissues made from fabric.”

Zach reached out and grabbed Sofie’s hips, turning and pulling her in close for an embrace. He kissed the top of her head.

Jon smiled, even as the love between these two generated a touch of envy. Had he ever had anything approaching that with his ex-wife? Looking back, he didn’t think so. He and Ava’s relationship had been fire and ice from the moment they’d met, one extreme or the other. They’d never seemed to find that sweet smoldering spot in between.

Zach said, “Hey, I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you at home, Sofe.”

Sofie gave him a quick kiss and stepped away. “Okay, I’ll be along in a bit. Corn bread is still in the oven.”

Jon resisted the urge to cringe at the mention of Sofie’s cooking. He told his friend goodbye and turned back to Sofie. “I need to go put in a load of laundry. I’ll be right back.”

“I could have done that. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t have any to do earlier.” He winked at her and headed to the laundry room to put the nanny’s new sheets in the wash.

“Where are the girls?” he asked when he returned. Trout was still in the kitchen, sniffing the room’s perimeter for the customary bread-crust bits and cracker crumbs the girls regularly left behind. If Gen and Abby were anywhere nearby, the dog would be hanging out with them by now.

“Tom took them out to see the foal.” Tom was Jonathon’s foreman and only full-time employee. Since it was calving season, the bunkhouse currently lodged a few extra cowboys who worked for him seasonally. Which reminded him of Katie and the bind Big E had left her in. She’d told him one of her hands had quit, which meant she was already short on help. Although, thankfully the guest ranch employees wouldn’t be arriving for at least another month or so.

While the family’s Blackwell Ranch was both a working cattle ranch and a dude ranch, Jon’s focus was strictly on cattle. While he disliked the dude ranch, it was his grandfather’s methods regarding the cattle ranch that was the source of contention between Jon and Big E.

Which brought him back around to the information he’d learned about his grandfather earlier; Big E was AWOL. Irritation overrode the concern he’d felt in Grace’s office when Katie assured him that Big E was fine; he wasn’t technically a “missing person” by the legal definition. She just didn’t know where he was right at this moment. The week before, he and Zoe had taken off in their motorhome. This didn’t surprise him, as Zoe was always trying to talk Big E into anything that would get her away from the ranch, a ranch she was constantly trying to “improve.” Meaning, she wanted it to make more money. Jon didn’t care. What his grandfather did with Zoe was his business. But during calving season? It was the busiest time of year on a cattle ranch.

Katie had reminded him that no one could sign on the account to pay the bills except Elias or one of his grandsons. In other words, Jon or one of his four brothers had to sort this out. Unfortunately, his brothers all lived out of state. On Jon’s promise to take care of the bill, Grace had given Katie leave to purchase what she needed.

The part that chafed at Jon was that Big E had inconvenienced both him and Katie in the process. He was going to have to track down his grandfather. And in the meantime, if Big E and Zoe didn’t show up tonight, he would be forced to head over there and figure out what needed to be done so that Katie could keep things running smoothly.

Sofie was peering out the window above the sink. “Wait... Is that a car coming up the drive?”

Jon joined her. The vehicle drew closer and he could see it wasn’t a rig belonging to anyone he knew.

The nanny.

A lightness unfurled inside his chest, which had felt unbearably heavy for so long it was like he had an anvil for a heart. Maybe his girls could finally become the kids he knew they had the potential to be, have the life they deserved. Or as much of one as he could give them. What they deserved was a mom, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

He warned himself not to pin too much hope here. But that felt a lot like trying to push raindrops back into a storm cloud. And besides, he wouldn’t want to. He knew it was far from poetic, but he and the girls were like the parched ground after a long drought, eager and hungry to soak up every bit of life-giving water they could get. And this nanny... This nanny was the rain.

* * *

LYDIA CLIMBED OUT of the SUV and took in the sprawling, pale gray, white-trimmed home before her. Not overly large, but certainly not small, and everything looked neat and tidy and...new. Huh.

For some reason, she’d been expecting one of those ancient two-story farmhouses with half-finished projects and rusty tools scattered around outside. Inside there’d be faded, gingham curtains, noisy pipes and lots of tiny rooms with creaky floors. Basically, her nana’s little farm in upstate New York—the home Lydia had shared with her for the only two truly good years of her childhood.

She had to admit the JB Bar Ranch was storybook pretty with its neatly painted outbuildings in a matching shade of gray and two large, brick-red barns. Some smaller, greener tufts of grass sprouted here and there in the vast expanse of lawn, promising a lush green mantle once spring pushed into early summer. Reddish brown cows dotted the landscape beyond the barn.

Inhaling deeply, she attempted to smooth her crumpled wool skirt and silk shirt. She stared down at her expensive, impractical faux-leather boots and wished she’d had time to purchase suitable clothing for her stint as a rancher’s nanny.

“Not that I know what a rancher’s nanny wears,” she muttered wryly. She didn’t know anything about ranching. Although, aside from the basics of sewing and cooking, she hadn’t known much about waitressing, hair shampooing, baking, catering, dog-sitting, office assisting, or the myriad of other jobs she’d tackled over the years, either.

Besides, she’d gladly left most of her possessions behind. She didn’t want anything Clive had purchased for her with his dirty money, especially that engagement ring.

Shaking her head, she looked around to try and get her bearings and gather her shredded confidence. A lack of options was an incredible motivator and soon had her navigating the neatly cobbled walkway and scaling the steps of the porch.

A surge of nervous tension welled inside of her as she lifted a hand. The door opened before she could knock to reveal a handsome, serious-faced man and a pretty, smiling woman whose eager expression made Lydia think she was going to angle in for a hug. Then she swung open the screen door and Lydia felt her brain stall.

“Um... Hi, I’m...sorry. My name is Lydia...Newbury. I think I must have the wrong place? I’m looking for Jonathon Blackwell of the JB Bar Ranch?”

Jonathon Blackwell was supposed to be a single dad, not one half of an expecting couple. Had there been some sort of a mix-up?

“No, no, you’re not at the wrong place.” At the woman’s encouraging wave, Lydia stepped inside. “Please, come in. I’m Sofie, neighbor and friend.” Her honey-blond hair was neatly piled high up on her head and her warm brown eyes matched the kindness in her tone. “It’s wonderful to meet you. We’ve been expecting you. Did you have trouble finding the place?”

“It’s wonderful to be here finally. I’m sorry I’m late. I did have a little trouble finding the place, which would have been a lot of trouble if Deputy Tompkin hadn’t helped me out.”

Sofie smiled. “Oh, good. Scooter’s great.”

“Even after that I still wasn’t sure—”

“Why is that?” the man interrupted, his scowl morphing into more of a glare.

He’d moved a few steps back and now stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Lydia could see gleaming silver appliances behind him. Country music drifted softly from that direction. Tall and nicely muscled, he filled the doorway where he leaned against the wood frame. He slipped a hand into the back pocket of his dingy, faded jeans. All that was missing was a cowboy hat to cover his attractively mussed hair and a piece of straw poking from between his chiseled lips. Tension vibrated off him like an overtuned guitar string. A couple of six-shooters hanging from those lean hips and he could walk right onto to a movie set about a gritty, bitter cowboy. He definitely didn’t match up to the nice-guy impression she’d gleaned from Scooter.

Forcing herself to make eye contact confirmed her assumption—he didn’t like what he saw. She wondered if he knew how much his steely gray gaze gave away.

“Why is what?” she asked, forcing a friendly smile. Whatever his first impression had told him, it wasn’t good. Lydia needed to change his mind.

His next words were hard-edged, like it tried his patience to clarify his question. “Why did you think you had the wrong ranch?”

“Um, well...” Lydia tried to think of a way to condense her reasons. Because a pregnant woman opened the door and I thought you were a single dad, and you’re glaring at me, and I didn’t expect my new employer to be a grouch who disliked me on sight.

Sofie blinked wide brown eyes. “That doesn’t matter, does it, Jon? She’s here now.”

The little shake of his head was almost imperceptible. In a flat tone he conceded, “I suppose not.” He stuck out a hand. “Jonathon Blackwell. This is the JB Bar Ranch.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell.” Lydia offered her hand. He gave it a firm squeeze and then released it like they were playing a game of hot potato. His stern gaze skimmed over her and lingered on her boots before he glanced away.

A black-and-white dog sidled up to her, tail wagging.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Crouching, she held out a hand. The dog came closer and laid his muzzle on her thigh. Lydia relaxed a little and stroked his silky ears. At least the dog liked her. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

“This is Trout,” Sofie said, beaming.

Blackwell loomed, his face a grim mask.

“How was your drive?” Sofie asked.

“Good. Stunningly beautiful. I’ve never seen this part of the country. Or much of rural America at all, unfortunately. Not since I was a kid, anyway.”

“Oh, but I thought you had... Where are you from?”

“Philadelphia, born and mostly raised.” If a girl can be raised by the age of fifteen, she added silently.

Sofie’s face twisted thoughtfully. “So, you’ve never lived on a ranch?”

Lydia laughed and gave the dog one more pat before standing. “Nope. City girl through and through.” Except for her two years in upstate New York with Nana. But that was a story and Tanner had told her to withhold details when she could. Sofie shot Blackwell another curious glance. He returned it with another head shake and a sigh. What was this guy’s problem?

Sofie noticed her watching. Clearing her throat, she focused her bright smile back on Lydia. “Well, I can relate to that, that’s for sure. I’m from Seattle.”

Trout let out an excited whimper and jogged through the doorway where Blackwell still stood guard. Behind him, the unmistakable sounds of a crowd entering the house followed; voices, laughter, squeals, the clank of what sounded like metal and then the stomping of feet.

“Perfect timing,” Sofie said brightly. “The girls are back.”