A Family for the Rugged Rancher

“You have children.”

“Child—just Sam. He’s five and no trouble, I promise. Good as gold.” That was stretching it a bit; Sam was a typical five-year-old who was as prone to curiosity and frustrations as any child his age. She looked again at Evans and knew she had to convince him. He was the one who’d advertised. She’d gone through the agency screening and they had hired her for the job. If this didn’t work out she had nowhere to go. And she wanted to stay here. She’d liked the look of the place straight off.

Another moment and he’d have her begging. She straightened her shoulders. She would not beg. Not ever again. She could always go to her parents. It wasn’t what she wanted, and there’d be a fair amount of told-you-so. Her parents had never quite taken to Rob, and the divorce hadn’t come as a big surprise to them. It wasn’t that they didn’t love her or would deny her help. It was just…

She needed to do this herself. To prove to herself she could and to be the parent that Sam deserved. She couldn’t rely on other people to make this right. Not even her parents.

“Mrs. Northcott, this is a ranch, not a day care.” The smile that had captivated her only moments before had disappeared, making his face a frozen mask. The warm crinkles around his lips and eyes were now frown marks and Emily felt her good intentions go spiraling down the proverbial drain.

“It’s Ms.,” she pointed out tartly. It wasn’t her fault that there’d been a mix-up. “And Sam is five, hardly a toddler who needs following around all the time.” She raised an eyebrow. “Mothers have been cleaning and cooking and raising children since the beginning of time, Mr. Evans.”

She heard the vinegar in her voice and felt badly for speaking so sharply, but she was a package deal and the annoyance that had marked his face when he heard Sam’s voice put her back up.

“I’m well aware of that. However, I didn’t advertise for a family. I advertised for a housekeeper.”

“Your

sister—” she made sure to point out the distinction “—advertised with Maid on Demand Domestics. If any part of that ad wasn’t clear, perhaps you need to speak to them. The agency is aware I have a son, so perhaps there was a flaw with the ad. I interviewed for the job and I got it.” She lifted her chin. “Perhaps you would have been better off going without an agency?”

She knew her sharp tongue was probably shooting her chances in the foot, but she couldn’t help it. She was hardly to blame. Nor would she be made to feel guilty or be bullied, not anymore. If he didn’t want her services, he could just say so.

“It’s not that…I tried putting an ad in the paper and around town…oh, why am I explaining this to you?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets despite any grease remaining on his fingers.

“If it’s that you don’t like children…” That would make her decision much easier. She wouldn’t make Sam stay in an unfriendly environment. No job was worth that. She backed up a step and felt her hands tightening into anxious fists.

“I didn’t say that.” His brow wrinkled. He was clearly exasperated.

She caught a hint of desperation in his voice and thought perhaps all wasn’t lost. “Then your objection to my son is…”

“Mom!” The impatient call came from the car and Emily gritted her teeth.

“Excuse me just a moment,” she muttered, going to the car to speak to Sam.

It was hot inside the car, and Emily figured she had nothing to lose now. “You can get out,” she said gently, opening the door. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

“Are we staying here?”

“I’m not sure.”

Sam held his mother’s hand…something he rarely did any more since he’d started preschool and considered himself a big boy. Perhaps Evans simply needed to meet Sam and talk to him. It had to be harder to say no to children, right? It wasn’t Sam’s fault his life had been turned upside down. Emily was trying to do the right thing for him. A summer in the country had sounded perfect. This place was new and different with no history, no bad memories. She just needed to show Evans that Sam would be no extra trouble.

“Mr. Evans, this is my son, Sam.”

Evans never cracked a smile. “Sam.”

“Sir,” Sam replied. Emily was vastly proud that Sam lifted his chin the tiniest bit, though his voice was absolutely respectful.

Emily put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “The agency did know about him, Mr. Evans. I’m not trying to pull a fast one here. If it’s a deal-breaker, tell me now and take it up with them. But you should know that I’m fully qualified for this job. I know how to cook and clean and garden. I’m not afraid of hard work and you won’t be sorry you hired me.”

He shook his head, and Emily noticed again the color of his eyes, a brilliant shade of blue that seemed to pierce straight through her. Straightforward, honest eyes. She liked that. Except for the fact that his gaze made her want to straighten her hair or fuss with the hem of her shirt. She did neither.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

That was it, then. Maybe he had a kind side somewhere but it didn’t extend to giving her the job. She would not let him see the disappointment sinking through her body to her toes, making the weight of her situation that much heavier to carry. She wouldn’t let it matter. She’d bounced back from worse over the last year. She’d find something else.

“I’m sorry I’ve taken up your time,” she said politely. She took Sam’s hand and turned back towards her car.

“Where are you going?”