Live-In Mom Read online

  Accepting the plate Elena handed her, she loaded it with three pancakes and a dipper of warm syrup. She conscientiously left off the butter in an effort to watch her fat intake, then added two slices of bacon to the plate. Oh, well.

  “How long have you been up?” she asked. Although she wasn’t supposed to start to work for a couple of days, she felt a twinge of guilt that the cook, who looked younger than Carly’s thirty years, seemed to be handling the meal alone.

  No, she reminded herself. She wasn’t responsible for the rest of the world. That was what had gotten her into that ill-fated engagement. From now on, she looked after numero uno.

  “Since five. Did all the commotion wake you up? I forgot to tell you the cattle would be coming from the higher ranges all this week when you arrived yesterday.”

  Carly nodded. “I thought it was an invasion. Do they always truck the cows down?” she asked, confused about this aspect of ranch life. Or maybe she’d seen too many Westerns. Maybe cattle drives were a thing of the past.

  Elena prepared a plate for herself and joined Carly at the end of a table long enough to seat twelve. “The cattle are brought in from mountain pastures up in Oregon.”

  “Oh.”

  Elena smiled kindly at her confusion. “The winters are too severe in the mountains. The cattle would die. The men bring the Macklin herd here, as well as some of the other ranchers’ cattle.”

  She brought them each a cup of coffee and sat across the table. Her dark eyes were friendly, her smile warm.

  Carly, with her tawny skin and black hair and eyes in herited from her Indian grandfather, was at ease with the other woman, who appeared to be Hispanic.

  Except for one man, Pete Hodkin, who’d directed her to the bunkhouse when she’d arrived the previous day, she’d liked all the people she’d met so far.

  Glancing around, she sighed with relief that Hodkin hadn’t seen her arrival at breakfast and joined them. When she’d asked directions to the house, his smile had been insulting and snide as he looked her over. He’d sent her to Elena, who’d given her a room in the house where the cook also had quarters.

  Her mind drifted past him to the cowboy who’d saved her from the runaway herd. Now there was a man.

  An ache echoed dimly through her heart. She wasn’t looking for a man, but he had been… interesting.

  She dropped the line of thought. Being rescued by the cowboy didn’t mean she had to fall for him. She could enjoy the moment for what it was—an interlude that had been scary and exciting at the same time.

  A question in the back of her mind jostled itself to the front—would she like future contact with her sexy rescuer?

  “What are your plans for the day?” Elena asked, giv ing her outfit a curious once-over.

  Carly glanced down at her old clothes. She probably looked about twelve in her old jeans and shirt. But her cowboy hadn’t thought of her as a child.

  A stirring warmth spread through her. It was odd to feel this way about a man she’d just met.

  Looking wasn’t committing, she reminded herself. A person could shop around. That didn’t mean she had to buy in to a line or vows of love. Besides, she would only be here for a month. That wasn’t long enough to get seriously involved. By then, she’d have made up her mind about the future. She disliked uncertainty.

  “I thought I’d ride over the hills and explore the ranch a bit. Is there someone I can ask for the loan of a horse?”

  “Pete Hodkin. He handles the horses.”

  “Oh, him.”

  “St,” Elena agreed.

  Carly met the other woman’s eyes. Understanding flashed between them. Yes, she was definitely going to like Elena.

  She resumed eating. Her thoughts kept reverting to the cowboy and those brief moments of contact.

  He’d been gentle with her after snatching her from dan ger. His lightning-fast reflexes had spared her possible harm. He’d been careful when he’d steadied her after the accidental caress that had left her burning with unex pected longing.

  She wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d looked at her so intently before releasing her.

  Recalling the contact of their bodies and the increased beating of his heart against her breast, she was pretty sure she knew. Electric tingles dashed around in her chest.

  There had been awareness in his eyes. Then, like a door closing, it was gone. But when she’d looked back before entering the kitchen, he’d been looking her way.

  She was certain he was feeling the tingles, too.

  Hold it. She wasn’t here for a fling with a good-looking cowboy, no matter how gentle or charming. She was here to relax and decide if she wanted to settle in the area.

  She’d sold her business to her former manager, the sale final a month ago. She’d done the same with the condo. Now she was free to pursue greener pastures. She was considering a boutique in Ashland. The town did a nice tourist business.

  When she saw Elena take her empty plate and put it in a sink filled with soapy water, she finished her meal and did the same.

  Realizing there really weren’t any other workers in the kitchen-dining room and that Elena was doing all the cooking and serving alone, Carly fought a battle with her conscience.

  This was not her problem. She had two days to adjust to the new place.

  Right, room and board while she lazed around and planned a glorious new life, her conscience scolded.

  But she was supposed to be resting and thinking about things. She had a new business venture to consider.

  So, she couldn’t work and think at the same time?

  When a half-dozen cowboys filed in and heaped their plates high with food, she volunteered to help out.

  “No, no, you’re not supposed to start until Monday,” Elena protested, but with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

  Carly shrugged. “So I’ll charge overtime.”

  A working vacation was made to order to her way of thinking. She wasn’t used to being idle. Living on a ranch and getting paid for it had seemed a perfect solution to her. She didn’t mind starting a couple of days early. “What do you want me to do?”

  They got a coffee break at nine. Carly eased her body down on a chair. She’d spent three hours washing dishes, mashing potatoes and peeling apples for pies. After lunch, there was dinner to prepare…after they washed dishes again.

  “Have you people ever heard of this marvelous new invention?” she asked. “It’s called a dishwasher.”

  Her companion snickered. Carly gave a weak grin. Even her face was tired.

  “Cheer up,” Elena advised, smiling in sympathy.

  “Why? Are we quitting soon?”

  “The usual time, three.”

  “As in this afternoon? I’ll never make it.”

  Elena laughed as if Carly had told a really funny joke. She prepared two cups of coffee and brought one to Carly, along with a doughnut for each of them. A young man had already taken out coffee and a box of fresh pastries for the men.

  “Cowboys eat a lot,” Carly remarked, watching as several stopped their tasks with the cattle, washed their faces and hands at a spigot, then sat on the end of the porch to eat.

  “This is a good place to work,” Elena said. “Ty pro vides plenty of food. You’d better finish. We only have a few minutes.”

  Carly’s arm trembled when she lifted the doughnut to her mouth. She couldn’t remember why she’d thought working in a ranch kitchen was such a neat idea.

  Maybe she could quit…no, she couldn’t do that to Elena. The woman needed all the help she could get to feed the horde of men who worked on the ranch. If she ever met the younger brother of Shane Macklin, the sheriff, who was supposed to be running the ranch, she’d give him an earful about that.

  Then he’d probably throw her off the place.

  She rested her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes and chewed slowly. Well, she’d simply refuse to leave. She’d taken this on for a month. Besides, she was here to find hersel
f.

  Whatever that meant.

  Anyway, that was why she’d left Chicago and driven west, following the sun… and her friend’s advice.

  “Get out of town. Forget the past. Take a long vacation. You deserve it. You can stay with me and my brother. Bed and board as long as you want, all free. So what’s holding you up?” Isa had demanded when they’d talked about it.

  So she’d packed up, kissed Chicago goodbye, albeit a bit nostalgically, and headed for the Wild West.

  She’d stopped to visit Isa, who was working two jobs-full-time theater manager and part-time actress—and having problems with her thirteen-year-old brother, up in southern Oregon. Isa hadn’t needed the complication of a guest.

  Last Sunday, she’d seen the ad and succumbed to the lure of a working vacation on a real ranch. .

  “You’re new at this kind of work, aren’t you?” Elena asked after the silence had stretched to several minutes.

  Carly opened her eyes and grinned wryly. “You noticed.”

  Elena laughed.

  Meeting the other woman’s eyes, she felt they were fast becoming friends. “So how long have you been cooking for the crew of the Rocking M outfit?”

  “Ten years, but I’m only here for two months a year.”

  Carly was startled. “You must have started when you were a mere babe. You can’t be older than I am.”

  “I’m twenty-eight. I’m saving for my little ones to go to college,” Elena explained proudly.

  “You have children?”

  “Yes. Three girls. They will go to the university and become teachers and not get married too soon like I did.”

  “Who’s with your girls?”

  “My mother lives with us each winter. I start cooking when the cows are moved down to the winter pastures and we have so many men to feed. At Thanksgiving, I go home, then return in spring when the cattle are moved to high pastures.”

  “Where’s home?”

  Elena finished her treat and stood. “Near Redding. My husband works in the lumber mill. We’d better get to work, or dinner will be late.”

  “Not to mention lunch.” Carly licked her fingers, drank the rest of the coffee and headed for the kitchen, which was tucked behind a counter and cabinets at one end of the long room.

  Elena got there first. “I’ll start a stew for the men’s supper. They clean up after themselves at night. Lunch is the main meal of the day. We call it dinner on the ranch. You can peel potatoes, if you like.”

  “Sure. That has to be better than washing a mountain of dishes. We’ve got to see about some modern appli ances for this ranch. Dishwasher first, automatic peeler second. Surely someone has invented one by now.”

  Elena seemed to think everything she said was hilarious. The young cook was still chuckling as she started making up the pies for lunch. Dinner. Or supper. Whichever.

  Carly’s relief was short-lived. She found it didn’t matter how she squirmed. The same motion, repeated hundreds of times, was exhausting. She looked out the window, wondering if it had been a good thing to take on this job.

  She groaned. It wasn’t even lunch yet. She picked up another potato and sighed.

  “Here comes the boss man,” Elena sang out. She didn’t sound worried. In fact, there was a smile in her voice.

  “So you returned for another year,” a pleasant baritone stated. “I thought you vowed never to cook for a bunch of ill-mannered cowboys again last spring.”

  Elena laughed and shook her head. “The pay is good. And I expect a big bonus.”

  “And here I thought you returned every year because of my charm,” the man said, heaving a loud sigh of disappointment.

  Carly peeked up to see if this was truly the man who’d given her a case of chill bumps merely by looking at her after his rescue that morning. It was, and she still got them.

  “That’s the real reason, but my husband doesn’t know,” her partner informed him.

  Elena’s voice became musical, the slight Spanish accent more pronounced as she spoke to the cowboy. The foreman? Carly wished she’d asked more about the ranch and its operations.

  The man was enough to turn any woman’s head. His smile was a white slash against his tanned face. With his shirt open to the waist, she could see sweat glistening in the patch of tawny hair on his chest. His torso rippled with muscles as he shifted his weight. She imagined how it would feel to touch him, to run her fingers along that warm, moist flesh, to taste the salty tang left on his skin by his labor….

  He stepped forward, and his eyes met hers. She gazed at him, held captive by his intensity. Although he continued to smile, she sensed something else in him, a question.

  She bore his scrutiny for a long minute, then turned away and started to work with a flurry of renewed energy. This man created entirely too much havoc with her senses. She kept her back toward the other two, hoping he would leave soon.

  No such luck.

  “This the new helper?” he asked.

  “Yes. Carly Lightfoot. Carly, this is the boss,” Elena introduced them. “When I spoke to Shane, he said he would send someone as soon as possible. I didn’t expect her the next day. She is a very good worker. But not as good as me.”

  His soft chuckle washed over Carly. Why was it that his very presence made her as dizzy as riding a double-loop roller coaster at the fair?

  He moved closer. Doggedly, she went on peeling the potato while she fought the insane notion to run her hands over him.

  “If you peel that much more, we’ll have to eat the skins to get any nourishment,” he advised.

  She dropped the abused vegetable into the bucket.

  He plucked a red-and-gold-speckled pear from a bowl on the counter and took a big bite. “Delicious,” he murmured. “Sweet and crisp. A bit of tartness to add spice. It’s a new type of pear from the orchards. The Macklin pear. See what you think of it.”

  His voice was low, mellow, but with a slight grittiness that caused heat to slide down her spine. He wasn’t talking about a piece of fruit.

  His gaze went to her mouth. She thought of his lips on hers, of the tangy taste of the pear coming to her tongue from his. Before she could retreat from these sensuous thoughts, he held the pear to her mouth so she had to take a bite.

  The crunch of her teeth sounded like a horse chomping corn in the silent room. Both the foreman and Elena watched her for a reaction. She chewed and swallowed.

  “It’s very good. Thank you.” She was going to taste him if he didn’t get out of the kitchen and her vicinity. She’d never been hungry for a man before, but looking at this one…

  He studied her face. “Have I seen you before?” he queried.

  “You saved me from the stampede earlier today.”

  He took another bite from the pear. “Yes, but before that? You look familiar.”

  “No,” she said. “This is my first visit here.” She took the bucket of potatoes to the sink to rinse them, wondering why her inner warning system wasn’t clanging like mad.

  Elena washed her hands after lining twelve pie pans with dough. When she moved aside, Carly stayed at the sink and started cleaning carrots.

  “You’d better put on an apron. You’re splashing water on your shirt,” her cowboy advised. He reached into the open door of the walk-in pantry and lifted an apron from a hook.

  He proceeded to slip the loop over her head, then caught the ties on each side and pulled them into a bow at her back. Every touch sent little points of fire through her shirt. It was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames. When he finished and said goodbye, then left, she sagged with relief.

  Some disdainer of men she was. If she was going to have a nervous breakdown every time the foreman came around, she might as well wear a sign that said Pushover.

  Groaning silently at the thought, she turned to Elena. “I don’t think you mentioned the foreman’s name.”

  “Foreman?” Elena shook her head. “We don’t have a foreman. The boss handles the ranch himself.�
��

  “The boss?”

  “The man who was here. That was Ty Macklin. Sorry. I thought you knew.” She gave Carly a speculative glance.

  Ty Macklin. Isa had told her about him. His wife had divorced and left him with their son to raise. His son had had leukemia and nearly died before the boy’s aunt donated bone marrow to save his life.

  The boss might have money and charm, but it didn’t sound as if his life had been all that rosy.

  No. She was not going to feel sorry for Ty Macklin. Most marriages broke up for a reason, also engagements.

  She’d found her fiancé in the arms of someone else, telling the woman the same sob story about his orphaned youth and unhappy childhood that he’d used on her.

  From now on, she dealt with men with her head, not her heart.

  She attacked a carrot with the peeler and soon had the pound pack done. A companionable silence fell on the kitchen while she worked at the sink and Elena put the pies in to bake.

  Yeah, it was nice working with Elena. Four weeks of working on a ranch wasn’t a bad way to spend a vacation.

  If she could keep herself away from Ty Macklin.

  Chapter Two

  Ty Macklin strode toward the stable. The cattle were settling in the pastures behind the hay barn. The men would move them to other fields during the next few days, after they’d been checked for pinkeye, worms and other parasites.

  There was a lot of work to do. He couldn’t stand around all day, his mind on the cook’s helper like some teenager with rampant hormones.

  He walked up a row of oak trees and into the barn, where a couple of hands worked on a horse, treating it for a sore foot. He tossed the rest of the pear to the gelding he’d ridden that day.

  “Hey, boss, look at this,” Hodkin, the man in charge of the horses, called.

  He walked over and checked the hoof, which was cracked. The frog was bruised and inflamed.

  “Bad, huh?” Hodkin commented.

  “Yeah. Clean it good and rest him until it heals.” Ty pushed back his hat and glanced at the other cowhand.