A Rancher's Pride

chapter Six





In the backyard, Sam tossed another bag of feed into the metal storage shed he used for extra stock and wiped away the sweat running down his forehead. After a morning with Kayla Ward, he’d felt the need to come out here and work off some of his aggression. It had taken all afternoon, and he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded yet. Their showdown at the Double S had about pushed him to his limits.

Jack ambled over from the barn. “Tough day?”

Sam exhaled heavily. “You know it.”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself some company.”

“Yeah,” he growled. Briefly, he filled Jack in on what had happened in court that morning. “The woman refuses to take no for an answer. I shouldn’t have backed down. Wouldn’t have, if only she hadn’t played her trump card.”

“Becky.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Considering the situation…”

“No need to be roundabout with it, Jack. I’m stuck, all right.”

“Having her here might help your case in the long run. Buy you some time to get her to drop the idea of custody.”

“Yeah, I thought of that. And to find out just what lies Ronnie told her.” Ronnie had to be the one who’d convinced Kayla he wasn’t fit to be a father to his own child.

“You think your ex fed her a load of bull about you?”

Sam laughed bitterly. Jack hadn’t been around in Ronnie’s day. Even if he had been, Sam would have kept those kinds of troubles to himself. He hefted another bag of feed. “See this, Jack? A drop in the bucket compared to the amount of bull she slung around here.” He tossed the bag into the shed.

Maybe he could also buy enough time to defend himself against those lies. Although what Kayla thought about him, he didn’t much care.

What Ronnie had said to him—and didn’t say—bothered him a lot more. Not for the first time, he cursed her to hell and back. “She never even told me about the baby,” he muttered. “Being deaf?”

“Being born. Or even about her being pregnant before she left, for that matter.”

Jack’s jaw dropped.

Sam nodded grimly. What else was there to say?

He’d contacted Ronnie after she had left, but she’d turned down any of his last-ditch attempts to work things out. In these past two days, he’d realized why. She’d been more concerned about keeping him from finding out they were going to have a child. She’d succeeded in that, all right. And in making him what he was at this moment—a man who couldn’t talk to his own daughter.

A fact Kayla hadn’t hesitated to tell the judge that morning. He wondered why she hadn’t tossed in something about his not contacting the child.

The thought made him freeze in place. Of course. She believed he’d known about the baby all along. She would also believe whatever Ronnie had told her about why he’d never kept in touch.

Once again, his ex had twisted the truth to put him in a bad light.

Across the yard, the child played a game of her own with some empty wire spools and a couple pieces of twine.

He’d seen her joyful reaction to her reunion with Kayla, the even more ecstatic response to the idea of having her aunt come to stay. Both sights had driven a stake into his heart. Kayla’s words had hammered it home.

Let me stay. For Becky’s sake.

That did it. He hadn’t had it in him to go on refusing her.

“Sam?”

Hearing her voice again so unexpectedly felt like another whack at the stake. “Yeah,” he yelled. “Out back.” He dropped the last bag of feed onto the pile.

“So,” he said to Jack, “looks like I’ve got myself a houseguest. For a while.”

“Think I’ll head over to the bunkhouse.”

“Going lily-livered on me?”

They both laughed.

Jack had barely made his exit when Kayla appeared around the corner of the shed.

She had changed from her chinos and silky shirt to a soft green T-shirt, faded jeans and tennis shoes. The transformation didn’t do a thing to make her less of a spit-shine city girl. But it did make her seem more approachable.

Too bad he didn’t plan to get within a hundred yards of her.

When she started across the space toward him, his shoulders instinctively drew back. Before she could reach him, her movement must have caught Becky’s eye. The child looked up, saw her aunt and headed that way, running welcome interference. Kayla stopped to wrap her arms around the girl.

After one quick gesture, Kayla started toward him again. Unfortunately, Becky ran back to her makeshift toys, removing any barrier he might have relied on.

“Thanks for the use of the computer.”

Her voice sounded stiff. Good. The last thing he needed was her getting comfortable around here. Especially since she was making him more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit.

He dug around in his mind for something to say. “You get everything taken care of?”

She nodded as if she had a crick in her neck.

“I made a few phone calls, changed a couple of appointments. And this morning,” she added, “I arranged to have a box of clothes sent overnight to me…since I’ll be here for a while.”

As if he needed the reminder.

If she was anything like his ex, that box would come loaded down with clothes. And cosmetics, of course. Living with Ronnie had given him an up-close view of what a woman could make of herself if she wanted to.

He didn’t care about Kayla’s looks.

Well, he couldn’t honestly say that. But he’d bet anything her honey-brown hair and pink lips had some help from modern science, too. Still, he couldn’t help noticing yet again she was one heck of a looker.

“Are you planning to stay out here much longer?” She ran her gaze over him, and he could just see her mind setting to work, ticking items off a list that judged him from head to toe. Took a lot of nerve.

Deliberately he moved forward. Let her get a real look at him. That ought to scare her off. She probably went out with men who hadn’t done a day’s labor in their lives and wore three-piece suits to ball games. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Never seen good, honest sweat before?”

“Not so much of it.” She eyed him coolly. “At least, not outside a gym.”

That unruffled, self-possessed expression had him reaching for the shirt he’d left hanging from a fence post earlier. He’d intended to get fully buttoned up again, but some contrary reaction deep inside instead made him grab the shirt and sling it across one shoulder. “Welcome to my world.”

“Oh?” She wrinkled her nose. “In your world, do people shower before meals?”

“That depends how much they need one.”

Eyebrows up, she ran her gaze over him again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I get it.” When she turned back toward the house, he fell into step beside her. “That means you’re doing supper?”

“If I can find something to pull together for a meal. There were only the basics in the fridge when I made breakfast this morning, and I used up quite a bit of those.”

“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.