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Chapter Two
“Who is this?”
Sara raised her brows in innocence, then looked down at the child who had plastered herself to Sara’s side. “You mean, Misty? She’s my daughter. Misty, say hi to Mr. Slade.”
Misty didn’t utter so much as a peep.
“Why is she sitting in my truck?”
Sara set a pair of headphones over Misty’s ears, then started the Baby Beluga tape she’d readied in the event Mr. Slade opposed her plan. “You didn’t expect me to leave her alone in the motel room, did you?”
“I didn’t expect her at all.” Ethan frowned at the suitcase. “What’s that for?”
“I wasn’t sure I’d get a ride back so I brought a few things in case we have to spend the night.” In fact, Sara was counting on it. She’d already checked out of the motel, hoping to save a couple of nights’ rent.
“You’re not spending the night.”
“But it makes sense.”
“Not to me.”
“Don’t you think you should get in? Standing on the sidewalk isn’t going to solve anything.”
Ethan climbed behind the wheel, his expression grim as he stared straight ahead. “You don’t understand.”
“Is it the owner? Do you think he’d have a problem with me staying in his house?”
“Possibly.”
Sara rubbed her left temple. She hadn’t considered that problem. But, of course, she was a stranger to this man, and whoever owned the house. “You said the owner doesn’t live there anymore, right?”
He nodded, slowly turning to look at her.
She gave him a bright smile. “Then surely there isn’t anything of value left in the house.”
His head jerked a little, almost as though she’d struck out at him.
“I only meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about me stealing anything.” Heat climbed her face, and she automatically slipped an arm around Misty. “Not that I’m a thief. But I am a stranger to you.”
He shook his head, and brought his troubled gaze to hers. “The thought never crossed my mind. What about you? Aren’t you concerned about me?”
She stared back at him, wondering what had made his eyes so sad. They were a warm shade of brown, a sort of milk chocolate color, but they lacked sparkle or expression. “I asked around about you.”
He seemed to tense, then looked straight ahead again.
That made her all the more curious. Neither of the two people besides Judy that she’d asked had had an unkind thing to say about Ethan Slade. In fact, they wouldn’t say much at all. Only that he was an honorable man, and she needn’t worry. She’d shoved her curiosity aside and asked no more questions. She wouldn’t ask him any either. She of all people knew the importance of privacy. Of keeping secrets.
“Shouldn’t we get moving before it gets too late?” she prompted, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.
He stared in silence for another minute, and when he finally turned the key and started the engine, her breath slipped out in relief.
“Certain rooms will be off limits to both you and your daughter,” he said, without looking at her. “I’ll point them out as soon as we get there. About food for tonight and tomorrow morning…,” he slid her a look, and she was surprised to see concern in his eyes. “There may be a few canned goods, but nothing else. I can’t even be sure the refrigerator is still working.”
“No problem. We still have a jar of peanut butter and crackers and a couple of bananas. We’ll be fine.”
His concern gave way to curiosity, but he said nothing as he returned his attention to the road.
Sara used the lengthening silence to remind herself to say as little as possible. She didn’t need Ethan’s, or anyone else’s curiosity stirred. Cal had too many connections, knew too many people. If he decided he gave half a damn about either her or Misty, he might be inclined to search for them. Not that she thought he would suddenly discover love in his heart. He simply didn’t like losing…especially not what he considered his possessions.
She stared out at the scenery, fascinated by the vast expanse of land and rock formations. In some places the land looked too parched, and in general, it was on the arid side, but somehow the desolation added to its beauty. So unlike Dallas, where she’d spent her entire life. If she weren’t so darn scared, this would have been a great adventure.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, turning to Ethan.
“All my life.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He nodded.
She waited, hoped he’d say something else. It appeared she’d have a heck of a long wait. Misty was still happily listening to her tape, even though it probably was for the hundredth time, so Sara decided to leave well enough alone and continue to enjoy the scenery.
After another five-minute stretch of silence, she asked, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your nieces?”
He looked startled. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just making conversation.” She sighed, and mumbled, “Sorry,” before she let her gaze stray out the window again.
A minute later he said, “It’s been a long time. About six years.”
Sara smiled to herself. Progress. She waited another minute, then said, “How old are they?”
“Twelve and six.”
Six? Only a year older than Misty. Excitement simmered in Sara’s chest. “How long will they be here?”
“Until Christmas.”
He turned down a long dusty road that seemed to go nowhere, and she remained quiet, forcing herself to breathe slowly. His younger niece’s company would be great for Misty, and surely he wasn’t equipped to care for the two girls by himself. Whereas Sara was really good with children. And the isolation of the ranch was perfect. If Cal were looking…
Her heart started to hammer at the thought she might be able to give Misty a decent Christmas after all. Now, all she had to do was convince Ethan Slade that for the next two weeks, she was indispensable to him.
“THE KITCHEN is that way.” Ethan gestured to his left. “I’ll show you the two rooms the girls will be using.”
“Wait a minute.” She finished settling Misty on the couch with her headphones. “Can’t we go peek in the kitchen? I have a feeling that’s where most of my elbow grease will be needed.”
“Later. After I leave.” He started down the long hall, his chest tightening as he approached the master bedroom. The one that had once been used by his parents and then by him and Emily.
The kitchen, he wasn’t ready to face. Emily had spent too much time there, cooking and canning and proudly gazing out at her vegetable garden. The patch of land was surely nothing but weeds now, but the memories would still be thriving.
He hadn’t managed to lose the lump in his throat that had formed when the house had come into view, and the sooner he got out of here the better. “This room here—”
He frowned at the empty hall behind him, then started to retrace his steps. Where the hell was Sara?
She was standing in the middle of the family room, slowly running her hand over the intricate details of the mahogany rocker his grandfather had carved. For whatever reason, it was the only piece of furniture in the room not covered by a white sheet.
She looked up. “This is beautiful.” Her gaze wandered toward the dirty windows framing a portion of the San Juan Mountains. “And the view…” She shook her head. “It’s a shame no one lives here anymore.”
“You can look at all this later,” he said gruffly, which earned him a quizzical look. “I want to show you the bedrooms, then I have to go.”
“All right.” Her hand fell from the chair, and she started toward him. But then she stopped, and so did he.
“What now?”
She was staring at the stone fireplace. “Over in that corner,” she said with a jerk of her chin. “Is that where you’re putting the tree?”
“What tree?”
She looked at him like he’d grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. “The Christmas tree, of course.”
Ethan groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not getting one. We don’t have any ornaments anyway.”
She shrugged. “It might be fun for the girls to make some.”
“No tree.” He stalked down the hall without turning to see if she’d followed. But she sure as hell had better be right behind him, or…
She was. “Why not?”
He briefly closed his eyes. “Because I don’t have time to find one or worry about decorations.”
“I can do that.”
“You won’t be here.”
“Oh.” She drew in her lower lip for a moment, then opened her mouth, but at his warning look, promptly shut it again.
He opened the bedroom door, and musty, dusty air poured out, throwing them both into fits of coughing. Quickly, he brought his attack under control, but Sara seemed to be gasping for breath.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, coughed, then gasped.
He circled his fingers around her upper arm and drew her away from the room. She felt tiny, fragile, where her arm should have been more meaty.
Peanut butter and crackers.
Was that her staple? Was that all she could afford?
He kept his hand wrapped around her arm, not sure if she needed him to steady her, as he opened a window. Frosty air snaked down the hall, but at least she’d stopped coughing.
She took a couple of shallow breaths and shifted her arm. He got the message and released her.
“Okay?” he asked, ducking his head to get a better look at her face. Her color was high and her eyes too bright but she quickly nodded.
“I’m fine, really.” She took a deeper breath. “I had a touch of asthma as a child and occasionally I have a slight attack. Nothing to worry about,” she added hastily. “I outgrew it in my teens.”
The information bothered Ethan. He wasn’t sure she should be doing this kind of work. “Look, Sara—”
She touched his arm, alarm in her eyes. “Please, don’t withdraw the job offer.” She lifted her chin. “I need the work.”
Ah, hell. Why did she have to look at him with those big pleading blue eyes like that? “Wait here a minute.”
He returned to the room, flipping on the ceiling fan on his way to the window. Good thing Sam had talked him into keeping the utilities turned on. Of course Sam thought Ethan would have tired of the caretaker’s shack and returned by now. It wasn’t that simple.
The window was old and stubborn from lack of use, but he finally managed to open it halfway. More cold air swirled through the room, but it sure beat letting the musty stagnant air suffocate them.
He went to the next room and did the same thing. On his way out to call Sara, he saw Emily’s sewing basket sitting on the oak dresser. His heart thumped as memories of them sitting by the fire sliced through him as cleanly as a knife through pudding.
She’d loved working with her hands, and she’d loved Christmas. Around July she’d always started sewing and knitting presents. He still had every sweater she’d knitted him. They were all in boxes he never opened.
“Ethan?”
He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there staring, when Sara’s troubled voice drifted to him. Silently he cleared his throat as he saw her in the doorway. Her nose was still red from her coughing fit, and so were her cheeks. She looked about sixteen. “I was trying to air out the rooms.”
She sniffed. “It’s better already. I take it this is the other room you want me to get ready?” She started to cross the threshold, but he stepped forward, causing her to stop.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes to air out. I’ll show you where the bathrooms are.” His tone was apparently too abrupt because she looked at him with a mixture of concern and fear, and took a wobbly step backward.
He didn’t have the words to fend off her fears, so he merely gave her a wide berth as he passed her. “I think one bathroom will be enough for the girls,” he said as he peered through the open door just down the hall.
The walls were covered with a startling pink wallpaper, the tile floor only a couple of shades lighter. It was one of two guest bathrooms, and Emily had insisted on the colorful decor. He’d truly hated it the first day she unveiled her handiwork, but she’d said bright colors boosted her spirits. And that had been enough for Ethan.
He thought he heard Sara chuckle, and he glanced over his shoulder. She smiled, her teeth perfectly straight and as white as new snow.
“How old did you say your older niece is?” she asked, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
“Twelve. Maybe thirteen.”
“I wouldn’t count on one bathroom being enough.”
He rubbed the side of his neck. “Why not?”
There was that twinkle in her eyes again. Made her look real pretty. “Because girls that age notoriously take hours getting ready.”
“Ready to do what?”
“Anything.”
Ethan shook his head. It was going to be a long two weeks ahead of him.
