Читать книгу The Cowboy's Return - Susan Crosby - Страница 8

Mitch didn’t have anything to hide, but her command annoyed him nonetheless. Hell, he was doing her a favor, not vice versa. Although, to be fair, she didn’t know that….

He refrained from jerking the bag open, acting casual instead. He lifted out the contents. First, five pairs of Wranglers, the same ones he’d been wearing since he left home, so they were a little worse for wear. Then four T-shirts, four long-sleeved shirts, an extra pair of boots, swim trunks, socks, briefs, belt, gloves and a couple of different weight jackets. Nothing fancy. He’d lived as a gaucho, although he’d been employed by one progressive ranch, not roaming the plains looking for work as many did. He hadn’t needed possessions beyond the basics.

Mitch pulled out his shaving kit, unzipped it and passed it to her. Nothing was American-made, so the words were in Spanish, but each product was recognizable, including a strip of condoms, which brought color to her face when she pulled them out.

“Safety first,” he said, enjoying her discomfort. “They’re not for show. I always use ‘em.” The last thing he’d wanted was to deal with an unplanned pregnancy in a foreign country—or anywhere else, for that matter.

“That’s important,” she replied a little stiffly, uttering her first words since he’d started unpacking. She examined the empty duffel bag, checking for anything he might have tried to hide, he guessed. There were no pockets, no hidden contraband.

“I don’t do drugs, Annie. Never have.”

“Are you a drinker?”

“I like a cold beer now and then.” He’d done his share of drinking when he’d first arrived in Argentina. Still grieving his grandfather’s death, he’d sought oblivion from the pain, but it hadn’t taken him long to see how stupid that was. Granddad would’ve knocked him alongside the head for hanging on to his grief—and his guilt.

“You and your son are safe with me,” he said calmly as he transferred his clothes to the dresser, getting past his resentment, glad she hadn’t been stupid about the situation, after all. He almost felt Granddad patting his shoulder. “You’re welcome to check out my truck, too.”

“Thank you.” She opened the bedroom door.

“Like I had any choice,” he muttered under his breath as he followed her out. He’d lived in the Red Valley forever, not counting the past three years and during college, coming home to work the ranch during summer breaks. People knew him, trusted him. It was strange not to be trusted automatically. Although, maybe he would’ve been if he’d given her his last name.

Outside, Mitch attached a long, low trailer to the tractor and drove it up to the demolished greenhouse. The new structure she’d bought was lighter, and could be erected by one person, according to the packaging. High tunnel greenhouses had become familiar sites in farm country over the years, their Quonset-hut appearance easy to spot, their walls made of almost-clear plastic covering, a less expensive option to the old-style greenhouses.

The three of them hauled debris all afternoon. The dog and chickens got in their way frequently, but the atmosphere was congenial. Mitch caught Annie looking at him now and then. Whether she was taking his measure as a worker or giving him the eye, he didn’t know. He just hoped she wasn’t catching him doing the same thing in return. She was physically strong, able to carry much more weight than he’d anticipated. And she was tenacious, stopping only for a drink of water now and then, making sure that he and Austin did the same.

“What are you gonna plant in your new greenhouse?” he asked during one of their water breaks.

“Specialty potatoes and baby lettuces. I’ll get most of my seedlings started in there, too.”

“There’s a big market for baby lettuce?”

“An incredible one, especially organic. And a fairly new clamoring for organic flowers.”

“Who buys those?”

“People who care about the chemicals being used by the big international growers, which is where a large percentage of the flowers sold in this country come from.”

Austin piped up. “I pick off the bad bugs.”

Mitch knew all about organic, humane cattle ranching. His family had pioneered it, one of only a handful in the country who were certified. But flowers? “No one eats flowers.”

“Sure they do,” Annie said. “The upscale restaurants—and a lot of home cooks—use certain flowers in salads all the time. But mostly I’m talking about table flowers, not edible. Whether or not we eat them, we handle them. If a restaurant is going to all the expense and trouble to provide chemical-free food for their customers, shouldn’t their table flowers also be organic?” She drained her water bottle, set it aside, then tugged on her gloves. “My goals were taken into consideration when I applied for a federal grant for the high tunnel and got it. I want to build a standard greenhouse, as well. But first I need to prove I have enough business to warrant it. I’m not certified yet, but I’m working on it. I’ll succeed. I have to.”

“I gathered that,” he said, then shook his head. “Flowers. Who knew?”

She smiled, which took years off her face. “You probably don’t make a habit of decorating your dining room table with a bouquet.”

“How’d you guess?” He set his bottle next to hers.

“I didn’t know how successful the flower business could be. I found out by accident when I worked the farmer’s market for the first time last year. I brought a bouquet from the yard to decorate my stall. It was the first thing that sold. The next week I took along as many as I could put together. They all sold. This year I made it an official crop.” She pointed toward the back of her property. “I’ve got all that acreage out there that’s not being used. I’m thinking about having a real flower farm after I’m certified.”

“You’re ambitious,” he said as they carried a long, unwieldy beam together.

She nodded but didn’t add anything. The determined look on her face said more, however. He wanted to dig deeper and find out why, to understand. He’d never had to start a new venture on his own, had always known what his place in life would be.

And had sometimes fought against it.

He’d never struggled like Annie, although he’d often worked long, hard hours and fought Mother Nature on plenty of occasions. He’d been bone-weary, ached from head to toe and wished he was anywhere but on a horse chasing stray cattle, but he also loved it. Couldn’t imagine himself being anything but a cattleman.

Around six o’clock, Annie went inside to make dinner. The old greenhouse was mostly taken care of, split into two piles, reusable and trash. The salvageable items would be stacked in the barn, the rest hauled to the dump.

Mitch opened the hood of his truck, which brought Austin and Bo over to investigate. Austin climbed up on the bumper and looked inside, mimicking Mitch.

“What’d you think is wrong with Lulu?” the boy asked.

Mitch fiddled with various parts. “There’s some rust from sitting for so long. Could be that’s all it is, ‘cept I drove her about fifty miles before she conked out. The gas is fresh, but the oil isn’t. Know much about engines?”

“Nope. Mom’s always mad if something goes wrong with our truck because she can’t fix it. Too many computers in it or something. She calls it a con … cons something.”

“Conspiracy?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty funny when she’s mad.”

Mitch enjoyed that image for a minute. “She fixes trucks?”

“Her dad taught her when she was a kid. She fixes everything. Or tries to, anyway. Repairmen are not in our budget.”

The way Austin said that made Mitch smile. “Your mom seems like one mighty strong woman.”

Austin shrugged. “She cries sometimes. At night. In bed. When she thinks I can’t hear.”

The thought twisted Mitch’s gut tight. “Farming’s hard work.”

“Yep.”

“For you, too,” Mitch added, fiddling with a belt.

“I can handle it.”

The grown-up way the boy said the words got to Mitch as much as hearing that Annie cried sometimes. Once again, it reminded him of how simple his life had been in comparison. He’d always known there would be hearty food on the table and a solid roof over his head.

Mitch gathered his tools and started pulling parts. He explained the function of each piece to Austin and let him handle them, showing him how they fit together to make a working unit. Bo padded over and sniffed Mitch now and then, giving him a good stare with his direct blue eyes, finally lying down between them as they worked. Then a chicken came into view, taunting him, and the dog was off and running.

The peacefulness of the moment struck Mitch after a while. He couldn’t remember a time like it, except—Mitch swallowed around a lump in his throat. Except when he was a kid and his grandfather was teaching him how to work on the truck. It was their time, uninterrupted by chores or other demands. The bond they’d forged because of that time together never once weakened.

After a few minutes the screen door creaked open. “Dinner in five,” Annie called out.

“That means come in and wash up,” Austin said.

“Think we’re having chili?” Mitch asked as they climbed the front porch stairs. “That or omelets.”

But the scent that hit Mitch when he opened the door was of frying onions. His mouth watered. “Smell’s great,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the kitchen wall, waiting for Austin to finish up in the bathroom before taking his turn.

“Cheese omelets,” she said. “Fried potatoes and onions, sliced tomatoes. Plenty of bread, too.”

He spotted an electric bread maker on the counter. She must’ve put the ingredients in earlier.

“Anything I can do?”

“It’s under control, thanks.”

Mitch watched her turn out a large omelet onto a plate, then she pulled two plates from inside the oven, with smaller omelets already on them, and started piling them with potatoes and onions. She knew her way around her kitchen, her movements smooth and practiced. His gaze landed on the apron bow that rested just below the small of her back, inviting a playful tug, he thought, then a sweep of his hands over her smooth, tight rear.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He turned to one side, the doorjamb blocking her view before she could notice he was getting aroused. That would be the quickest way to be sent packing, for sure.

“Thanks for your patience with Austin, Mitch. He’s a very curious boy. I know he asks a lot of questions.”

“He’s a good kid. You’ve raised him well.” He hears you cry during the night, and he worries about you, is protective of you. “He told me you can fix just about everything.”

“‘Necessity is the mother of invention.’ I’m grateful for the internet. I can pull up instructions on how to do most anything.”

“Then why’d you need a handyman?”

“Muscle. Can’t get that online, can I?”

Austin came running down the hall and took a seat at the table. Mitch didn’t spend a lot of time cleaning up, either, anxious to dig in. The omelets were light, perfectly cooked, the bread fresh and hot, no butter necessary, which was a good thing, since she hadn’t put any on the table. The potatoes and onions were browned and mouthwatering.

“I’d forgotten how good a tomato can taste,” he said.

“From vine to table in ten minutes. Can’t get better than that,” Annie said.

Mitch saw her shoulders drop, her face smooth out, and was glad for the visible signs of relaxation. “What do you do after dinner?”

“We commune with nature,” Austin said, grinning.

Annie swatted him playfully. “We chase the chickens into their roost. Actually Bo herds them, and we shut them in. After that we tidy up the grounds, do a little raking, that sort of thing. Then we sit on the porch and admire our land.”

“Or play video games or watch TV,” Austin added.

“And I have lots of computer work to do. Then we’re in bed pretty early.”

“The life of a farmer,” Mitch said.

“And ranchers,” Annie said.

“Definitely. So, who does the dishes?”

“Mom washes. I dry.” Austin stood and gathered plates.

“How about if I dry tonight?” Mitch suggested.

Annie zeroed in on him, wondering why he would volunteer to help with dishes. Because it would put them close to each other? She hadn’t missed all the looks he’d given her while they’d worked.

“Unless there’s a chore you want me to tackle instead, boss?”

Boss? She saw his mouth twitch just slightly. She was also aware of Austin waiting for her answer. Drying dishes wasn’t his favorite task. “If you feel like raking, Mitch, I’d be happy to turn that task over to you.”

“No problem.” He took his own plate to the kitchen, winked at her, then left the house.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. The man was easy to be around. Too easy—except for the feelings he stirred inside her, dead so long she’d forgotten such feelings existed. Those weren’t easy at all, creating a complication she didn’t want or need.

At least he uses condoms.

The thought made her smile.

“What’s so funny, Mom?”

She rinsed a handful of silverware and passed them to Austin. “I just feel good.”

“It’s Mitch.” Austin nodded sagely. “Even Bo likes him, and Bo doesn’t usually let strangers near me. I hope he’s around for a while,” he added in almost a whisper, as if wishing it out loud would destroy the possibility.

“Can’t afford him for long, honey. Sounds like he doesn’t stay in one place for any amount of time, either.”

“I know. Why doesn’t he tell us his last name? Do you think he’s hiding from someone?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, Austin. He must have a good reason.”

Done with the dishes, she nudged him with her hip until he smiled.

“A day at a time,” she said, crooking her pinky finger at him.

He hooked hers with his, something they’d done every day since her ex left. “Day at a time.”

An hour later the evening chores were done. They sat on the porch, Annie and Austin on a glider, Mitch in a rocker. No one spoke for a few minutes.

“Your coop needs some repairs,” Mitch said.

Annie pulled up a knee and wrapped her arm around it, staring at the horizon. “Yep.”

“Got any chicken wire?”

“Nope. So far they haven’t figured out they can escape. It’ll have to wait until the new greenhouse is up. That’s my priority. That’s my income. The chickens just help keep us fed.”

“I’d be just as worried about something else getting in. Foxes, even wild dogs, valley coyote. Even a cat could cause damage.”

Annie’s heart sank. Of course he was right. She hadn’t even considered it.

“Chicken talk,” Austin said with a sigh. “Can I go play video games instead?”

“Sure.”

He disappeared inside almost before she said the word.

Mitch stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles, looking comfortable. “You mentioned something about expanding your flower beds into the acreage behind the orchard. Is that something you plan to do this year?”

“Probably not. I’ll leave it as is, in case I need to sell part of the property to stay afloat.”

“Can you sell just a portion?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked into it.” She sighed. “Two people tried to buy my entire property last year. I turned them down, obviously.”

“Who were they?”

“Cattle ranchers. Shep Morgan and … I forget the other guy’s first name, but his last is Ryder. You probably know them.”

He shoved himself out of the chair and moved to the railing, his body stiff. “Did they pressure you?”

“Nicely, but yes. I continued to say no. Nicely. They seem to be rivals who seem to be on the same page.”

“In what way?”

“They’re waiting for me to fail. One of Morgan’s sons pops in now and then, and asks if I need help with anything. Just being a good neighbor and all that. His name is Win. I see it for the ploy it is, since I discovered that the Morgans own the land surrounding mine.”

Curious at how quiet Mitch was, she joined him at the railing so that she could see his face. “My ex, Rick, would’ve sold to them, but I bargained for keeping it as my part of the divorce settlement.”

“Is this your only income?”

She didn’t know why she was giving him so much personal information, except that he was easy to talk to. “Rick’s faithful with child support. How about you? Do you have any kids?”

“No. I was married once when I was very young. It didn’t last long.” He eyed her. “Do you have a long-range business plan?”

She laughed softly. “Long, short and everything in between.” She spent every evening on the internet searching out grant money, any way of making income that could help her hang on longer, until she could succeed on her own labors. She would have gone back to waiting tables in the evening to generate extra income, but she couldn’t leave Austin on his own, and paying a sitter would cancel out her earnings. “I love this place. I’ll do anything to keep it.”

“There’s no sense driving yourself to an early grave over a piece of land, Annie.”

“Spoken like a vagabond. Well, I’ve been a vagabond. Roots are so much better.” She shoved away from the railing. “I have work to do.”

Annie went inside, her good mood having fizzled. What did he know about the need to own, to succeed? He didn’t have a child to support and raise right. Who was he to give such advice?

Mitch hadn’t come in by the time Austin went to bed and she’d showered and retreated to her own room. It wasn’t even dark yet. She pulled down her shades, blocking the dusky sky. Usually she dropped off almost the instant her head hit the pillow.

Tonight she listened for sounds of him, the stranger she was trusting to treat her and her son right. After a while, she heard him come in, then the click of the front door lock. A few minutes later the shower came on. She pictured him shampooing his hair, which curled down his neck a little, inviting fingers to twine it gently.

Some time passed after the water turned off. Was he shaving? Yes. She could hear the tap of his razor against the sink edge. If they were a couple, he would be coming to bed clean and smooth-shaven….

The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by his bedroom door. After that there was only the quiet of a country night, marked occasionally by an animal rustling beyond her open window. She’d finally stopped jumping at strange noises, had stopped getting up to look out her window, wondering what was there. She could identify most of the sounds now.

And tonight she would sleep even better, knowing a strong man was next door. She could give up her fears for a while, get a solid night’s sleep and face the new day not alone, not putting on a show of being okay and in control for Austin.

Now if she could just do something about her suddenly come-to-life libido, all would be right in her world.