Читать книгу Husband For Keeps - Kate Little, Kate Little - Страница 8

“Well, here we are. Almost,” Carey announced as she steered the swerving truck off the main road and into the turnoff that led to the ranch.

“This is where you live?” Luke asked her.

“Used to be my dad’s place. I grew up here but moved to California right after high school. Hardly been back since,” she added.

She glanced over at him, willingly answering his unspoken questions. A man like this, clearly private and guarded himself, would never be pushy about pulling out personal information. But she didn’t mind disclosing a few basic facts.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked. Did his tone imply that it seemed unlikely that a woman alone—especially one rushing around in a thunderstorm, dressed like a “fairy princess”—would be up to the task of running a ranch on her own?

“He passed on.” Carey replied without turning her head

“Sorry for your loss,” Luke replied politely.

Carey nodded. “Thanks.”

It had been over six months since her father’s death. But talking about it aloud was still hard for her.

The long months since Jonah Winslow had passed away had been filled with mixed feelings of regret and resentment. She and her father had never quite settled their differences. Or forgiven each other completely for past hurts. Always the stoic hale-and-hearty rancher, Jonah Winslow never once let on that his health was deteriorating so rapidly, his heart giving out like a burned-out old engine.

Heart failure, the doctors had called it. That was the information she’d finally received upon her return. Medication at that point was only delaying the inevitable and eventually wouldn’t have much effect. Nothing short of a complete transplant could help him, and he was too advanced in age and his body too weak to be a candidate.

She’d planned a visit home in the summer months, anyway, but it was a call from Ophelia that had finally alerted her to the dire situation.

And once Carey had returned home, she’d found a once-intimidating, giant of a man reduced to such a pitiful shell she’d hadn’t the heart or will to take up old grievances with him. Heavens, no. She’d been thankful enough to make it back in time to offer some comfort to him at the end.

Her father had died peacefully in his sleep, less than two weeks after her return. It was a few days after the funeral, while Carey still coped with the first wave of shock and grief, that she learned of the unfortunate—no, make that ridiculous, archaic, moronic—stipulations in her father’s will.

At no small cost she had hired lawyers to break the will, and the document was contested for months. But to no avail. Only a few weeks ago, Carey learned that the court upheld her father’s will and that his requirement for her inheritance would remain as he had decreed.

Just thinking about it made her blood simmer. The gentler, kinder feelings she’d developed for her father during his last days were shadowed by the knowledge that even after death, he would insist on controlling her, forcing her to conform to his standards, his plans for her life.

They drove beneath the arch that bore the words Whispering Oaks and Carey noticed Luke sit and up take notice.

“This is your place?”

“That’s right.” She turned to him, wondering why the news had inspired that look on his face.

He glanced down at his watch and smiled. “Then it looks like I won’t be that late for my interview after all.”

“Your interview?” Now it was Carey’s turn to be surprised. “Here?”

“I have an appointment with a fellow by the name of—” Luke reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper “—here it is, Willie Jackson. I heard you were in need of a foreman, and I called from town this morning. He told me to come right over. In fact, I was on my way when my truck broke down. Some coincidence, huh?”

Carey had to agree. “Yeah, a doozy.”

So maybe these two lost souls weren’t going to disappear as quickly as she had expected after all. The thought of Luke Redstone taking up residence on the ranch as her foreman flashed through her mind—both exciting and frightening at the same time.

If he passed Willie’s interrogation, the final decision would be left up to her, of course. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hire him. Though a man traveling in search of work with a small boy in tow was hard to turn away without a substantial reason.

She wasn’t sure why this man was so unsettling to her. She rarely met a man who managed to make any real impression, to penetrate her “force field.”

But this one—this one jammed her radar with a glance.

She liked it. And then again she didn’t.

She gave herself a mental shake. Living in Hollywood, she had been around some good-looking men. Some remarkably good-looking men. She believed she’d become if not numb, then certainly distant and carefully delayed her reactions, preferring instead to find out what was under all the attractive wrapping before she allowed herself to walk out of the store with the package.

But for some strange reason this man was in a different league altogether. His looks, not typically handsome at all, certainly not movie-star smooth or polished, were totally arresting.

His straight, thick, black hair, damp with rain and slicked back from his brow, emphasized strong features—wide cheekbones, a hard, square jaw and a straight blade of nose, set above a firm, sensuously wide mouth. And those eyes, nearly black in color and bottomless. She’d never seen eyes so dark, she thought.

Dark and deep enough for a woman to easily lose herself in them. But not this woman, she promised herself.

“Are we there yet?” Tyler murmured groggily.

Tyler. The boy had been sitting through the ride so quietly she’d nearly forgotten about him. As Carey glanced down, she could see that he was more than half-asleep, lulled by the stuffy warmth of the cab and the slow, steady beat of the wipers.

His small body was nestled cozily against Luke’s side, with Luke’s arm draped around his shoulders.

Luke roughed up Tyler’s hair with one large hand. “Almost there, pal. See, there’s the house up ahead.”

The ranch house had finally come into view, and Carey headed straight for it, thankful they’d arrived. Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Good,” he mumbled. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

Carey couldn’t help but laugh, and heard Luke’s deep chuckle, as well. They shared a quick glance over the top of the boy’s head, and she felt that peculiar ping in her chest when his gaze met her own.

She quickly looked away, steering the truck around the front yard and parking as close to the front door as she was able.

She spotted Judge Kendall’s car and was thankful that he had waited. Carey guessed she had Ophelia to thank for that small miracle. Carey imagined that the judge was now working his way through the last tasty rounds of a five-course lunch.

Luke hopped out of the truck, then stretched out his arms to catch Tyler. “Let’s get in there and find the facilities,” she heard him whisper in a fatherly fashion.

“I’m okay,” Tyler balked.

Though Luke offered to carry him to the porch, the boy insisted on walking himself, one hand grasping Luke’s as his feet slipped and slid on through the puddle-covered path. Carey noticed then that the child was wearing only sneakers, not boots or heavy outdoor footwear.

Luke had introduced himself as the boy’s uncle. But it appeared to Carey that the boy was in his care. And maybe Luke didn’t have the money to buy more expensive shoes right now, she thought. She guessed he really needed this job.

Luke and Tyler waited politely at the door until Carey had made her way up to the covered porch. She opened the front door and ushered them in, showed them where to leave their wet jackets and shoes, then pointed out the closest bathroom.

“Just come back to the kitchen when you’re ready. You both most be starved,” Carey said as she headed toward the kitchen herself. “Ophelia will make you some lunch. Ophelia?”

Carey swung open the kitchen door and was greeted by the expectant look on her housekeeper’s face. Ophelia waved a note at Carey and proceeded to relate the message before handing it over. “Your fellow, Kyle, called a few minutes ago,” Ophelia told her immediately. “He’s stuck in the storm. But I didn’t tell the judge,” she added in a whisper. “He’s just finishing up his lunch.”

She tilted her head in the direction of the dining room where Carey could see the judge sitting comfortably at the long table. He appeared to be quite content and in no hurry to leave, a plate of layer cake and cup of coffee set before him while he worked a newspaper crossword puzzle.

Carey carefully closed the door between the dining room and kitchen. She took the note Ophelia handed her, and even though she already knew the message, she gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, stamping her booted feet as she vented her frustration.

“Damn it! Damn, damn, damn. Damn!”

When she opened her eyes, Luke Redstone stood watching her, Tyler by his side. The corner of his mouth turned up and he almost smiled. Then suddenly he looked down at the floor and coughed into his hand.

“Bad news from the groom?”

“Very bad,” Carey replied, her heartfelt despair underlying her tone. When she met Luke’s gaze, he looked as if he wanted to ask more, offer his help.

“So, who are these two fellows you brought back with you?” Ophelia’s question startled Carey. The older woman stared at Luke and Tyler.

“Mr. Redstone’s truck broke down. I stopped to help out.”

“Luke Redstone, ma’am. This is my nephew, Tyler.” Luke stepped forward and politely offered his hand to Ophelia. She shook it, and Carey could tell that even Ophelia was not unaffected by the man’s dark good looks and heart-stopping smile.

Carey sat down in a kitchen chair and began tugging off her boots. Tyler came over and, without Carey asking, helped her.

“Stuck on the road? In this weather? Lucky Carey came along and found you.” Ophelia bustled over to Tyler and took his small hands into her own. “Your hands are like ice, child. We’ve got to get you warmed up before you catch a chill.”

She led him to the table and sat him down. Having raised five children and now the proud grandmother of eleven, Ophelia had a way with kids, Carey knew. And with adults, too, come to think about it. And if Tyler had mistaken Carey for some kind of storybook princess, he was now gazing up at Ophelia as if he’d finally met his long-lost fairy godmother, Carey noticed.

“Now let me get you boys something to eat.” Ophelia turned back to the stove. “I’ve got some roast beef sandwiches and some nice vegetable soup. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great. If it’s not too much trouble,” Luke replied.

“No trouble at all.” Ophelia took soup bowls and plates from the cabinets, and Luke carried them to the table.

“How about you, Carey? Will you have something?” she asked.

“No, thanks.” Carey sat staring down at the kitchen floor, wiggling her near-frozen toes as she contemplated the truth of her situation.

Kyle was not coming.

The airport in Denver had been closed, all flights going in or out, canceled. His plane had been diverted, turned around, forced to land in Wyoming.

There would be no wedding by midnight.

No marriage and no inheritance.

The ranch and all her father’s savings and investments, except for a very small gift, would go to her cousin, Roger Burkett. A spiteful bully as a boy, who had grown into an even more malicious adult, Roger had been sniffing around ever since her father’s passing, counting down the hours until the ranch would be his if Carey failed to marry.

Well, maybe that’s the way her father had wanted it anyway. The marriage deadline codicil had merely been another way to reprimand her. Her father had always wanted a son to carry on the family name and run the ranch. And for years Roger had tried his insufferable, phony best to fit himself into Jonah’s lost dream.

Tears burned her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Carey knew she was not a materialistic person. If so, she would have succumbed to the many bribes her father had waggled under nose over the years, trying to tempt her to give up acting and return to the ranch. But she had held on to her independence, living a meager existence most of the time without complaint.

Her heartbreak at losing the ranch, though, was not about money, she’d come to realize over the past few months. It was about her father, who had given her so little love and approval as a child. And now Carey felt entitled to the one thing he could give her, a sign that she was indeed loved by him—the gift of Whispering Oaks.

“Carey? Are you okay, hon?” Carey felt Ophelia’s hand on her shoulder. A steaming bowl of soup appeared on the table before her. “Here, have something to eat. Can’t think clear on an empty stomach. You’ve got some time to figure this out. Why, you’ve got hours yet to skin this cat,” Ophelia added optimistically.

Carey lifted her head and sniffed. Luke was politely gazing down at his soup, while at the far end of the table Tyler sat staring at her with wide-open brown eyes.

“Why is Carey crying?” Carey heard the boy whisper to Luke. “Did something bad happen?”

“I guess so. I guess she’s sad about something,” Luke answered him. “But that’s none of our business. Now be quiet and eat your lunch,” Luke instructed as he took his own advice. “This soup is delicious,” Luke said to Ophelia.

“Thanks. There’s chocolate cake for dessert. If the judge didn’t eat the whole thing by himself,” she added in a softer tone.

The judge. Holy Hannah. Carey had forgotten all about him. It was time to send him back to town, she supposed, but she felt utterly deflated. Her lethargic body wouldn’t budge.

Carey sighed. “Guess I’d better tell the judge that the wedding’s been rained out.”

“I suppose,” Ophelia agreed with a reluctant sigh.

Carey looked up at Ophelia’s sympathetic expression. Then she saw a flash in the familiar, blue eyes. A flash that sent off warning bells within. She watched as Ophelia’s thoughtful gaze traveled to Luke and a mischievous smile softened the older woman’s careworn features. Carey could suddenly read Ophelia’s mind. And she didn’t like it one bit.

But couldn’t stop her in time.

“Say, I’ve got a brainstorm,” Ophelia said, happily waving her hands in the air as she practically skipped across the kitchen toward Carey. “Maybe Mr. Redstone here will marry you!”

“Ophelia, please—” Carey shook her head and rubbed her forehead with her hand.

“Well, you don’t know unless you ask him,” Ophelia insisted. “You ought to just tell Luke what the deal is. See if he’s interested. You were going to give that no-show Kyle a wagonload of money, and a lot men wouldn’t mind—”

“Ophelia!” Carey interrupted her..

“All right. Whatever.” Ophelia stepped back, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry for butting in. Fry your own bacon, missy, if you want. But I can smell something burning,” Ophelia mumbled under her breath and shook her head. “I’d better check on the judge.”

As Ophelia retreated, Carey dared to cast a slow glance in Luke’s direction. She watched as he carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushed his empty bowl to one side and sat back from the table. She didn’t know what it was about this man—why even his simplest motion fascinated her. Made her lose her train of thought. Completely….

He stared straight back at her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm.

“So…what is the deal here?” he asked point-blank.