Cody nodded. “Had a s-spelling test.”
Teddy nodded. “How’d it go?”
Cody shrugged. “D-dunno yet.”
Annabeth smiled at the exchange. “Cody, why don’t you go spend some time with Tom while I get started on dinner.”
Cody nodded, hopping down and scurrying to his bedroom.
“You don’t have to cook, Annabeth.” Teddy was watching her. “There’s stew and corn
bread or chicken-fried steak in the dining room.”
“For guests,” she countered. “I appreciate it, Teddy, I do. But I have to do something to feel like I’m pulling my weight around here.”
Teddy scratched his chin, then nodded. “I’m pretty partial to spaghetti and meatballs myself.”
Annabeth smiled. “Good.” In her room, she changed into some black leggings, one of the few things that didn’t feel tight on her stomach. She tried on several T-shirts, but all of them hugged her bump in a way that left no doubt as to her condition. She gave up, pulling on one of Ryder’s long flannel button-up shirts. She put her hair into a ponytail, slid on some slipper socks and headed back into the kitchen.
She was humming to the radio, rolling up meatballs, when she heard Ryder say hello to his father. She spun around as he entered the kitchen—looking dirty and tired and so handsome—it took everything she had not to welcome him home properly.
“You’re not barefoot.” His voice was low and gruff, a broad grin on his way-too-handsome face.
“It’s a little too cold to be barefoot. And unsanitary—” Then she got it. Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen. She scowled at him. “Oh. I thought you were working late.”
His smile faded. “Dad told me you were here.”
She stopped, an uncooked meatball in her hand. “So you came home?”
“Nice shirt.” He sat his tool belt on the bench and crossed the room. “We need to talk, Princess.”
Her heart sank. “We do.”
“I know what you’re going to say.” Ryder shoved his hands into his pockets. “So I want you to let me go first. Please.”
“Okay.” She forced the word out.
His frown deepened as his gaze traveled over every inch of her face. “I’m sorry I waited so long to do this.” He sighed, opening then closing his mouth. His attention wandered to the meatball in her hand. “But I don’t want to do this while I’m covered in dirt and sweat. Let me clean up first?”
She nodded, unable to speak. He was sorry. He was sorry he’d waited so long to end it? What was he sorry about? She turned back to her cooking, slapping the meatballs onto the tray and ignoring his exit from the room.
Cooking relaxed her. The meatballs went into the oven, and she started chopping onions, oregano, basil and mushrooms—stirring it into a hearty tomato sauce with a splash of red wine. She buttered the bread with her homemade garlic mixture and toasted it until it was crisp and light.
Cody helped her set the table. On the other side of the family kitchen, connected through the large pantry, was the industrial kitchen for the Lodge guests and special events. Annabeth had popped in there to borrow spices, overwhelmed by the fancy gadgets and high-end equipment the kitchen staff used. She made do with her four-burner gas cooktop and her oven just fine.
“Go tell Grandpa Teddy and Ryder dinner’s ready.” She dropped a kiss on Cody’s head.
The phone rang but Annabeth ignored it, that’s what Teddy had told her to do. The staff would pick it up, eventually. But it kept ringing, so she pulled a tablet and pen from the drawer and answered. “Boone Ranch, how can I help you?”
“Evening, this is Jerry Johannssen calling for Ryder Boone. He available?”
Annabeth didn’t know the name. “He should be in for dinner any minute.”
“Good, good—” Annabeth could hear another phone ringing on the other end of the line. “Hold on a sec.” Jerry’s voice was muffled. “I gotta take this call. Can you get a message to him for me?”
“Of course.” She clicked the pen and waited.
“Just remind him I’m waiting for his phone call. I know he’s got things to take care of there, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Now I’ve got a pretty little 1969 Mustang just waiting for his touch. He can start tomorrow—all he needs to do is call me.” He paused. “And that one-bedroom apartment is his, too.”