Читать книгу Wanted: Christmas Mummy - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 10

After a trip to the bunkhouse where Leslie started a pot of stew for the cowboys’ dinner and gathered supplies to bring back, she and the twins returned to the house.

“Are we going to make the cookies now, Leslie?” Justin asked anxiously as they entered the house.

“In just a minute. We should check on your dad first.” Before she could say anything else, the boys set down their sacks and ran for the stairs. “Quietly,” she called. “He may still be sleeping.”

She checked her watch as she followed the boys. Probably he wouldn’t stir for another couple of hours. At least she hoped so. That would give her time to fix lunch and make cookies with the boys—and recover from the embarrassment of undressing their father.

When she reached the bedroom door, the boys were standing by the bed, whispering. Doug Graybow didn’t even flicker an eyelash at the noise. He was obviously still in a deep sleep. Probably the best thing for him since Moss had told her he had a mild concussion.

“Okay, boys. Go hang up your coats and wash your hands and we’ll make cookies,” she whispered. Like twin tornadoes, the two moved past her and out of sight.

She stood there in the relative quiet, staring at the unconscious man. The urge to smooth his brow, to adjust his covers, grew stronger the longer she watched. With an abrupt nod to no one in particular, she pulled the door to, then drew a deep breath.

She was only going to be here a day or two. Moss would find someone. Of course he would. And then she’d be on her way back to Kansas to get on with her life—whatever that might be.

In spite of everything, Mr. D. Graybow had made it clear he didn’t want her working for him. So she wouldn’t. She’d find a place for herself, somewhere she’d be happy. It just wouldn’t be here.

And that was just as well. The man was as sexy as sin, even with a concussion and a broken leg. Another deep breath helped her clear her head of such ridiculous thoughts. Which was a good thing, because the boys’ room door opened and the two whirlwinds were beaming up at her, extending their hands for approval.

DOUG SLOWLY BECAME conscious of his surroundings. His room. Not the hospital. Why had he thought— The pain that shot up his leg when he tried to move it answered that question.

Along with that bit of information came the rest of it. The woman, his chasing her, then his fall. The hospital with Jim Kelsey fussing over him. Then his arrival back home to find the woman making his bed with clean sheets, charming his boys into instant obedience and shaming him into taking his medicine.

At least she was long gone. Moss knew what he wanted, and he could rely on Moss to carry out his orders. He looked at the window and figured he had an hour or two before his workers would return to the bunkhouse. Probably the boys were down there with Blackie.

He looked around him for the crutches Jim had given him. As much as he’d hated that damn bedpan, he kind of wished he had it here now. Getting to the crutches leaning against the wall by the door wasn’t going to be easy.

But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t wait a couple of hours.

Throwing back the covers, he slid to the side of the bed. Since he couldn’t bend his leg because of the brace, he was debating whether he should slide on the floor to the crutches, or hop on his good leg, when the door opened.

“You’re awake!” that woman exclaimed.

Red suffused his cheeks as he grabbed the covers. He suddenly realized he was only wearing his briefs and a T-shirt.

“Yes, I’m awake. Where are my jeans?” He could’ve sworn he’d had them on when he got home. Looking at his visitor, he surprised a bright blush on her cheeks.

“I—I removed them. You couldn’t get comfortable, they were so tight.”

Now he was as embarrassed as she looked. Particularly as a lingering scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. He felt a vague stirring of some memory but it eluded him. Upset with both himself and her, he said suddenly, “What are you still doing here?”

He hadn’t meant his question to sound so abrupt, so angry, but it had. He knew it by the way she stiffened.

“Taking care of you and your children until Moss can find someone else.”

Doug grimaced. Moss knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of finding someone to come take care of them. So what was he pulling?

“You agreed to do that?”

“Yes. I don’t have to return home at once, and it seemed cruel to abandon the three of you.”

“Yeah. Especially since it’s your fault,” he growled.

Her shoulders went rigid, drawing his attention to her full breasts. His mouth was suddenly dry.

“I don’t quite see how your broken leg could be my fault.”

“I’ve lived here thirty-two years, all my life, and never fallen down those stairs. I wouldn’t have this time except you jerked away from me.”

“Oh? So I should have let you paw me to keep you from breaking your leg?” She stood with her hands on her shapely hips, righteous anger on her face.

He stared back at her, trying to keep his gaze above her neck. “Paw you? I was trying to stop you from getting lost in a snowstorm!”

“It wasn’t that bad and you know it! That’s just an excuse!”

He gaped, unable to believe what she was saying. Finally he pushed himself as erect as he could manage. “Listen, lady, if I wanted to ‘paw’ someone, as you put it, there are plenty of women who would volunteer. I wouldn’t have to settle for a—” He couldn’t think how to finish his insult.

“Then call one of those numerous women to take care of you now. Because I’m not going to!” With a slam of the door, she disappeared from view, leaving him tense and upset. And stranded a long way from the bathroom.

“Wait!” he called and listened anxiously for returning footsteps. Nothing. Damn. His temper had gotten him in trouble again.

He leaned back against the pillow, drained by their argument, his headache returning.

“Hi, Daddy,” the twins chorused as they opened the door.

“Boys.” He sighed in relief. “Thanks for coming. Could you hand me my crutches?”

His children looked at each other. Then they shook their heads and started toward the bed, Gareth carefully carrying a glass.

“Boys! The crutches. You forgot the crutches. They’re by the door,” he said, his situation getting more desperate by the moment.

“Leslie said for you to take your medicine. She didn’t say anything about you getting out of bed.” Justin held out his hand, showing his father the pills he was carrying.

“Leslie is not the boss around here! I am!” he shouted before clutching his head. The stubborn looks on his children’s faces told him he’d made a mistake. With a sigh, he quickly informed them why he needed his crutches and Justin laid down the pills on the bedside table and brought the crutches to his bed.

“Why didn’t you ask Leslie?” he asked as he held them for his father.

“It was kind of embarrassing,” Doug muttered, not bothering to explain that he’d insulted her before he thought to do so. And then it was too late.

After the difficult excursion to the bathroom, Doug was glad to settle back against the pillows. “Thanks, guys. How’s everything going?”

After listening to their complaints the entire month since Agnes had departed, Doug expected more of the same. Instead, his children happily recounted their activities, with Leslie’s name playing a large role in the recital.

“And we made the bestest cookies, Daddy,” Justin assured him, a heavenly smile on his little face, as if he were munching on his favorite treat right then.

“And you didn’t bring me one?” Doug teased, unable to resist the happiness his sons were showing.

“I’ll go get you one,” Justin promised fervently and rushed to the door.

“Bring him one I made, too,” Gareth called, and then patted him on the shoulder. “Leslie showed us how to do it.”

“That was nice of Leslie,” he assured his son. The woman seemed to be a master at enslaving his children. Didn’t she have them complaining about being bored? Getting into mischief? Begging her to read them a story?

Or maybe she had mesmerized them with the heavenly scents coming up the stairway. The house smelled better than it had when his mom was downstairs cooking.

“And you know what, Daddy?”

“No, Gareth. What?”

“Leslie can tell us apart. She don’t never have to ask.”

Doug could always tell them apart, but he and Moss were about the only ones. Somehow it seemed intrusive for Leslie to be able to. “How does she do that?”

“She said ‘cause we’re not the same person. And ‘cause I have a freckle right here,” Gareth said, pointing to his nose and chuckling.

Doug admired her perception, but he wasn’t about to say so. His boys already seemed to adore the blasted woman.

Justin appeared in the doorway, but he wasn’t alone. Standing behind him was Leslie, a tray in her hand. Her lips were tightened in a firm line and her gaze didn’t meet his. “Justin wanted you to have a cookie, but I think you should eat something solid before you do.”

He suddenly realized his stomach was empty. His last meal had been the sandwiches and soup she’d prepared last night. On his best behavior, he said, “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“If you’ll sit up, the boys will fix the pillows behind your back,” she instructed, still keeping her gaze on the tray.

Once more, he watched as his boys rushed to fulfill her every command. He frowned but tried to hide his irritation. After all, she was being nice to him. He leaned back against the pillows and thanked his children.

“Leslie says we’re her best helpers,” Justin announced proudly, leaning against his father’s shoulder. “She doesn’t know where anything is.”

“Anything what?” Doug asked sharply, a sudden vision filling him of Leslie going through his belongings, trying to assess his net worth.

“All your hidden valuables, of course,” the woman said coldly as she plopped the tray into his lap.

He flinched and grabbed the wobbling tray. Obviously she had understood his meaning even if his children hadn’t.

“Boys, why don’t you stay and keep your dad company while he eats, and I’ll go down and put the vegetables in the stew.”

“I thought you were leaving?” Doug couldn’t help asking.

She halted on her way out of the room, but she kept her back to him. “I am. Just as soon as the cowboys get back. It would be irresponsible to leave the children alone.”

“You’re leaving?” Justin asked anxiously, taking a step toward her.

“Yes, sweetie. Remember, I told you earlier I couldn’t stay. Now, take care of your daddy until I get back.”

Both boys turned to glare at their father as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Daddy, we don’t want her to leave! She makes great cookies!” Gareth complained.

Doug, on the other hand, wanted that woman gone, not mixing in his business, or worming her way into the hearts of his employees, like she had his children.

Yeah, he was glad to get rid of her. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll find someone else to take care of us. We don’t need Leslie. Bring me the phone.”

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? She’ll make a perfect mommy,” Justin whispered. The twins were sitting on the stairs, waiting for Leslie’s return.

“I don’t know. Daddy doesn’t like her. Don’t daddies have to like the mommy?”

“Mrs. Meggy’s husband likes her. He’s always hugging on her. I saw him kiss her once.”

“Daddy and Leslie was fightin’. She don’t want to stay.” Gareth rested his drooping chin in his hand. “And she didn’t even fuss when I broke that glass.”

“Yeah. Agnes would’a spanked you.”

Both boys sighed in unison.

“There must be something we can do,” Justin finally said.

“I don’t know what,” Gareth admitted and sighed again.

“Me neither…unless—” Justin broke off and stared at his brother.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Break her car. Then she couldn’t leave.”

“Hey, yeah! But how do we do it?”

“MRS. WILLIAMS? This is Doug Graybow at the Bar-G. I had an accident last night and—no, it’s nothing serious, just a broken leg. Yes, thank you. The reason I’m calling is I need someone to take care of me and the twins for a— Mrs. Williams, I promise— Mrs. Williams?”

He hung up the receiver. Mrs. Williams made her feelings clear. And who could blame her after the fiasco the last time that she baby-sat? The twins had almost flooded the house.

Who else could he call? He’d talked to Ben, but he said Meggy wasn’t feeling well.

The widow Hicks had gone to stay with her daughter in Chicago.

Mrs. White had told him she’d sprained her wrist, but Doug didn’t believe her. She prided herself on keeping everything in its place, and his twins wouldn’t cooperate.

He’d even called the pastor of his church, but the man had had no idea of anyone who could help. When Doug had admitted that Leslie had stayed overnight to help, the pastor had suggested he plead with her to stay.

Damn. Instead, he’d done the opposite.

Well, they’d just have to manage. There were some things he couldn’t do, even for his sons, and marrying was one of them.

“DO YOU LIKE COOKING, Leslie?” Justin asked. Once she had returned from the bunkhouse, the boys had attached themselves to her side.

“Why, yes, sweetie, I do. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause you was humming a song. Agnes wouldn’t even let us stay in the kitchen with her, and she was always frowning.”

“Maybe she was tired,” Leslie suggested diplomatically. The more she heard about Agnes, however, the less she thought she’d been good for the boys.

“Leslie, do you have any kids?” Gareth asked, resting his chin in one palm as he watched her.

“No,” she told him as she lifted the piecrust she’d been rolling out onto a pie plate. She shot a quick glance at the boys and then looked away. She sure was enjoying her time with these two kids.

“Don’t you want any?” Justin chimed in, moving to get on his knees in the chair with his brother and lean against the cabinet.

“Well, someday. I have to find a husband first.”

“Why?”

That question stopped Leslie. She shot a quick look at the concentration on the boys’ faces and hid her smile. “Because that’s how you do it. First you get married and then you have kids.” At least that was the way people should do it.

Before they could ask any more questions, she gathered the scraps of leftover piecrust. “Now it’s your turn to cook.”

She taught them to butter the dough, sprinkle it with sugar and cinnamon and put it in the oven.

“Does it taste good?” Gareth asked, his gaze glued to the pan.

“Sure does. My mother used to help me make them when I was your age.”

“She sounds like a great mama,” Justin said with a sigh.

“Yes, she was.”

“Isn’t she your mama anymore?”

Leslie smiled at his serious little face. “She’ll always be my mama, Justin, but she’s dead now.”

“Oh. So’s our mama.”

“Do you remember her?” Leslie asked, even though she felt guilty about doing so. She knew their father wouldn’t like her asking questions.

Both boys shook their heads no.

“We was little babies.”

The buzzer on the oven halted their conversation and for the next few minutes both boys were more interested in eating the pie dough treats with a glass of milk.

“There’s only three left, Leslie. Do you want one?” Justin asked.

“No, thanks.”

“What are you making now?”

“A chicken casserole that can be frozen for dinner tomorrow night.” Concentrating on her cooking, Leslie didn’t notice the silence for several minutes. When she did, she turned to observe her audience, only to find the two of them whispering.

“Is anything wrong?”

“We was wonderin’, Leslie, if we could take these three pieces to Daddy?” Justin asked. “He would like them.”

She checked her watch. It was a little after three. He might be waking up from the last dose of medication. “That’s very thoughtful of you, boys. If you’ll be careful, you can take some milk up, too.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No. I’m sure you can manage on your own.” Truth was, she had no intention of going to that man’s bedroom ever again. Every time she did, all she could think about was how it felt to be pressed against his long body.

The boys climbed the stairs carefully. When they pushed open the door, they discovered their father lying in bed, his eyes open.