Читать книгу A Family for the Rugged Rancher / Soldier on Her Doorstep: A Family for the Rugged Rancher / Soldier on Her Doorstep - DONNA ALWARD, Donna Alward - Страница 8

LUKE TRIED TO keep his body relaxed as he held open the screen door, but Emily Northcott was making it difficult. Whatever she had put on for perfume that morning teased his nostrils. It was light and pretty, just like her. Her short hair was the color of mink and curled haphazardly around her face, like the hair cover models had that was meant to look deliberately casual. And she had the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, fringed with thick dark lashes.

When he’d first advertised for a housekeeper, Emily was not what he’d had in mind. He’d figured on someone local, someone, well, older to answer his ad. A motherly figure with graying hair, definitely not someone who looked like Emily. Someone who lived nearby who could arrive in the morning and leave again at dinnertime. But when his local ads had gone unanswered week after week, he’d put Cait on the job. She’d been getting so clucky and meddling as her pregnancy progressed. He’d thought it would be a good project for her and would keep her out of his hair. It was only the promise of getting outside help that had ceased her constant baking and fussing over the house. Not that he didn’t need the help. He did, desperately. But having Cait underfoot all the time had been driving him crazy.

Maid on Demand had seemed like the perfect solution, anonymous and impersonal. Except now he’d ended up worse off than ever—with a beautiful woman with a family of her own, 24/7.

He should have said no, flat-out.

He’d be a bald-faced liar if he said Emily Northcott wasn’t the prettiest woman to pass through his door in months. Just the scent of her put him on alert. Not that he was in the market for a girlfriend. But he was human, after all.

But what could he say? No, you can’t stay because you’re too pretty? Because you’re too young? She couldn’t be more than thirty. And then there was her son. How could he turn her away for that reason either? He’d have to be cold-hearted to use that against her. So far the boy had hardly made a peep. And it was only for a few months, after all. Once things wound down later in the fall, he’d be better able to handle things on his own.

“Have a look around,” he suggested, as the screen door slapped shut behind them. “I’m going to wash up. I’ve had my hands inside the baler for the better part of the afternoon. Then I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

He left her standing in the entry hall while he went to the kitchen and turned on the tap. The whole idea of hiring help was to make his summer easier, not add more responsibility to it. But that was exactly how it felt. If she stayed, it meant two extra bodies to provide for over the next few months. Twice as many mouths to feed than he’d expected. And having that sort of responsibility—whether real or implied—was something he never wanted to do again. He liked his life plain, simple and uncomplicated. Or at least as uncomplicated as it could be considering his family circumstances.

He scrubbed the grease from his hands with the pumice paste, taking a nail brush and relentlessly applying it to his nails. The plain truth was that not one soul had applied for the job—not even a teenager looking for summer work. Cait had put the listing with the agency nearly three weeks ago. Things were in full swing now and he needed the help. Luke was already working sun-up to sundown. The housework was falling behind, and he was tired of eating a dry sandwich when he came in at the end of the day. He was barely keeping up with the laundry, putting a load in when he was falling-down tired at night.

They could stay as long as it meant they stayed out of his way. He didn’t have time for babysitting along with everything else.

When he returned from the kitchen, Emily was in the living room on the right, her fingertips running over the top of an old radio and record player that had long ceased to work and that now held a selection of family photos on its wooden cover. His heart contracted briefly, seeing her gentle hands on the heirloom, but he pushed the feeling aside and cleared his throat. “You ready?”

“This is beautiful. And very old.”

He nodded. “It was my grandparents'. They used to play records on it. Some of the LPs are still inside, but the player doesn’t work anymore.”

“And this is your family?”

Luke stepped forward and looked at the assortment of photos. There were three graduation pictures—him and his sisters when they’d each completed twelfth grade. Cait’s and Liz’s wedding pictures were there as well, and baby pictures of Liz’s children. Soon Cait’s new baby would be featured there, too. There was a picture of three children all together, taken one golden autumn several years earlier, and in the middle sat a picture of his parents, his dad sitting down and his mom’s hand on his shoulder as they smiled for the camera. The last two pictures were difficult to look at. That had been the year that everything had changed. First his mom, and then his dad.

“My sister’s doing. Our parents always had pictures on here and she keeps it stocked.”

He saw a wrinkle form between her eyebrows and his jaw tightened. He wasn’t all that fond of the gallery of reminders, but Cait had insisted. He’d never been able to deny her anything, and he knew to take the pictures down would mean hurting Cait, and Liz, too, and he couldn’t do it.

“Your dad looks very handsome. You look like him. In the jaw and the shape of your mouth.”

Luke swallowed. He could correct her, but he knew in reality the handsome bit no longer applied to his father. Time and illness had leached it from his body, bit by painful bit. Luke didn’t want to be like him. Not that way. Not ever. The fact that he might not have a choice was something he dealt with every single day.

“I have work to do, Ms. Northcott. Do you think we can continue the tour now?”

She turned away from the family gallery and smiled at him. He’d done his best not to encourage friendliness, so why on earth was she beaming at him? It was like a ray of sunshine warming the room when she smiled at him like that. “I’d love to,” she replied.

Luke didn’t answer, just turned away from the radio with a coldness that he could see succeeded in wiping the smile from her face. “Let’s get a move on, then,” he said over his shoulder. “So I can get back to work.”

Emily scowled at his departing back. She had her work cut out for her, then. To her mind, Luke Evans had lived alone too long. His interpersonal skills certainly needed some polishing. Granted, her life hadn’t been all sunshine and flowers lately, but she at least could be pleasant. She refused to let his sour attitude ruin her day.

“Do you mind if I turn the TV on for Sam? That way we can get through faster. I don’t want to hold you up.” After his comment about Sam being a distraction, Emily figured this was the easiest way. After Evans was gone to the barn, she’d enlist Sam’s help and they’d work together. Make it fun.

As they started up the stairs, Luke turned around and paused, his hand on the banister. “I apologize for the sorry state of the house,” he said. “My sister hasn’t been by in a few weeks and with haying time and the new calves.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“I don’t want to scare you off,” he said, starting up the stairs once more. Gruff or not, Emily got the feeling that he was relieved she was there. Or at least relieved someone was there to do the job he required.

She followed him up, unable to avoid the sight of his bottom in the faded jeans. Two identical wear spots lightened the pockets. As he took her through the house she realized he hadn’t been exaggerating. The spare rooms had a fine film of dust on the furniture. The rugs were in desperate need of a vacuuming and he’d left his shaving gear and towel on the bathroom vanity this morning, along with whiskers dotting the white porcelain of the sink. The linen closet was a jumbled mess of pillows, blankets and sheets arranged in no particular order, and the laundry basket was filled to overflowing.

The tour continued and Emily tried to be positive through it all. “The floors are gorgeous,” she tried, hoping to put them on more of an even footing. “They look like the original hardwood.”

“They are. And they have the scratches to prove it.”

She bit back a sigh and tried again. “Scratches just add character. And the doors are solid wood rather than those hollow imitations in stores these days. Such a great color of stain.”

“They need refinishing.”

Emily gave up for the time being; her attempts at anything positive were completely ineffectual. She simply followed him down the hall. The smallest bedroom was painted a pale green and had one wall on a slant with a charming oval window looking over the fields. She fell in love with it immediately. A second room was painted pink and one wall had rosebud wallpaper. A third door remained closed—she presumed it was his room. But when he opened the door to the final room she caught her breath. It must have been his parents’ room, all gleaming dark wood and an ivory chenille spread. It was like stepping back in time—hooked rugs on the floor and dainty Priscilla curtains at the windows.

“What a beautiful room.” She looked up at Luke and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. It was almost as if seeing it caused him pain, but why?

“It belonged to my parents,” he answered, and shut the door before she could say any more.

Back in the kitchen the clean dishes were piled in the drying rack, the teetering pile a masterpiece of domestic engineering. In the partner sink, dirty dishes formed a smaller, stickier pile. The kitchen cupboards were sturdy solid oak, and Emily knew a washing with oil soap would make them gleam again. The fridge needed a good wiping down. She paused a moment to glance at the magnetic notepad stuck to the fridge door. It was simply a list of phone numbers. She frowned as she read the names Cait and Liz, wondering why he didn’t simply have his sister’s numbers memorized. After his brusqueness, there was no way on earth she’d ask.

Overall, the house was a throwback to what felt like a happier, simpler time. “All it needs is some love and polish, Mr. Evans. You have a beautiful home.”

The tour finished, Luke cleared his throat, his feet shifting from side to side. “I really need to get back to fixing the baler. This weather isn’t going to hold and I have help coming tomorrow. The job is yours, Ms. Northcott.”

She grinned at him, ready to tackle the dust and cobwebs and bring the house back to its former glory “You’ve got a deal.”

“Shouldn’t we talk salary?”

A shadow dimmed her excitement, but only for a moment. “I thought that was all taken care of through the agency. Unless you’ve made a change regarding …” She paused, glancing down at Sam.

“One boy won’t eat much. The wage stands, if it’s acceptable to you.”

“Agreed.”

“You’ll be okay to get settled then?”

“Oh, we’ll be fine. Does it matter which rooms we take?”

“One of the two smaller ones at the end of the hall would probably be best for your son,” he replied. “My sister Liz’s pink room probably wouldn’t suit him. The other is still a bit girly, but at least it’s not pink. You can take the one on the other side.” The master bedroom, the one that had been his parents.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take the pink room? The other is …” she paused. She remembered the look on his face when he’d opened the door, but had no idea how to ask why it hurt him so much. “The other is so big,” she said.

Luke tried not to think of Emily in his parents’ room, covered with the ivory chenille spread that had been on the bed as long as he could remember. He had never been able to bring himself to change rooms, instead staying in the one he’d had since childhood. Nor did he want Sam there. But Emily … somehow she fit. She’d be caring and respectful.

“The room has been empty a long time. You may as well use it. The other is so small. It’s just a room, Emily. No reason why you shouldn’t sleep in it.”

But it wasn’t “just a room”, and as he looked down into her dark gaze, he got the idea she understood even without the details.

“Mr. Evans, I don’t know how to thank you. This means a lot to me … to us.”

Her eyes were so earnest, and he wondered what was behind them. Clearly she was a single mom and things had to be bad if she accepted a short-term position like his and was so obviously happy about it. She hadn’t even attempted to negotiate salary.

“What brought you here? I mean … you’re obviously a single mother.” No husband to be found and insistent on the Ms. instead of Mrs. No wedding ring either, but he saw the slight indentation on her finger where one had lived. “Recently divorced?”

The pleasant smile he’d enjoyed suddenly disappeared from her mouth. “Does it matter if I’m divorced?”

He stepped back. “Not at all. I was just curious.”

“You don’t strike me as the curious type.”

He hoped he didn’t blush. She had him dead to rights and she knew it. He had always been the stay-out-of-others'-business-and-they’ll-stay-out-of-yours type.

“Pardon me,” he replied coolly.

But her lack of answers only served to make him wonder more what had truly brought her here. What circumstances had led Emily Northcott and her son to his doorstep?

“Yes,” she relented, “I’m divorced. Sam’s father is living in British Columbia. I’m just trying to make a living and raise my son, Mr. Evans.”

She was a mom. She had baggage, if the white line around her finger and the set of her lips were any indication. It all screamed off limits to him. He should just nod and be on his way. Instead he found himself holding out his hand, scrubbed clean of the earlier grease, with only a telltale smidge remaining in his cuticles.

“Luke. Call me Luke.”

The air in the room seemed to hold for a fraction of a second as she slid her hand out of her pocket and towards his. Then he folded the slim fingers within his, the connection hitting him square in the gut. Two dots of color appeared on Emily’s cheeks, and it looked as though she bit the inside of her lip.

Not just him then. As if things weren’t complicated enough.

“Luke,” she echoed softly, and a warning curled through him at the sound of her voice. He had to keep his distance. This was probably a huge mistake. But where would they go if he denied her the job? What were they running from? He wanted to know everything but knew that asking would only mean getting closer. And getting close—to anyone—was not an option. Not for him.

He was already in over his head. The fields and barns were the place for him, and he would let Emily Northcott sort out her own family. She could just get on with doing her job.

He had enough to handle with his own.