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“If you’re going to have your own bathroom, the two girls could probably work it out sharing one.” She ducked past him to get a look inside, and a subtle fragrance drifted up to him. From her hair. It smelled like roses.
“Well, this certainly is an interesting color.” She stepped inside and swiped the wall. Her palm came up brown, and she wrinkled her nose. “Wow! How long did you say it’s been since anyone lived here?”
“Six years.” Six years, one month and three days. “The girls will have the bathroom to themselves. I live in the caretaker’s place.”
She turned to him with wide eyes. “You’re leaving them alone here?”
“No. My—” He caught himself, paused, then gestured with his chin toward the east pasture. “Sam, the Double S foreman, lives in the bunkhouse nearby. Along with about half a dozen ranch hands.”
“Are they all men?”
He nodded slowly.
“You can’t do that.”
Ethan sighed. “I’ll see the girls every day.”
She put a hand on her hip. A slim but nicely rounded hip. “That isn’t the point.”
“I know every single one of those men. There isn’t a thing to worry about.”
“But they’re only children, you can’t—”
She stopped abruptly at Ethan’s warning look. He wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t dealt with the persistence of a woman in a long time, or because it was this woman in particular. But she sure was getting under his skin.
He did feel a little bad, though, seeing the alarm narrow her eyes and the way her body tensed. Made him wonder about her husband, and why she was traveling alone, or why she needed the job. He wouldn’t ask. It’d likely invite questions about himself.
She rubbed a hand up her arm and gave him a measuring look. “If it would help, Misty and I could stay awhile. No charge, of course. Just room and board would be fine.”
“I appreciate your concern, ma’am,” he told her, “but I believe I have everything covered.”
“Of course.” She gave him a tiny smile. “I guess I’ll get started.”
She led the way back to the family room, her walk not as spry as before, and he couldn’t help wondering about her again. Not that it was any of his damn business. Or that he wanted to get involved.
“I was thinking I should start with their bedrooms first,” she said over her shoulder. “Then the bathroom, next the kitchen and save the family room for last. If I’m not finished before they get here, they can at least settle in while I tackle in here.”
He stood beside her at the edge of the family room and frowned. “You don’t think you’ll finish in time?”
Her brows shot up as she surveyed the room. “I wasn’t expecting quite this much…neglect.” Quickly, she turned to him. “I’m not complaining. And I’ll get it done….”
“You’re right.” He laid a hand on her arm in reassurance, and her gaze raised to his, her eyes too big and too blue. Immediately he withdrew his hand and swallowed. “There’s a lot to do. I’m going to get one of the men to help you.”
She blinked, and fear flickered in her eyes. “What men?”
“One of the ranch hands.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her palms together, then dragged them down the front of her jeans. “Why don’t we see how far I get by tomorrow first? No need to interrupt their work schedule. The owner might not like it.”
“He won’t mind.” She still looked tense, so he added, “We can decide tomorrow evening. But you have to promise me you won’t lift anything heavy.”
A shy smile curved her lips. They were naturally peach-colored, and he felt a stirring where he damn well shouldn’t. “I promise,” she said.
“Okay.” His tone was gruff, and she stiffened. “I’ll get out of your hair. You need anything, go to the bunkhouse and ask for Sam. He’s a good man.”
She was about to say something, but her daughter sat up from her lounging position on the couch and yanked off her headphones. Sara hurried over to her. “Is the tape finished, honey?”
The little girl nodded, her gaze glued to Ethan.
“Do you want to listen to another one?” Sara brushed the child’s bangs out of her sleepy eyes. “Or you can listen to Baby Beluga again.”
“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Misty whispered softly.
Ethan heard it anyway.
Sara’s cheeks pinked and she leaned down to say something in the girl’s ear.
He looked away, not wanting to intrude. He scanned the dusty white shapeless mounds and realized he couldn’t recall what the furniture under the sheets looked like. Panic tightened his throat, gripped his chest.
How could he forget? This room had once been a haven for him, for both of them. He didn’t want to forget any part of their life together. Not a second. Ever.
It was a mistake to come here. Damn that Jenna.
“Ethan?”
He heard Sara calling to him and realized he was already at the door. His hand tensed on the knob. “I’m going out to the truck and get the cleaning supplies.” He slid her the briefest glance, and saw her pass a cracker to Misty before he stepped outside.
It took only one trip to unload the supplies. He left them on the porch, then drove away at breakneck speed before the demons picked up his trail.
Chapter Three
It had been dark for nearly an hour before Sara took her first break. In spite of the open windows and the brisk December air whipping through the house, she felt damp and clammy from exertion. Long tangled strands of hair refused to stay within the piece of elastic she’d tied around her curly mop, and they clung to her damp, flushed cheeks and neck.
And still she saw little progress as she surveyed the bedroom. Sighing, she sank onto the only chair in the room, a soft overstuffed club-style monstrosity, and prayed she could get up again.
Originally, she’d thought the amount of money Ethan had offered her was generous. Not anymore. Not with the king-size headache she had from inhaling dust and the insistent ache plaguing her lower back. She was beginning to doubt she’d even be able to make the place presentable in two days. Actually, a day and a half was more accurate. The girls would be arriving early afternoon the day after tomorrow.
A crocheted doily had fallen from the dresser and without leaving the chair, she scooped up the lacy snowflake-like piece for a closer inspection. It was finely made, by hand as far as she could tell, and although at first glimpse it appeared old, Sara guessed it was more recently made. At least in this decade, when women were usually too busy to spend the kind of time required for such fine craftsmanship.
Another mystery. The house had tons of them. Like the newer add-on off the back bedroom. The house was already huge, but the owners had added yet another room. Off the master bedroom, she figured, not having seen the inside of it. Forbidden territory, according to Ethan.
The add-on alone wasn’t strange. Many growing families found the need for additional space. But there was no sign that children had ever lived in the house. And then there was the owner’s abandonment. Very strange.
She tossed the doily back onto the dresser. More dust filtered into the air. Sighing, she pushed to her feet. She had far too much work ahead of her to be sitting here, wondering about things that were none of her business.
After taking a peek to make sure Misty was still napping, Sara decided to work in the kitchen for a while. She really did need to develop a plan. It was maddening the way she went from one room to the other for a mop or a rag, then randomly began a new task without completing the one she’d left.
She checked her watch and decided to give herself one hour in the kitchen. That way they’d at least have a decent place to sit and eat dinner. Even if it was only peanut butter and crackers. She turned on the water in the sink and gazed out the window. In the distance, the tops of the San Juan Mountains were already covered with snow.
Directly in front of her, a man walked slowly toward the house. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, for a second she thought he was Ethan, and her pulse leaped.
Her reaction surprised her. A flash of disappointment that it wasn’t him downright annoyed her.
The man didn’t seem in any particular hurry, and she watched as he stopped to toe a square of weathered concrete sidewalk that led to the back door. Appearing satisfied with its condition, he continued toward the back stoop.
She held her breath, waiting to see if he had a key or would knock.
He knocked, and she exhaled.
“Ms. Conroy?”
That he knew her name alarmed her. Instinct told her that he was probably the foreman or one of the hands, especially judging by his worn boots and battered Stetson, but underestimating Cal in the past had cost her, and she wouldn’t be foolish again.
Another knock…a pause…then, “Ms. Conroy? I’m Sam Singleton, the Double S foreman.”
She quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Sorry. I had the water running and didn’t hear you.”
He removed his hat. He didn’t look anything like Ethan. His hair was lighter, his eyes blue and he was clean-shaven. Besides, this man smiled. “Ethan told me you’d be here cleaning the house up some. I just wanted to let you know you’re not alone on the property.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Singleton.”
“It’s Sam.”
She nodded and smiled back. “I’m Sara.”
He was looking at her funny. “You just get into town?” he asked.
“A little over a week ago.”
A thoughtful frown pulled his brows together. “And Ethan found your name on a bulletin board?”
She nodded, amused at the irony that he seemed to be wary of her. “He said references weren’t necessary.”
Sam’s frown deepened. “What?” then he looked slightly embarrassed. “I wasn’t questioning you, it’s just that Ethan doesn’t show up around here much, and I was a little surprised he—” He gave a small shake of his head. “Never mind. You just holler if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” She was about to say something when he set his hat back atop his head and turned to go. “Wait, Sam, I, uh, was kind of wondering something.”
He stopped and eyed her cautiously.
“About Ethan—”
Caution gave way to alarm, and then his entire expression shut down. “Sorry, ma’am, that topic is off limits.”
“I was just…” She lifted a hand in helplessness. “I figured since you were his boss…” A strange look crossed his face. “Never mind.”
She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. She’d received the same reactions in town. First there was the look of alarm, which turned guarded then blank. The only thing missing in Sam’s reaction was the trace of pity she’d seen in everyone else’s eyes. If anything, Sam looked protective.
He started to leave again, stopped and said, “If you’re worried about his character, you won’t find a more honorable or loyal man. Anyone in town will confirm that.” He gave her a brief smile, touched the rim of his hat, then sauntered off without looking back.
Sara leaned against the doorjamb, trying to temper her curiosity. She told herself it was valid to be inquisitive about her employer, especially since she was scheming to stretch two days into two weeks. But she knew better. There was more to her curiosity than making sure he wasn’t Jack the Ripper.
Something about him drew her, stirred an instinct to reach out and help in some way she couldn’t fathom. It was a dangerous impulse. One that had already landed her in a hellish marriage. She shuddered at the thought, then ruthlessly pushed it aside, and plunged her hands in some warm soapy water.
Tonight she’d give the kitchen a cursory cleaning, enough to at least make it sanitary. Tomorrow, after the bedrooms were in top shape she’d—A burst of melodic chimes gave her such a start she splashed water down the front of her shirt and on her sneakers. It took her a second to realize it was the doorbell. She shook the water from her hands then dried them on a rag on the way to the front door.
Misty sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom?”
“It’s all right, honey.” Sara gave her a reassuring smile, then went to the window and inched back the drapes. She had only a partial view of the front porch, but she couldn’t see anyone.
It couldn’t be Sam. He wouldn’t come around to the front door when he knew she was in the kitchen. It was probably Ethan. But he had a key. Though he probably wouldn’t use it out of respect for their privacy.
With her hand on the knob, she called, “Who is it?”
No answer.
Her pulse and curiosity both going berserk, she opened the door a crack. No one was there. Her gaze drew to a brown wicker basket sitting on the porch. It held a bundle wrapped in a large red-checked napkin.
She stepped outside and stooped down for a look. Under clear plastic wrap was a roasted chicken, biscuits and cole slaw. Her gaze snapped up, but still she saw no one. Was this from Sam? But why not hand it to her?
Stepping off the porch and into the yard, she squinted toward the bunkhouse—and caught a glimpse of Ethan’s blue pickup as it fishtailed in a cloud of dust down the gravel drive.
SAM SWUNG the saddle off Thunder, used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, then watched Ethan approach. His friend didn’t come to the ranch much. Sam figured he could count on one hand the number of times Ethan had been here in the past six years. He hoped this was a good sign. It wasn’t right for a man to isolate himself the way Ethan did. Too much grief and sadness had a way of keeping a man from being whole.
“Hey, Ethan, I got your message late yesterday. I was riding the north pasture. Looks like we’ve got two miles of fence-mending ahead of us.”
Ethan stopped and stroked Thunder’s neck. The soft-eyed gelding pushed his face forward for Ethan to rub. “Have you seen her?”
Taken aback by the question, Sam tried not to show any reaction. He’d expected a comment about the fence-mending. “Sara? Yeah, I went over and introduced myself. Pretty little thing.”
Ethan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. As long as she gets the job done.”
Hope swelled in Sam’s chest. The hell it didn’t matter. He saw the flicker of life in his friend’s eyes. “Where’d you find her?”
“An ad on Manny’s bulletin board.”
“Good timing. When do the girls get here?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam straightened. “Tomorrow?” He lifted his hat off his head, and mopped his forehead. “Tomorrow.” He grunted. “Isn’t that just like Jenny? No notice. No consideration.”
“She calls herself Jenna now.”
“Tough.”
Ethan smiled.
Sam looked away. He’d grown up with Ethan and his little sister. Only, the last time Jenny’d visited she wasn’t so little anymore, and her childhood crush on him hadn’t seemed so silly.
