A Rancher's Pride - By Barbara White Daille Page 0,21
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.
Chapter Seven
Luckily, once the three of them were seated at the dinner table, Becky began chattering away. Kayla voiced everything so Sam could follow the conversation.
She might as well not have bothered.
He seemed more interested in his dinner and rarely looked away from his plate for very long. When he did glance up, he never once made eye contact with either of them. As the meal went on, Kayla grew more concerned. And more irritated.
After Becky quieted down and focused on her own plate, Kayla turned her attention to Sam. Now, instead of wanting to hold back, she was determined to get him to talk.
“Becky needs some interaction with children her own age,” she told him. “I’d like to get her involved in something fun. Maybe a swim class or arts and crafts, something that will help her burn up energy but keep her attention. Is there anything like that in town?”
It took a few seconds for his response. “Nothing I know of.”
She nodded in acknowledgment. “I’ll do a little research tomorrow, see what I can find. Do you have any recommendations about where to start?”
“No.”
“Are there any of your neighbors who might know about classes?”
“I doubt it.”
He seemed reluctant to cooperate with her on anything to do with Becky. How could he be so unconcerned about her?
Kayla looked away. His lack of enthusiasm wouldn’t stop her from doing what she could, on her own if she had to. Becky wouldn’t be here very long,