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But it would be bad if he turned out to be some spoiled rich boy who thought he could boss her around or slack off on his duties thinking the poor help would gladly pull his weight. She didn’t care how good the cowboy looked in his Wranglers.
She returned to the back porch and explained to the children that they only had thirty minutes to play with their pets before it was time to put the bunnies back in the cages. Then they’d need to wash up for dinner.
Unlike her own brothers and sisters, at least one of whom surely would have had some kind of objection, Bela and Beto readily agreed.
With the start of a game plan in place, Elena returned to the kitchen and made a list for her trip to the market, including plenty of fresh fruits and veggies. She’d never wanted to be a chief cook and bottle washer, but if that was on her job description, she intended to be the very best one Braden Rayburn ever had.
* * *
By the time Braden finished up in the barn and headed for the house, dusk had settled over Brighton Valley. He was bone tired and hungry enough to eat a horse—not Chester, of course, who was practically family at the ripe old age of twenty-two. But his gut was grinding and growling to the point that he’d wolf down just about anything else.
He had no idea what Elena had planned for dinner—whether she’d cooked or if she wanted him to take them all to Caroline’s Diner. They hadn’t really talked about what her duties would be at the house. Maybe he should’ve laid out a better job description before hightailing it out to repair a corral this afternoon. Only trouble was, after lifting lumber and hammering nails for the past three hours, he didn’t feel like driving anywhere, especially with a truckload of kids.
Maybe he ought to suggest pizza. The frozen ones weren’t nearly as good as the ones he could have delivered, although neither could hold a candle to the ones made at Maestro’s. Either way, the kids probably wouldn’t complain.
As he made his way into the kitchen, he found Bela and Beto seated at the table, eating spaghetti with meat sauce that had chunks of tomato, zucchini, peppers and onion. They were so busy slurping up the noodles that they hardly looked up or even spoke to each other. But he couldn’t blame them. If the food tasted as good as it smelled and looked, he’d be in heaven before he swallowed the first bite.
His gaze lit on Elena. In a sunflower yellow half apron his mother had left behind, she looked like a beautiful domestic goddess.
She’d pulled those abundant brunette curls up into a twist—no doubt to keep them out of her face while she cooked.
What a shame. He preferred to see her hair hanging loose, the way she’d worn it when she arrived earlier.
She leaned against the kitchen counter—taking a well-earned break, he supposed—and eyed him as closely as he was studying her.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Yes, but no longer for food. However, there was no need to open that hot topic of conversation. So he said, “Dinner smells amazing.” She was amazing. “Where’d you learn to—” he swept his hand across the kitchen “—to do all of this?”
“Not in college.” She smiled, then pushed away from the counter, turned back to the overhead cupboard and removed a plate.
Okay, so she’d given him a clear reminder that she hadn’t studied to be a nanny, wife or mother. And in spite of what appeared to be a delicious meal and a tidy kitchen, her message came through loud and clear.
In fact, so did her sexy, don’t-call-me-matronly appearance. Had she done that on purpose? Had she planned to make sure that she dressed in a way that kept him from having any domestic thoughts about her?
It would seem so. That gauzy skirt and red tank top that molded to her body set his hormones pumping—even though they were slightly hidden by his mom’s apron.
Elena turned around, and in spite of holding a heaping plate of pasta loaded with sauce that must be for him, he couldn’t help but gaze at her eyes, at her face. He swallowed—hard.
Whether she realized what was going on in his testosterone-loaded bloodstream or not, she swept past him. Her light, exotic fragrance taunted him as she placed his plate on the table. “Here you go.”
“Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked.
“I don’t eat red meat. In fact, I’m practically a vegetarian.”
Seriously? It didn’t make sense that she would cook beef tonight. Most women—well, the vegetarians he’d dated in the past—would have made some kind of tofu-quinoa crap and tried to convince him and the kids how tasty it was. Although, he suspected that an old cowboy boot would have been lip-smacking good if it had simmered in that sauce long enough.
“You didn’t have to make something you weren’t going to eat,” he said. “The kids and I would have been okay with the bean burritos.”
She shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of processed food, either, so I figured you’d rather have beef.”
Sure, he liked it but he usually opted for fish or chicken when he had a choice. “The meal looks great, but what made you think I’d prefer red meat?”
“Because this is Texas. And my father told me that the Bar M will be raising cattle soon.”
“So what are you going to eat?” he asked.
“I just finished a small bowl of pasta, along with some of the veggies and sauce before I added the beef. So go ahead and have a seat. As soon as the kids are finished, I’ll take them upstairs and supervise their baths.”
Braden ate alone all the time, but for some reason, it felt awkward for him to do so tonight. Was this some passive-aggressive attempt to remind him that she was the hired help and they were not to socialize in any way?
But he was too hungry to ponder the thought, so he shook it off and said, “Sounds like a plan.” It also sounded as though she had everything under control.
Yet as she herded the kids out of the kitchen, leaving him to eat in peace and quiet, he couldn’t help watching her go—and wishing she hadn’t sworn off Texas beef and possibly even the small-town cowboys who raised them.
Chapter Three (#ulink_5693d04a-cdc6-531a-ad03-34535bcd5cf6)
Thirty minutes later, Braden had not only finished the plate Elena had fixed for him, but also the second helping he’d served himself. Then he washed the few dishes that were left in the kitchen.
On his way to his bedroom, he heard chatter in the bathroom down the hall, as well as splashing in the tub. Elena sure had the kids talking and laughing a lot. The twins deserved a little fun. Lord knows, Braden hadn’t been capable of providing them with any, which was another reason they’d be better off when his brother or sister arrived and could step in.
For a moment, his gut twisted. What if neither Jason nor Carly wanted to take on a commitment like that? He couldn’t imagine that they’d both refuse to take the kids. After all, the twins were family—blood relatives. And there was no way he’d want to see them shuffled off to foster care or...
A rustle of insecurity slid over him. If there was no other choice, he’d have to keep Beto and Bela—a scary thought.
But surely Jason or Carly would see the benefit of those children growing up with a married couple.
No, this was only a temporary gig. Braden would help out when he could, and the kids needed him now. So here he was.
Thank God he’d found Elena.
Fighting the urge to step in and see what was going on in the bathroom, he ignored the commotion and ducked into the privacy of his master suite and closed the door. Then he took a long, hot shower.
He could have remained in his steam-filled private bathroom or stretched out on his king-size bed, locked away from the hubbub, since Elena was far more competent with the children than he was. But he couldn’t help thinking that the kids could be running amok and that she might need him.
So after drying off, he slipped on a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Things had gotten quiet, so he suspected she had it all under control. But he wasn’t going to hang out in his bedroom all evening. While he was growing up, it had been the hour right before bedtime that he’d enjoyed the most. That was the time when his mom would let him snuggle in next to her on the old plaid sofa while she read to him. Or when he’d sit next to Grammy and Grandpa and watch Wheel of Fortune.
But he wasn’t the only adult in the house tonight, and he had no idea what the protocol was for the first night for strangers who had become new roommates. Either way, it seemed as if he should at least thank Elena for a job well done and a mighty fine meal.
When he stepped out into the hall, she was leaving the kids’ room. A water mark darkened the red fabric of her tank shirt, right across her left breast.
“The kids are bathed and tucked in bed,” she said.
Keep your eyes off that damned water spot. And look at her face. She’s got beautiful eyes—big, brown, expressive...
And she’s an employee, for cripes’ sake. A child-care worker. Domesticity at its finest.
But she wasn’t giving him any reason to think about kids or home and hearth at the moment.
Again, he shook off the sexual distraction and asked, “How about a cup of coffee?”
“Caffeine would keep me awake. But I might have a Popsicle instead.”
He laughed. “That sounds good to me, too.”
“I’m going to pick up the mess the kids left in the family room first. I would have asked them to do it themselves, but by the time I got them settled down and in bed, I didn’t want to rile them up again.”
“Good idea. Isn’t there an old saying about letting sleeping children lie?”
She lobbed him a bright-eyed grin. “I think you mean ‘dogs,’ but it’s pretty much the same thing.”
He stepped aside and swept his arm in front of him. “I’ll help. After you.”
As she passed by him, he caught another whiff of her floral scent and watched as the hem of her skirt swept across her shapely calves.
Damn, she was lovely. What in the hell had made him think his problems were finally solved now that she was here?
As they headed to the family room, where coloring pages, crayons and workbooks were spread about, Braden said, “I really enjoyed dinner.”
“Thanks. When I moved in with my dad, one of my first chores was to help Laura in the kitchen.”
Laura? Not Mom? Then it dawned on him. “I hadn’t realized that Laura wasn’t your...” His words drifted off. He hadn’t meant to probe into her personal life. But he’d seen Paco and Laura Ramirez together with their other children in town and at the feed store on many occasions and had assumed the happy couple had always been together.
Then again, Elena had to be seven or eight years older than their first born son, who was a star quarterback on the Brighton Valley High football team.
“My mom died when I was twelve,” Elena added.
“I’m sorry.” Braden rarely talked about his past, but for some crazy reason, he found himself saying, “But you’re lucky to have a father like Paco. My dad was never really involved in my life.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d opened up about that. He never hinted at any chinks in his armor and, while Elena’s disclosure had caused him to lower his guard, he wasn’t about to say any more than he already had.
But the truth of the matter was, from what he’d observed of the man, he would have given up his share of the Rayburn riches to have had a father like hers.
“Actually,” Elena said, as she placed the last crayon in the box, “my early years weren’t sunshine and roses.”
Her comment took him aback. “Your dad seems like he has it all together. Your mom—well, I mean Laura—does, too.”
“My dad’s awesome. And Laura is the best, but I didn’t spend much time with them until I was older. And when I did visit them as a little girl, it was always pretty stressful. My real mom made life rough for all of us.”
Braden wanted to ask, “How so?” But he never liked people prying into his business—or the awkward relationship between his mom and dad. From the first week of kindergarten, Braden had learned that his family situation wasn’t the norm and he’d always been interested in what happened inside other kids’ families and what he was missing out on. So he kept quiet, hoping she’d continue.
After a long, thought-filled moment, she said, “My parents got married right out of high school, and I was born six months later. But they fought all the time and separated right after my third birthday.”
“It sounds like splitting up was for the best.”
“That’s true. Unfortunately, my mom was one of those people who thrived on drama and conflict. And she always wanted to have the last word. Believe it or not, their divorce proceedings lasted longer than the marriage.”
“That’s too bad. I know some people can remain friends during a split like that, but from what I’ve heard, my father’s first divorce was pretty sticky, too.”
“I can understand that.”
Could she? Apparently the Brighton Valley rumor mill made sure town newcomers got the scoop, especially on the neighbors who’d moved on to greener pastures, leaving a few locals behind to deal with the embarrassment of dalliances and indiscretions. But then again, Shannon Miller’s situation had been juicy. When Braden had been conceived, Shannon was only seventeen. And at the time, his father was still married to Jason’s mother.
Elena reached for a couple of puzzle pieces that had fallen on the floor. After replacing them into their box, she stretched and arched her back, her hands splayed on her hips, her breasts begging to be noticed.
And he’d noticed, all right, but he’d be damned if he wanted her to catch him at it.
“My dad tried to be fair with my mom so they could put it all behind them,” she added. “But she fought him on every possible issue, using me as a pawn and making my life miserable until I was in the sixth grade. In fact, even though I was only a kid, I felt sorry for him—and a bit guilty, although I know it hadn’t been my fault.”
Braden had struggled with guilt as a kid, too. And he’d been as much of a victim as anyone in his parents’ affair.
“You said it lasted until you were in the sixth grade,” he said. “Is that when she finally quit fighting him?”
“Only because she died.” Elena crossed her arms. “I swear she used to lie awake thinking of ways to create problems for him. And then she’d have to medicate herself to finally go to sleep. But one night, she took too many of her pills.”
“Suicide?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. That might have been her plan because she’d driven to the liquor store for a bottle of vodka. But on the way home, she lost control of her car and ran into a tree. She was probably just strung out on the meds, but who knows what she was thinking at the time. The police ruled it an accident.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thanks. It was tough, but to be honest, I was torn between grief at losing her and relief that the fighting and misery were finally over.”
Braden’s parents hadn’t really fought, at least, not that he knew of. But their relationship had always been strained and tense, something he’d often thought was all because of him. If he hadn’t been conceived, they would have each gone their own way.
His mom wouldn’t have had to face the guilt she sometimes carried for being a “home wrecker,” either.
He suspected that was one reason she’d never gotten married—or really even dated before she recently ran into her old high school boyfriend at the hospital. Braden had asked her about it once, why she’d kept to herself and remained single, but she’d refused to discuss it.
Was it any wonder he wasn’t able to see romance as an end-all answer to life’s problems? That’s why he kept his relationships temporary and unencumbered. Well, for that reason and for a rather hurtful snub he’d received in high school by one of the cheerleaders.
But he wasn’t going to stew on any of that. Sometimes people got a raw deal in life, although he counted himself lucky in every other way.
“Now that the mess is cleaned up,” Elena said, “how about that Popsicle?”
“You bet.”
As they entered the kitchen, he said, “I realize things haven’t always been easy for you, but it sounds as if you’ve made the best of it.”
“I’ve been fortunate,” Elena admitted. “But it was still hard moving in with my dad and Laura. I’m so much older than the other kids. In fact, I still don’t feel as though I really fit in.”
Braden could certainly understand why she wouldn’t. He and his siblings had never been close, mostly because they’d had different mothers and had always lived apart, other than holidays and shared visits with Granny Rayburn on the Leaning R Ranch.
“It’s not fun being a half sibling. If you’re like me, you never felt as if you belonged in the same family.” Once the words rolled out, he wished he could reel them back. He didn’t like revealing any emotional vulnerability, although her raw self-disclosure had triggered him to lower his guard.
“Actually,” Elena said, “no one ever made that distinction about me. I’m always introduced as their daughter or as the other kids’ sister. And vice versa. So I don’t know why I feel that way.” She opened the freezer, removed the brightly colored box and opened it. Then she handed him a red Popsicle.
“Thanks.”
