Debbi Rawlins - Loving A Lonesome Cowboy

“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.

“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.

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.