Loving A Lonesome Cowboy. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
about decorations.”
“I can do that.”
“You won’t be here.”
“Oh.” She drew in her lower lip for a moment, then opened her mouth, but at his warning look, promptly shut it again.
He opened the bedroom door, and musty, dusty air poured out, throwing them both into fits of coughing. Quickly, he brought his attack under control, but Sara seemed to be gasping for breath.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, coughed, then gasped.
He circled his fingers around her upper arm and drew her away from the room. She felt tiny, fragile, where her arm should have been more meaty.
Peanut butter and crackers.
Was that her staple? Was that all she could afford?
He kept his hand wrapped around her arm, not sure if she needed him to steady her, as he opened a window. Frosty air snaked down the hall, but at least she’d stopped coughing.
She took a couple of shallow breaths and shifted her arm. He got the message and released her.
“Okay?” he asked, ducking his head to get a better look at her face. Her color was high and her eyes too bright but she quickly nodded.
“I’m fine, really.” She took a deeper breath. “I had a touch of asthma as a child and occasionally I have a slight attack. Nothing to worry about,” she added hastily. “I outgrew it in my teens.”
The information bothered Ethan. He wasn’t sure she should be doing this kind of work. “Look, Sara—”
She touched his arm, alarm in her eyes. “Please, don’t withdraw the job offer.” She lifted her chin. “I need the work.”
Ah, hell. Why did she have to look at him with those big pleading blue eyes like that? “Wait here a minute.”
He returned to the room, flipping on the ceiling fan on his way to the window. Good thing Sam had talked him into keeping the utilities turned on. Of course Sam thought Ethan would have tired of the caretaker’s shack and returned by now. It wasn’t that simple.
The window was old and stubborn from lack of use, but he finally managed to open it halfway. More cold air swirled through the room, but it sure beat letting the musty stagnant air suffocate them.
He went to the next room and did the same thing. On his way out to call Sara, he saw Emily’s sewing basket sitting on the oak dresser. His heart thumped as memories of them sitting by the fire sliced through him as cleanly as a knife through pudding.
She’d loved working with her hands, and she’d loved Christmas. Around July she’d always started sewing and knitting presents. He still had every sweater she’d knitted him. They were all in boxes he never opened.
“Ethan?”
He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there staring, when Sara’s troubled voice drifted to him. Silently he cleared his throat as he saw her in the doorway. Her nose was still red from her coughing fit, and so were her cheeks. She looked about sixteen. “I was trying to air out the rooms.”
She sniffed. “It’s better already. I take it this is the other room you want me to get ready?” She started to cross the threshold, but he stepped forward, causing her to stop.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes to air out. I’ll show you where the bathrooms are.” His tone was apparently too abrupt because she looked at him with a mixture of concern and fear, and took a wobbly step backward.
He didn’t have the words to fend off her fears, so he merely gave her a wide berth as he passed her. “I think one bathroom will be enough for the girls,” he said as he peered through the open door just down the hall.
The walls were covered with a startling pink wallpaper, the tile floor only a couple of shades lighter. It was one of two guest bathrooms, and Emily had insisted on the colorful decor. He’d truly hated it the first day she unveiled her handiwork, but she’d said bright colors boosted her spirits. And that had been enough for Ethan.
He thought he heard Sara chuckle, and he glanced over his shoulder. She smiled, her teeth perfectly straight and as white as new snow.
“How old did you say your older niece is?” she asked, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
“Twelve. Maybe thirteen.”
“I wouldn’t count on one bathroom being enough.”
He rubbed the side of his neck. “Why not?”
There was that twinkle in her eyes again. Made her look real pretty. “Because girls that age notoriously take hours getting ready.”
“Ready to do what?”
“Anything.”
Ethan shook his head. It was going to be a long two weeks ahead of him.
“If you’re going to have your own bathroom, the two girls could probably work it out sharing one.” She ducked past him to get a look inside, and a subtle fragrance drifted up to him. From her hair. It smelled like roses.
“Well, this certainly is an interesting color.” She stepped inside and swiped the wall. Her palm came up brown, and she wrinkled her nose. “Wow! How long did you say it’s been since anyone lived here?”
“Six years.” Six years, one month and three days. “The girls will have the bathroom to themselves. I live in the caretaker’s place.”
She turned to him with wide eyes. “You’re leaving them alone here?”
“No. My—” He caught himself, paused, then gestured with his chin toward the east pasture. “Sam, the Double S foreman, lives in the bunkhouse nearby. Along with about half a dozen ranch hands.”
“Are they all men?”
He nodded slowly.
“You can’t do that.”
Ethan sighed. “I’ll see the girls every day.”
She put a hand on her hip. A slim but nicely rounded hip. “That isn’t the point.”
“I know every single one of those men. There isn’t a thing to worry about.”
“But they’re only children, you can’t—”
She stopped abruptly at Ethan’s warning look. He wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t dealt with the persistence of a woman in a long time, or because it was this woman in particular. But she sure was getting under his skin.
He did feel a little bad, though, seeing the alarm narrow her eyes and the way her body tensed. Made him wonder about her husband, and why she was traveling alone, or why she needed the job. He wouldn’t ask. It’d likely invite questions about himself.
She rubbed a hand up her arm and gave him a measuring look. “If it would help, Misty and I could stay awhile. No charge, of course. Just room and board would be fine.”
“I appreciate your concern, ma’am,” he told her, “but I believe I have everything covered.”
“Of course.” She gave him a tiny smile. “I guess I’ll get started.”
She led the way back to the family room, her walk not as spry as before, and he couldn’t help wondering about her again. Not that it was any of his damn business. Or that he wanted to get involved.
“I was thinking I should start with their bedrooms first,” she said over her shoulder. “Then the bathroom, next the kitchen and save the family room for last. If I’m not finished before they get here, they can at least settle in while I tackle in here.”
He stood beside her at the edge of the family room and frowned. “You don’t think you’ll finish in time?”
Her