Shoulda Been a Cowboy, page 10
Caroline smiled. “In your case, it would be more like May-August.”
“But that’s not why you’re here.”
Caroline shook her head. “I’m here about Hannah.”
“Daniel’s little sister? I heard she’s coming on Monday. If she’s half as nice as that brother of hers, she’ll be a sweetheart.”
“I’m sure she will be.” Encouraged by Amy Lou’s attitude, Caroline plunged ahead. “And I’m looking for a foster family for her.”
Amy Lou looked surprised. “I thought you were taking her.”
Caroline stifled guilty feelings. “I’m selling Blackberry Farm as soon as possible, and I’m hoping to find a permanent place for Hannah before she arrives.”
Amy Lou’s friendly face reflected her surprise. “And you were thinking I’d take her?”
“You’re wonderful with people. Especially children. I remember how good you were to me the first time I came to your shop.”
“Cutting a child’s hair is one thing,” Amy Lou said with a shake of her teased and lacquered hairdo. “Raising one up in the way she should go is another thing entirely.”
“You’d make a wonderful foster mother.”
Amy Lou’s bright eyes took on the dreamy look of remembrance. “Harold and I tried to have babies. But it wasn’t meant to be. And now, sugar, I’m too old, too tired, too set in my ways. I can hardly drag my weary bones up those stairs at the end of a day. Lord knows, what would I do with an active nine-year-old?”
Disappointment washed through Caroline. Amy Lou had been her best chance of placing Hannah by Monday. “You know everything that goes on in the valley. Can you think of any family who would take in Hannah and give her a good home?”
Amy Lou furrowed her brown. “Give me a minute.”
“What about Merrilee’s parents?”
“Jim and Cat Stratton? They’d make great foster parents.”
Caroline’s surge of hope was short-lived as Amy Lou added, “But they’re leaving Monday for a trans-Canada railway trip. A second honeymoon they’ve been planning since last summer. They’ll be gone a month.”
Caroline’s hope to have Hannah settled in a permanent home on Monday so the child wouldn’t have to move again vanished. “Gofer says he’s tried everyone. Only Eileen was willing to take Hannah, and now she’s passed her on to me.”
Amy Lou threaded her fingers together, rested them on her plump midriff, and raised her eyebrows. “You ever stop to think that your having Hannah was meant to be?”
“Not unless God’s playing jokes,” Caroline said in frustration. “What’s meant to be is that I find a nice little place in New Mexico, out west where I’ve always wanted to live.”
“You know what they say.” Amy Lou’s eyes twinkled. “If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans.”
Caroline forced a smile. “He must be having a real knee-slapper at my expense.”
AFTER A LATE SUPPER that evening, Ethan helped Caroline clear the table. Their meal had been a silent one, with Caroline deep in thought over how to deal with Hannah. The child would arrive on Monday, and Caroline didn’t want the little girl to become too attached to Blackberry Farm, since her stay would be only temporary. At the same time, she wanted Hannah to feel welcome, wanted and safe.
Sheesh, how had she managed to land herself in such a conundrum?
“That was terrific spinach lasagna.” Ethan’s deep voice broke into her thoughts.
She took a moment to orient herself, like someone breaking the surface after a deep dive. “Eileen made it. She left it in the freezer.”
Caroline pushed back from the table, took the half-empty casserole dish and covered the leftover pasta with plastic wrap. She placed it in the refrigerator, and Ethan emptied ice from the tea glasses into the sink and put them in the dishwasher. She hadn’t asked for his help. He’d simply assumed the tasks, as easily as if they were an old married couple who’d cleaned up together for years. He hadn’t complained when she hadn’t talked at supper, hadn’t tried to force conversation. He’d simply been there, comfortable and easy with the silence. Earlier, she’d been lost in thoughts of Hannah, but now Ethan—with his quiet, helpful manner, his movements, graceful and efficient for such a big man—occupied her mind.
“Mr. Right,” Amy Lou had called him. From what Caroline had observed, the title was apt. The man had no obvious faults, unless she counted too agreeable, too helpful, too damned good-looking in his own rugged way. But also he was too filled with pain from some past trauma that she guessed was related to the burns on his hands and his sabbatical from the fire department.
The more time she spent with him, the more seductive he seemed. Not that he was coming on to her. Any overt moves would have been like a splash of cold water, enough to turn her off to his charms. No, the man was just an all-around nice guy with looks to die for who was inching his way into her life and heart so subtly that if she wasn’t careful, one day she’d wake up and wham! She’d be a goner.
How had her life become so complicated in less than a week? She’d lost her friend, inherited a farm, left home for the first time, become a reluctant foster mother, and met a man who made her tingle with awareness. She should have been careful what she’d wished for when she was dying of boredom at the B and B.
“Guess where I went this afternoon?” Ethan’s smooth voice again shattered her thoughts.
“I give up.”
“Archer Farm.”
“Did Jeff give you the tour?”
Ethan shook his head and leaned against the counter while she loaded plates in the washer. “I didn’t go to see the place. I went to see Daniel.”
“Daniel? Were you trying to line up some help with your renovations at Orchard Cottage?”
“No, but that’s a good idea. I wanted to talk to him about his sister. He’s really glad she’ll be living with you.”
Caroline wished she shared the teen’s enthusiasm. As much as she liked Daniel, as much as she wanted Hannah to have a loving home, she didn’t want to be pinned down in the valley.
“How about driving to Walhalla with me tomorrow?” Ethan said suddenly.
“What?”
“There’s a Wal-Mart there. It’ll have everything we need.”
“For what?”
“For Hannah. If we go first thing, we can get back and have her room ready by Monday.”
Caroline closed the door to the dishwasher and turned to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yellow.” Ethan’s face glowed with a boyish enthusiasm that only added to his attractiveness.
“What?”
“Hannah’s favorite color. Daniel told me. If I buy the paint tomorrow morning, I can paint tomorrow afternoon. I thought you might want to pick out a matching bedspread and some curtains. I’ll pay for them,” he added quickly.
“You haven’t settled into your own place yet. Don’t you want to paint there first?”
Lordy, how could she resist a man so considerate of a little girl’s feelings?
“I chose to come to Orchard Cottage.” His eyes lost their playfulness and seemed to bore straight through her. “And I’m an adult. Delayed gratification, I believe, is one of the prerequisites of being a grownup. Hannah, however, is a kid who didn’t have a choice. Wouldn’t it be great to have a beautiful room in her favorite color waiting for her? To let her know you’re glad she’s here?”
Ethan’s compassion made Caroline feel small by comparison. She’d considered Hannah’s feelings, trying to find a permanent place so the girl wouldn’t have to move again. But had Caroline’s efforts been on Hannah’s behalf or in her own self-interest?
Ethan was right. Hannah needed to feel welcomed and loved and special, no matter how long or short her stay at Blackberry Farm. If fixing up her room helped, then Caroline was all for it.
“If we leave at eight,” she said, “we can be at Wal-Mart before the weekend crowds descend. But, since it’s my house, I’ll pay for the paint and fabrics. Your offer to paint, however, is gratefully accepted. I always get more paint on me than on whatever I’m painting.”
She had her back to the counter with no room to maneuver. Ethan stepped closer and grasped her shoulders lightly, then slid his hands down her bare arms to her wrists. Her skin tingled at his touch. His hazel eyes warmed and lit a corresponding fire deep in her abdomen. She tried, but couldn’t look away.
He slid his hands from her wrists to her waist and pulled her closer. “You’re a good woman, Caroline Tuttle.”
She shook her head. “I’m a selfish woman.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. I doubt there’s a selfish bone in your body.”
She had to keep talking, afraid of what might happen if she stopped, but his proximity was making her dizzy, sending her thoughts whirling. She grappled for words. “Hannah puts a crimp in my plans.”
“If you were selfish, you’d flat out refuse to take her. Eileen knew your heart or she wouldn’t have asked you to look after Hannah.”
A small space separated them, but she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and her nostrils filled with the stimulating scent of him, sunshine and pure male musk. She tried to think of something else—piñon pines and coyotes howling at the moon above the high desert. But her western fantasies evaporated like mist in sunlight next to the reality of Ethan’s large, strong hands at her waist, his breath on her cheek and the longing in his eyes.
She shook her head and tried to step back, but the counter blocked her. “I am selfish. You’re the one who thought of what Hannah needs, not me.”
“Not selfish. Just human.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her waist or break his gaze. “You’ve dedicated your adult life to your widowed mother, and you were such a good friend to Eileen that she left you everything. Those aren’t selfish acts in my book.”
“But all I want now is to get away.”
His eyes clouded. “From me?”
She started to say yes, but couldn’t. Being that close to him felt too good. “From the valley. I want a life of my own.”
He moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her against the long, hard length of him. Instead of resisting, her rebellious body melded against him. When he spoke, his breath fanned her ear, sending shivers of delight down her spine. “Why can’t you have a life of your own here?”
“Because I’m afraid.” The words popped out before she could think. How could she think with the thud of his heart against her own?
“Afraid of what?”
“Of being sucked in again by obligations to my mother.” She was drowning in the nearness of him, light-headed from lack of air.
“And?”
He leaned back to face her, and his eyes seemed to look into her soul. But she couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t lie. “Afraid of losing my independence.”
“Independence covers a lot of bases.” He held her against him with one arm and traced the line of her cheek with the index finger of his other hand. His touch made her knees weak, and she feared they would buckle. “Financial, emotional—?”
“Both,” she interrupted with a whisper, because she couldn’t draw air to speak and couldn’t generate the will to push him away.
He smiled, a flash of perfect teeth that lifted his lips until intoxicating dimples formed in his tanned cheeks. The green flecks in his hazel eyes sparked. Without warning, he leaned forward, brushed her lips with his in a caress that sent every nerve ending in her body tingling—and released her.
She almost stumbled with surprise. And disappointment.
“If it’s independence you want,” he said in easy agreement, “then I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Help?” She was inundated by a wave of desire, confusion and frustration, while warning bells clamored in her brain.
“Finding a home for Hannah,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Getting the farm ready for the market. And once it’s sold, I’ll even help you pack. How’s that?” His expression was open, at ease, friendly. He was apparently willing, even eager, to expedite her departure. Had she only imagined the desire she’d seen smoking in his eyes?
She struggled to control her seesawing emotions and think of an appropriate response. Her addled brain refused to cooperate. How could one man, no matter how appealing, send her into total mental meltdown?
He crossed the room, opened the back screen door, then turned to her. “I’ll see you a little before eight in the morning. We’ll take my truck.”
The more distance he placed between them, the quicker her calm would return. “Fine. Eight o’clock.”
The screen door slammed and he disappeared.
Good, he’s gone, her head insisted. That was a close call.
But her heart and body cried for more.
With the disconnect between her emotions and her brain making her feel out of control, if not out of her mind, Caroline locked the back door and, on knees still wobbly from her close encounter, climbed the stairs to bed.
Chapter Nine
“You missed a spot,” Caroline said.
From her vantage point, sitting in the middle of the poster bed in the upstairs bedroom, she pointed to the top of the wall Ethan had just rolled with sunny yellow paint.
“Here?” He swiped the area with the roller.
“That’ll do it,” she said with a nod.
He stood back and surveyed the newly painted room with satisfaction. “This is better than that faded blue. Much more cheerful.”
“And also Hannah’s favorite color,” Caroline reminded him.
She ripped open a plastic bed-in-a-bag package and removed a yellow gingham dust ruffle, matching pillow shams and a quilted coverlet in a muted pale green-and-yellow plaid. Then she began making up the antique walnut four-poster bed she’d earlier stripped to its mattress. “Too bad this set didn’t come with a matching canopy. Maybe I can find some fabric in town and make one.”
Ethan was glad his hands were covered with wet paint, which prevented him from reaching for her. Keeping his distance was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Last night, he’d needed every ounce of willpower to keep their kiss casual, then walk away. But after Caroline had declared she wanted freedom and independence, he’d have been a fool not to give her space.
What he’d really wanted was to kiss her until they’d both gasped for breath. Then carry her up here to one of the bedrooms and make love to her until he was too tired to move. The flicker of disappointment he’d noted in her expression when he’d released her had given him hope that, in spite of her desire for emotional independence, she’d wanted more than a brief kiss, too. That fleeting discontented look wasn’t much, but he wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat. He’d take whatever encouragement he could get.
While Caroline made up the bed, Ethan tamped the lid on the paint can and carried the disposable pan and roller downstairs to the garbage can behind the kitchen porch. When he returned to the upstairs bedroom, Caroline was struggling to maneuver a wide two-shelf bookcase into the gable beneath a double window. He moved quickly to help her.
When the bookcase was in place, Caroline stood back and studied it. “It needs a cushion. I’ll make one and cover it with the yellow floral fabric I bought today. Then Hannah will have a window seat on top of the bookcase, where she can sit and read and look out across the mountains.” She placed her hands on her slender hips and studied the rest of the room. “And I’ll bring in that big wicker chair from the back bedroom and cover its cushions to match the window seat.”
Despite her protests about wanting another family for Hannah, Caroline was making every effort to make the little girl feel comfortable and at home.
He shoved his hands into his back pockets to keep from breaking his resolve not to try to hold her again. Somehow, although she hadn’t touched a brush or roller, she had a smear of yellow paint on the tip of her chin.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” he asked.
“It’s good practice. When I get my own place, I’ll redecorate every room.”
“And who’s going to paint?”
She grinned. “Maybe you could come visit for a week. You’re wicked with a paint roller.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“And humble, too,” she teased.
“Want proof?”
Damn, he’d done what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do—pushed too hard. Her smile faltered, as if he’d struck a nerve. Then her grin returned. “I already know you can paint, garden, fight fires and sculpt in metal. What else is in your repertoire?”
“You forgot cooking.”
“That’s right. You did say you cooked at the firehouse.”
“How about I fix supper tonight?”
Her confidence appeared to waver again. “At your place?”
“Sure.” Why being alone with him at Orchard Cottage made her any more nervous than here at Blackberry Farm, he didn’t know, but he could tell from her response that she preferred her home turf. “Or I can cook here while you put the finishing touches on Hannah’s room.”
She visibly relaxed. “That’ll work. Eileen kept the freezer and pantry well stocked. You’ll have plenty to chose from.”
“Any requests?”
“Surprise me.”
He suppressed a grin. A surprise was just what he had in mind.
CAROLINE PLACED the vase of daisies on the dressing table and stepped back to admire her handiwork. With its sunny new paint and linens, the previously tired and dull spare bedroom appeared to glow with light, even though the sun had just set behind the mountain ridge visible from the window gable.
The walnut furniture shined with beeswax polish, the crisp gingham curtains, freshly ironed, framed the sparkling clean windows, and the newly made bed was piled with a variety of pillows and a huge white teddy bear with a yellow bow around its neck. She’d filled the bookcase with favorites from her childhood, including several Nancy Drew mysteries, Black Beauty, National Velvet and My Friend Flicka, salvaged from her storage boxes still piled in the living room. Caroline had flipped through the horse stories of her childhood and recognized that her youthful love of the animals had eventually developed into her adult fascination with cowboy culture.
