A Family for the Rugged Rancher

Luke sighed, watching him depart. He’d been sharp when he hadn’t meant to be. It wasn’t Sam’s fault—or Emily’s for that matter—that the years of stress and responsibility had worn him down. The boy had been through enough with his parents splitting up—Emily had as much as said so last night. He felt a moment of guilt, knowing Sam was feeling the loss of his father keenly. Did Sam never see him, then?

He rubbed a hand over his face, blew out a breat

h. Emily’s domestic situation was none of his concern. Why he continually had to remind himself of that was a bit of a mystery. He turned out the trouble light and felt for a moment the satisfaction of another day done.

Followed by the heavy realization of all that remained to do tomorrow. And the day after that.

He squared his shoulders. “Suck it up, Evans,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. Darn the two of them anyway. They’d had him thinking more over the last two days than he had in months, and not just about himself. About her, and the series of events that had landed her on his doorstep just at the moment he needed her most.

Emily was wiping up the last of the dishes and Sam was already sound asleep in bed when Luke returned to the house in the twilight. Sam had worked alongside her most of the afternoon, helping her dust the rooms and fetching things as she needed them. The bathroom fixtures shone and the floors gleamed again, and she sighed, not only from exhaustion but also from satisfaction. Sam had sometimes been more of a hindrance than a help, but it had been worth it to see the smile on his face and the pride he took in helping. It hadn’t been until he’d nearly nodded off over his dinner that she’d realized he’d missed his afternoon nap.

Now he was tucked away in the small room, his dark head peaceful on the pillow. Meanwhile Emily had dishes to finish and the last of the dry sheets to put back on the spare beds before she could call it a night.

She heard Luke come in through the screen door and her heart did a little leap. It seemed so personal, having the run of his house, making herself at home. She heard the thump of his boots as he put them on the mat by the door and pictured him behind her. Now her pulse picked up as she heard his stockinged feet come closer. To her surprise he picked up the frying pan and moved to put it in the cupboard.

“Mr. Evans…you don’t have to do that.” She avoided his eyes as she picked up the last plate to dry.

“It’s no biggie. I’m done for the day and you’re not.”

His shoulder was next to hers as he reached for another pot, the close contact setting off the same sparks as she’d felt at dinner. His jeans had been dirty with a smear of grease on one thigh, and his T-shirt had borne marks of his afternoon of work, but he’d gone into the downstairs bath and come to the table with clean hands and face and a few droplets of water clinging to his short hair.

It had been the wet hair that had done it. The tips were dark and glistening, and paired with the stubble on his chin it was unbelievably attractive. The economical way that he moved and how he said exactly what he meant, without any wasted words. He’d spoken to Sam only briefly during dinner, making little conversation before heading outside again. He hadn’t even commented on the food, even though she’d pulled out all the stops and fussed with her favorite veal-and-pasta recipe. Emily tried not to be offended. Perhaps it was just his way. Perhaps he’d lived alone so long he wasn’t used to making mealtime conversation. And that was quite sad when she thought about it.

“But our agreement…”

He put his hand on her arm and she stilled, plate in hand. She couldn’t look at him. If she did, the color would seep into her cheeks. He was touching her. Touching her, and her skin seemed to shiver with pleasure beneath his fingers.

“Please,” she said quietly. “This is my job. Let me do it.”

“Pride, Emily?”

He used her first name and the sound of it, coming from his lips in the privacy of the kitchen, caused her cheeks to heat anyway. His hand slid off her arm and she realized she was holding the plate and doing nothing with it. She made a show of wiping the cloth over its surface. “Just stating the obvious.”

“Who do you suppose cleans up when I’m here alone? I didn’t realize putting a few things away would be a problem.”

Oh, lordy. What right did she have to be territorial? “That’s not what I meant,” she replied hastily, putting the plate on the counter and reaching into the sink to pick up the last handful of cutlery. “Of course it’s your kitchen…”

“Emily.”

“You have more right to it than I do…”

She was babbling now, growing more nervous by the second as she felt his steady gaze on her. She bit down on her lip. She wouldn’t say any more and make a bigger fool of herself. What did it matter if he put a dish away? She was the one caught up in a knot, determined to do everything perfectly. And why? She already knew that trying to be perfect didn’t mean squat when it came down to it. She let out a slow breath, trying to relax.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She did then. She looked up into his eyes and saw that the blue irises were worried, making it impossible to maintain the distance she desired.

“You’re paying me to do a job, so I should be the one to do it. If that’s pride, then so be it.”

“You’re a stubborn woman, aren’t you?”

Her lips dropped open and then she clamped them shut again, trying to think of a good reply. “I prefer determined.”

“I just bet you do.”

“Did you get the baler fixed?” She was desperate to change the subject, to turn the focus off herself and her failings. “I expect you’ll be glad to be back in the fields tomorrow,” she carried on, sorting the last of the cutlery into the drawer. The thought of the fields and waving alfalfa made her smile, gave her a sense of well-being. It had to be the peace and quiet, that was all. It had nothing to do with Luke Evans, or picturing him on top of a gigantic tractor in a dusty hat and even dustier boots.

“I can’t expect the boys to handle things alone. I’ll be glad to be back out with them again. I may be late for dinner tomorrow. Just so you know.”