Читать книгу The Way to a Cowboy's Heart - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChapter Two
“You stole a car?” she asked in amazement.
He took little satisfaction from shocking her, even though he’d set out to do exactly that. “My father’s car. Truck to be exact.”
“What happened?”
“He made sure I was punished to the full extent of the law.”
“But it was your father’s. It was hardly more than borrowing the family wheels.”
“I didn’t have my old man’s permission.” He shook his head. “If it’d been the old days, he would’ve led a necktie party.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You didn’t know Matt McKendrick.”
“No, I didn’t.” She stared out into the night for a few moments, then looked at him. “So I can only call ‘em as I see ’em. You turned out all right.”
That surprised him. “How do you know that?”
“I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Her generous mouth turned up at the corners. “Except for one notable exception.”
“Your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” she corrected.
So she was divorced. She hadn’t mentioned that before. He had no right to be pleased by the information. He didn’t want to be glad that the man was out of her life.
But damn it he was—pleased and glad.
The realization scared the hell out of him. He stood abruptly. “Time to turn in. Sunup rolls around fast.”
“You have to be up that early?”
He nodded. “On a ranch, we need to use all the daylight there is.”
She stood up, too. Taking a step toward him, she was close enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her hair and the fragrance of her skin. Need slammed into him, an ache to touch her and see for himself if she was as womanly soft as she looked.
The instant he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted to kiss her. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours his new cook gave him ideas, things no boss should think about an employee. Only now he was finding it even harder to resist the impulse. He was right to be afraid of her.
“I’ll have breakfast ready for you,” she said.
“No.” The word came out more sharply than he’d intended.
A puzzled frown wrinkled her forehead, but she said, “I don’t mind.”
The last thing he needed was to see her, first thing in the morning. She tripped warning signals in his head that even a cavalier cowboy like himself couldn’t miss.
“Sleep in, P.J. You’re going to have your hands full when the boys get here tomorrow.”
Several days later, while staring down hostile glares from those three disgruntled teenagers, P.J. understood the full impact of Cade’s words. Since the boys’ arrival, he had been too “busy” on the ranch to spend any time with them. The task of supervision had fallen to her. Fresh out of ideas for keeping them occupied, she had decided they could help with her chores.
She found out quickly that housework wasn’t high on their top-ten list of exciting ranch activities.
“Learning to cook is a good skill to have. Someday you’ll be on your own.”
“When do we get to see this place? I didn’t bust my ass staying out of trouble so I could come here and bake cookies.” Steve Hicks, blond, blue-eyed and nearly six feet tall at seventeen, was the leader of the group. He sported a small gold hoop in his left ear.
“Me, either.” Todd Berry, shorter than his buddy, with light brown eyes, agreed.
The third member of the trio, Mark Robinson, nodded. He was less vocal than the other two. Almost as tall as Steve, he always wore a baseball hat.
“I don’t know what to say, guys.” She held a bowl filled with cookie dough as she spooned it onto sheets for baking.
Standing on a chair beside her, Emily reached into the dough and plucked out a chocolate chip. After popping it into her mouth, she said, “I bet Mister Cade would know what to say.”
P.J. wasn’t so sure about that. But one thing she knew. He was trying to pass the buck, smack into her back pocket. She didn’t plan to let him get away with it. She didn’t mind helping out, but she’d bet her last dollar that housework hadn’t been his father’s vision for this program.
“Baking cookies, for God’s sake,” one of them muttered. “We’ll never live this down.”
She looked at the three boys. “You’ve got a point.”
“we do?” Mark glanced at Steve who lounged against the kitchen counter.
“Yeah, and if you’ll take the cookies out of the oven when the timer goes off, I’ll do something about this.”
The three looked at each other and answered, “Cool.”
“Mommy, can I stay here with Steve? Please?”
P.J. had observed the boy for the last couple days. He was hostile and standoffish with adults, but with Emily, he was gentle and kind. He had an enormous amount of patience with the little girl and her chattering. She would be fine.
“Do you mind, Steve?” When he shook his head, she smiled. “I won’t be long.”
With the assistance of one of the ranch hands, she found Cade in the barn. His long sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows and he was dirty.
“Something wrong?” he asked when he saw her.
“What was your first clue?”
“You look mad,” he said simply.
“Good. Because I am.” Through her anger, a smidgen of respect for him registered. In all the time she’d known Dave, he’d never once taken the time to figure out what she was feeling. One glance and Cade had pegged her. “I just want you to know you’re not going to get away with it.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb now. I’m on to you. I signed on as cook, not camp counselor. You’re not going to dump those boys in my lap.”
“You’re a teacher.”
“So what?” she asked, mentally cataloging her work experience. Then the light went on. She gave him a disgusted look. “You still haven’t read my résumé, havé you?”
“No.” He shrugged. “Why?”
“I teach English at St. Bridget’s School for Girls.”
“What difference does that make? Kids are kids. Just do teacher stuff.”
“Here’s a news flash for you, cowboy. These are boys and there’s rebellion in the ranks. It was today’s baking that put them over the edge. Eating is the only part of chocolate chip cookies they want. If I suggest a crash course on Shakespeare, I guarantee murder and mayhem will be the result.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“They bent over backwards staying out of trouble to earn the privilege of being in your program. This is a ranch, for God’s sake. Do you think it’s fair to leave them cooped up in the house with an English teacher who moonlights as a cook?”
“I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Me either. Boys are beyond my sphere of expertise.” She glared at him. “At least you were one once.”
He scowled right back. “And I was bad at it. What do you want me to do now?”
“Draw them into your world.”
“Ranching?”
“That’s why they’re here. Chances are they’ve never been within spitting distance of a horse. I haven’t. I bet they can’t ride. They probably don’t know how to take care of animals, at least none that big. This is a new world to them.”
“I don’t know how to let them in.”
“Let them do chores.” She indicated his dusty jeans and shirt “From the looks of you, you could use a little help.”
“It’s dangerous to have greenhorns underfoot.”
“Just let them watch. They’ll ask questions. It will evolve from there. At least try. You owe them that much.”
You owe your father, she wanted to say, but decided that wasn’t the best way to get through to him. His hostility toward the man was obvious. With her hands on her hips, she said, “Bottom line, McKendrick, this summer program is yours whether you like it or not You’re going to have to get involved.”
“Do you treat your boss at St. Bridget’s like this?”
She couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “When Sister Mary Constance gets out of line, you bet I do.”
She’d hoped to coax a smile out of him, but he only nodded, a troubled look on his face. “Send them out.”
“Done.” She started to walk away.
“Did you say there are fresh-baked cookies?”
“I did. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
She swore he was staring at her mouth when he said that, and the gleam in his blue eyes had nothing to do with chocolate chip cookies. Then she decided her brain had malfunctioned in the heat. Or she’d spent too long cooped up in an all-girls school.
“I’ll bring some food out. Unless you want to come up to the house?”
It was becoming her habit to take a snack out to him in the afternoon. He wouldn’t take the time to come inside, more likely he was avoiding her. She enjoyed the break in household responsibilities. And, if she were honest with herself, she looked forward to seeing him during the day.
“I’ll grab something at the house after I’ve worked with the boys a bit.”
That was a surprise. “Something will be waiting for you.”
“What are you grinning at?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering if you’re beginning to realize that all work and no play makes Cade a dull—Well, you get my drift.”
She had been about to say “boy,” and thank God the word hadn’t popped out. There was nothing boyish about him. He was all-man, the first to interest her in a very long time. A wounded man. The worst kind because she sensed that he could hurt back. Yet he touched a part of her that wanted to reach out to him.
If only she’d had a face-to-face interview with him. She never would have taken this job. Now she was stuck. All she could do was protect herself, and the best way to do that was stay out of his way as much as possible. Because she had a bad feeling that it would be easier than falling off a horse for Cade McKendrick to break her heart.
In practically one gulp, Cade downed the lemonade that PJ. had handed him late that afternoon. It was the sweetest tasting he’d ever had. Maybe it only seemed that way because the kitchen was cool and permeated with the lingering scent of baked cookies and freshly broiled burgers and hot dogs. Or maybe it was because she’d given it to him.
She had no idea how he watched and waited for her to bring him lemonade and cookies every day. He was starting to look forward to the distraction she provided. Partly because she was a good cook, but mostly because he liked her. Either way it was a dangerous combination. Still, she would only be there for a little while, just till the kids went back to school. What could happen?
“Would you like some more?” she asked.
When he nodded, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher. Cade held out his glass and she put her hand over his to keep it steady while she poured. Strange, he thought. The glass was cold and moist, her fingers cool. Why the hell was he hot all over from that slight touch?
He leaned back against the counter as he drank more slowly and observed P. J. Kirkland. In his early years of ranch jobs and rodeo riding, he’d met a lot of women. He’d sized them up quickly and slotted each one into a category, like horses in stalls. Some were career women who turned up their noses at him since he wasn’t upwardly mobile enough. Others were buckle bunnies who followed the circuit looking for a cowboy to warm their bed. The nurturing kind were the most touch and go. They were the ones who wanted a husband and kids.
He couldn’t figure out where PJ. fit. She had a career nine months of the year. She already had a kid, and from what she said, there had been one man too many in her life. He’d bet a dollar to a doughnut that he couldn’t pin the buckle bunny tag on her either. Earlier in the barn, he’d felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. He’d wondered if she’d read the need on his face, as fast as she’d made her excuses and headed back to the house. Nope, she was no buckle bunny on the make.
He almost wished she was. She’d be easier to handle.
“How’d it go with the boys today?” she asked.
Before he could answer, the kitchen door opened, and the young people in question trooped into the room with Emily in hot pursuit. P.J. poured lemonade all around, waiting and refilling glasses as needed. When their most immediate need was taken care of, she sniffed and wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Showers. Pronto.”
“Do we have to?” Mark asked. There were lines of fatigue around his eyes.
“We don’t smell that bad,” Todd said.
“I’m going to skip the part where we argue that point,” P.J. said. “Let’s go straight to where I tell you no shower, no dinner. ¿Comprende?”
“Yeah,” they grumbled, setting their glasses in the sink just before leaving the room.
Steve lingered, and when he turned, there was suspicion and hostility in his expression. Cade had dished out that look enough times to know it when he saw it. But he’d never been on the receiving end before and it was damned uncomfortable.
“Do we get to ride the horses tomorrow, dude?” Steve asked.
Cade pointed at the kid. “Let’s get something straight. You’re the dude. I’m the boss. We’ll ride when I say so.”
“What do you say about tomorrow?” P.J. asked.
Cade thought about the million things he had to do. He couldn’t turn these city kids loose, and he did’t have time to nursemaid them. But he hesitated as he looked into the boy’s cool blue eyes. Something about Steve Hicks disturbed him. Although anger wiped every other emotion from his face, Cade sensed the eager anticipation just below the surface. For some reason, he recognized that the boy was excited at the prospect of horseback riding. And he also knew if anyone pointed that out to him, he would deny it.
Cade looked at P.J. who also waited expectantly for his answer.
He shook his head. “You don’t just get up on a horse and ride.”
“No?” Steve folded his arms over his chest. He was beginning to fill out. He would be a strong man someday.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It takes time. There are things you need to learn first.”
“Like what?” Steve asked, his expression dark, his tone cutting.
“You have to earn his trust. Then maybe you can find out how to saddle the animal. How to get him to move, to stop, turn right and left. How to—”
“So show us.”
“I don’t have time tomorrow.”
“Then just let us do it.”
“You can’t.” Cade shoved his hand through his hair.
“Why not?”
“Too dangerous.” He stared the kid down even though if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. “You could get thrown, stepped on. Horses can get mean. I need to personally oversee everything and make sure you’re ready.”
“So do it.”
“I already told you I don’t have time.”
P.J. glanced over her shoulder at him as she poured oil into a big pot. “Could one of your employees supervise?”
Steve’s eyes briefly lit up. “Yeah. Why couldn’t one of them teach us?”
“They have work to do.” He sucked air into his lungs. “So do you. I’ve assigned chores to all of you. Remember?”
“year.”
“You never get something for nothing in life. You have to work hard to get ahead.” The words sounded hauntingly familiar, but he didn’t stop to think about that.
“Figures,” Steve said contemptuously.
“What’s that mean?” Cade asked.
“That I should have known better.” He glared. “You don’t want us here. You never did.”
“Hold on—”
“Why should I? What’ll you do? Send me back for telling the truth? What do I care?”
“This is strictly a safety issue,” Cade said. Again, he got the feeling he’d had this conversation before.
“If you’re worried about being sued if I get hurt, don’t. Nobody cares that much.”
Cade moved forward. “I do.”
“Like hell you do.” Steve stomped from the room.
Cade was about to stop him with a stern reprimand about a lady present, but the words never came out. Shaking off the weird, déjà vu kind of feeling, he glanced at P.J.
“You’re mad again.” He’d never been able to read a woman so fast and easily. But he’d never encountered such expressive big, brown eyes either.
“I am not,” she disagreed. She rested her back against the countertop, ignoring the pot of oil she had heating on the stove.
“You’re not upset about what just happened?”
“No.”
Arms folded over her chest, and the rigid line of her mouth convinced him otherwise. It surprised him how much he wanted to put the teasing smile back on her face.
“Does Sister Mary Constance know you’re a fibber?”
“She knows I do my job to the best of my ability and that I care about all the students in my charge.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re suddenly talking about me?”
“Because we are. Do you like the kids?”
“I don’t know them.”
“You’re not doing anything to change that either.”
“What I told him was the truth.”
“I believe you.”
“Then what’s the problem, P.J.? Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad. Not exactly.” She sighed. “He’s crying out for just a little of your time.”
“And I don’t have any to give. Why can’t you understand that? This is a working ranch, not a boys’ camp. If I don’t work, all of us go under.”
Odd, he thought, that she’d figured out that Steve was begging for his time. He had understood that right away and wondered how she had known. But it didn’t matter what he understood or why, he wouldn’t get involved. Not with the kids or anyone else. He had nothing to give.
He looked into P.J.’s dark, troubled eyes. He wanted to erase the concern he saw in her face. Funny, he’d never cared before what anyone thought about him. But it was different with her. She’d only been there a short time and her good opinion mattered to him. That was a real bad sign.
Then again, why should he lose any sleep over it? He was running on empty and he had been for a long time.
P.J.’s anger evaporated as she watched the play of emotions over his rugged face. There were lines of fatigue around his mouth and circles beneath his eyes. She understood that running his ranch was a big job. She realized that squeezing in time for the kids was hard, and he had freely admitted the summer program was something he didn’t want to do.
She wasn’t mad at him as much as she was disappointed and confused. She watched Cade watch her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of cut-up potatoes immersed in water to keep them from turning brown.
She needed something to occupy her hands, hold her nerves in check. The man unsettled her in so many ways she’d stopped counting. Why was he so reluctant to get involved with the boys? On top of that, he seemed to know what she was thinking almost before she did. He read her as easily as a digital thermometer. She sure wasn’t used to anyone paying that much attention.
He moved behind her, close enough for her to absorb the heat of his body and smell the combined scents of hay, horses and cologne that she was beginning to associate with him. Her heart fluttered, and her knees felt about as solid as her cookie dough.
This was the worst, the most disturbing thing of all. The way she responded to his blatant masculinity was nothing short of humiliating. She’d sworn after Dave, she would never fall for a good-looking, emotionally unavailable man. She’d meant it too. But Cade McKendrick was different, and she wasn’t even sure how. A minute ago, she had been mad at him for brushing Steve off. Now, she held her breath, alternately wanting him to touch her and praying that he wouldn’t.
“I know you have work to do,” she said. As she talked, she pulled potatoes from the bowl and dried them so the oil wouldn’t splatter when she cooked. “But your father must have known what it takes to run a ranch. He set the program in motion and apparently felt that he would have time for all of it.”
“Yeah. Strange, too, considering he never had time for me.”
She turned around and looked at him. The expression on his face reminded her of Steve. He quickly shuttered his feelings, but not before she made a guess. “You’re ticked off because your father had time for strangers, and not for you, his own son.”
His eyes narrowed. “You teach psychology too?”
“No. But it doesn’t take Freud to figure out what’s going on.”
“Maybe it does, because frankly, lady, you’re not even in the corral on this one.”
“No?”
“No.” Blue eyes narrowed on her as he glared.
She was about to call him on that when her peripheral vision registered a bright flash. Her heart leaped as she realized that the pot of oil had ignited. “Uh-oh. Fire.”
He whirled around. “Damn it! Where’s the fire extinguisher?” Frantically, he started opening cupboards, looking for it.
Calmly, P.J. picked up the lid for the pot and carefully dropped it over the flames. Determining it was safe, she took potholders and lifted the kettle to a cool burner. When the smoke dissipated, she cautiously lifted the cover to make sure the fire was out. Satisfied that the cut-off-the-oxygen method of fire knockdown had been effective, she breathed a sigh of relief. Cade was still haphazardly searching above the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “Fire extinguisher. There’s got to be one.”
“It’s called a lid.”
“What?”
“The fire extinguisher. I just put the cover on the pot. The fire’s out.”
He glanced from her to the Dutch oven, and back again. As his body slowly relaxed from the nearcrisis, he shook his head and grinned. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?”
“The way you did that.”
“Not flashy, but effective.” She wasn’t sure if she was being insulted or not. “What did you expect?”
“A little more hysteria for starters. Then I wouldn’t feel like such a jerk.”
She smiled back. A compliment. “How often do you cook in here?”
He shrugged and said, “Almost never. I’ve only been back a few months.”
“Then you’d have no reason to know the extinguisher is in the cupboard closest to the stove.” She opened the door and pointed it out.
If she sidetracked him, maybe he wouldn’t realize why she’d forgotten to watch the stove. He was far too good-looking for her peace of mind, and that dash of vulnerability she’d glimpsed had tugged at her heart, nearly pushing her over the edge. The crisis was her fault for not watching what she was doing. Thankfully it was nothing more serious that a ruined batch of oil.
With her unsettled feelings too close to the surface, P.J. couldn’t look at him. She busied herself turning off the heating element on the stove. “Grease fires are the most common in the kitchen. The easiest way to smother them is with the pan lid.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I took a class.”
“That’s not on your résumé too, is it?” he asked, sounding annoyed with himself.
“No,” she said, glancing up. She laughed at the look on his face. “You’re off the hook on that. If you haven’t read it by now, I don’t hold out much hope that you ever will. Besides, if you’re not happy with my work, at this point you’d just fire me.”
“Haven’t we had enough of that for one day?”
She chuckled, then stared at him. “You actually have a sense of humor.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” she agreed
And wary too. Western-movie-hero looks and a sense of humor to boot. A lethal combination. This was the first time she’d ever spelled trouble c-o-w-b-o-y.
