A Rancher's Pride(22)

“Freezer’s fully stocked.”

She nodded. “We probably should have stopped at the store while we were in town. I can go tomorrow, if needed. Meanwhile, I’ll check out the freezer and see what I can do.”

“Then I’ll get showered up.” He took the three steps of the back porch in one long stride. “And I’ll be back to check you out, lady,” he muttered under his breath as he entered the kitchen. “You can be sure of that.”

So much for his earlier thought about her not getting comfortable. She seemed to be slipping right into his household in a way he didn’t care for. Even less did he like the wicked ideas she’d triggered in him. This whole situation had thrown his reactions out of whack. His good judgment, too.

With every minute that passed, he felt a growing, gut-wrenching certainty that agreeing to let her stay here had been one huge mistake.



THE SOUND OF SAM’S BOOTS on the wooden stairs in the living room sent Kayla into overdrive.

She had begun to set places at the round pine table in the middle of the kitchen, but her movements had slowed almost to a crawl even as her thoughts raced.

Her mind kept drifting back to a short time before, when she’d stood out in the yard talking to Sam.

Gawking at Sam, to be more precise.

She’d never known the sight of a man sweating could look so…intriguing. Or maybe it was the view of him without his shirt, the play of muscles beneath his tanned skin. In any case, she could barely think straight as she stared from the damp-curled hair at his forehead to his old, scuffed cowboy boots and at every dust-covered part in between.

After he’d left the yard, she had brought Becky into the house and settled her on a couch with her dolls. Then she had gone back into the kitchen to get dinner ready. First, though, she’d had to sit on one of those wooden chairs at the table for a few minutes, trying to pull herself together.

She had succeeded. Admirably.

Or so she thought—until Sam entered the kitchen, looking freshly shaved and showered and smelling like good, clean soap.

She almost fell apart again. Quickly, she moved to finish setting the table. The sound of the dishes clattering more loudly than she’d expected made her jump.

Time for her to calm down. She took a deep breath and said, “Should I set a place for your mother?”

He shook his head. “She said she’ll be down in the morning.”

“Okay.” How would his mother like the idea of another woman in her kitchen? Mentally, she shrugged. There wasn’t anything she could do about that. “I pulled a noodle casserole from the freezer,” she continued, “and just threw together a salad from the greens in the crisper.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You were right, the freezer is well-stocked. I’m going to need to buy a few perishables, though. And I’m wondering—”

“I’ll leave you some cash on the table in the morning.”

He opened the dishwasher and began transferring its contents into the cabinets lining the wall above.

She frowned. “It wasn’t the money I was asking about.”

“It’s my house. I’ll pay for the food, no questions about it.”

No further discussion, either, evidently.

Why was she ready to argue the point? A nanny from a child care service wouldn’t pay for groceries, either. At least his abrupt statement had helped bring her back to her cool, rational self.

“My question,” she said with emphasis, “would have been, where do you—or your mother—shop for groceries?”

“And there’s an easy answer to that one, since there’s only one market in town. Harley’s General. On the main street. We passed it on the way to the Double S.”

“The wooden storefront with the striped awning?” At his nod, she added, “I remember it. Becky and I will take a trip there tomorrow morning.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “I’ll take the casserole out of the oven while you let Becky know it’s time to eat.”

“I’ll handle the casserole.” He crossed in front of her, nearly brushing against her in his apparent haste to get to the oven.

Raising her brows, she stared at his back and somehow managed to swallow her response. But by the time she returned to the kitchen, Becky in tow, she knew eating would be next to impossible if she had to keep biting her tongue.





Chapter Seven