A Daddy for Dillon (2 page)

“Well—in a way. Quint Cantrell and his mother and sister own this ranch. I only manage it for them.”

“Then you are the boss. And Reena told me to serve your meals in the dining room.”

Laramie shook his head, and as he did his gaze swept across her hands folded loosely in front of her. There was no wedding ring or sign of where one had been. Did that mean she was single?

Feeling like an idiot for even wondering about the woman’s marital status, he said, “I don’t know why Reena would have told you such a thing. I never eat in there. That’s for the Cantrell family and their guests.”

The color of Leyla’s cheeks turned an even deeper red as she bit down on her bottom lip and glanced at her son. “I’m not sure why she told me that. Maybe I misunderstood her. Or she might have thought Dillon would bother you here in the kitchen.”

“The child won’t bother me,” he assured her. “I like kids.”

Even though it was hard to read the expressions in her features, he could clearly see a look of relief in her eyes, almost as though she’d expected him to be difficult to deal with or even mean-natured. The idea was bothersome, to say the least.

She said, “I’m sorry there was a mix-up. I’ll bring everything back here to the kitchen.”

She started toward the doorway, but Laramie quickly called to her. “No. Don’t go to that trouble now. It’s okay. I’ll eat in there for tonight.”

He quickly made his way to the dining room and found the wooden table, easily capable of seating twenty diners, was set for one. Not far from the plate, two fat candles were flickering and a huge bowl of fresh cut flowers decorated the center of the table.

Laramie had eaten in this room before, when the family was present and guests had been invited for one particular reason or another. To be taking a meal here alone, as though he was the patriarch of the place, felt ridiculous to him. But he’d endure it for one night to save Leyla unnecessary work.

He’d just sat and started filling his plate from an assortment of covered dishes when the cell phone attached to his belt broke the silence.

Pulling the instrument from its holder, Laramie saw the caller was Quint Cantrell. The owner of the Chaparral ranch had been Laramie’s friend for many years and they worked together more as brothers than owner and foreman.

“What’s up, Quint?”

“Believe it or not I’m on my way to the grocery store. Maura’s craving peanut butter and the boys cleaned out the last jar this morning. Like a good husband I offered to go get some for her.”

Quint had been married for a few years now to a beautiful red-haired nurse. They had two young sons, Riley and Clancy, who would no doubt grow up to be ranchers themselves. Now Maura was pregnant again with a third child who would be born in late summer. His friend had a perfect, loving family. Something that Laramie had never experienced.

“You spoil that woman of yours rotten,” Laramie joked.

“Aww, she treats me like a prince, so what’s a man to do?”

Laramie could have told Quint he was asking that question to the wrong man. His experience with women was the short, uncomplicated kind. Unless four dates in one month counted as long term, then he’d never had a lengthy relationship with a woman.

“I’d say you should do exactly what you’re doing.”

“Smart man,” Quint replied with a chuckle. “So what happened at the ranch today? Nothing major, I hope.”

Leaning back in the chair, Laramie swiped a hand through his damp hair. “Not today, thank God. In fact, we found those three missing horses. They were at the back of the property. Not far from Tyler Pickens’s boundary fence.”

“How in hell did they get back there? Did you find any downed fences between you and Pickens’s land?”

“No. But we’ve not yet had time to check every fence line.”

“That would take days,” Quint said. After a long, thoughtful pause he added, “And you don’t have the manpower to waste on that right now. You’re going to need all hands for spring roundup. Since the horses were found, let it be for now.”

For the past few months, the Chaparral had been experiencing incidents that couldn’t be explained. Like sick cattle, missing horses and perfectly good machinery suddenly going on the blink. Both Laramie and Quint wanted to believe the occurrences were just a string of bad luck, but as the problems grew, that idea was harder and harder for the men to accept.

“Right. Branding is more important. And there isn’t a man on the ranch who isn’t excited about roundup. I’d probably have a mutiny if I sent a few off on fence line detail.”

“Worse than a mutiny,” Quint agreed. After a moment’s pause, he went on, “Actually, the main reason I’m calling is to see if Leyla arrived.”

“I met her a few minutes ago. I’d forgotten you’d mentioned the change in cooks. I didn’t remember it was going to take place this soon.”

“Hell, Grandfather was having a fit to get Reena out to his place. I’m not sure she was wild about the move, but she doesn’t want the old man getting stirred up.”

“Abe is a tough old codger when he doesn’t get his way.”

“You’re right. I have enough on my plate without that. Especially with Maura pregnant again. You know, Laramie, I want this baby so much—just as much as our other two boys. But I worry about Maura because I can’t slow her down. She’s forty but acts like she’s twenty.” He suddenly paused, then let out an apologetic chuckle. “I’m sorry, Laramie. That’s enough about me. I should be asking if Leyla can cook. If not I’ll have to find someone else to suit you.”

“Can’t tell you that yet. I just sat down to eat when you called.”

“Damn, it’s late,” Quint cursed. “You should have quit work two hours ago.”

“Just like you keep sane hours?”

Quint let out a snort. “Maura tries to keep me on schedule. Sometimes I make it to the house by dark at least three evenings a week.”

“I’m not hurting myself.” And he would make it clear to Leyla that there was no need for her to hang around to serve his meals if he came in late at night.

Quint suddenly cleared his throat. “I don’t ask much of you, do I?”

Perplexed by his friend’s question, he frowned. “You don’t ask me to do anything that you wouldn’t do. Why?”

“This is probably going to sound crazy, but I hope that whenever you are in the house you’ll be easy on Leyla.”

A frown quickly replaced Laramie’s grin. “Why wouldn’t I be easy? I’m not exactly a ladies’ man, but I know how to be mannerly.”

“Yes, you’re always a gentleman. But I... Well, Maura and I would appreciate it if you’d be extra kind to her. She’s gone through some rough spots in her life. It’s time somebody treated her kindly.”

“Oh. Does she—” concerned that she might suddenly enter the dining room and hear him, Laramie lowered his voice “—have a husband?”

“No. The only family we know of her having is an aunt and Oneida is elderly and in the nursing home. My sister-in-law, Bridget, and her husband, Johnny, delivered Leyla’s boy in the backseat of a vehicle a few years ago. She’d been trying to drive herself to the hospital down on the res. The road was deep with snow and she’d gotten stranded. It was fortunate they found her. Otherwise, she or the baby might not have made it.”

Laramie was momentarily stunned. He couldn’t imagine the young woman enduring the pain of childbirth while being stranded in a freezing, snowbound vehicle. She must have been terrified. She must have felt the whole world had deserted her.

“Damn, that’s tough.”

“Yeah. She told Bridget that her family was dead. But we’re wondering if she might have folks somewhere and split from them for some reason.”

“You mean like she might have run away?”

“Nowadays who can tell? Whatever happened, it’s clear that no one is around to give her any support.”

“I see,” Laramie said, even though he didn’t. How could a woman like her be so alone? “And I promise not to give her a hard time.”

“Good. Now eat your supper and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Quint quickly ended the call, and after Laramie had put his phone away, he focused his attention on the food on his plate. But as he ate the roast beef and vegetables, his thoughts were spinning with Leyla and her young son.

Even if she’d separated herself from her parents, there was a man somewhere who’d gotten her pregnant. Why wasn’t he around? The boy needed a father. Just like Laramie had needed a father all those years ago, he thought.

But you had a father. Diego Jaime might not have planted the seed in your mother’s womb, but he’d cared for you, loved you just as though he’d been your father. You don’t have a right to feel cheated or sorry for yourself, Laramie.

He was trying to squash the little voice going off in his head when he heard footsteps entering the dining room. Looking up, he watched Leyla walking toward him, a pitcher of iced tea in her hand.

“Would you like your glass refilled?” she asked.

He placed the glass near the edge of the table to make it easier for her to reach. Still, she drew near enough for him to catch a whiff of her musky scent.

As she poured the tea, he said, “The food is delicious. You’re a very good cook.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize Reena was going to be leaving so soon. You must have gotten here after breakfast this morning.”

Nodding, she said, “Mr. Cantrell was eager for her to get to Apache Wells. Jim, his cook, has a broken leg. They’re not certain how many weeks it will require a cast. So she’ll be there. I’ll be here.”

“Yes. Quint told me.”

Her lips pressed slightly together and then she looked away from him to a shadowy spot across the room. “I forgot. You’re the boss. You would know those things.”

He wanted to reiterate to her that he wasn’t the boss, especially not hers, but he kept the words to himself. She needed time to get used to him and her new surroundings without him correcting her on every little issue.

“Have you ever lived on a ranch?” he asked.

Her gaze was quick to return to his face. “No. Why do you ask that?”

Laramie wasn’t exactly sure why the question had slipped out of him. Except that she seemed a little lost. And after hearing what Quint had said about her, he didn’t want her feeling that way.

“Just curious. It’s a heck of a lot different from living in town.”

“I haven’t lived near a town in a long time. Before I came here I lived in the mountains on the res. Alone,” she added, her chin jutting slightly forward, as though he needed to understand that she could take care of herself.

Her spark of independence surprised him. It also caught his admiration. “That’s good. I mean, you should get along fine here, then.”

* * *

Leyla gave him a faint nod, then turned and left the room. Once she reached the kitchen, she set the iced tea in the refrigerator, then leaned weakly against the cabinet counter.

Reena had told her that Laramie was a nice man and that she wouldn’t have any problems with him. But the woman hadn’t warned her that he was young and so good-looking. No. Good-looking wasn’t exactly the right description for the ranch manager, she thought. With his tall, lanky frame and dark shaggy hair, he was more sexy than handsome.

Not since Dillon’s daddy had she looked so closely at a man. She’d even noticed Laramie Jones’s eyes. They were an unusual mixture of blue and brown with lights and shadows waltzing sensually in their depths.

Oh, my, this was the man she would be cooking for. She was going to have to be very careful around him. Careful not to let herself look or dream.

Reena had said he was single and stayed in this big fancy house. His room was upstairs. The maid, Sassy, had shown her which one just in case she should ever need to alert him in the night for an emergency. Thankfully, the young red-haired maid would be taking care of his room and laundry.

“Mommy, Mommy.”

The tug on her leg had her glancing down at her nearly three-year-old son. He was holding a piece of paper that she’d cut from his coloring book. The wild orange markings went from the pony in the middle of the page to the very edges.

“That’s a very good job, Dillon. You made the pony orange. Can you say orange?”

The boy puckered his mouth in an O as he pondered his mother’s request. “Orr-range. Orr-range.”

“Good. Very good.” She took his small hand and led him over to the kitchen table. “And because you colored such a pretty picture, I’m going to give you some cookies and milk. Want some?”

He nodded enthusiastically and Leyla lifted him onto one of the chairs and smacked a kiss on his cheek. Dillon was the hope and dream of her whole world. Her love for him was so great that just thinking of him brought tears to her eyes. It didn’t matter that his father had been a deceitful jerk. That he’d run fast and hard as soon as he’d learned Leyla was pregnant. Having her precious son made up for being discarded, for the lonely, solitary nights and for the long hard hours she’d worked to keep a roof over their heads.

“Cookies, Mommy! Eat.”

“Okay, hold your horses. I’m getting it.”

She’d served the boy fig wafers and milk and was cleaning the dirty pots she’d used for cooking when she heard boot steps behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the ranch foreman carrying his plate and glass toward her.

“Here’re my dirty dishes.” He placed the dishes on the counter. “The meal was delicious. Thanks.”

She looked up and as her gaze connected with his, her heart beat very fast. “You don’t have to praise my cooking. Just tell me when something is wrong.” She turned back to the sink and began to scrub one of the pots with a copper scouring pad. “Would you like dessert and coffee? Or more tea?”

“Well, I do sorta have a sweet tooth. Whatever you have is fine and a little coffee with it would be great. If this young man will share his table with me, I’ll sit over here,” he told her.

Leyla glanced over, expecting to see her son jump from the table and race over to the safety of his mother’s side. Instead, she was slightly amazed to see Dillon stare curiously up at the big man sitting next to him.

“Is your name William or Dillon?” Laramie asked the child.

Confused and a bit insulted by a question he considered silly, he practically shouted. “Dillon!”