The Rancher’s Unexpected Gift Read online

  Evan squinted up at him again. "You must really like my mom if you want to clean up vomit for her."

  Cash couldn't help a chuckle. Was he that crazy for Delaney? Yeah. He really was. "My dad once told me that when I met the right woman for me, I'd know it. And your mom knocked me on my rear last night. I think she’s the one."

  Evan looked up at him, expression serious. "She might try to talk you out of liking her."

  Perceptive kid.

  Cash grinned at him. "You want to know what training a horse is like?"

  Delaney rushed through the quickest shower in mankind, followed by a high-powered blow-dry before she threw on a pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater she'd found at Goodwill, which was a little more flattering than her PJs.

  She brushed on a smear of lip gloss and quickly applied eye makeup.

  She'd watched the two males for a few minutes before ducking into the bathroom and spent at least twenty minutes on her abbreviated beauty routine, so she rushed back to the living room in bare feet.

  The boys were still outside.

  She stood at the window again, watching as Cash placed the last brick carefully on the roof of the igloo-slash-snow fort. Evan was sitting inside, and she could hear his chatter through the windowpane, though she couldn't make out his words.

  Cash answered, his voice deeper but his words no clearer.

  She lifted her hand to knock on the glass and call them inside—she couldn't risk Evan's health—but suddenly a snowball flew out of the igloo and hit Cash's pant leg.

  She saw the man pause, glance at her briefly. As far as she could tell, the attack from Evan had been unprovoked.

  Cash held up two fingers, mouthed two minutes. And then knelt and scooped a handful of snow, quickly packing it into a ball.

  She watched the fight unfold, Evan tossing ball after ball that he must've squirreled away in the fort. Most of Cash's shots hit the igloo. Was he purposely missing her son?

  Finally, Evan launched a last barrage and then fell out of the igloo, laughing so hard he was holding his sides.

  Cash was laughing, too, carefree and full, the sound audible through the glass. Hearing it made her stomach swoop.

  Cash was too perfect. He liked her son. Owned a huge ranch and didn't have to worry about money. Was as handsome as a movie star.

  How could she even think she'd hold his interest for more than a minute?

  Cash ruffled the top of Evan's head and pointed toward the house. They both stomped snow off their feet on the stoop. She held the door open and shivered when a rush of cold air hit the still-damp nape of her neck.

  "Freeze," she told Evan. She pointed to the huge beach towel she'd pulled out of the closet. "Shoes. Coat."

  She helped him pull off the snow-encrusted coat, getting a shower of snow for her trouble. His hair was mussed from the beanie. She felt his forehead where it'd been beneath the hat. Cool but not too bad.

  "Mom," he protested, shifting away with a glance at Cash.

  "You can give me a check," the rancher said with a slow grin as he slid the coveralls down his arms and waist.

  Evan barked a laugh as she felt heat spreading across her chest. The hunter-green sweater she'd chosen had a V-neck, and she knew pink must be showing there when Cash gave an obvious glance and then smirked.

  She slapped his bicep. Playfully.

  She pointed at Evan. "Go change your clothes and then come back to the kitchen for some hot chocolate."

  "Aw, Mom. I'm not a baby."

  "No, but I bet your socks and pants are wet."

  Evan trudged across the room. "You didn't start putting together my track, did you?"

  "I just opened the box," she said.

  "Mom has to have supervision for anything that requires assembly," Evan threw over his shoulder.

  "Hey!" she cried.

  Too late. Cash's eyes were laughing as he stripped the coverall pants down his legs and off.

  "I'm pretty handy," he offered as he straightened. "You can supervise me all you want."

  The innuendo in his words made the heat across her chest flare hotter. She crossed her arms in mock indignation.

  "Don't you have to go home?" she asked tartly.

  The laughter in his eyes died away. "You ready for me to go?"

  She shrugged. "I'm sure you and your sister have plans for the holiday, don't you?"

  He smirked again, but this time not at her expense. "My sister got the Christmas gift she really wanted. Maverick, my best friend," he explained. "He's in the marines, and his leave is up tomorrow. I'm pretty sure Mallory hasn't given me a thought all day."

  "Ah." Lucky girl.

  "So can I stay? If I promise to keep my lips to myself and not to freak you out again?"

  She was burning up. Needed to trade her sweater for a T-shirt. "You noticed?"

  He winced slightly. "Hard not to. It's been a while since I kissed anyone. I'm probably as rusty at that as I am at building a snow fort."

  "I haven't kissed anyone since Jonah," she admitted softly. "And... what are we doing here?" she dared speak the words out loud. "What is it you're hoping happens after today? I'm not exactly dating material."

  He nodded, totally unsurprised. "Evan told me."

  She was taken aback.

  He advanced on her, didn’t stop until he was leaning over her, supporting himself with one arm braced on the wall above her head. "He said you work yourself to exhaustion, and when you're not working, you're all about keeping him healthy."

  "He did not," she breathed. It was hard to catch her breath with him so close.

  He ignored her. "He also said you'd try to talk me out of pursuing you."

  She considered taking back the presents from beneath the tree.

  "Don't you think we're too different to make a relationship work?" she asked.

  "Because you're a city girl and I'm a country boy?" he asked.

  "No. You know why."

  "Because you're a busy single mom and I'm in between jobs right now?"

  Hot anger surged. "No," she said sharply. "Because I clean your house—mansion. And others’ houses. Because people like you treat people like me like… like that guy last night. Because I’m not the same as you.”

  He leaned back, put distance between them. “I would never have treated you or anyone like that.”

  She folded her arms over her middle. “No. To behave like that, you’d have to notice me. And most people in your social circles only notice me when the cleaning isn’t done right.”

  “Yesterday, my behavior had nothing to do with you. It’s hard to take over your father’s business. My dad… he was so good at running the ranch, and I always feel one step behind. Like I’ll never measure up. The way I treated you was unthinkable, and I’m sorry. But it had nothing to do with you.”

  She shook her head, feeling guilty for bringing it up again. He’d already apologized and she’d forgiven him.

  …But couldn't he see how unequal they were? He’d never understand…

  When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and serious. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm a man and you're a woman. Who cares what our annual salaries are?"

  "I do!" she blurted. Couldn't he see how unequal they were? He'd never understand why she had to work so much, not when money came so easily to him. Or what about...? "When your birthday comes, what happens when I can't afford a gift for you?" Those things seemed small, but they added up.

  She knew. She'd grown up with a maid for a mom. How many times had she worn clothes from Goodwill when her friends at school had brand new things?

  He had a little crease between his eyebrows. "I guess I wouldn't care."

  "Yes, you would," she snapped. Why couldn't he see what she did?

  "Then I guess I'd like it if you made me a special dinner," he said with an easy shrug.

  She growled.

  It didn't faze him. "When we're married, our incomes will be combined," he said easily.

  "What?" she yelped.
>
  And of course, Evan chose that moment to burst back into the room, sliding on the old wood floors in his sock feet. "Is the hot chocolate ready?"

  Chapter 7

  It was eight o'clock when their Christmas movie marathon ended and Evan asked if he could read in his room.

  She gave him a kiss and let him go, knowing he'd be sound asleep on the bed when she went to tuck him in later.

  She was thankful for the chemo, thankful the cancer was disappearing—if slowly—from his body. But his energy wasn't what it used to be. Would he ever be back to normal?

  Cash sat on the opposite end of the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm stretched across the back of the sofa. He'd been playing with her hair while the movie rolled. He looked relaxed, but she knew the power he’d leashed. He reminded her of a lion at rest.

  She remembered thinking last night that his smile was the smile of a man used to getting what he wanted.

  And she still hadn't been able to reconcile how a relationship between them would work.

  "Do you want some more coffee?" she asked. Sudden nerves sent her up off the sofa.

  Cash sat forward, placing his palms on his knees. "You got any tea?"

  "Iced tea?"

  "Hot." A smile spread across his mouth. "You don't think a rancher should drink hot tea? You're painting me with an awful masculine brush."

  "I'm just surprised," she said.

  He'd been surprising her all day, from the moment she'd opened the door to him.

  She hurried into the kitchen and rummaged under the cabinets until she came up with the teakettle she'd used maybe once in her married life. She filled it and put it on the stove.

  She sensed Cash follow her into the kitchen. He stood in the same spot he had earlier, one shoulder propped against the archway. This time he faced into the kitchen, watching her again.

  Those butterflies he'd inspired came to life in her belly again. She turned to the upper cabinet to look for the tea bags—hopefully they were still good. She'd bought them once after Sierra had told her the tea would help her sleep. It hadn't.

  And then because he was still watching her, still not saying anything, she ran some hot water for the dishes still on the counter from their meal earlier.

  Plunging her hands into the soapy water, she could let herself focus on the task. Not the man. She'd give herself five minutes to try and regain equilibrium.

  It wouldn't work, but she'd try.

  It had been an incredible day. After the snow fort, she'd lugged out the small toolkit she kept beneath the kitchen sink and read the directions as the two males had assembled Evan's racetrack. They'd run races for nearly an hour, had only quit when she’d served lunch.

  She and Evan had introduced Cash to their family tradition of having hamburgers for their special meal. Cash had manned the grill, skipping the coveralls to hurry out and back inside in his coat and boots. It had been bittersweet for her, remembering Jonah doing the same thing on another frigid Christmas. Evan hadn't remembered when she'd mentioned it. Maybe he'd been too young.

  During the meal, Cash had regaled them with stories of his childhood Christmases spent with parents and grandparents at the Double Cross. His grandparents had died when he was a teen, and now his parents were gone too. He hadn't hidden the huskiness in his voice. Once, he'd wiped a tear from beneath his eyes. She didn't know what to do with the honest vulnerability he kept showing her.

  It had been different with Jonah. They'd dated for months before they'd really opened up with each other and shared heartbreaks. Even after they'd been married, when things were difficult at work or some stressor was getting to him, Jonah would mostly keep that to himself.

  Not Cash.

  He wasn't afraid to let her know how he felt. And apparently, he felt a lot after only a day of being acquainted with her.

  When we get married.

  His teasing words from earlier had resurfaced in her brain during the most unexpected times throughout the day, ping-ponging through her thoughts and scattering them.

  He had been teasing when he'd said it. She was sure of it.

  Mostly.

  He had sounded awfully sure of himself for someone who'd just met her yesterday.

  And this line of thinking wasn't helping calm her butterflies whatsoever.

  "Are you really going to ride that souped-up golf cart home?" she asked. The window over the sink showed a reflection of the kitchen, since it was dark outside, but in true Texas fashion, the temps outside had been rising all day, and the snow had melted into mush. So far, Evan's igloo was still intact, but it wouldn't last long.

  "It's a utility vehicle," he said. "And yeah. With the sun down, the roads'll be slick in some places. I'll be all right."

  She placed the last spoon in the drying rack and reached for the dish towel to dry her hands. Just in time, because the teakettle whistled.

  She opened the drawer where she kept the dish towels and pot holders, and a loose piece of paper crinkled.

  She ignored, whipping out a potholder to take the teakettle off the burner. She poured the steaming water into Cash's mug over the teabag.

  And then went back to the drawer. She'd shoved the stack of bills that usually graced the kitchen counter into the drawer two days ago, not wanting to see them on Christmas Day. She'd wanted one day of peace. Had the day's cooking and dishwashing displaced something? She couldn't afford to lose even one bill.

  But when her glance fell to the drawer, the paper she saw there wasn't an eight-by-eleven sheet, wasn’t a printed bill. It was a check. Loose in the drawer.

  "What is this?" She glanced at Cash and then reached for it.

  He came off the wall, stepped toward her. "I kinda hoped you wouldn't find that until tomorrow."

  Find what?

  She picked it up, turned it over. Gasped. "You wrote me a check for twenty-five grand?"

  She dropped it on the island counter as if it'd burned her fingertips. Her hands were shaking. "I don't get it."

  He came around the island, hands outstretched as he reached for her. She backed away.

  He stopped, shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. "I accidentally saw your stack of bills when I was doing the dishes this morning. I wasn't snooping. Much."

  She pressed her shaking fingers to her eyes. "So... what? You decided to pop off a check for twenty-five k?"

  Who had that kind of money in their checking account?

  Not her.

  She'd been pretending all day. Allowing herself to suspend disbelief—like when she watched a TV show or movie that was a little too far-fetched.

  But the check lying out on the empty counter was too much.

  It'd broken the tiny shield she'd been using to allow herself to pretend that this thing with Cash could work out.

  Delaney was freaking out again. This time it was for sure Cash's fault.

  He'd left the check with pure intentions. He didn't want her stressed out about money, not when Evan needed her.

  But her tossing the check as if it were a tarantula hadn't been how he'd envisioned her finding out.

  His hands itched to reach for her where she stood in the corner where the two walls of cabinets met. She was trembling, pressing her fingertips into her eyes.

  But he kept his hands in his pockets. His skittish filly had backed away.

  And he didn't want her to send him home, not yet. Not when she was worked up like this.

  "It's just money," he said. "I want to help—"

  She laughed, an edge of hysteria to it. When she brought her hands away from her face, her eyes were red-rimmed. "It's just money. Spoken like someone who has never had to worry where their next meal will come from. Or wonder if the electric company will cancel your service today or tomorrow."

  The little hairs on the back of his nape stood to attention. He had never been in either of those situations. He wouldn't apologize for his life. It was just how things were. And if what she described was her reality
, she should take the money.

  "It's not a big deal," he said.

  She laughed that not-laugh again. "To you!" She crossed her arms over her middle, which made him want to pull her close even more. "I don't want you to fix this!"

  "Like you didn't want me to fix things last night when that jerk assaulted you?" He'd meant to say the words calmly, but thinking about what had almost happened last night had him seeing red all over again.

  She went still. "That's not—" She shook her head, almost seeming to clutch herself with her arms.

  He hadn't meant to upset her.

  She breathed in deeply. "That's not the same."

  "What was it, then?" he asked, because he hadn't understood last night, and he still didn't.

  She looked at him silently.

  "Was it because of Evan? Are you somehow trying to protect him? Because I’m sure he’d want to see that guy pay for what he did."

  Fire sparked in her eyes. "If I make trouble, I'll lose clients I can't afford to lose."

  Make trouble. As if she were the one who'd invited it. "That won't happen," he said.

  She looked at him so incredulously that it hurt. "I know these things," she said softly. "My mama cleaned houses. She taught me everything she knew. Be discreet. Be invisible, if you can. Apologize. Clients don't want a housekeeper who makes trouble."

  That hurt, deep inside. Knowing she believed she had to take whatever was dished out by the people who paid her.

  And he'd perpetuated it with his own behavior yesterday. He'd been unthinking and ignorant.

  "I'm sorry," he said, because he really was. He hated it for her. "Isn't that a reason to take the money?"

  She reached over to the counter and picked up the check, crumbling it in her fist. Then she fired it at him. It hit his chest and fell to the floor.

  "You don't get it at all," she said. She sounded so desolate.

  And he was afraid that if he said the wrong thing now, he was going to lose her forever. "Help me understand.”

  "If I'm the kind of person you have to fix..." She breathed in deep through her nose. "Do you really think you want to be with someone needy like me? In the long run?"