Boots And Booties Part 6

He whistled. "I never knew this room was up here."

"It's going to be the boys' playroom, but they'll sleep in here for now,until I get their bedrooms painted and fixed. I've ordered a rug, and oncesome shelves are installed, it should be perfect for them." At the end of theroom, in the corner, was the back staircase. "We're right above the kitchen,so I'll be able to keep an eye on them."

"Yeah," he said. "I can see how that would be important."

Addie moved toward the staircase. "I'm going to fix some iced tea. Do youwant some?"

"No, thanks. I'll go put the beds together in the other rooms."

"Okay." She didn't offer to help him, because she knew he'd refuse, andbecause she didn't want to be alone with him in other bedrooms and across other mattresses. He had wanted to kiss her, and she would have let him. Andhe would have known right away the power he had to make her knees weak and herheart pound against her chest. She was a silly, lonely, pregnant widow whoshould know better than to kiss the hired help.

And he was the kind of man who should know better than to try.

"MyAdelaideis a cook," Paula Johanson declared proudly. "I don't know whereshe got it from, because it certainly wasn't from me."

Calwatched the woman brush aside John's offers of help. She placed a largepan of steaming lasagna at the head of the table, where he a.s.sumed Addie wouldtake her place once she finished putting food out. She'd insisted thateveryone eat supper together tonight, butCalwould rather have bought a burgerin town. He'd almost kissed her this afternoon. He'd stood in her bedroom, atthe foot of that wide bed, and he'd touched her.

He didn't want to eat lasagna. He wanted a cold shower, a colder beer and along, frigid drive in his air-conditioned truck.

"Well," John drawled, "if that lasagna tastes as good as it smells, you won'tget no argument from me."

"No ar-gu-ment from me," one of the little boys repeated, grinning across thetable atCal. The boy seated next to Cal, the quieter one he thought was Matt,burst into giggles and covered his mouth with his hand.

"That'll be the day," his grandmother said. "You're full of arguments, Ian.

And it's not polite to repeat people's words when they're speaking."

"Sorry," the boy mumbled, but he grinned at John as if the old man was hiscoconspirator.

"That's okay," John said, chuckling. The old man was in his glory with thosekids around.Calhad never seen him so happy, not in years. Not even when Edbought that Appaloosa mare and she'd given birth to one of the best-lookingcolts in the county.

"Thanks, everyone, for all of the help today," Addie said, sitting down atthe head of the old farm table. John was on her left, Mrs. Johanson on herright. The twins sat opposite each other and, across fromCal, Kate lifted herwinegla.s.s.

"Here's to your new home, Addie," she said. "May you live here happily everafter."

"Thank you." She raised her gla.s.s and took a sip of water. Addie wasn't muchof a drinker, he noted. Maybe Valentine's Day had put her off rum and c.o.kesfor a while. Addie set her gla.s.s down and picked up a wide spatula. "I'mserving because it's too hot to pa.s.s around. John? Would you give me yourplate? Help yourselves to salad and garlic bread."

Kate pa.s.sedCalthe basket filled with hot bread. "When did you have the timeto cook, Addie?"

"Yesterday And then I packed the last of the kitchen stuff."

"Amazing," her friend said. "You're a true domestic G.o.ddess. You could make afortune with your own restaurant, you know. With this table and yourcooking-and these guys as waiters." She ruffled Ian's hair. "What a crew,huh?"

"I'd thought about a bed-and-breakfast," Addie said. "I've always wonderedwhat it would be like. Maybe just on weekends, after the house is finished andthe boys are in school.Cal? Would you give me your plate?"

"Sure, thanks." He looked at her as he leaned forward and gave his dinnerplate to John to hold while Addie dished out a large chunk of lasagna. She wasflushed, a little self-conscious and a whole lot pretty. And far away from thewoman who had danced with him and laughed with him and reached for his s.h.i.+rtb.u.t.tons two months ago.

"Thisis a wonderful table," her mother said. "You're going to keep it, aren'tyou, dear?"

"Yes."

Calremained silent, except to thank John for the return of his plate piledwith the best-smelling Italian food he'd ever had. He wasn't used to familydinners, though he'd always liked the old farm table. He figured it had servedthousands of ranch hands over the many years it had sat in the middle of theroom. The mismatched wooden chairs were a bit rickety, and he could understandif a woman didn't want to keep them. But the table? It had to be twenty feetlong and four feet wide, and its battered surface gave it character. Like theold man sitting two chairs away, talking about the amount of stuff boxed andstacked in the storage rooms north of the kitchen.

"Your father never threw nothin' away." Sadness crossed the old man's face, and then he looked over at Addie and brightened. "He'd be real tickled thatyou were here taking care of everything."

"He should have looked me up inAustin," she said. "I would have been easy tofind."

"Well, he wasn't a social man," John said. "More like a hermit, though maybenot that bad. The only time he'd leave here was when we'd go to a stockauction. And even then he wouldn't stay long, just do what business he came todo and then we'd leave. 'Cept that last time, of course. He wanted to buy themhorses and just didn't live long enough to load them in the trailer."

"Them horses?" Ian asked. "How many horses?"

"It's a nice herd of eight mares," the old man answered, just as if the childknew what he was talking about. "Real nice mares. Six bays, a chestnut and adarn pretty paint pony that will make you a real good horse, there, boys, whenyou learn how to ride."

"Ride?" Matthew dropped his garlic bread. "Ride horses? Can we, Mom?"

"Maybe." Addie lifted the spatula. "Who would like more lasagna?"

"I want a horse," Ian said.

"Me, too," his brother added.

"You've got horses," said John. "'Course they're not good for learnin', no,not good for that." He leaned forward and looked down the table toCal."You'dbetter get these lads some ponies,Cal."

"That's up to their mother," he said, finis.h.i.+ng the best lasagna he'd evertasted. He helped himself to more Caesar salad and another slice of bread.

"Is there such a thing a.s.safe ponies,Cal?" Addie's look said "tell me my boyswon't get hurt" butCalcouldn't promise any such thing, of course.

"I can find some real mild ponies, sure. If the boys are going to grow uphere on the Triple J, they should know how to ride."

Matt leaned over and gave him a big hug. "Thanks, Mr.Cal."

"You're welcome."Calgave the boy an awkward pat and wondered what the h.e.l.lhe'd just promised.

"My G.o.d, Addie, he's magnificent!" Since "he" had just left the kitchen afterclearing the table and thanking Addie for supper, there was no doubt that Katemeant anyone but Cal McDonald. "Not cla.s.sically handsome, of course, but veryhot anyway. I think it's his eyes. Or those shoulders. Whatever. He's very,very hot, Addie. You lucky woman."

"Shh, my mother will hear you." She rinsed off another plate and set it inthe drainer for Kate to dry. "She has ears like a hawk."

"Eyeslike a hawk, ears like a ... what? A wolf? A cat?" Kate grinned.

"Fox," Addie said. "Ears like a fox, I think it is."

"Your mother is upstairs giving two noisy boys a bath. How on earth could shehear us whispering in the kitchen? This house is big enough for fourfamilies."

"I know." She smiled as she washed another plate. "I love it, don't you?"

"Well, it's a bit too witchy-gothic right now for me, but I can see thatyou're happy." Kate set the dry plate on the stack with the others. "Somewallpaper and paint will do wonders. And don't forget to call me when it'stime to do some serious furniture shopping."

"I won't. I'd like a Victorian look, but without the dark wood." She eyed thekitchen cupboards, stained dark brown. "What color should I do the kitchen? Ican't decide between blue and yellow."

"Red," Kate declared. "A nineteen-thirties deep red would look great with thewood inhere. With white tile on the counters and red toile curtains and accents."

"Red toile," Addie repeated slowly, turning to survey the large room. "Thatcould work."

"Very French country," Kate declared. "Very casual but elegant, in a ranchykind of way without being ranchy, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do." Did she dare paint the cupboards red, or would the dark woodlook okay if it was cleaned and waxed? She stopped was.h.i.+ng and gazed upward,picturing the cupboards with white gla.s.s k.n.o.bs instead of cast-iron handles.

"Now that we have that settled, let's talk aboutCal. He is gorgeous and quitecharming, in that 'strong, silent type' way. You said you actuallyslept withhim that night? I mean, you didn't make that up or dream it or something?"

"Unfortunately, no. I mean, yes, I did-you know." She looked behind her atthe door to what was now the family's living room. There was no sign of hermother or children lurking there, so she turned back to Kate. "I didn't staythere long. And I certainly didn't sleep. It was over ... quickly."

Kate's eyebrows rose. "How very disappointing. Shame on him."

"No, it wasn't like that. We were both-" She stopped, unwilling to share theintimate details, even with Kate.

"Satisfied?"

"Yes."

"Well, since you hadn't had s.e.x in three years, I'm sure you were more thanready to be ... satisfied. Quickly." Clearly Kate was willing to giveCalthebenefit of the doubt there. "And then you grabbed your clothes and ran?"

"I put on my clothes-most of them-and ran. And he tried to catch up with meto ask my name-I told you that part already."

"But I want to hear it again. It's rather romantic."

"Sordid," Addie corrected. "It's rather sordid."

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"On what happens next. Are you going to slink around acting guilty andmiserable, or are you going to 'satisfy' each other again?"

"Neither."

"Please tell me that you're not going to let that man go to waste? I'd givehim a whirl myself, but he couldn't take his eyes off you all through dinner.He was practically drooling in his lasagna, you know."

"He wasn't."

"Trust me, Addie, honey, I know when a man wants a woman, and that man wantedyou."

"He's not getting me," Addie declared, flus.h.i.+ng under Kate's scrutiny. Shewould rather milk cows than tell her friend thatCalhad almost kissed her this afternoon. And that she had wanted-for one brief crazy moment-to haul himacross that new, wide mattress and kiss him senseless.

Her baby-growing hormones were definitely out of control.

And Addie, who had always prided herself on being an open and honest person,realized she had become frighteningly good at keeping secrets.

Chapter 6.

She thought she'd love being alone in her new bed Sat.u.r.day night. Her motherhad gone to sleep an hour earlier in the former parlor that Ed Johanson hadused as a bedroom. Paula had organized Ed's meager possessions, storing papersand photographs in boxes for Addie to browse through another day. They'd madeup yet another one of the new beds.

And now the house was quiet, with Kate across the hall in what they called"the blue room," and the boys happily occupying the big room next door,sleeping like five-year-olds who'd just spent their first day on a ranch.

So Addie knew she should be content in her enormous bed, on crisp whitesheets with a higher thread count than she'd known existed, her head restingon soft piles of goose down.

It was all too much, she thought, listening to the quiet whirring of theceiling fan above her bed. Too many things had changed, even though most ofthe changes were good ones. She splayed her hands across her flat abdomen andwished she knew what to do with this particular change. WouldCalwelcome thenews of fatherhood? Would he be angry, and leave, never to be seen again, asher own father had when confronted with a family life he couldn't enjoy? Andif he left, how would she run a cattle ranch?

John was too old to do much more than give advice. According to her father'swill, he had the lifetime use of his little house and a small monthly salaryto supplement his Social Security check. Something about a trust, the lawyerhad explained, though at the time she'd missed some of the details.

Cal's salary had been paid for the next six months, another odd stipulation of her father's will. Perhaps Ed Johanson had meant for her to have the helpshe needed to run things here, but she knew nothing about horses or cattleexcept what they looked like. But, she decided, she could always hire someoneelse after the six months. Surely she could find another ranch hand or, if shehad to, stop, raising beef cattle. Maybe she could lease the cattle pastures,or whatever the land was called, to another ranch in the area. She wouldmanage to think of something.

But maybeCalwould want to be a father. Maybe he would demand his share ofcustody, and this baby would be in a crazy tug-of-war between two people wholoved her. Or him. She pictured handing over her baby-wearing a pink dress anda ruffled hat-to Cal and his future girlfriends to care for on weekends andholidays and summer vacations. No, that was not going to happen. Not to herchild.

She'd managed just fine without a father. She'd never hated the man orresented him for leaving. She'd actually spent her childhood thinking herfather would drive up to the little house in southAustinand take her away tolive with him in a house on the ocean or a castle inEngland. He would explainthat he'd had amnesia, like Damon on her mother's favorite television show,and now that he had his memory back he would never leave his favorite littlegirl again.

Of course, the dreams never came true, but she had survived. And triumphed.Uncle Ned had given her away at her wedding, and she'd had Jack, who'd lovedher for years and given her a family of her very own.

Calhad been a mistake. An unwilling sperm donor. A man she thought she'dnever see again, until Mr. Anders had pulled out the map of Nowhere,Texas, andshe realized that fate had decided otherwise.

She was not a lucky person, but right now, anyone who saw her would think shewas the most fortunate person in Nowhere, at least. She was a woman ofproperty. A woman who owned livestock and had two ranch hands and miles offenced land.

But she would rather have had a father than his money.

Addie closed her eyes and rolled over on her side. She was a woman alone in abig bed and all she wanted to do wascry.

"Can you teach me about cows?"

It was the last thingCalexpected Addie to say. But he hadn't expected her toknock on his door, either. He'd managed to avoid the woman for three days, andhere she was, two minutes after he'd walked in the door after a long morningspent dealing with sick calves. And now he smelled worse than they had. So hewasn't prepared for company, not even when a pretty woman stood at his door.

"I need to know how the cattle business works," she said, staring up at himwith barely disguised impatience. She held a stack of notebooks against herchest and she looked so serious, he wanted to laugh. But he didn't dare. "Canyou explain it to me?"

"Why?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Her blue eyes flashed. "Because,Cal, I'masking youto."

He backed up and pushed the door open so she could step into his kitchen. Shemoved past him quickly, as if afraid to accidentally touch him, and he guessedhe couldn't blame her. Whenever they were too close together, there wereenough sparks between the two of them to b.u.m down a barn.