Loving A Lonesome Cowboy
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“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 brows shot up as she surveyed the room. “I wasn’t expecting quite this much…neglect.” Quickly, she turned to him. “I’m not complaining. And I’ll get it done….”
“You’re right.” He laid a hand on her arm in reassurance, and her gaze raised to his, her eyes too big and too blue. Immediately he withdrew his hand and swallowed. “There’s a lot to do. I’m going to get one of the men to help you.”
She blinked, and fear flickered in her eyes. “What men?”
“One of the ranch hands.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her palms together, then dragged them down the front of her jeans. “Why don’t we see how far I get by tomorrow first? No need to interrupt their work schedule. The owner might not like it.”
“He won’t mind.” She still looked tense, so he added, “We can decide tomorrow evening. But you have to promise me you won’t lift anything heavy.”
A shy smile curved her lips. They were naturally peach-colored, and he felt a stirring where he damn well shouldn’t. “I promise,” she said.
“Okay.” His tone was gruff, and she stiffened. “I’ll get out of your hair. You need anything, go to the bunkhouse and ask for Sam. He’s a good man.”
She was about to say something, but her daughter sat up from her lounging position on the couch and yanked off her headphones. Sara hurried over to her. “Is the tape finished, honey?”
The little girl nodded, her gaze glued to Ethan.
“Do you want to listen to another one?” Sara brushed the child’s bangs out of her sleepy eyes. “Or you can listen to Baby Beluga again.”
“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Misty whispered softly.
Ethan heard it anyway.
Sara’s cheeks pinked and she leaned down to say something in the girl’s ear.
He looked away, not wanting to intrude. He scanned the dusty white shapeless mounds and realized he couldn’t recall what the furniture under the sheets looked like. Panic tightened his throat, gripped his chest.
How could he forget? This room had once been a haven for him, for both of them. He didn’t want to forget any part of their life together. Not a second. Ever.
It was a mistake to come here. Damn that Jenna.
“Ethan?”
He heard Sara calling to him and realized he was already at the door. His hand tensed on the knob. “I’m going out to the truck and get the cleaning supplies.” He slid her the briefest glance, and saw her pass a cracker to Misty before he stepped outside.
It took only one trip to unload the supplies. He left them on the porch, then drove away at breakneck speed before the demons picked up his trail.
Chapter Three
It had been dark for nearly an hour before Sara took her first break. In spite of the open windows and the brisk December air whipping through the house, she felt damp and clammy from exertion. Long tangled strands of hair refused to stay within the piece of elastic she’d tied around her curly mop, and they clung to her damp, flushed cheeks and neck.
And still she saw little progress as she surveyed the bedroom. Sighing, she sank onto the only chair in the room, a soft overstuffed club-style monstrosity, and prayed she could get up again.
Originally, she’d thought the amount of money Ethan had offered her was generous. Not anymore. Not with the king-size headache she had from inhaling dust and the insistent ache plaguing her lower back. She was beginning to doubt she’d even be able to make the place presentable in two days. Actually, a day and a half was more accurate. The girls would be arriving early afternoon the day after tomorrow.
A crocheted doily had fallen from the dresser and without leaving the chair, she scooped up the lacy snowflake-like piece for a closer inspection. It was finely made, by hand as far as she could tell, and although at first glimpse it appeared old, Sara guessed it was more recently made. At least in this decade, when women were usually too busy to spend the kind of time required for such fine craftsmanship.
Another mystery. The house had tons of them. Like the newer add-on off the back bedroom. The house was already huge, but the owners had added yet another room. Off the master bedroom, she figured, not having seen the inside of it. Forbidden territory, according to Ethan.
The add-on alone wasn’t strange. Many growing families found the need for additional space. But there was no sign that children had ever lived in the house. And then there was the owner’s abandonment. Very strange.
She tossed the doily back onto the dresser. More dust filtered into the air. Sighing, she pushed to her feet. She had far too much work ahead of her to be sitting here, wondering about things that were none of her business.
After taking a peek to make sure Misty was still napping, Sara decided to work in the kitchen for a while. She really did need to develop a plan. It was maddening the way she went from one room to the other for a mop or a rag, then randomly began a new task without completing the one she’d left.
She checked her watch and decided to give herself one hour in the kitchen. That way they’d at least have a decent place to sit and eat dinner. Even if it was only peanut butter and crackers. She turned on the water in the sink and gazed out the window. In the distance, the tops of the San Juan Mountains were already covered with snow.
Directly in front of her, a man walked slowly toward the house. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered, for a second she thought he was Ethan, and her pulse leaped.