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“I need a favor,” Ethan said. “Can you spare one of your men?”
Glad to have his thoughts pulled away from Jenny, Sam studied his friend. Normally he would have automatically said sure, or you’re the boss, but something told him to hold back. “What for?”
“To help Sara.”
“Clean?”
Ethan shook his head. “Mostly do the lifting.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
The flash of fear in Ethan’s eyes was like a ray of sunshine to Sam. “I’m busy,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “You just said we have fence that needs mending.”
“Not right away.”
“What about Bobby? Can’t you spare him?”
Sam massaged the back of his neck, frowning, in a show of concern. “I already gave him time off to go see his folks up in Albuquerque for the holidays.”
“And Gus? What about him?”
“He’s driving a herd to South Fork.”
Ethan rattled off a few more names. Sam made more excuses.
Ethan exhaled, long and slow. “You’ve got to have somebody.”
“Nope. Afraid I don’t.” The more panicked Ethan looked, the better it made Sam feel. It was good to see some life in his friend again. Damn good. “Unless…”
“Yeah?” Impatience and hope animated Ethan’s face.
Sam shrugged. “I suppose I could give her a hand. Maybe she’ll be grateful and have dinner with me.” He winked, then hid a smile at Ethan’s sudden frown.
“I thought you were busy.”
Sam shrugged again. “Shouldn’t take long. Anyway, I sure wouldn’t mind her company.”
Ethan silently stroked Thunder’s neck, his brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighed. A put-upon sigh. For Sam’s benefit, no doubt. “You’re right. Shouldn’t take long. Guess I can handle it.”
“You sure?” Sam kept a straight face. “I don’t mind.”
Ethan flexed a shoulder, a nervous habit he’d had since they were kids. “Nah, I can manage.”
Sam turned to his bucket of grooming supplies and busied himself with finding a brush before he started grinning like a village idiot. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.” Ethan sighed again. “I’d better get to the house and see if she needs me.”
Sam nodded, but didn’t look up until his friend’s scuffed boots were headed away from the stables and toward the house. He watched his retreating form, noticing the new life to Ethan’s step, and a lump swelled in Sam’s throat. It was so damn good to see traces of the old Ethan. God bless Sara Conroy. Sam hoped she did need Ethan. As much as Ethan needed her.
TEN MINUTES LATER, Ethan stood on the front porch of the house to which he’d sworn he’d never return and pressed the doorbell button. If he had half a brain in his head he would’ve let Sam deal with Sara. But that wasn’t right. Sam had carried the major burden of the ranch for the past six years. And Erika and Denise were Ethan’s problem…
“Ethan?” Sara had opened the door, startling him out of his thoughts. Her lips curved in a shy smile. “We just finished breakfast. Leftover chicken and biscuits, thanks to you.”
She stepped aside, and he had to force his feet to move over the threshold. The sun hadn’t been up long, but enough of its rays touched her auburn hair to turn the tips to gold. When he passed her, the scent of roses took some of the starch out of his knees.
“Well, what do you think?”
He looked blankly at her.
Her expression fell, and she cast a forlorn look over the family room. “Can’t you see the difference?”
Ethan slowly scanned the room. All the sheets were off the furniture, the brass lamps gleamed and the hardwood floor had been polished to a high shine. “I can’t believe you did all this already.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s amazing how much you can get done when there’s no TV to distract you.” She laughed self-consciously, the sound sweeter than pecan pie. “Come see the blue bedroom.”
He let her lead the way, bracing himself for the assault of tormenting memories. But as he stepped into the room, all he saw was how cheery it seemed. The drapes had been tied back, letting the early-morning sun stream in through crystal-clean windows. Without dust covering everything, the oak headboard and nightstands and dresser looked new and inviting. Something else was different, too….
“Well? Think the girls will like it?”
He slowly nodded, trying to figure out what had changed. “You probably didn’t notice, but I swapped the comforter for one I found in the linen closet. This yellow one makes the room cheerier.”
He remembered now. The other quilt was a navy blue and tan one his mother had made the year she died. Emily had used it as a remembrance.
“Is something wrong? Wasn’t I allowed to go into the linen closet? You hadn’t mentioned it being off limits.”
Ethan looked at Sara. She was wringing her hands, her eyes dark and wary. “No, I didn’t. I, uh, it’s fine, Sara. The room looks real nice.”
“Where are you going?” She hurried after him down the hall. He had the sudden urge to get out and breathe some fresh air.
“I forgot something in the truck. I’ll be right back.”
“Need some help?”
He stopped abruptly, and she nearly ran into him. He turned in time to grab her shoulders and avoid the collision.
Her wide-eyed gaze lifted to his. “I’m sorry.” Her breathy words fanned his chin.
“My fault. I didn’t signal.”
She laughed softly, and he was amazed that he’d actually attempted a feeble joke. When her gaze lowered to the slim shoulder he still cupped, he quickly dropped his hand.
He stared at her, unable to remember what he was about to do. Clearing his throat, he moved back a step. “I think I’ll just go—”
“You’re leaving?”
The disappointment in her voice sent a flush of pleasure through him. “Actually, I was—” He gestured toward nowhere in particular.
“Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “You were going out to get something in your truck.”
“Right.” He immediately headed for the door, calling himself every kind of dumb jackass. He wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears seventeen-year-old. He didn’t even like petite, fair-haired women. And he wasn’t in the market for a fling or anything else. Dammit.
So why in the hell was he getting all tongue-tied and weak-kneed? And stupid. He was being really stupid. Maybe he ought to reconsider Sam’s offer. Let him make a fool of himself. Because something about that woman would do it. Make a man do something foolish he’d end up regretting for a long time.
He circled his truck a couple of times, trying to regulate his breathing. Anger more than anything was throwing him off balance. That he could have this physical reaction to a woman he barely knew galled him.
Removing his hat, he lifted his face to the warmth of the faint winter sun and closed his eyes. Maybe he was getting all worked up over nothing. Of course he would have a reaction to a woman. It had nothing to do with Sara, personally. He was thirty-six years old, for cripes’ sake, hardly over the hill. And he hadn’t had any female company in a mighty long time.
At that thought, he slumped against his truck. It was by his own choice, he reminded himself. The problem was, he wanted to keep it that way. But he wouldn’t be able to if Sara kept smiling at him.
Chapter Four
“On the count of three, lift your side and move it three feet to the right.” Sara paused. “One, two—”
She waited a moment for Ethan to pick up his end, and when he didn’t, she let go of her corner of the couch and popped her head up to see what was taking him so long.
He stood there glaring at her.
“What?” She left her crouched position and scrambled to her knees and propped her elbows on the arm of the couch. “Three comes after two. Why isn’t your side off the floor?”
His gaze narrowed. “Would you please get out of the way and let me move this by myself?”
“That’s silly. I’m perfectly capable of helping.” She shoved away the stray tendrils of hair that clung to her damp flushed cheeks, then cupped her hands under the corners of the couch. “One, two—” No movement on the other side.
She popped up again, this time climbing all the way to her feet, and planting her hands on her hips. “Ethan Slade, you may be paying my salary, but you’re making me madder than a—than a hungry grizzly bear.”
He eyed her a moment then moved to the center of the couch, muttering, “You’ve never even seen a grizzly bear.”
“I heard that.” She stepped back when he lifted the couch off the floor by himself and moved it. “Who says I haven’t?”
He didn’t answer, and she hadn’t expected him to. He’d barely uttered four sentences all day. She didn’t know why he’d bothered showing up since it was obvious this was the last place he wanted to be. Except he was too chauvinistic to leave her to handle the moving and lifting.
Which was absurd. She could practically lift her own weight. All the forced hours of working out in the exercise room Cal had built for her was one thing for which she could thank him.
Arms folded, she watched Ethan mosey around the room, moving pieces of furniture so that she could get at the dust beneath them. Other than sliding her a couple of guarded looks, he avoided her gaze. Nothing new. He’d treated her like she was a wildcat he needed to stay clear of, making sure she didn’t trespass or attack.
Still, she had to admit, with his help she’d accomplished more today than she’d expected. But maybe that was his plan. Get rid of her as soon as possible.
That thought stole some of her thunder. Staying here through the holidays would be so perfect. Misty had been quietly occupying herself with the limited toys Sara’d been able to bring, but she knew that wouldn’t last. However, a six-year-old friend would be a godsend.
Sara pressed her lips together. Letting her temper get the better of her would not further her cause. Uncrossing her arms, she pasted a smile on her face. “Ethan?”
He paused, his entire body tensing as he looked her way.
Good heavens. What did he think she was going to do to him? She broadened her smile. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
His gaze touched her mouth, lingered for an unnerving moment, then skittered away. “No thanks.”
“Water?”
He shook his head.
She sighed. Loudly. He still wouldn’t look at her. “Ethan, have I done something to offend you?”
He looked now, his gaze narrowed, his brows furrowed. “No.”
She waited for him to ask why. He went back to moving furniture.
Sara mentally counted to ten, then picked up the dust mop and attacked the floor with a vengeance. When she’d finished one side of the room, he quietly began returning the chairs and tables to their original places. She continued working, countering his silence with her own, until he put the brown leather club chair in the corner near the fireplace.
She opened her mouth to tell him it couldn’t go there, but a perverse streak of rebellion changed her mind. Instead, she leaned the dust mop against the stone hearth and dragged the chair three feet to the left.
Dusting her hands together and standing back to see if she’d cleared enough space for the Christmas tree, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ethan scowling at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His words were low and deliberate.
She turned a smile on him. “Me?”
“Are you that bound and determined to hurt yourself?”
“Come here.”
His glare melted and he blinked. “Why?”
She scooted around the couch and approached him, amazed when he actually took a step back, fear flashing in his eyes. “I’m not going to bite.” She stopped directly in front of him and flexed her right bicep. “Feel this.”
A startled laugh lightened his expression. “What?”
“I’m serious. Feel this.”
“Why?”
Impatient, she grabbed his hand, but she wasn’t prepared for the slightly rough texture of his fingertips and her thoughts skittered in a shocking direction. Quickly, she composed herself, then brought his hand to the small but firmly carved muscle she had developed over the years.
Astonishment flickered in his eyes.
“Not bad, huh?” She released his hand almost as hastily as he pulled it away.
His gaze met hers, held it for a moment, and then he slowly, wordlessly shook his head and took two steps back.
“Ethan.” She cupped her hips and stomped a foot. “Would you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He picked his hat up off the table near the door. Their gazes met again, and something in his eyes sent a shaft of heat through her. “I just remembered something I forgot,” he mumbled, and took off for his truck.
“Damn coward,” she muttered, then took a deep breath, relieved he was gone.
ETHAN THREW his hat down on the passenger side of the truck, picked it up and threw it down again. He’d forgotten how stubborn females could be.
Not Emily, though, he amended. She was as sweet-natured as they came. He pictured her sitting near the fireplace on the brown club chair, knitting or crocheting, smiling and humming as she worked. A cross word never fell from her lips. The one time he’d heard her say darn she’d been horribly embarrassed.
