A Family for the Rugged Rancher Page 2

  “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?”

  His surprised voice made her halt and turn back. He’d taken off his cap and was now running his hand over his short-clipped hair. It was sandy-brown, she noticed. The same color as his T-shirt.

  “I never said the job wasn’t yours. I was apologizing.”

  Is that what that was? Emily wanted to ask but sensed things were at a delicate balance right now and could go either way. She simply nodded, holding her breath.

  “The job description said room and board included.” She was pushing it, but this had to be settled before either of them agreed to anything. She felt Sam’s small hand in hers. She wanted to give him a summer like the ones she remembered. Open spaces and simple pleasures. Some peace and quiet and new adventures rather than the reminders of their once happy life as a whole family. Life wasn’t going to be the same again, and Emily didn’t know what to do to make it better anymore. And this farm—it was perfect. She could smell the sweet fragrance of lilacs in the air. The lawn was huge, more than big enough for a child to play. She’d glimpsed a garden on the way in, and she imagined showing Sam how to tell weeds from vegetables and picking peas and beans later in the summer when they were plump and ripe.

  “I offered room and board, but only for one. Adding an extra is unexpected.”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get in your way,” she assured him quickly, hearing the edge of desperation in her voice, knowing she was this close to hearing him say yes. “And we can adjust my pay if that helps.” She wished she weren’t so transparent. She didn’t want him to know how badly she wanted this to work out. She was willing to compromise. Was he?

  Pride warred with want at this moment. She didn’t want to tell Luke Evans how much it would mean for them to stay here, but seeing the look of wonder on Sam’s face as he spotted a hawk circling above, following its movements until it settled on a fence post, searching for mice or prairie dogs… She’d do anything to keep that going. Even if it meant sacrificing her pride just a little bit.

  “Little boys probably don’t eat much. If you’re sure to keep him out of the way… I have a farm to run, Ms. Northcott.”

  He put a slight emphasis on the Ms., but she ignored it as excitement rushed through her. He was doing it! He was giving her the job, kid and all. For the first time in five years she would be earning her own money. She was making a first step towards self-reliance, and she’d done it all on her own. Today keeping house for Luke Evans…who knew what the future would hold? She reveled in the feeling of optimism, something that had been gone for a long time. She offered a small smile and wondered what he was thinking. She would make sure he didn’t regret it and that Sam would mean little disruption to his house. “You mean we can stay?”

  “You’re a housekeeper, aren’t you? The agency did hire you.”

  The acid tone was back, so she merely nodded, the curl at her temple flopping.

  “And you did say you could cook and clean. I’m counting on it.”

  She smiled at him then, a new confidence filling her heart. Lordy, he was so stern! But perhaps he could smile once in a while. Maybe she could make him. Right now she felt as though she could do anything.

  “Oh, yes. That’s definitely not an omission or exaggeration. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom since Sam was born. I promise you, Mr. Evans, I can clean, cook and do laundry with my eyes closed.” She could sew, too, and make origami animals out of plain paper and construct Halloween costumes out of some cardboard, newspaper and string. The latter skills probably weren’t a high priority on a ranch.

  “Just remember this is a working ranch, not a summer camp. There is a lot of work to be done and a lot of machinery around. Make sure the boy doesn’t cause any trouble, or go where he shouldn’t be going.”

  “His name is Sam, and you have my word.” She’d watch Sam with eyes in the back of her head if she had to. She had a job. And one where she could still be there for Sam—so important right now as he went through the stress of a family breakup.

  “Then bring your things inside. I’ll show you around quickly. Bear in mind I was unprepared for you, so none of the rooms are ready. You’ll have to do that yourself while I fix the baler.”

  He was letting them stay. She knew she should just accept it and be grateful, but she also knew it was not what he’d wanted or planned, and she felt compelled to give him one more chance to be sure. “Are you certain? I don’t want to put you out, Mr. Evans. It’s obvious this is a surprise for you. I don’t want you to feel obligated. We can find other accommodation.”

  He paused. “You need this job, don’t you?”

  He gave her a pointed look and Emily shifted her gaze to her feet. She added a mental note: not only stern but keenly sharp, too. Yes, she did need the job. Until the money went through from the sale of the house, they were on a shoestring and even then their circumstances would be drastically changed. It was why they’d had to sell in the first place. With no money coming in and Rob neglecting to pay child support, the savings account had dried up quickly and she couldn’t afford to make the mortgage payments. She couldn’t hide the frayed straps of her sandals and the older model, no-frills vehicle she drove instead of the luxury sedan she’d traded in six months ago. Everything was different. It wasn’t the hardest thing about the divorce, but after a while a woman couldn’t ignore practicalities.

  He took her silence as assent. “And I need someone to look after the house. It doesn’t make sense for you to pay to stay somewhere else, and days are long here. The deal was room and board, so that’s what you’ll get. How much trouble can one boy be, anyway?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  LUKE TRIED TO keep his body relaxed as he held open the screen door, but Emily Northcott was making it difficult. Whatever she had put on for perfume that morning teased his nostrils. It was light and pretty, just like her. Her short hair was the color of mink and curled haphazardly around her face, like the hair cover models had that was meant to look deliberately casual. And she had the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, fringed with thick dark lashes.

  When he’d first advertised for a housekeeper, Emily was not what he’d had in mind. He’d figured on someone local, someone, well, older to answer his ad. A motherly figure with graying hair, definitely not someone who looked like Emily. Someone who lived nearby who could arrive in the morning and leave again at dinnertime. But when his local ads had gone unanswered week after week, he’d put Cait on the job. She’d been getting so clucky and meddling as her pregnancy progressed. He’d thought it would be a good project for her and would keep her out of his hair. It was only the promise of ge
tting outside help that had ceased her constant baking and fussing over the house. Not that he didn’t need the help. He did, desperately. But having Cait underfoot all the time had been driving him crazy.

  Maid on Demand had seemed like the perfect solution, anonymous and impersonal. Except now he’d ended up worse off than ever—with a beautiful woman with a family of her own, 24/7.

  He should have said no, flat-out.

  He’d be a bald-faced liar if he said Emily Northcott wasn’t the prettiest woman to pass through his door in months. Just the scent of her put him on alert. Not that he was in the market for a girlfriend. But he was human, after all.

  But what could he say? No, you can’t stay because you’re too pretty? Because you’re too young? She couldn’t be more than thirty. And then there was her son. How could he turn her away for that reason either? He’d have to be cold-hearted to use that against her. So far the boy had hardly made a peep. And it was only for a few months, after all. Once things wound down later in the fall, he’d be better able to handle things on his own.

  “Have a look around,” he suggested, as the screen door slapped shut behind them. “I’m going to wash up. I’ve had my hands inside the baler for the better part of the afternoon. Then I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

  He left her standing in the entry hall while he went to the kitchen and turned on the tap. The whole idea of hiring help was to make his summer easier, not add more responsibility to it. But that was exactly how it felt. If she stayed, it meant two extra bodies to provide for over the next few months. Twice as many mouths to feed than he’d expected. And having that sort of responsibility—whether real or implied—was something he never wanted to do again. He liked his life plain, simple and uncomplicated. Or at least as uncomplicated as it could be considering his family circumstances.

  He scrubbed the grease from his hands with the pumice paste, taking a nail brush and relentlessly applying it to his nails. The plain truth was that not one soul had applied for the job—not even a teenager looking for summer work. Cait had put the listing with the agency nearly three weeks ago. Things were in full swing now and he needed the help. Luke was already working sun-up to sundown. The housework was falling behind, and he was tired of eating a dry sandwich when he came in at the end of the day. He was barely keeping up with the laundry, putting a load in when he was falling-down tired at night.

  They could stay as long as it meant they stayed out of his way. He didn’t have time for babysitting along with everything else.

  When he returned from the kitchen, Emily was in the living room on the right, her fingertips running over the top of an old radio and record player that had long ceased to work and that now held a selection of family photos on its wooden cover. His heart contracted briefly, seeing her gentle hands on the heirloom, but he pushed the feeling aside and cleared his throat. “You ready?”

  “This is beautiful. And very old.”

  He nodded. “It was my grandparents’. They used to play records on it. Some of the LPs are still inside, but the player doesn’t work anymore.”

  “And this is your family?”

  Luke stepped forward and looked at the assortment of photos. There were three graduation pictures—him and his sisters when they’d each completed twelfth grade. Cait’s and Liz’s wedding pictures were there as well, and baby pictures of Liz’s children. Soon Cait’s new baby would be featured there, too. There was a picture of three children all together, taken one golden autumn several years earlier, and in the middle sat a picture of his parents, his dad sitting down and his mom’s hand on his shoulder as they smiled for the camera. The last two pictures were difficult to look at. That had been the year that everything had changed. First his mom, and then his dad.

  “My sister’s doing. Our parents always had pictures on here and she keeps it stocked.”

  He saw a wrinkle form between her eyebrows and his jaw tightened. He wasn’t all that fond of the gallery of reminders, but Cait had insisted. He’d never been able to deny her anything, and he knew to take the pictures down would mean hurting Cait, and Liz, too, and he couldn’t do it.

  “Your dad looks very handsome. You look like him. In the jaw and the shape of your mouth.”

  Luke swallowed. He could correct her, but he knew in reality the handsome bit no longer applied to his father. Time and illness had leached it from his body, bit by painful bit. Luke didn’t want to be like him. Not that way. Not ever. The fact that he might not have a choice was something he dealt with every single day.

  “I have work to do, Ms. Northcott. Do you think we can continue the tour now?”

  She turned away from the family gallery and smiled at him. He’d done his best not to encourage friendliness, so why on earth was she beaming at him? It was like a ray of sunshine warming the room when she smiled at him like that. “I’d love to,” she replied.

  Luke didn’t answer, just turned away from the radio with a coldness that he could see succeeded in wiping the smile from her face. “Let’s get a move on, then,” he said over his shoulder. “So I can get back to work.”

  Emily scowled at his departing back. She had her work cut out for her, then. To her mind, Luke Evans had lived alone too long. His interpersonal skills certainly needed some polishing. Granted, her life hadn’t been all sunshine and flowers lately, but she at least could be pleasant. She refused to let his sour attitude ruin her day.

  “Do you mind if I turn the TV on for Sam? That way we can get through faster. I don’t want to hold you up.” After his comment about Sam being a distraction, Emily figured this was the easiest way. After Evans was gone to the barn, she’d enlist Sam’s help and they’d work together. Make it fun.

  As they started up the stairs, Luke turned around and paused, his hand on the banister. “I apologize for the sorry state of the house,” he said. “My sister hasn’t been by in a few weeks and with haying time and the new calves…”

  “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

  “I don’t want to scare you off,” he said, starting up the stairs once more. Gruff or not, Emily got the feeling that he was relieved she was there. Or at least relieved someone was there to do the job he required.

  She followed him up, unable to avoid the sight of his bottom in the faded jeans. Two identical wear spots lightened the pockets. As he took her through the house she realized he hadn’t been exaggerating. The spare rooms had a fine film of dust on the furniture. The rugs were in desperate need of a vacuuming and he’d left his shaving gear and towel on the bathroom vanity this morning, along with whiskers dotting the white porcelain of the sink. The linen closet was a jumbled mess of pillows, blankets and sheets arranged in no particular order, and the laundry basket was filled to overflowing.

  The tour continued and Emily tried to be positive through it all. “The floors are gorgeous,” she tried, hoping to put them on more of an even footing. “They look like the original hardwood.”

  “They are. And they have the scratches to prove it.”

  She bit back a sigh and tried again. “Scratches just add character. And the doors are solid wood rather than those hollow imitations in stores these days. Such a great color of stain.”

  “They need refinishing.”

  Emily gave up for the time being; her attempts at anything positive were completely ineffectual. She simply followed him down the hall. The smallest bedroom was painted a pale green and had one wall on a slant with a charming oval window looking over the fields. She fell in love with it immediately. A second room was painted pink and one wall had rosebud wallpaper. A third door remained closed—she presumed it was his room. But when he opened the door to the final room she caught her breath. It must have been his parents’ room, all gleaming dark wood and an ivory chenille spread. It was like stepping back in time—hooked rugs on the floor and dainty Priscilla curtains at the windows.

  “What a beautiful room.” She looked up at Luke and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. It was almost as if seeing it caused him pai
n, but why?

  “It belonged to my parents,” he answered, and shut the door before she could say any more.

  Back in the kitchen the clean dishes were piled in the drying rack, the teetering pile a masterpiece of domestic engineering. In the partner sink, dirty dishes formed a smaller, stickier pile. The kitchen cupboards were sturdy solid oak, and Emily knew a washing with oil soap would make them gleam again. The fridge needed a good wiping down. She paused a moment to glance at the magnetic notepad stuck to the fridge door. It was simply a list of phone numbers. She frowned as she read the names Cait and Liz, wondering why he didn’t simply have his sister’s numbers memorized. After his brusqueness, there was no way on earth she’d ask.

  Overall, the house was a throwback to what felt like a happier, simpler time. “All it needs is some love and polish, Mr. Evans. You have a beautiful home.”

  The tour finished, Luke cleared his throat, his feet shifting from side to side. “I really need to get back to fixing the baler. This weather isn’t going to hold and I have help coming tomorrow. The job is yours, Ms. Northcott.”

  She grinned at him, ready to tackle the dust and cobwebs and bring the house back to its former glory “You’ve got a deal.”

  “Shouldn’t we talk salary?”

  A shadow dimmed her excitement, but only for a moment. “I thought that was all taken care of through the agency. Unless you’ve made a change regarding…” She paused, glancing down at Sam.

  “One boy won’t eat much. The wage stands, if it’s acceptable to you.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You’ll be okay to get settled then?”