The Cowboy's Valentine. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
daughter looked right now?
“Amber, why don’t you set the table? Do you know where everything is?” she asked, breaking the connection.
Amber nodded and raced for a step stool that allowed her to reach the plates and glasses in the cupboard. Lacey turned the chicken in the pan, putting the splatter screen over the top again to keep the grease from dotting the top of the stove. She heard Quinn behind her, helping Amber put things on the table in preparation for the meal.
It felt homey. It felt...like everything Lacey was sure she’d been missing. Only this wasn’t her family. Not her husband, not her daughter, not her home. It was just pretend. Something to make her feel better, to fill the gap until she got her life in order again.
And if now and again it gave Quinn a hand, all the better.
When had she started caring?
The chicken was perfectly done and she removed it from the pan and put it on a platter. The salad was placed in the middle of the table, and she added a sprinkle of paprika for color, then put the bowl of corn on a hot mat and stirred in just a little bit of butter. “There,” she said, stepping back. “All done. Let’s eat.”
She took the spot at the foot of the table while Quinn sat at the head, where he normally ate his lunch, and Amber was in between them on the side. Lacey watched as Quinn helped Amber put salad, corn and cucumbers on her plate, and then chose a drumstick for her to eat. Her eyes were huge as she looked at all the food and then, just as Lacey was about to taste her first bite of potato salad, Amber dropped her fork with a clatter.
“Daddy! We forgot to say grace!”
He put down his fork. “So we did.”
Amber turned her face to Lacey. “Do you want to say it, Lacey?”
Lacey struggled to answer. Grace was not really her thing. They’d never said it at home at mealtime and she wasn’t quite comfortable right now, being put on the spot.
“Why don’t you say it, sweetie?” Quinn came to the rescue and made the suggestion.
“Okay.” When Lacey sat still, Amber held out her hand. “We hold hands, like this,” she said, wiggling her fingers.
Hesitantly Lacey took the little fingers in her own, and watched as Quinn held Amber’s other hand. Her heart melted a little bit as Amber’s eyes squinted shut.
Lacey was expecting a scripted blessing, sort of the “God is great, God is good” thing she remembered from vacation Bible school when she’d spent time here at Crooked Valley when she was little. But instead, Amber took a few seconds to think before she offered up a simple prayer.
“Dear God, thank you for fried chicken and ’tato salad and for my daddy and for my friend Lacey. Amen.”
When she was done she dropped their hands, picked up her drumstick and took a bite, utterly unconcerned.
But Lacey met Quinn’s gaze and saw something there she wasn’t prepared for. She saw beyond the ranch manager and her biggest critic and the single dad to the man beneath.
And that man made her catch her breath.
January turned into February. Lacey had two more interviews and no callbacks, which was highly discouraging. After the dinner at the ranch, she hadn’t seen Amber. Miss Melanie was feeling better and Amber went back to day care after school each day. Quinn made an obvious effort to stay out of Lacey’s way, too—eating his lunch in the office, or taking it out to the barn and eating with the hands around the coffee break table.
Lacey got the message loud and clear. If Quinn had been feeling any attraction, he certainly didn’t want to act on it.
She occasionally sent home dinner with him. Some sliced baked ham and scalloped potatoes, or a dish of chili, or a casserole of lasagna for him to share with Amber. Quinn always protested, and she always answered the same way: she wasn’t going to eat badly just because she was cooking for one. He might as well take the extra because she was going to cook it anyway.
The fact that he reluctantly agreed told her that he was glad to have the help even if he wouldn’t admit it.
One sunshine-y day she printed out a few ads and drove into Gibson, hoping to put them up at the supermarket and post office and anywhere else she might find a bulletin board. Truth was, her unemployment checks were covering her expenses so far, but her real problem was having too much time on her hands. She needed something to keep her busy or she was going to eat too many brownies and fancy breads and end up requiring a whole new wardrobe. Taking on odd accounting jobs wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing. The businesses in Gibson were small, independently owned ones rather than big chains. Surely someone would be in need of some bookkeeping help.
She pinned up her notice on the community board at the grocery store, the drugstore, at the post office and at the office that housed the Chamber of Commerce. Then she ventured across the street to the library in the hopes of posting one there, which she left with the librarian. At the diner, she grabbed some lunch at the counter and asked if she could leave one there. Before going home, she stopped at the town’s one and only department store, looking for some new dishcloths and some replacement pairs of panty hose just in case she got any more interview calls. She stopped in front of a Valentine’s Day display and smiled a little at the boxes of kids’ cards generally featuring characters from the latest animated movies or TV shows. She picked up one set that was from Amber’s favorite cartoon. Amber would probably have her first school party this year and give cards to all her classmates. On a whim, Lacey put the box in her basket and also snagged a few paper decorations and craft kits.
She was just adding a small bag of foil-wrapped chocolate hearts when she ran into Kailey Brandt, wheeling a cart full of towels that were on sale, cleaning supplies and a box of file folders.
“Lacey! Hey there.” Kailey stopped the cart and smiled at Lacey, though Lacey thought she could see some strain around the other woman’s eyes. “What brings you into town?”
“Oh, this and that,” she replied, suddenly feeling rather awkward that she was still out of work.
“Paper Valentines?” Kailey grinned. “Amber’s been around some, huh?”
“Not much. But I saw them and I couldn’t resist. It’s been a long time since I handed out Valentine’s Day cards.”
Kailey nodded. “If you were like the rest of us around here, you decorated shoeboxes for a mailbox and ate way too many heart-shaped cookies at the class party.”
They both laughed a little. “Those were the days, right? Far less complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” Kailey said, her shoulders slumping. “I’m trying to keep the tax stuff straight and I ran out of file folders. I swear to God, I can work with ornery horses all day long, but doing paperwork is like the seventh circle of hell.”
Lacey’s ears definitely perked up at that, but it seemed presumptuous to offer her services during a friendly, neighborly exchange at the department store. She paused and then cautiously asked, “Have you considered outsourcing it?”
Kailey nodded. “A few times. I only took over a few years ago after my mom got thrown and hit her head. She does okay most of the time, but she struggles with numbers now and deals with migraines a lot.”
“I didn’t know. Your poor mom.”
Kailey smiled. “She manages, and she just does other stuff. But she’s slowed down a lot and Dad doesn’t have the patience for accounting. That leaves me, unless I hire an accountant. The office in town is pretty expensive and I’d have to take the stuff there, you know? It’s more trouble than it’s worth, so I suffer. Usually not in silence.” She laughed at herself a little.
It would be the perfect situation. “You know I’m an accountant,