Chief Cook and Bottle Washer (5 page)

Shutting the truck door, she approached the
rider on his big black stallion.

"I'm so glad you happened by this way, Mr.
Travers. The truck blew a hose, I think. Got too hot. I tried to
restart it, it just won't budge. I should have known better." She
was talking too fast, but the look on his face was stern and he
didn't seem happy to see her, like she expected.

Of course he wasn't happy. She was late.

He eyed her keenly. Electric blue eyes caught
her attention and she couldn't stop staring. His eyes seemed to
look right through her as though he could see past all those lies
to her soul.

He looked like something out of the past, in
his rough-worn jeans, checkered shirt, and sweat-rimmed straw hat.
Big and formidable and all cowboy. The kind her brothers had warned
her to stay away from, the kind Kate had warned her to stay away
from. The kind that made her heart beat a little faster.

She'd have to control that reaction, she
quickly decided. He was the boss. She was the employee. Best kept
that way. Especially till she found out if she still had a job. She
had a mission and she was going to carry it through no matter
what.

Emma continued to stare, while he dismounted
and brushed past her to the hood of the truck. Emma got a quick
whiff of cowhide and leather. Familiar and appealing in the same
breath. He paused for a second, his head dipping to her fender,
then he continued toward it.

Dear God! It was him! The man she ran into a
couple of months ago on the road. She hoped she was wrong, but
something in his pause by the fender told her she wasn't.

"You were right, it was a water hose," he
said simply slicing it with his pocket knife and trying to fit the
remainder of it back in place. A trick she'd seen her brothers do a
time or two. Why hadn't she remembered it? She wasn't some helpless
little ninny. Had she been thinking straight she would have
remembered and been on her way by now. She kicked herself
mentally.

After maneuvering about for several minutes
he turned to look at her and he grinned. "Try it now."

His smile slid over her like Jello on a hot
rock, melting what little reserve Emma could muster. The man could
be lethal with a smile like that. Her legs felt like butter and she
wasn't sure they'd hold her, but somehow she managed to walk back
to the truck. She shouldn't let any man, especially this man,
affect her, but darn if she could help it. He was the kind of man
that women were naturally drawn to–beyond their own will. A man's
man.

Emma's heart plummeted to the ground
suddenly. Hadn't Charlie's memory punished her enough? She didn't
want another man, ever. She didn't need to be kicked in the gut
again. Once was enough.

No sir, she didn't need another man.
Especially another cowboy. Charlie had loved her, or so he had
said. But when she'd arrived that evening after the funeral with
the baby in tow, Charlie wanted no more to do with her. He didn't
want any part of a ready-made family.

She climbed back into the cab of the truck
and turned the ignition. It stirred this time, but still didn't
start. She no longer cared whether it did or not. She wouldn't have
a job waiting at this man's ranch.

"Probably lost most of your water." He looked
around the hood at her and stopped–dead in his tracks.

"I don't have enough in my canteen to do any
good." She saw his face and stopped too.

Lord, it was worse than she feared. His eyes
made contact with the tiny figure beside her. A muscle flickered in
his cheek, as his eyes fastened on Sammie Jo for the first time.
His face wore a uninvited frown. He looked from the baby to her. A
question hovering in the depths of those oh so blue eyes.

"That's–a baby," his tone held accusations,
coming to stand beside Emma as though he were afraid Sammie Jo
might wake up and attack him.

"Y–yes, it is." She blew a tendril of hair
from her face, wondering what might happen now. So he didn't like
babies either, well, that figured. What more could go wrong today.
Why were babies such a threat to men. Her brothers had reacted the
same way when she came home with Sammie Jo. The same way Charlie
had reacted. As though an alien had invaded their home. And her
father had hit the roof, insisting the child be returned to his
father.

She averted her eyes, unable to face his
scrutiny. What could she say?

From his expression Deke wasn't pleased with
her or Sammie Jo at the moment. "Look, I can explain. This is
Sammie Jo, my daughter."

"Your daughter? Oh yeah, you're right, that
explains everything." His incredible blue eyes landed on her now
more intently. "That explains why you didn't mention a baby in the
kitchen at Bertha's."

She realized he aimed that frown straight at
her, and she wasn't sure what she should do or say. He had a right
to be mad. But dammit, she needed this job. Her tongue felt full of
West Texas dust. She didn't need his friendship. She needed the
job.

Shrugging her shoulders, and accepting the
inevitable, she answered. "I tried to explain, but you insisted we
could fill in the gaps later." Emma held herself steady, her gaze
holding his. She wasn't about to back down no matter what. Instead
she waited.

"Yeah, but a kid? Hell and damnation woman,
why didn't you tell me you had a kid?"

"I tried . . . back at Bertha's. But you
insisted details were unimportant. Besides, what does a kid have to
do with my being able to cook and clean?" Now her hands were on her
hips, challenging him, her chin lifting a degree.

He ran a hand over his face, "Yeah, I guess
you did, at that. I guess I should have listened." He sighed
heavily as though something was very wrong, but he didn't know what
to do about it. He looked at the ground, then back at her. "So,
where's the daddy?"

The last question she expected to hear,
rolled from his lips. Emma's heart skipped a beat, sweat rolled
down her cheek. "There is no daddy." She blurted unable to keep a
hint of bitterness out of her voice. Then after seeing his
questioning glance she tried to explain. "I mean, he didn't stick
around."

Deke Travers shook his head, banged his fist
on the old truck and muttered something under his breath.

Emma had supplied more than enough
information on the subject. She felt duty bound with him staring at
her as though she'd suddenly become a rattlesnake about to strike
him. She hadn't lied. Exactly. That part was true. Joel had left
Kate high and dry. Devastating Kate. She'd been so sure they'd be
married.

So much for believing in cowboys.

"And you are the one that ran into me that
night in the rain, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I honestly didn't realize it, till
now. If you remember it was pouring rain that night and I never got
a good look at you. Not with that flashlight staring me in the
face. I wasn't about to give you my life story in the pouring rain.
And you didn't give me a lot of room in that kitchen. You
approached me, remember."

"That suppose to satisfy me?"

"I did pay you for the damages."

"Yeah, you did. Do you always go around
throwing money in men's faces?"

"Only when I'm wrong. And I was wrong."

He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from
her. The way he studied her made her squirm.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm not used to being deceived."

"I'm sorry. But you don't understand the
circumstances."

He didn't say anything. Just stood there
staring.

"Well–do I still have a job?" She asked not
understanding why this cuter-than-sin-cowboy was so upset with her
and the baby. And she hadn't exactly lied, she just hadn't told him
everything. She wasn't aware she held her breath for his answer,
either.

"I don't usually hire people I can't
trust."

She nodded, not looking at him, but rather
the toe of her uninteresting boot, "Then will you at least help me
get this thing back on the road and we won't be bothering you
again."

He hesitated. So long in fact that she had to
look up at him. He sighed heavily again. "I still need a cook," he
said with tired resignation. But the light had gone out of those
blue eyes, and he stared at her with a troubled expression.

He took his hat off, displaying a thick head
of rich chocolate brown hair, swept high and back. The kind of hair
that makes a woman's palm itch. In fact, he made her downright
uncomfortable all over. Maybe she should get out of here. Run.

He wiped his brow with the back of his
sleeve. "Try the ignition again."

Emma missed his smile. He had an easy on the
eyes kind of smile. Only she was sure he didn't use it enough, and
didn't realize it's power.

"Okay." She gave him a quick appraisal and
wished she hadn't. The man was lethal. Every movement he made with
that drop dead gorgeous body put her on alert. She was sure he
wasn't exuding it purposely on her account. No, his muscles hadn't
flexed against the back of his shirt for her benefit. He probably
didn't realize his own potential. The way he walked and carried
himself blatantly said, "I'm all man."

The truck rumbled, and Emma looked up.

"We need water." He said his voice full of
strangled frustration each time he looked at her.

"There's a jug in the back of the truck."

"Good. Hopefully, it will be enough."

"I filled it before we left town," Emma
watched him, saw his muscles tense as she neared him again. Saw the
muscle in his jaw wiggle. He was probably gritting his teeth to
keep from shouting at her. The way Frank often had when she'd done
something stupid. The way Charlie had when she'd told him she was
leaving.

"Mr. Travers . . ." Emma called, but he
ignored her and got the water and took it around front. She
followed. He hadn't given her so much as a backward glance.

He ignored her, and Emma was determined not
to allow him the pleasure.

"Deke, call me Deke." He said when she came
to stand beside him. Her hands rested on her hips, her feet apart.
"We don't stand on formalities, Emma." He cast her another glance,
this time from head to foot, bold, assessing. If the truth were
known it was the most blatantly sexual assessment she encountered
with a man. Charlie certainly never looked at her in that
manner.

Emma floundered. At that moment she wished
she had worn something more attractive, but her meager wardrobe
consisted of jeans, T-shirts, and one nice white shirt for dress.
Working ranch girls didn't run around in pretty dresses. They
dressed for work. Back home that was all she needed, a few jeans
and T-shirts. Suddenly that didn't seem quite enough. Reality told
her nothing would impress this cowboy though, and she had better
sense than to try. But she hadn't wanted to impress anyone when she
left home with Sammie Jo. Men were the furthest thing from

her mind, after Charlie dumped her.

Actually, that wasn't right either. She had
dumped him. Reluctantly. She had practically forced him into
instant fatherhood with her decision to keep Sammie Jo.

Maybe it wasn't fair to Charlie. Forcing him
to make a choice. But it was all she could do, she had an
obligation to fulfill and nothing was going to stop her.

She shook those memories away.

She shouldn't be comparing Deke Travers to
Charlie. Charlie was the one man she had ever dated, ever cared
much about. She'd had no time for men in her life, and nothing had
changed.

Still it was hard not to compare them. But,
this man was her boss. If she still had a job. A man to be reckoned
with. A man who didn't like deceptions, didn't like games, and
maybe even didn't like women.

Despite his anger and impatience, she
couldn't stop the train of thought that engulfed her. Deke Travers
made her feel warm and feminine for some reason. Not like any man
she'd been around. He made her want to go out and buy the prettiest
dress she could find, just to show him. But Emma was no fool, she
knew she couldn't hold a man like Deke. She wouldn't know where to
begin. She had no experience beguiling men.

"Y-you don't like babies?"

She had searched for something to say, to
alleviate the tension between them. And what tension. She sensed he
was only inches from wringing her neck, by the hard set of his jaw.
So why had she blurted out her next thought?

For a moment he didn't answer. Just stared at
her. Then as though her question deserved some sort of answer, he
went around to Sammie Jo's window and stared down into the sleeping
little face. His stern features softened momentarily and a hint of
a smile played at his mouth. Just enough to let Emma know he was
human, very human. The boss might bark a lot, but Emma decided he
had a heart of gold. She might not know how to charm a man, but she
certainly knew how to read one.

"She's a cute little heifer, it'd be hard not
to like her. It's just I wasn't expecting her, is all. I guess we
can accommodate you both though. I mean the house is plenty big.
Just see she doesn't wander off too far. Horses, cows and babies
don't usually mix too well."

"She won't be a bother. She's a wonderful
baby, hardly ever cries."

"Cries?" He looked at Emma again, another
frown lining his forehead. He looked as confused as the feelings he
stirred. "Oh, yeah, well, that's good."

"Look. I could go back the same way I
came."

"Don't tempt me Emma. I'm already regretting
the offer."

Well tarnation, didn't the man realize that
babies cried? "I'm sorry I sprang this on you, Mr. Travers. It
wasn't fair. But consider this, in my position, what would you do?
A woman alone can't always play her hand out." She reconsidered her
tact. After all she had surprised him with this and he was handling
it.

"You obviously needed a cook, and I was going
to lose my job back at Bertha's. You said so yourself. I have a
child to support. I gathered you hired me out of desperation, and I
took the job for the same reasons. As you can clearly see."