Sweet Mountain Rancher Read online

  When it ended, he looked into those striking storm-gray eyes and found a word to describe the subtle shift in her mood, and it hurt like a roundhouse punch to the gut: obligated.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SAVED BY THE BELL, Nate thought when his cell phone pinged, ending the kiss.

  Carl’s text gave him just the excuse he needed to leave, right away.

  “Much as I’d like to, I can’t stay for supper.”

  Travis walked into the room. “Something to do with that cougar, I’ll bet,” he said.

  “’Fraid so.”

  As the rest of the kids filed into the kitchen, Nate held out the thank-you note. “I’m gonna frame this. Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

  “No, you’re the best,” traveled up and down the table like a curious echo.

  From the doorway, Nate said, “This meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society is hereby dismissed.” To this point, he’d avoided eye contact with Eden. She’d sent mixed messages, and evidently, he wasn’t savvy enough to read them. The kiss told him she was grateful for his offer, that she had feelings for him that had nothing to do with money. Nate couldn’t decide if the peculiar look on her face meant she resented him for making the offer…or resented herself for needing help.

  He risked a glance to say, “Thanks for the invite, though.” All the way down the walk, he pictured the boys’ curious expressions. They were probably already pummeling her with questions about his hasty departure. He was about to insert the key into the ignition when Kirk rapped on the driver’s door.

  “I won’t keep you, but I need your advice about something.”

  “Okay, but advice isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

  “For starters, let me say that I appreciate everything you’ve done for the boys. If you’re helping them because you’re interested in Eden, well, that’s none of my business. But those kids have had it up to here,” he said, drawing an imaginary line across his throat, “with people who’ve let them down.”

  In other words, if you and Eden are having problems, don’t make them the boys’ problems, too.

  “I thought you said you needed advice.”

  Kirk swallowed, and Nate summoned his patience as the younger man worked himself up to whatever he was about to say. “Well, Brett Michaels has been sniffing around here a lot lately. He’s getting sneaky. Parking on the next block and walking over so nobody will see his car. He’s up to no good. Why else would he go to all that trouble?”

  Good question. And now he understood why he hadn’t seen Michaels’s car out front earlier.

  “Every time he’s here, he drops hints.”

  “What kind of hints?”

  “He never actually comes right out and says anything, but the implications are clear: If Eden doesn’t come up with the money to buy Latimer House, soon, we’re all out on our ears. Eden won’t talk about it much, but I’ve known her long enough to see it’s weighing on her.”

  “How?”

  “She’s quiet. Way too quiet. Doesn’t eat much. And the boys told me they’ve heard her pacing in the middle of the night.”

  Moving to Pinewood would solve all of that. Would she actually call him when she needed money to make repairs? Or had she just agreed to his suggestion to put the subject to rest?

  “Can I trust you with some confidential information?” Nate asked.

  “Depends. Who’d I have to hide it from?”

  “Everybody. Including Eden.”

  Kirk frowned slightly. “I can’t give you my word on that. Not until I hear this confidential information.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” It told Nate the guy could be trusted. He patted his pocket. “I offered this money to Eden today—not a loan, but a straightforward donation—so she can get Pinewood inspector-proof.”

  “So we can move over there.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Aw, man. She turned you down?”

  “Not exactly.” Nate licked his lips, remembering that kiss. He frowned, too, recalling how beaten-down she’d looked afterward. “I’m just concerned that after she thinks about it for a while, she’ll turn me down.”

  “No, she’ll take the money and get Pinewood fixed up. She’d do anything for those kids.”

  Including swallowing her pride…

  “None of this would be necessary if the Hansons weren’t such losers. And if Brett Michaels wasn’t such a greedy, narcissistic pig. Wouldn’t you love a chance to get into that twisted mind of his?”

  “No, thanks.” He turned the key and fired up the truck. “I dislike him enough already.”

  Kirk stepped back as Nate shifted into Reverse. “Good luck capturing that cougar.”

  Capturing? Nate understood that hearing how they’d solve the cat problem could upset someone who hadn’t been raised a rancher, so he simply said, “Thanks. Catch you later.”

  He glanced into the rearview mirror, saw Eden on the porch, waving. Summoning Kirk to supper, or saying goodbye to him?

  *

  “MAN, EDEN,” STUART SAID, “I need to drop by more often.” He helped himself to another oven-fried chicken thigh. “This is better than Gran’s.”

  “Have you had her homemade fish sticks?” DeShawn asked.

  Stuart was too busy separating meat from bone to look up. “Can’t say as I have. But if it’s half as good as this, I’ll bet it would turn a fish-hater into a connoisseur.”

  “Nate was s’posed to eat with us, but he had to get back to the ranch,” Devon said. “To kill a cougar.”

  Carlos looked surprised, and a little afraid. “Kill it? Really?”

  “He’s a rancher,” Travis began. “Protecting your livestock can sometimes be ugly business.”

  He’d become a young man, right before her eyes, Eden admitted to herself, reflecting on his mature statement and the thoughtful way he’d delivered it.

  The boy shook his head. “Wish there was something we could do to help.”

  “Like what?” DeShawn asked. “Strap on a gun belt, draw a bead on that cat and say, ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll git on outta town’?”

  “You watch too many old movies,” Thomas said.

  DeShawn harrumphed. “Better than those cartoons you watch.”

  “Boys,” Eden said, “your fries are getting cold. Who wants to help me crank the handle on the ice-cream maker after we clean up this mess?”

  “I will,” Thomas said, “if it’s chocolate!”

  “I’ll do it no matter what flavor it is,” Devon said. “Homemade ice cream is the best!”

  Stuart chimed in with “How about we take turns?”

  All eyes turned to him.

  He feigned defensiveness. “Hey. I’m a cop. Negotiation is part of the job.” With a devilish smile, he added, “Besides, grown-ups enjoy cranking that handle as much as kids do.”

  “Hey, Eden,” DeShawn said, “think Nate has ever made ice cream?”

  “Born and raised on a ranch, I’m guessing at least one of his grandmothers had a great recipe. So yes, I imagine he has.”

  “Grandmothers are like that,” DeShawn observed. “Wish I’d had a chance to get to know mine.”

  The others agreed by way of a quiet murmur that traveled up the table and down again.

  “Hey, Kirk,” Thomas said, “what were you and Nate whispering about out there in the driveway?”

  Eden had wondered the same thing, and waited for her assistant’s reply.

  “Oh, nothing much. I told him to be careful rounding up that cat.” He scraped crumbs from his plate into the disposal.

  “Coulda fooled me.”

  Kirk didn’t ask what Thomas meant, and neither did anyone else. Eden had a feeling she knew the answer. Her assistant moved like a cat himself, padding through the house on white-socked feet, surprising everyone with sudden appearances. Had he overheard Nate’s offer?

  Stuart put his plate into the sink. “Where do you keep the ice-cream maker?”
>
  “In the pantry, middle of the bottom shelf.”

  “And it’ll be right there, too,” Travis observed. “Was she always like this, Stu?”

  “Yeah, ’fraid so.”

  Eden rolled her eyes at her brother. Stuart—and just about everyone else—had been calling her a clean freak since before she lost her first tooth.

  “In my opinion, it’s a positive trait,” Travis said. “One that all of us benefit from.”

  “How do you figure that?” Carlos asked.

  “Because we always know exactly where our stuff is.”

  Jokes went up and down the table, covering the gamut from teacher’s pet to apple polisher, but Travis seemed unfazed as Eden assembled the ingredients for ice cream. Once she’d filled the bucket and added ice, the boys took turns cranking.

  “They make electric ice-cream makers, y’know,” Carlos said.

  DeShawn grunted as he powered the handle. “Yeah, but what fun would that be?”

  They talked less and turned more, and soon, the cream, sugar and flavorings began to thicken.

  “Think Nate’s having this much luck catching that cat?” Thomas asked.

  “If he cares about his livestock, he won’t catch it, he’ll kill it,” Stuart said.

  The boys fell silent.

  DeShawn frowned. “Never saw Nate as a killer.”

  “He isn’t,” Stuart said. “He’s a realist. That cougar is eating his livestock. Might as well be taking food right out of the Marshalls’ mouths. Plus, a lot of little kids live at the Double M. All it’d take is for their parents to get distracted for a second, and the cat might decide to make a meal out of a toddler.”

  Eden thought of Nate, alone out there in a wide-open pasture. No doubt he’d have a rifle at the ready. He might even be shouting distance from his foreman and ranch hands. Still… She almost preferred picturing him on a date with some pretty socialite. At least he’d be safe.

  Eyes closed, Eden remembered their kiss. She had initiated it, intending it only as a quick thank-you peck. But when Nate’s arms automatically slid around her, one big hand pressed to the back of her head as the other cupped her chin, she gave in to the moment. He’d held her close, so close she’d felt and heard the steady thump-thump of his big, caring heart.

  “What’s the matter, big sister, got a headache?”

  Eyes wide-open now, she felt the telltale warmth of a blush creep into her cheeks. “No, Stuart, I’m fine.”

  “Got a crush on the cowboy, eh?”

  “When you’re wrong, little brother, you’re wrong.” It was far more than a crush.

  Eden licked her lips and glanced at the ice-cream maker.

  Cody groaned. “Isn’t that stuff thick enough yet?”

  Stuart lifted the lid and withdrew the dasher. “What do you say, guys?” He held it high enough for all of them to see. “Is this stuff thick enough, or is it thick enough!”

  It pleased Eden to see them happy and content, well-adjusted and interacting like brothers. The only thing missing, she decided, was a father figure. Not Kirk, their teacher or Stuart, the like-an-uncle visitor, but someone who’d give them advice and guidance in caring doses, as needed. Someone who’d guide them into manhood with his own good example.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Stuart asked. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Laughing, Eden said, “You know I don’t believe in stuff like that.”

  Fortunately, the boys had turned their attention to Stuart, who’d started plopping equal portions of ice cream into ramekins.

  Her reply had been truthful. She’d never really believed in beings from the spirit world.

  But Eden had a feeling that kiss would haunt her for a long, long time.

  *

  IN THE WEEK since the afternoon of the kiss, Nate had called Eden twice…on the same day. Once to give her the contractor’s phone number, once to correct it when he found out his guy had changed his number.

  She’d wasted no time scheduling a walk-through. Any day now, she’d find out how much work and expense it would take to restore Pinewood to the warm, cozy home it had been for her and Stuart.

  Now, with the boys in bed and Kirk gone for the day, it almost seemed she had Latimer House to herself. Eden had always loved the big old-fashioned kitchen, with its white metal cabinets and black-and-white-tiled floor. Kirk and his dad had built the long trestle table and matching benches to seat twenty, and Cora had raised the funds to replace the old fridge with an up-to-date model.

  She guessed that the boys would choose the family room as their favorite, with its well-worn, L-shaped leather couch and wide-screen TV, donated by Duke shortly before his death.

  She sat on the recliner end of the sofa and put up the footrest. It wasn’t often she had a chance to relax—her own fault, admittedly. Yes, she could have hired someone to help with the dusting, vacuuming and laundry, but the money saved by doing the chores herself meant she could splurge now and then, providing the boys with better cuts of meat or brand-name sneakers.

  The big, drafty place had been a haven for every scared, bedraggled kid who had arrived lugging a backpack that held all his worldly possessions. They considered it home now, and she hoped they’d feel just as safe and comfortable at Pinewood…and that it wouldn’t take long to move them there. They didn’t know it yet, but she was considering taking them to the initial meeting with Nate’s contractor, so they could ask questions and make suggestions. She’d be able to tell a lot about the honesty, integrity and patience of the man, just by watching him interact with a dozen inquisitive and rambunctious teenagers.

  Eden aimed the remote at the TV and scrolled until she found the old movie channel. A classic Western would begin in just a few minutes.

  It wouldn’t be fair to ask Nate to join them for the contractor meetings, not with all his other duties and responsibilities, but what was the harm in calling to ask if he’d solved the cougar problem?

  She dialed his cell number and counted the rings. One…would he answer from inside his rustic log house? Two…from the well-equipped barn? Three…or was he scouring the property in search of the killer cat?

  Eden hit the end button without leaving a message. If he was out looking for the cougar, he’d probably set his phone to vibrate or turned it off altogether. Disappointed, she settled in to watch the Western. It was the story of a rough-and-tumble cavalryman and the estranged wife who refuses to let him—or any man—control her. Despite the danger around them and hard words between them, they gave in to a moment when a soldier sang “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.” When their kiss ended, the actor’s expression reminded Eden of the way Nate had looked at her last week—hopeful, loving, tender… He had feelings for her. How else could she explain the way he’d trembled slightly when she pressed her lips to his?

  “Fool,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have started something that can’t go anywhere.”

  But…why couldn’t it? She had feelings for Nate, too.

  Because with all of your other commitments, you can’t commit to Nate, that’s why.

  Eden turned off the TV and tossed the remote to the other end of the couch. Maybe a cup of tea would soothe her.

  Eden popped her favorite mug in the microwave.

  Taking care of others was in Nate’s DNA. Watching him interact with his family, with her boys, was proof of that. So when he learned about her financial dilemma, of course he’d offered to chip in. And if she hoped to continue helping the kids, Eden needed to accept the offer. If it turned out his motives were less than pure, well, she’d deal with that later.

  Better watch it, Miss Scarlett O’Hara; not everything is better tomorrow.

  The microwave beeped, and as she dropped a teabag into her mug, the phone rang.

  “Hey there.”

  Her heart fluttered in response to the sound of his voice. Eden smiled to herself. She needed a better word than fond to describe her feelings for him.

  “I saw that you cal
led. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine.” She tucked the phone into the crook of her neck and spooned sugar into the tea. “I was watching a Western and started thinking about you out there on the Double M, looking for that cougar. Did you find it?”

  “No, ’fraid not. But we found tracks and other signs that give us a pretty good idea where she’s holed up.”

  “Are you sure it’s a she?”

  “Pretty sure, yeah. For one thing, she’s hanging out where the Double M butts up against the Rocking K property, taking a cow here, a horse there, from both of us. Usually, cougars kill once a week, if that, then feed off the carcass a few days and rest up while scoping out another meal. The fact that this one is killing so often tells us she has kittens to feed.”

  She could hear the strain in his voice. And who wouldn’t be tense, knowing that his major income source was shrinking with every kill. “Could it be more than one cat?”

  “It’s possible, but not likely. They’re solitary animals.”

  “I wish I knew more about them. About ranching,” she admitted.

  “Why?”

  “So I could think of something supportive, something reassuring, to say.”

  His quiet chuckle filtered into her ear. “It’s plenty reassuring, just knowing the subject doesn’t bore you to sleep.”

  “Bore me! You’re kidding, right?”

  There was a long pause before he said, “Let’s just say not every woman is as obliging as you.”

  His mother and aunts had been ranchers most of their lives, and so had his sister, Hank. So he must have been referring to the fiancée named in the Sports Illustrated article. She was curious about the woman—about the relationship.

  “I take it your fiancée wasn’t as understanding as the Marshall women?”

  Another long pause made her think she’d overstepped her bounds.

  “Let’s just say she was cut from a different cloth.”

  “Still, it must have been hard, losing her that way.”

  “Yeah, but I expect you know something about loss.”

  A hint that he was curious about the details of her parents’ murders? Maybe another time…

  “I was young when I lost them. Kids adjust and adapt quickly. It isn’t so easy for adults.”