The Rancher And The Redhead

But not yet, damn you.

One eye flew open. The angle of the morning sun falling through his bedroom window was a lot higher than it should have been. And there was something he ought to remember...Jessie!

Sam jackknifed out of bed. He was leaning over the empty playpen in the next room before the sleep cleared from his groggy brain, and for an awful moment of panic and guilt he thought he’d misplaced her. Then he heard baby gurgles and Roni’s soft laughter floating from the direction of the kitchen.

He took only a second to pull on jeans, then came up short in the doorway of the large country kitchen. Stretched out on the rag rug underneath the trestle table was a pair of long, long feminine legs and a shapely behind. She was decent only by the length of a man’s shirttail.

“Peekaboo, Jessie. Where’s Jessie?”

Roni peered around a chair leg at the little girl, who clapped and bounced on her diaper-clad bottom in delight at the game, then took off scrambling on all fours around the opposite side of the table. Roni came to her knees, too, stalking her prey with a mock ferocity that made the child squeal—just like a calf stuck in a fence, Sam thought.

Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, he grinned, remembering times past when he and Kenny and Roni had played much the same kind of game in this very kitchen, building imaginary forts and corrals in and among the chair rungs, fighting off savage Indians and rustlers with their trusty six-guns. Of course, at that time none of them had sported anything like the provocative candy-pink lace he glimpsed peeking from beneath the hem of the old white dress shirt Roni had slept in.

After an instant’s honest masculine appreciation, he dragged his gaze reluctantly to a more respectful perusal of the rich brown sleep-tousled curls spilling down the middle of her back. Though she liked to keep her mop ruthlessly clipped back and tidy these days, it was still more than clear why she’d earned her nickname. He’d teased her unmercifully about her mane one summer—at least until she’d bloodied his nose with an uppercut that had laid him out flat and taught him a valuable lesson about women.

Chuckling at the memory, he watched Roni creep after Jessie, poking her way through a litter of oat cereal “O’s” and discarded paper napkins. It was an amazement and a miracle to him that his childhood playmate was still such an important part of his life. He was selfishly glad she’d finally had the good sense to break things off with that no-good jet-setting scoundrel she’d been involved with and come home to Flat Fork where she belonged.

The mess he’d made with Shelly had made him gun-shy when it came to matters of the heart, and if it hadn’t been for Roni Daniels bullying him back into life, he surely would have become a hermit. Instead, over their Friday-night beers at Rosie’s, she’d cajoled him and talked him into reentering life while nursing her own bruised heart.

Sam didn’t know what he would have done without her, and now, here she was again, pitching in like the true pal she was, giving him her unequivocal support to a decision that no doubt half the county would consider as cracked as the Liberty Bell.

And, on top of that, she’d taken the early shift.

“Morning, you two.”

Jessie’s russet curls bobbed at the sound of Sam’s sleep-husky voice, and her blue eyes widened in recognition. Forgetting the game, she scrambled madly across the floor toward him with a squeal. “Da!”

She was irresistible. Sam bent and scooped the tyke into his arms as Roni sat back on her heels and eyed the duo.

“So what am I now, chopped liver?” she mock complained.

Sam grinned. “Sorry, Curly. Can I help it if women of all ages find me fascinating?”

Roni gave an indelicate snort. “You wish, cowboy.”

Hauling herself to her feet, she flicked her dark hair over her shoulders and straightened the oversize shirt. From the stains on the front, Jessie’s first breakfast in her new home had been a challenging experience. Ocher and peach-colored splatters dotted the fabric, but not quite enough to obscure the faint dark shadows of Roni’s nipples showing beneath the white cotton.

Sam frowned to himself. Now why had he noticed that? Roni was his buddy, like the sister he never had. Still, he wouldn’t have been much of a man not to appreciate the way the crests of her full bosom poked against...

“Ready for a taste?” Roni sashayed to the counter and lifted a cup in an invitation that slid in under Sam’s defenses and landed hot in his belly.

Hell, yes! He’d like to taste those impudent buds, lave them with his tongue right through the thin cotton until the fabric was wet and transparent and so was...

Roni was frowning at his lack of response. “Sam? Your coffee?”

Savagely, Sam reigned in his meandering thoughts. Jeez, he’d been without female companionship way too long when he started fantasizing about Curly! The last thing he wanted was to spoil their friendship with inappropriate lasciviousness.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He shifted the chortling baby to the opposite shoulder and shook his groggy head. Yeah, that was it. He was still sleep-muddled. “You should have gotten me up sooner.”

She passed him a mug of steaming coffee, shrugging. “You obviously needed the rest. And Jessie and I have been getting acquainted. She’s quite a charmer.”

As if in response, the little girl nestled her cheek in the hollow of Sam’s collarbone and batted her long eyelashes at him in a look that was pure coquettishness. “Da?”

Sam’s laugh was helpless. “I’m a goner, as you can see.”

“Yes, indeed.” Roni cupped her hands around her own mug and gazed at him over the rim, her brown eyes serious. “Sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“No.” The twist of his mouth was wry. “But I’m in over my head, and it’s too late now.”

“Then I’ll help you all I can,” she said simply.

Her unqualified generosity produced a suspicious thickness in his throat. “Thanks, Curly. I—I don’t quite know what to say.”

“Just tell me what you want for breakfast, because I think that’s Angel’s old truck I hear coming down the lane, and you’ve got some bulls to see to.”

“Damn! He’s here already? I’m running later than I thought.” He took a step toward the bedroom, hesitated as he realized he still held Jessie, then passed her off to Roni with an apologetic look. “Sorry. Can you stay a bit? Just until we get the livestock loaded.”

“Relax, Sam. Everything’s under control.” Roni tickled the baby’s chin and was rewarded with a giggle. “You see to those bulls, and I’ll give Krystal a call about prospective housekeepers.”

He shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “That would be a big help.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Krystal and I will have something worked out by suppertime.” Roni bounced the baby on her hip, her smile complacent. “After all, Jessie’s a doll. How hard could it be?”

Two

“So what’s wrong with this one?”

“Her nose is too long.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Sam flung his pencil down on a list of crossed-out names and glared in exasperation at Roni over the charred crusts of their frozen pizza lunch.

“Well, figuratively speaking, anyway,” she muttered, folding one of Jessie’s gowns and placing it in a plastic laundry basket with the rest of the baby’s clean things. “Mrs. Hawkins is the worst gossip in town. She’ll spend all of her time talking on the phone instead of looking after Jessie.”

“Well, what about Laurie Taylor?”

“She’s barely out of high school. Do you want all her randy boyfriends hanging around all the time?”

Sam reared back in his chair, eyeing Roni with a degree of belligerence. In her paint-spattered T-shirt, cutoffs and bare feet, she didn’t look much older than a teenager herself. And when she was in one of her ornery moods—as now—Sam was of the opinion that what she really needed was a darned good spanking. “You suggest someone then.”

“Agnes Phillips,” she said promptly.

“What?” His chair legs hit the floor with a smack. “She’s so old, she creaks when she walks—or rather, shuffles.” Sam gestured to where Jessie sat on the kitchen floor, babbling to herself and playing with an assortment of pots and wooden spoons. “She couldn’t keep up with the little trickster here for ten seconds.”

Roni merely shrugged. “Then you’ll just have to keep looking, won’t you?”

Sam scowled, rubbed his palms down his sweat-stained jeans and began to roll up the cuffs of his long-sleeved chambray work shirt with every evidence of severe irritation. Punching cows since dawn hadn’t done much for his mood, and Roni’s stubbornness wasn’t helping.

“We’ve been interviewing for three days now, Curly. We’re no closer to hiring anyone than when we started, and the county welfare worker is due out here at three to see how everything’s going. What am I going to tell her?”

“That you’re still interviewing applicants. No one expects miracles in just a few short days.”

He grimaced sourly. “Yeah, but at the rate we’re going, we’ll run out of Flat Fork residents before I find a suitable housekeeper.”

Roni bristled. “I can’t help it that you’re so darned picky.”

“Me? You rejected the most promising candidates out of hand.” Sam ticked off names on the list. “Davina Hodge is too strict. Mrs. Rambles is too wishy-washy. Cloretha Glover has bad breath.”

“Well, you can’t settle for just anyone as Jessie’s primary caretaker. This decision is too important to rush.” Finished with her chore, she plopped the laundry basket down beside the door. “Besides, I told you my deadline for the Artbeat cover illustration isn’t for three weeks, so I don’t mind helping out.”

“But you can’t camp out here indefinitely,” he argued.

Her lips twisted with wry humor. “I know I’m not much of a cook, but I didn’t realize I’d worn out my welcome already.”

“Hey, even incinerated pizza tastes good after a morning vaccinating calves—” He saw her expression and added hastily, “Not that I’m complaining. I appreciate all you’re doing.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, uh—” He shifted uncomfortably. “Aw, hell, Curly! What’re folks liable to say, seeing as how you’ve practically moved in with me?”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “They’ll say that I’m just helping out a buddy until he gets this daddy thing under control. Since you’re so busy catching up on the work that accumulated while you were away, it’s simply more convenient for me to sleep here, and easier on Jessie, too.”

“I just don’t want you to catch any guff—”

“The only thing I’m liable to catch is a backache from that lumpy twin bed in Jessie’s room. And maybe ptomaine from all the prepared food we’ve had out of your freezer. Don’t cowboys ever eat salad or fresh vegetables?”

“Not if we can help it.” Her dismissal of his concern and return to her normal teasing made him relax, and his lips twitched. “But maybe I could force some down if it’s accompanied by a nice, thick T-bone steak.”

Her brown eyes lit up. “You offering to grill them?”

“Yup.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

On the floor, Jessie had abandoned her spoons and sat rubbing her eyes and fretting softly. Scooping up the baby, Roni cuddled her close. Jessie immediately stuck her thumb in her mouth and buried her other fist into Roni’s hair in what was fast becoming a familiar habit. While the child seemed to be settling in, she alternated periods of normal behavior with listlessness or extreme irritability—a sure sign that she was grieving for her missing mother. And all the more reason to provide a loving and dependable daily caretaker as soon as possible, Sam thought.

“She’s tired,” Roni said.

“Want me to rock her?”

Roni dropped a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “No, I’ll do it. But since you’ve got to hang around to meet the caseworker, I’m going to run home for a change of clothes while she’s napping.”

“Sure. Take as much time as you need.” Sam nodded, guilty that his new status as dad was disrupting Roni’s routine. Despite her protests to the contrary, he knew that her career was booming and that her schedule was fairly tight. If he didn’t hire someone soon, Roni’s work would suffer and then he’d really be wallowing in the guilt.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. A flock of butterflies seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his belly at the enormity of what he was doing. But he’d promised Alicia he’d take care of her daughter, and he was a man of his word.

“I won’t be long,” Roni said, settling the tired baby against her shoulder. “I’ll pick up the dinner fixings and give Krystal a holler, too. Maybe she can think of someone else who might be interested in the housekeeper’s position.”

Picking up the list again, Sam stared at it gloomily. “And anyone whose name isn’t Mary Poppins need not apply.”

Laughing at his morose expression, she turned and headed for Jessie’s room. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’m sure the perfect solution is right under our noses. It’s simply a matter of finding it.”

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Roni pulled her Jeep into Krystal Harrison’s sunny driveway. She felt rather breathless after her quick trip home. Since her widowed mother, Carolyn, had married hardware store owner Jinks Robinson and moved to Austin, Roni had the tiny Daniels homestead to herself, but today the house had seemed more silent and solitary than usual.

She’d lingered only long enough to check her mail and pick up clean clothes, then headed to the tiny Flat Fork post office to express a piece of advertising art that should have gone off two days earlier. She followed a stop by the library to pick up the latest child development and parenting guides with a visit to the Winn-Dixie for groceries. One more stop to pick Krystal’s brain for potential housekeepers, and then she could be on her way back to Sam’s place. Roni anxiously hoped that he’d managed to hold down the fort without her.

A trio of towheaded wild Indians erupted from the carport of the single-story brick ranch house that matched its neighbors in this small, tree-lined subdivision.

“Aunt Roni!”

“Hey, Mom. Aunt Roni’s here!”

“Did ya bring us anything?”

Roni reached for the packs of sugarless bubble gum Krystal’s boys had come to expect, then hastily tucked the hem of a scarlet silk-and-lace teddy back out of sight in her tote bag. No use giving the little rascals any embarrassing fodder for their question mill. After all, if a gal had a secret hankering for flimsy underthings, it was nobody’s business but her own.

In a town where the pace of life was slow and casual, Roni didn’t have much call for the slinky, sexy dresses she’d worn when she’d been continually on Jackson Dial’s arm. But just because her working attire was jeans and T-shirts, and her going-out attire was clean jeans and a T-shirt, didn’t mean she’d lost her love of feminine frills altogether. In a small, churchgoing town like Flat Fork, however, it was better to keep one’s scandalous predilections private.

“Hello, boys. Yes, here you go.” Stepping out of the Jeep, Roni passed out gum to Kevin, Kelly and Karl amid a profusion of thanks. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the backyard,” Kelly replied. “She says to come on back.”

Roni grinned and ruffled the third grader’s fair bangs. “Thanks.”

“You gonna come watch me play tee-ball Saturday?” four-year-old Karl demanded.

“I’m sure going to try, partner.” Roni walked through the carport into the spacious backyard littered with an assortment of balls, bats and toy trucks. Krystal, a petite blonde with a short wedge haircut, hailed her from a lounge chair on the brick patio.

“You’re just in time for something cool,” she said, pouring a tall glass of ice tea from a plastic pitcher on a nearby snack table. “It’s the lull before the suppertime, homework and ‘oh-Mom-do-I-have-to-go-to-bed-now’ storm.”

“Sounds good.” Roni flung herself down in a matching chair, smiling. Though she might complain about it, Krystal’s day-to-day family life was bursting with energy and her home full of love—something that Roni thought any woman would envy.

“I can’t stay but a minute,” she said. “I’m already much later than I thought I’d be, and Sam’s just about helpless when Jessie gets into her evening snit.”

Krystal handed the glass to Roni. “Seems to me he’d better learn to handle it if he means to keep her.”

“Oh, he does! You should just see how he melts when she bats her baby blues at him. It’s the cutest thing you ever saw.”

“Who?” Krystal smirked. “Jessie or Sam?”

Roni laughed and sipped her tea. “Well, both of them, I guess. She’s got a temper to match those red curls, but she’s a sweetheart. I swear she’s already calling Sam ‘Da-Da.’ He’s just wild to find a housekeeper so she can have some sort of routine, but so far, no luck at all.”

“None of the ladies I suggested were interested?” Krystal asked incredulously.

Roni shook her head. “Well, some of them were interested, but Sam’s so hard to please.” She explained who had been interviewed and the various reasons they’d been found unsuitable. “You don’t know of anyone else, do you?”

Frowning, Krystal hesitated. “I’ll have to think about it. In the meantime, I suppose Sam could enroll Jessie in Pharis Fitzgerald’s Mother Goose Day Care.”

“What? Drag that baby out of her bed at the crack of dawn every morning and leave her with a bunch of strangers until dusk? Out of the question!” Roni blushed at her own vehemence. “I mean, I’m sure Sam wants to keep her at home. She’s been through so many changes, you see, and she gets upset easily—”

“Sounds to me as though you don’t want to find someone to hire.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Roni brushed her curls out of her hot face. “I simply want Sam to find the best person for the job.”

“So you can get on with your highly exciting life, right?” Krystal nodded sagely. “You can’t fool me, Roni Daniels. You’re having a whale of a time mothering that baby.”

Roni laughed, unable to deny the accusation. “Can I help it if I’m a pushover for redheaded cherubs?”

“Got it that bad, huh? So tell me, how’s it really going? Everyone in this town is mighty interested in what’s happening with that baby...and you.”

“Me?” Roni blinked. “Why me?”

Krystal gave her friend a disgusted look. “You must be the only female in this town immune to Sam Preston’s sex appeal. Do I have to draw you a picture? You, plus Sam, plus one adorable orphan, emotions running high, close proximity—”

“Sheesh, Krystal, not you, too!” Roni took a long pull of her ice tea. “I’m just being a good neighbor.”

“And you never noticed that Sam Preston is one handsome hunk of raw masculinity?”

Roni fought back a mental flash of Sam clad only in a towel, and said loftily, “I admire Sam for a lot of reasons. He’s my best friend, after all.”

“Let me tell you, there are plenty of single ladies in this town who’d give their right arms to be in your shoes—especially Nadine Scott.”

Roni grimaced. Nadine was the new hospital administrator who’d gone out with Sam a couple of times. “Well, she can stop holding her breath. There’s nothing happening between her and Sam.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. Said she’s too aggressive and wears too much makeup. I happen to agree.”

Krystal laughed and crossed her ankles on the lounger. “So that’s what you two talk about every Friday night. You dissect each other’s dates.”

“Not always. Well, sometimes,” Roni admitted grudgingly. “Sam warned me Tully Carson was a card-carrying chauvinist. Boy, was he right.”

“The way the two of you rip each other’s suitors to shreds, it’s a wonder you have any social life at all. And Sam’s going to need one now more than ever.”

“What do you mean?”

“While everyone applauds his good intentions regarding little Jessie, that baby’s going to need a mother. But the way things are, no eligible single gal can get to Sam because she has to go through you.”

Totally taken aback, Roni could only stare. “I—I never thought of that.”

“You have to admit that Sam’s one of the few genuinely nice men left around here.”

“Of course he is.”

“Not like Jackson.”

Roni’s lips twisted. “Certainly not like Jackson Dial.”

Krystal searched her friend’s expression. “You’re really over him, aren’t you?”

“After two years, the hurt fades. I could kick myself for sticking it out so long, hoping—” She shook her head.

“He’s got a new movie out, I see.”

“Yes, I know. Apache Tears. I actually did some of the preliminary sketches for the art direction. For free, of course. That’s Jackson’s style.” Shaking off the feeling of failure that remembering their relationship always evoked, she set down her glass and rose. “I’ve got to run. Call me if you think of anyone else who might want the housekeeper’s position, okay?”

Minutes later Roni sped down the two-lane blacktop toward the Lazy Diamond, chewing her lip in worry. Could Krystal be right? Had she been doing Sam a disservice by monopolizing his time, to the detriment of any other relationship he might develop? Sam was such a decent man, he deserved a woman who would adore him, someone unlike Shelly, who’d appreciate his strong ties to the land and the little community he called home.

Forcing herself to look at the situation with brutal honesty, Roni had to admit that she’d grown to depend on Sam’s steadfastness, his lazy humor, the easy, accepting friendship. Since her return, he’d been her sounding board and her shield against loneliness. Now the realization that in her need she’d been depriving him of the chance to find someone special filled her with guilty remorse.

Krystal was absolutely on target. Sam needed a wife and a mother for Jessie, but he was unlikely to find one with Roni in the picture. If she really loved Sam as a friend, then the most generous thing she could do would be to step back so that nature could take its course—even if Sam ended up with someone like Nadine Scott. The image made her lips twist in distaste.

Swallowing hard, Roni pushed the sensation aside. Whatever happened, Sam had to be free to make his own choices. Just as soon as they settled the housekeeper situation, she’d have to start disconnecting herself from her dependency on Sam—for his own good. It was the right thing to do. So why, then, did the thought weigh so heavily on her heart?

Roni was still struggling with this quandary when she parked the Jeep at the ranch house. Juggling two brown paper bags of groceries, she started up the porch steps, only to be met by the sound of Jessie’s wails coming from the rear of the house.

She rushed to set her burdens down on the kitchen table, calling out as she went. “Sam, I’m back. What’s the matter with Jessie?”

There was no answer but the baby’s continued sobbing, and alarm raced down Roni’s backbone. She hurried to Jessie’s room, appalled to find her in her playpen, red-faced, alone and wailing as if her heart were broken.

“Oh, honey!” Roni’s heart tightened at the upsetting sight, and her anger blossomed. Where the devil was Sam? How could he have left the child all alone? Lifting Jessie into her arms, she tried to calm the baby. “Hush, Jessie. Roni’s here. It’s all right.”

The tiny girl clutched at Roni’s hair, arched her back and howled in earnest, giant crocodile tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“Come on now, sweetie,” Roni said.

A quick check found Jessie’s diaper dry, and an almost-full bottle in the corner of the playpen proved it wasn’t hunger that fueled the baby’s ire. Noticing the child’s hot cheeks and sweaty neck, Roni carried her to the bathroom for a cooling cloth. But the damp washcloth only infuriated the child even further, and she kicked and squirmed and screamed in a pure tantrum of ill-tempered misery.