Читать книгу Loving A Lonesome Cowboy - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 12

It had been dark for nearly an hour before Sara took her first break. In spite of the open windows and the brisk December air whipping through the house, she felt damp and clammy from exertion. Long tangled strands of hair refused to stay within the piece of elastic she’d tied around her curly mop, and they clung to her damp, flushed cheeks and neck.

And still she saw little progress as she surveyed the bedroom. Sighing, she sank onto the only chair in the room, a soft overstuffed club-style monstrosity, and prayed she could get up again.

Originally, she’d thought the amount of money Ethan had offered her was generous. Not anymore. Not with the king-size headache she had from inhaling dust and the insistent ache plaguing her lower back. She was beginning to doubt she’d even be able to make the place presentable in two days. Actually, a day and a half was more accurate. The girls would be arriving early afternoon the day after tomorrow.

A crocheted doily had fallen from the dresser and without leaving the chair, she scooped up the lacy snowflake-like piece for a closer inspection. It was finely made, by hand as far as she could tell, and although at first glimpse it appeared old, Sara guessed it was more recently made. At least in this decade, when women were usually too busy to spend the kind of time required for such fine craftsmanship.

Another mystery. The house had tons of them. Like the newer add-on off the back bedroom. The house was already huge, but the owners had added yet another room. Off the master bedroom, she figured, not having seen the inside of it. Forbidden territory, according to Ethan.

The add-on alone wasn’t strange. Many growing families found the need for additional space. But there was no sign that children had ever lived in the house. And then there was the owner’s abandonment. Very strange.

She tossed the doily back onto the dresser. More dust filtered into the air. Sighing, she pushed to her feet. She had far too much work ahead of her to be sitting here, wondering about things that were none of her business.

After taking a peek to make sure Misty was still napping, Sara decided to work in the kitchen for a while. She really did need to develop a plan. It was maddening the way she went from one room to the other for a mop or a rag, then randomly began a new task without completing the one she’d left.

She checked her watch and decided to give herself one hour in the kitchen. That way they’d at least have a decent place to sit and eat dinner. Even if it was only peanut butter and crackers. She turned on the water in the sink and gazed out the window. In the distance, the tops of the San Juan Mountains were already covered with snow.

Directly in front of her, a man walked slowly toward the house. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, for a second she thought he was Ethan, and her pulse leaped.

Her reaction surprised her. A flash of disappointment that it wasn’t him downright annoyed her.

The man didn’t seem in any particular hurry, and she watched as he stopped to toe a square of weathered concrete sidewalk that led to the back door. Appearing satisfied with its condition, he continued toward the back stoop.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he had a key or would knock.

He knocked, and she exhaled.

“Ms. Conroy?”

That he knew her name alarmed her. Instinct told her that he was probably the foreman or one of the hands, especially judging by his worn boots and battered Stetson, but underestimating Cal in the past had cost her, and she wouldn’t be foolish again.

Another knock…a pause…then, “Ms. Conroy? I’m Sam Singleton, the Double S foreman.”

She quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Sorry. I had the water running and didn’t hear you.”

He removed his hat. He didn’t look anything like Ethan. His hair was lighter, his eyes blue and he was clean-shaven. Besides, this man smiled. “Ethan told me you’d be here cleaning the house up some. I just wanted to let you know you’re not alone on the property.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Singleton.”

“It’s Sam.”

She nodded and smiled back. “I’m Sara.”

He was looking at her funny. “You just get into town?” he asked.

“A little over a week ago.”

A thoughtful frown pulled his brows together. “And Ethan found your name on a bulletin board?”

She nodded, amused at the irony that he seemed to be wary of her. “He said references weren’t necessary.”

Sam’s frown deepened. “What?” then he looked slightly embarrassed. “I wasn’t questioning you, it’s just that Ethan doesn’t show up around here much, and I was a little surprised he—” He gave a small shake of his head. “Never mind. You just holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She was about to say something when he set his hat back atop his head and turned to go. “Wait, Sam, I, uh, was kind of wondering something.”

He stopped and eyed her cautiously.

“About Ethan—”

Caution gave way to alarm, and then his entire expression shut down. “Sorry, ma’am, that topic is off limits.”

“I was just…” She lifted a hand in helplessness. “I figured since you were his boss…” A strange look crossed his face. “Never mind.”

She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. She’d received the same reactions in town. First there was the look of alarm, which turned guarded then blank. The only thing missing in Sam’s reaction was the trace of pity she’d seen in everyone else’s eyes. If anything, Sam looked protective.

He started to leave again, stopped and said, “If you’re worried about his character, you won’t find a more honorable or loyal man. Anyone in town will confirm that.” He gave her a brief smile, touched the rim of his hat, then sauntered off without looking back.

Sara leaned against the doorjamb, trying to temper her curiosity. She told herself it was valid to be inquisitive about her employer, especially since she was scheming to stretch two days into two weeks. But she knew better. There was more to her curiosity than making sure he wasn’t Jack the Ripper.

Something about him drew her, stirred an instinct to reach out and help in some way she couldn’t fathom. It was a dangerous impulse. One that had already landed her in a hellish marriage. She shuddered at the thought, then ruthlessly pushed it aside, and plunged her hands in some warm soapy water.

Tonight she’d give the kitchen a cursory cleaning, enough to at least make it sanitary. Tomorrow, after the bedrooms were in top shape she’d—A burst of melodic chimes gave her such a start she splashed water down the front of her shirt and on her sneakers. It took her a second to realize it was the doorbell. She shook the water from her hands then dried them on a rag on the way to the front door.

Misty sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom?”

“It’s all right, honey.” Sara gave her a reassuring smile, then went to the window and inched back the drapes. She had only a partial view of the front porch, but she couldn’t see anyone.

It couldn’t be Sam. He wouldn’t come around to the front door when he knew she was in the kitchen. It was probably Ethan. But he had a key. Though he probably wouldn’t use it out of respect for their privacy.

With her hand on the knob, she called, “Who is it?”

No answer.

Her pulse and curiosity both going berserk, she opened the door a crack. No one was there. Her gaze drew to a brown wicker basket sitting on the porch. It held a bundle wrapped in a large red-checked napkin.

She stepped outside and stooped down for a look. Under clear plastic wrap was a roasted chicken, biscuits and cole slaw. Her gaze snapped up, but still she saw no one. Was this from Sam? But why not hand it to her?

Stepping off the porch and into the yard, she squinted toward the bunkhouse—and caught a glimpse of Ethan’s blue pickup as it fishtailed in a cloud of dust down the gravel drive.

SAM SWUNG the saddle off Thunder, used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, then watched Ethan approach. His friend didn’t come to the ranch much. Sam figured he could count on one hand the number of times Ethan had been here in the past six years. He hoped this was a good sign. It wasn’t right for a man to isolate himself the way Ethan did. Too much grief and sadness had a way of keeping a man from being whole.

“Hey, Ethan, I got your message late yesterday. I was riding the north pasture. Looks like we’ve got two miles of fence-mending ahead of us.”

Ethan stopped and stroked Thunder’s neck. The soft-eyed gelding pushed his face forward for Ethan to rub. “Have you seen her?”

Taken aback by the question, Sam tried not to show any reaction. He’d expected a comment about the fence-mending. “Sara? Yeah, I went over and introduced myself. Pretty little thing.”

Ethan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. As long as she gets the job done.”

Hope swelled in Sam’s chest. The hell it didn’t matter. He saw the flicker of life in his friend’s eyes. “Where’d you find her?”

“An ad on Manny’s bulletin board.”

“Good timing. When do the girls get here?”

“Tomorrow.”

Sam straightened. “Tomorrow?” He lifted his hat off his head, and mopped his forehead. “Tomorrow.” He grunted. “Isn’t that just like Jenny? No notice. No consideration.”

“She calls herself Jenna now.”

“Tough.”

Ethan smiled.

Sam looked away. He’d grown up with Ethan and his little sister. Only, the last time Jenny’d visited she wasn’t so little anymore, and her childhood crush on him hadn’t seemed so silly.

“I need a favor,” Ethan said. “Can you spare one of your men?”

Glad to have his thoughts pulled away from Jenny, Sam studied his friend. Normally he would have automatically said sure, or you’re the boss, but something told him to hold back. “What for?”

“To help Sara.”

“Clean?”

Ethan shook his head. “Mostly do the lifting.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

The flash of fear in Ethan’s eyes was like a ray of sunshine to Sam. “I’m busy,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “You just said we have fence that needs mending.”

“Not right away.”

“What about Bobby? Can’t you spare him?”

Sam massaged the back of his neck, frowning, in a show of concern. “I already gave him time off to go see his folks up in Albuquerque for the holidays.”

“And Gus? What about him?”

“He’s driving a herd to South Fork.”

Ethan rattled off a few more names. Sam made more excuses.

Ethan exhaled, long and slow. “You’ve got to have somebody.”

“Nope. Afraid I don’t.” The more panicked Ethan looked, the better it made Sam feel. It was good to see some life in his friend again. Damn good. “Unless…”

“Yeah?” Impatience and hope animated Ethan’s face.

Sam shrugged. “I suppose I could give her a hand. Maybe she’ll be grateful and have dinner with me.” He winked, then hid a smile at Ethan’s sudden frown.

“I thought you were busy.”

Sam shrugged again. “Shouldn’t take long. Anyway, I sure wouldn’t mind her company.”

Ethan silently stroked Thunder’s neck, his brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighed. A put-upon sigh. For Sam’s benefit, no doubt. “You’re right. Shouldn’t take long. Guess I can handle it.”

“You sure?” Sam kept a straight face. “I don’t mind.”

Ethan flexed a shoulder, a nervous habit he’d had since they were kids. “Nah, I can manage.”

Sam turned to his bucket of grooming supplies and busied himself with finding a brush before he started grinning like a village idiot. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” Ethan sighed again. “I’d better get to the house and see if she needs me.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look up until his friend’s scuffed boots were headed away from the stables and toward the house. He watched his retreating form, noticing the new life to Ethan’s step, and a lump swelled in Sam’s throat. It was so damn good to see traces of the old Ethan. God bless Sara Conroy. Sam hoped she did need Ethan. As much as Ethan needed her.

TEN MINUTES LATER, Ethan stood on the front porch of the house to which he’d sworn he’d never return and pressed the doorbell button. If he had half a brain in his head he would’ve let Sam deal with Sara. But that wasn’t right. Sam had carried the major burden of the ranch for the past six years. And Erika and Denise were Ethan’s problem…

“Ethan?” Sara had opened the door, startling him out of his thoughts. Her lips curved in a shy smile. “We just finished breakfast. Leftover chicken and biscuits, thanks to you.”

She stepped aside, and he had to force his feet to move over the threshold. The sun hadn’t been up long, but enough of its rays touched her auburn hair to turn the tips to gold. When he passed her, the scent of roses took some of the starch out of his knees.

“Well, what do you think?”

He looked blankly at her.

Her expression fell, and she cast a forlorn look over the family room. “Can’t you see the difference?”

Ethan slowly scanned the room. All the sheets were off the furniture, the brass lamps gleamed and the hardwood floor had been polished to a high shine. “I can’t believe you did all this already.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s amazing how much you can get done when there’s no TV to distract you.” She laughed self-consciously, the sound sweeter than pecan pie. “Come see the blue bedroom.”

He let her lead the way, bracing himself for the assault of tormenting memories. But as he stepped into the room, all he saw was how cheery it seemed. The drapes had been tied back, letting the early-morning sun stream in through crystal-clean windows. Without dust covering everything, the oak headboard and nightstands and dresser looked new and inviting. Something else was different, too….

“Well? Think the girls will like it?”

He slowly nodded, trying to figure out what had changed. “You probably didn’t notice, but I swapped the comforter for one I found in the linen closet. This yellow one makes the room cheerier.”

He remembered now. The other quilt was a navy blue and tan one his mother had made the year she died. Emily had used it as a remembrance.

“Is something wrong? Wasn’t I allowed to go into the linen closet? You hadn’t mentioned it being off limits.”

Ethan looked at Sara. She was wringing her hands, her eyes dark and wary. “No, I didn’t. I, uh, it’s fine, Sara. The room looks real nice.”

“Where are you going?” She hurried after him down the hall. He had the sudden urge to get out and breathe some fresh air.

“I forgot something in the truck. I’ll be right back.”

“Need some help?”

He stopped abruptly, and she nearly ran into him. He turned in time to grab her shoulders and avoid the collision.

Her wide-eyed gaze lifted to his. “I’m sorry.” Her breathy words fanned his chin.

“My fault. I didn’t signal.”

She laughed softly, and he was amazed that he’d actually attempted a feeble joke. When her gaze lowered to the slim shoulder he still cupped, he quickly dropped his hand.

He stared at her, unable to remember what he was about to do. Clearing his throat, he moved back a step. “I think I’ll just go—”

“You’re leaving?”

The disappointment in her voice sent a flush of pleasure through him. “Actually, I was—” He gestured toward nowhere in particular.

“Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “You were going out to get something in your truck.”

“Right.” He immediately headed for the door, calling himself every kind of dumb jackass. He wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears seventeen-year-old. He didn’t even like petite, fair-haired women. And he wasn’t in the market for a fling or anything else. Dammit.

So why in the hell was he getting all tongue-tied and weak-kneed? And stupid. He was being really stupid. Maybe he ought to reconsider Sam’s offer. Let him make a fool of himself. Because something about that woman would do it. Make a man do something foolish he’d end up regretting for a long time.

He circled his truck a couple of times, trying to regulate his breathing. Anger more than anything was throwing him off balance. That he could have this physical reaction to a woman he barely knew galled him.

Removing his hat, he lifted his face to the warmth of the faint winter sun and closed his eyes. Maybe he was getting all worked up over nothing. Of course he would have a reaction to a woman. It had nothing to do with Sara, personally. He was thirty-six years old, for cripes’ sake, hardly over the hill. And he hadn’t had any female company in a mighty long time.

At that thought, he slumped against his truck. It was by his own choice, he reminded himself. The problem was, he wanted to keep it that way. But he wouldn’t be able to if Sara kept smiling at him.