Loving A Lonesome Cowboy
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“No problem. We still have a jar of peanut butter and crackers and a couple of bananas. We’ll be fine.”
His concern gave way to curiosity, but he said nothing as he returned his attention to the road.
Sara used the lengthening silence to remind herself to say as little as possible. She didn’t need Ethan’s, or anyone else’s curiosity stirred. Cal had too many connections, knew too many people. If he decided he gave half a damn about either her or Misty, he might be inclined to search for them. Not that she thought he would suddenly discover love in his heart. He simply didn’t like losing…especially not what he considered his possessions.
She stared out at the scenery, fascinated by the vast expanse of land and rock formations. In some places the land looked too parched, and in general, it was on the arid side, but somehow the desolation added to its beauty. So unlike Dallas, where she’d spent her entire life. If she weren’t so darn scared, this would have been a great adventure.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, turning to Ethan.
“All my life.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He nodded.
She waited, hoped he’d say something else. It appeared she’d have a heck of a long wait. Misty was still happily listening to her tape, even though it probably was for the hundredth time, so Sara decided to leave well enough alone and continue to enjoy the scenery.
After another five-minute stretch of silence, she asked, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your nieces?”
He looked startled. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just making conversation.” She sighed, and mumbled, “Sorry,” before she let her gaze stray out the window again.
A minute later he said, “It’s been a long time. About six years.”
Sara smiled to herself. Progress. She waited another minute, then said, “How old are they?”
“Twelve and six.”
Six? Only a year older than Misty. Excitement simmered in Sara’s chest. “How long will they be here?”
“Until Christmas.”
He turned down a long dusty road that seemed to go nowhere, and she remained quiet, forcing herself to breathe slowly. His younger niece’s company would be great for Misty, and surely he wasn’t equipped to care for the two girls by himself. Whereas Sara was really good with children. And the isolation of the ranch was perfect. If Cal were looking…
Her heart started to hammer at the thought she might be able to give Misty a decent Christmas after all. Now, all she had to do was convince Ethan Slade that for the next two weeks, she was indispensable to him.
“THE KITCHEN is that way.” Ethan gestured to his left. “I’ll show you the two rooms the girls will be using.”
“Wait a minute.” She finished settling Misty on the couch with her headphones. “Can’t we go peek in the kitchen? I have a feeling that’s where most of my elbow grease will be needed.”
“Later. After I leave.” He started down the long hall, his chest tightening as he approached the master bedroom. The one that had once been used by his parents and then by him and Emily.
The kitchen, he wasn’t ready to face. Emily had spent too much time there, cooking and canning and proudly gazing out at her vegetable garden. The patch of land was surely nothing but weeds now, but the memories would still be thriving.
He hadn’t managed to lose the lump in his throat that had formed when the house had come into view, and the sooner he got out of here the better. “This room here—”
He frowned at the empty hall behind him, then started to retrace his steps. Where the hell was Sara?
She was standing in the middle of the family room, slowly running her hand over the intricate details of the mahogany rocker his grandfather had carved. For whatever reason, it was the only piece of furniture in the room not covered by a white sheet.
She looked up. “This is beautiful.” Her gaze wandered toward the dirty windows framing a portion of the San Juan Mountains. “And the view…” She shook her head. “It’s a shame no one lives here anymore.”
“You can look at all this later,” he said gruffly, which earned him a quizzical look. “I want to show you the bedrooms, then I have to go.”
“All right.” Her hand fell from the chair, and she started toward him. But then she stopped, and so did he.
“What now?”
She was staring at the stone fireplace. “Over in that corner,” she said with a jerk of her chin. “Is that where you’re putting the tree?”
“What tree?”
She looked at him like he’d grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. “The Christmas tree, of course.”
Ethan groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not getting one. We don’t have any ornaments anyway.”
She shrugged. “It might be fun for the girls to make some.”
“No tree.” He stalked down the hall without turning to see if she’d followed. But she sure as hell had better be right behind him, or…
She was. “Why not?”
He briefly closed his eyes. “Because I don’t have time to find one or worry about decorations.”
“I can do that.”
“You won’t be here.”
“Oh.” She drew in her lower lip for a moment, then opened her mouth, but at his warning look, promptly shut it again.
He opened the bedroom door, and musty, dusty air poured out, throwing them both into fits of coughing. Quickly, he brought his attack under control, but Sara seemed to be gasping for breath.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, coughed, then gasped.
He circled his fingers around her upper arm and drew her away from the room. She felt tiny, fragile, where her arm should have been more meaty.
Peanut butter and crackers.
Was that her staple? Was that all she could afford?