Page 20 of The Cowboy and the Baby

“Yes. I made more than enough for both of us, if you’d like some. I wasn’t sure about the ranch hands you’ve mentioned.”

His eyes widened with a sudden smile. “I’d love that, thank you. They’ll be fine. They have a microwave out there, and they’re finishing up some chores still.”

“Okay. It’ll be ready in ten.”

“That’ll give me time to wash up. Dibs on doing the dishes. House rules—the cook doesn’t have to clean up,” he added, peeling off his boots.

“That is one house rule I can definitely accept.”

Hearing Lily awaken, I went to check on her. Eyes wide and soft, arms flailing with newfound energy after a long nap, she cooed from where she lay in her car seat. Somehow, the timing had come together perfectly. Lily had finished eating as the timer for the rice went off.

Cade settled at the table across from me. Piping hot dishes of blackened chicken and Spanish rice sat near a bowl of spinach salad, lightly wilted, left over from the grocery run he did before his trip to Florida.

“This looks delicious.” Cade reached across the table, hand open, and asked, “Do you say Grace?”

My lips parted. No one had asked me that question since the last time I lived here. Grandma insisted on it; yet at home, my father hated it.

“Please,” I said, though it didn’t answer the question at all. I placed my hand in his. Without hesitation, he dropped his head, murmured a prayer, and broke the connection moments later.

“Thank you for preparing dinner, Noelle. Can’t tell you what it means to have a hot meal. It’s been . . . well . . .” He laughed. “Let’s not name how long it’s been since I’ve taken the time to do more than open a can and warm something up.”

Gratified by his compliments and the groans of delight at every bite, I simply smiled and scooped up some salad.

My decision to stay seemed so simple while he was gone; it was about me, the house, and Lily. But Cade brought a not-so-welcome reminder that the ranch was now his, and I was part of his plan, not the other way around. On the other hand, this beautiful cowboy offered respite to a new mother, showed genuine delight around a child, and bought diapers so casually.

The greater difficulty would be living with him, but not falling for him. My growing crush on my landlord, for all intents and purposes, couldn’t be denied. I thought myself distracted or momentarily dazzled by his gentlemanlike presence, but it seemed inevitable that I’d been lying to myself.

Cade was . . . something else entirely, and what I felt was fathoms beyond dazzle. I swallowed a bite of rice with a little difficulty.

“How did your errands go?”

“Good. Found the information I needed at the bank, probate is underway, and saw my sister. It’s always good to see Cora.”

“You’re close with her?”

“Very. I raised her.”

“Oh?”

“Mom left for good when Cora was twelve, but she had only been in and out for years before that. We never met our father. Not sure who he is, actually.”

He stood, strode to the fridge, and reached for the gallon of milk. Of course, he drank milk with his meal. He also filled his plate mostly with spinach and chicken, and used a napkin on his lap. The man probably moonlighted as the tooth fairy for underprivileged children.

“Your mother left when you were so young?”

“I was almost eighteen at the time, so we managed to hide the fact that she left until my birthday. The moment I turned eighteen, I sought guardianship of Cora, a job on a different ranch, and saw her through school. I came to work here full time when Cora went to college.”

So, he wasn’t a perfect picture of cozy mountains and horses and chickens. Guardianship of his sister at eighteen? It only made him more interesting. No wonder he hadn’t reacted when I told him Lily wasn’t mine. I didn’t have to guard my relationship with her, or prove that I was her mother. In fact, he didn’t even generate questions about it. He took the information and moved on, and probably because he had done something similar.

I stabbed a chunk of chicken.

“So . . . I thought about your offer.”

He set his fork down, met my eyes. I read nothing but sincere curiosity in their depths, maybe a smidgen of hope.

“And?”

“I’d like to take it.”