Читать книгу The Rancher's Redemption - Myra Johnson - Страница 14

“Avery, get a move on. We’re running late.” Erin scooped up her purse and keys from the kitchen table, then snatched Avery’s lunchbox off the counter. “Grab your backpack, honey. And don’t forget a sweater.”

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can, Mom.” Stomping feet echoed from the hallway. “And anyway, you should have woken me up sooner.”

Erin pressed the button to open the garage door. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said as Avery bounded past her. “I forgot to set my alarm.”

She wasn’t sure when it began, this struggle to get anywhere on time. Growing up, she’d earned a reputation for being early to everything. Maybe it was the people pleaser in her, the same part that had kept her married to an abuser in hopes that if she was good enough, if she tried hard enough, she could eventually change him.

Now, with Payne out of the picture, apparently she’d relaxed her standards. Or else it was rebellion, pure and simple. Her way of reclaiming a semblance of control over her life.

Whatever the case, she needed to redevelop the habit of punctuality. Getting her daughter to and from school on time was important, yes, but when Erin reported to her new job at Wanda’s Wonders next week, she couldn’t expect the gift shop’s owner to overlook tardiness.

As she sped through downtown Juniper Bluff toward the school, Avery kicked the seat back. “You’re driving too fast, Mom. You’re gonna get a ticket.”

At that very moment, Erin spotted a patrol car parked where the school zone began. Guiltily, she eased her foot off the accelerator and allowed the car to coast until the speedometer dropped below twenty miles per hour. Pasting on an innocent smile, she steered past the officer and into the school’s drop-off lane.

A teacher’s aide opened Avery’s door, and she scooted out. “Bye, Mom. See you after school!”

Waving to her daughter, Erin swallowed down the lump in her throat. She still couldn’t believe her little girl would soon finish first grade. Where had the years gone? This Saturday would be Avery’s seventh birthday. Erin still needed to put the finishing touches on the basket she’d started yesterday. It wasn’t much of a birthday gift, but for now, it was something Erin could afford. Besides, Avery loved collecting pretty things—beads, rocks, feathers, leaves—and this basket would be a perfect place to keep her treasures.

Before Erin could finish the basket, though, she had another chore on her to-do list. The small three-bedroom bungalow her brother Greg had helped her purchase suited their needs just right, and the neighborhood seemed safe enough. But living on her own for the first time in her life, she couldn’t shake her apprehension. Ideally, she’d prefer to install an alarm system—another expense she couldn’t afford. Instead, she’d decided to invest in security lights for the front and back of the house. Those shouldn’t cost too much, and how hard could they be to install?

Picking up groceries last weekend, Erin had noticed a hardware store across from the supermarket. A few minutes after leaving the school, she pulled into the Zipp’s Hardware parking lot and found a space between a dirt-encrusted pickup and an older-model hatchback. The brick building with the green metal sign across the front appeared to have been around almost as long as the town itself. All kinds of intriguing gadgets lined the display windows on either side of the entrance, and Erin grew so entranced that she almost forgot why she’d come—until the door burst open and a crusty old guy in overalls and a baseball cap nearly plowed into her. He mumbled an apology, climbed into the dirty pickup and drove away.

So much for small-town friendliness. With an annoyed shake of her head, Erin marched inside. She paused to get her bearings, her gaze skimming the signage over each aisle: Plumbing, Tools, Fasteners, Electric...

“Can I help you?”

Erin turned with a start. “You?”

“You!” yesterday’s cowboy said at exactly the same time.

She backed up a step, yesterday’s butterflies returning with ferocity. “You work here?”

“I do.” One brow arched. “Did you make it on time to pick up your daughter?”

“Yes. I mean, no. But it was okay. She was helping her teacher feed the gerbils.” And why did Erin feel the need to explain herself?

The cowboy looked at her askance, one wayward lock of brown hair sliding across his temple. “Gerbils. Aren’t those just glorified rats?”

“They’re actually pretty cute. I had a pair when I was a kid. And then they had babies and Mom made me give them away—” Lips pursed, Erin crossed her arms. “I—I’m actually looking for security lights. Do you carry those?”

“Lighting’s in aisle seven.” Starting in that direction, he peered over his shoulder. “Erin, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, hurrying to follow. “I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names. Ken?”

“Kent.” He stopped about halfway down the aisle. “Here we go. Security lights. You want manual or automatic?”

Erin bit her lip. “What’s the basic difference?”

Slanting her a crooked smile, Kent picked up a box. “This one’s manual. That means you have to turn it on and off yourself from the light switch.”

“Of course.” With a silly-me eye roll, Erin bent to read the printing on another box. “So...automatic means the lights come on by themselves, obviously. How do they know?” She cringed at how ignorant she must sound.

“Well, there’s the kind where you set a timer for exactly when you want the light to go on and off. Then there’s this one,” he said, indicating the box she was examining, “which has a simple light sensor. On at dusk, off at dawn.”

“I like that.”

“Or there’s one other option,” Kent said, reaching for a box on a higher shelf. “This one has both a light sensor and a motion detector. If you don’t want the light on all night, you can set it to come on only when there’s activity to trigger it.”

Erin hadn’t realized she’d have so many choices. An amber warning light blinked in her brain. “That one’s probably the most expensive.”

“Yeah, they do go up in price when you start getting fancy. Where do you plan to use it?”

“Front and back porches.”

“Any reason you wouldn’t want the lights on all night? Like bedroom windows nearby, or neighbors who might be annoyed?”

Valid points. Points Erin hadn’t considered. “How much exactly is the motion-detector style?”

Kent brought a box down from the shelf. “This one’s our bestselling model. It’s priced at $69.95.” He must have noticed her flinch, because he returned the box to its place and chose another one instead. “Now, this one here has fewer bells and whistles but works just as good, and it’s $30 cheaper.”

Still a lot, but definitely more affordable. Erin pictured her minuscule checkbook balance. Maybe she could buy one today and hold off on the second one until after she got her first paycheck.

She felt Kent’s eyes on her. Thoughtfully, he asked, “You were wanting two, right?” When she replied with a hesitant nod, he drew a hand across his chin. “This is actually a closeout model. With the newer ones expected any day now, we need to clear out shelf space. I’ll sell you the second light for half price.”

Erin brightened. “Really? That would be great!” If things went well, she could have the lights installed before she picked up Avery from school. And maybe tonight she’d actually get a full night’s sleep instead of tossing and turning and listening for every little sound.

* * *

What was it about this woman? Clenching his teeth, Kent tucked two of the security light kits under his arm and strode toward the cash register. Good thing ol’ Ben Zipp, the store’s penny-pinching owner, wasn’t in this morning. Kent hadn’t lied about a newer model coming out—this manufacturer typically updated the line every year—but there’d been no catalog info as yet.

As for the discounted price? Kent would have to ring it up as quoted and then make the correction after Erin left the store. He’d make up the difference out of his own pocket. And maybe settle for PB&J for lunch at home instead of stopping for a sub sandwich at the supermarket deli.

He keyed in the purchase and stated the total. “Cash, check or charge?”

“Check.” Erin tugged out her wallet. “I know hardly anybody writes checks anymore, but it helps me keep to my budget.”

He understood about tight finances. “No problem, as long as you have some ID.”

“Yes, of course.” She handed him a check along with her driver’s license.

Frowning, Kent compared the information. The driver’s license showed a Dallas address, but the check indicated she lived in San Antonio. “Uh, which is it?”

“Oh. Neither.” A blush brightened the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. “I used to live in Dallas, but then I moved in with my brother in San Antonio for a short time, and now I live in Juniper Bluff. With my daughter. We just moved here last weekend actually. We’re still getting settled.”

“I get it. All this changeover stuff takes time.” Kent had strict instructions from his boss about check acceptance, though, and conflicting addresses definitely put this one on the questionable list. “Do you have any other form of ID? Something showing your current place of residence would be best.”

Erin plopped her purse on the counter and began rummaging through it. “How about this?” She pulled out a creased and crumpled paper, smoothed out the page and turned it to face Kent. “I just got this from the post office confirming my change of address.”

“That’ll work.” Kent entered the payment in the register. While the receipt printed out, he slid the light kits into a large plastic shopping bag. “All set.”

“Thanks.” Scooping up her purse and the bag, Erin mumbled, “Now I just have to figure out how to install them.”

Kent figured he’d regret this, but the look on her pretty elfin face was quickly banishing all reason. “If you need some help, I moonlight as a handyman.”

“I’m sure I can manage.” Her shaky smile said otherwise. “These come with directions, right? How hard can it be?”

“How much do you know about electric wiring?”

Her shrug said, Not much.

“Seriously, I work cheap.” Not really. He was saving for that bull after all. So why was he going off the rails to help a complete stranger? “My shift ends at noon. Why don’t I come by and at least walk you through it? I don’t want you getting electrocuted or anything.”

At the word electrocuted, Erin’s face paled. She set the bag back on the counter. “The thing is, a handyman currently isn’t in my budget. If these are that complicated to install, then I should probably—”

“How are you at making sandwiches?”

“What?”

“Sandwiches. Bread, mayo, a slice or two of cold cuts?” He’d kick himself later, but the thought of this tiny woman playing with live electric wires while standing on a wobbly stepladder... Not happening on his watch. “What I’m saying is, I’ll trade you an hour or so of security light installation for whatever you’ve got on hand for lunch.”

Lips pressed together, Erin eyed him doubtfully. “You’d actually do that, after I already inconvenienced you by trespassing on your property and requiring a horseback ride to my car?”

“Consider it my way of welcoming a Juniper Bluff newcomer.” People had certainly been helpful to Kent when he’d first moved here ten years ago with little more than a dream and his VA loan. Almost everything he knew about cattle ranching he’d learned through the kindness of strangers—a few who had quickly become friends. Thankfully, most didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t much of a socializer.

One of the best of them was walking in the door right now. Kent nodded to Seth Austin, part owner and manager of Serenity Hills Guest Ranch. “Be right with you, Seth.”

The lanky cowboy tugged off his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair. “No hurry. I’ll be over here in Plumbing.”

Kent turned back to Erin. “So are we on for lunch?” Yikes, that sounded way too much like a date.

“Only if you’re sure.” She fingered the plastic bag.

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have offered.” Truth be told, he wasn’t all that sure, but he wouldn’t back out now. “Let me see your post office form again so I can get the address.”

Once he’d copied the information into his phone, Erin gathered up her purchase. On her way to the door, she thanked him several times and promised to have lunch ready a few minutes after twelve.

Before he forgot, Kent made the adjustments to the sales record and chipped in the difference for the second security light. Pushover, his inner voice taunted. He’d have to make up some excuse to explain why part of the purchase was made with a check and the rest in cash.

Ambling down the plumbing aisle, he met up with Seth in front of a bathroom faucet display. “Looking to replace something?”

“Yeah, we’re continuing to update cabins.” Seth tried the handle of one of the faucets. “So who’s your pretty new customer?” he asked with a grin. “And did I actually overhear confirmed bachelor Kent Ritter making a date?”

A nervous chuckle rumbled in Kent’s throat. “It’s not like that. She’s just somebody new in town. I’m going to help her install security lights.”

“She wouldn’t be Greg O’Grady’s sister, would she? I heard he bought Diana Matthews’s house for her—well, Diana Willoughby now, since she and Tripp got married.”

“Wouldn’t know. Her name’s Erin Dearborn.”

“That sounds right. She’s had a pretty rough time. Greg’s helping her get a new start.”

Kent had heard about Greg O’Grady and the San Antonio charitable organization that hosted the camps at Seth’s guest ranch. If Erin was Greg’s sister, Kent worried a whole lot less about the risks of accepting her check.

“What kind of a rough time?” he asked.

“Bad marriage, complicated divorce—that’s all I know.” Seth examined another faucet. “Would you have three of these in stock?”

Kent found two boxes on a lower shelf, then had to run to the back for the third. Seth met him up front at the checkout and added a couple of pipe fittings and a roll of plumber’s tape to his purchase. Kent ran Seth’s credit card and bagged the items.

Seth slapped on his Stetson. “Pretty clear what I’ll be doing the rest of the day.”

Guilt niggled at Kent’s nape. If he weren’t so stubbornly single-minded, he’d be doing some fixing up of his own. “Say,” he began, “know anything about this Juniper Bluff sesquicentennial thing?”

“Yeah, they’re planning some big doings for next year. My grandparents are on the committee.”

“Is your ranch one of the historical sites?”

Chuckling, Seth shook his head. “Serenity Hills has been around awhile, but not a hundred and fifty years. Which is too bad, because being declared a historical site means a sizable discount on property taxes.” He cocked his head. “Hey, you own the old Gilliam place. Have you checked to see if it qualifies?”

“I, uh...heard it might.” Tax savings? Yep, this definitely bore looking into. “Any problems with those faucets, let me know.”

“Thanks.” Seth winked as he picked up his purchases. “Gotta get going. You have a nice lunch date with Erin.”

“It’s not a—”

Too late. Seth had already breezed out the door.

* * *

At five minutes after twelve, Kent climbed into his grimy tan pickup parked behind the store. With only two more customers after Seth left, the morning had crept by, which meant Kent had plenty of time to mull over Seth’s parting words: sizable discount on property taxes. How could he turn up his nose at anything that could help him keep the ranch going? Sesquicentennial tour? Bring it on.

On the other hand, fixing up the place wouldn’t be cheap, and then he’d have to deal with all those people traipsing through his house. Maybe not such a great trade-off after all.

Yep, he needed to think on this awhile.

And then there was Erin Dearborn, yet another disruption, albeit a pretty one, to his comfortable, quiet life. Sooner than he was prepared for, he pulled into her driveway. The garage door stood open, and a blue Camry sat inside, the trunk lid raised. As he stepped from the pickup, he glimpsed several cardboard boxes in the trunk.

The house door opened, and Erin appeared alongside the car. “Oh, you’re here already. Sorry, I was just moving in a few more of my things.”

“You say that a lot,” Kent observed, striding toward her.

She cast him a questioning frown. “What, that I’m still moving in?”

“No, that you’re sorry. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize all the time.”

“I didn’t realize I did that. I’m sor—” She stopped herself with a hand to her lips, and for a moment Kent thought she might start crying. Then a strangled chuckle burst from her throat. Blue eyes twinkling, she hiked her chin. “In that case, I’m not sorry. Not one bit.”

Kent grinned. Did she have any idea how irresistible that smile was? Except he had every intention of resisting. How many times did he have to remind himself this wasn’t a social call? He nodded toward the trunk. “All these go inside?”

“Yes, but I’ll get them later. You’re probably ready for lunch, and I’m sure you’d rather get started with those lights so you can be on your way.”

“No hurry,” Kent heard himself saying, as if a complete stranger had taken over his body. He hefted one of the boxes from the trunk, only to risk his knees buckling at the unexpected weight. “What’s in here—boulders for your rock collection?”

Erin reached out to steady the load. “Oh, sorry—I mean—”

Kent felt downright sorry to think Erin’s lousy marriage could be the reason she seemed so unsure of herself. “It’s okay. Just show me where you want this.”

With a tight nod, she spun around and held the door for him. They stepped into a brightly lit kitchen, and he followed her into the adjoining family room.

She motioned toward a half-filled bookcase. “That’s more books, so right here on the floor is fine.”

The box hit the floor with a thud. How in the world had a petite woman like Erin figured to lift a box that heavy by herself? Kent straightened to ease his back. “Why don’t you get started on lunch while I bring in the rest of those boxes?”

Before she could protest, Kent shot her a no-arguments smile and tramped back out to the garage. By the time he’d carried in the last of her packed belongings, the savory aromas of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches had him salivating. Erin directed him to the powder room so he could wash up, and when he returned to the kitchen, she’d set two places for them at a small dinette.

“Fancy,” Kent murmured as he took in the teal straw place mats, napkins folded just so and the sandwiches cut into four neat triangles surrounding each soup bowl. An intricately woven twig basket, slightly larger than the one he’d seen her making yesterday, graced the center of the table and held an assortment of fresh fruit.

Erin gripped one of the chair backs. “Did I forget anything? Would you rather have something besides water to drink?”

“Water’s fine. And it all looks great.” Amazing, in fact. Unaccustomed to dining in such style, Kent had the sudden urge to do the gentlemanly thing and get Erin’s chair for her.

She didn’t give him the chance. Scooting into the seat, she motioned for him to do the same. “Would you like to say grace?”

“I, uh...” Kent swallowed something hard in his throat. Probably a chunk of his hardened heart, the result of seeing too much action in Afghanistan.

“I understand if you’d rather not.” She smiled as she smoothed her napkin across her lap. “Please, go ahead and eat.”

As he picked up a sandwich triangle, Erin dipped her chin, eyes closed in a moment of silence. He waited respectfully until she looked up. “My turn to apologize,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time since I did any praying.”

“It’s okay. ‘Called or not called, God is present.’” Erin dipped her spoon into her soup and blew gently across the surface.

Kent pondered the words as he took another bite of his sandwich. “Is that a quote from somebody?”

“I don’t know the source, but it’s always given me comfort.” Her gaze shifted toward the window. “There have been plenty of times when I doubted God’s presence. It’s reassuring to know His love and constancy don’t depend on my belief.”

Something else Kent would have to think on for a while. But not today. Best to get through this meal, take care of those security lights and head for home. He still had fences to fix and cattle to tend—things that made sense to him, unlike God and women and anything else that threatened his safe little world.

* * *

Bracing the stepladder with one hand, Erin passed Kent a screwdriver. After a few quick turns, he had the second of the security lights installed, this one over the backyard patio. Before they began, Erin had glanced at the directions. If she had tried to install the lights on her own, she’d still be at step one and utterly confused.

“Almost done,” Kent said. “Pass me up the bulbs and we’ll make sure everything’s working.”

Erin reached into the box at her feet and handed him the floodlight bulbs one at a time. Once he’d screwed them in, he gave her the go-ahead to flip the switch at the breaker box. By the time she returned from the garage, Kent had his tools packed up and the ladder folded.

“Working fine,” he said. “I’ve set the detection zones for both the front and rear fixtures. After it gets dark, anything larger than your neighbor’s cat should trigger the sensor and turn on the lights. Any problems, let me know and I’ll come back to make some adjustments.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you so much.” Erin walked with him around the side of the house to his pickup. As he shoved his toolbox into the space behind the driver’s seat, she said, “Please let me pay you something, though. Lunch hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“Are you kidding?” Kent laughed in a way that made her insides all tingly. “Haven’t eaten so fancy since my last trip home when my mom cooked for me.”

“Where’s home?” Erin asked, realizing she wasn’t particularly anxious for him to leave.

“Tulsa, Oklahoma. My dad has a car dealership there.” Hefting the stepladder, Kent moved around to the pickup bed and laid it inside.

Admiring the way his biceps flexed beneath the sleeves of his Zipp’s Hardware polo shirt, Erin gave herself a mental shake. “Never been to Tulsa. Is it nice?”

“Pretty country, if you can stand the blazing summers and the likelihood of winter ice storms or the occasional blizzard.”

“Is the weather why you moved to Texas?”

A faraway look in his eyes, Kent braced one hip against the side of the truck. “Just always wanted to go into ranching, and when I found the right place at the right price... Well, here I am.” With a smirk, he pivoted to climb in behind the wheel. “And now I’m off to work my cattle. Like I said, call if you have any problems.”

Watching him drive away, Erin sighed as she fingered the Zipp’s Hardware business card he’d given her after jotting his personal cell phone number on the back. She liked Kent Ritter. Liked him a lot. If a man as nice as Kent had come along before she’d met Payne, her life could have turned out a whole lot differently.

Maybe.

Or maybe not. Because she’d had a lot of growing up to do since then, and still had a ways to go. Kent’s words from earlier this afternoon played through her thoughts. You don’t have to apologize all the time. That was the people-pleaser side of her again, making her think the only way to be liked or accepted—or loved—was to continually put others’ needs before her own.

But wasn’t that biblical? Paul wrote in Romans that Christians mustn’t think more highly of themselves than they ought, being kind to one another and putting others first. Jesus Himself said, But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.

Instinctively, Erin’s hand went to her cheek. She could still feel the sting of the last time Payne had slapped her. Her breath quickened. Her heart slammed against her breastbone.

Never again.