A Rancher for Christmas

“There aren’t rules, Breezy.”

“Aren’t there?”

She ladled the soup into bowls, adding just a tiny amount for the twins. How much soup would they eat?

“A little more than that,” Jake responded to her unasked question. “And I guess there are some rules.”

Great, she loved rules. She might as well ask now and get it over with before she broke them all and found herself dismissed from the lives of her nieces. He’d made it clear he had the power to do that.

“Okay, tell me the rules.”

Jake cut up the sandwiches and placed them in front of the girls. She’d forgotten to do that. Next time, sandwiches in four triangles. That was simple enough. She set the soup on the table. Jake moved it back.

“What?”

“Soup out of reach or it’ll be on the floor before we can turn around.”

“Rule one, no soup.”

He laughed, the sound a little rusty but nice. He should laugh more often.

“I didn’t say no soup,” he clarified. “I said out of reach.”

She handed him a glass of tea and he took the seat next to Violet. Breezy took that as her cue and moved to the seat next to Rose. The little girl had already reached for a triangle of sandwich and was nibbling crust.

“Next rule?” Breezy asked as she reached for her sandwich.

Jake held out his hand. “We pray before we eat.”

Of course. She let out a sigh and took the hand he offered. She ignored the fact that with one hand in his and one hand holding Rose’s, she felt connected.

And a little bit trapped. No, she couldn’t ignore that.

* * *

Jake took a bite of sandwich and nearly choked. “What in the world is that?”

Next to him Violet gagged. Rose continued to nibble as if it was the best thing she’d ever eaten.

“It’s grilled cheese.”

“That is not cheese,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s not,” she admitted. “It’s cheese substitute.”

Jake put the sandwich down on his plate and took a long drink of tea, hoping it was real tea. It was. After he washed the taste of fake cheese out of his mouth he pinned the woman across from him with a look. “Rule three, no fake cheese. That’s not even real food.”

She laughed a little and smiled at Rose, who was happily chowing down. Rose grinned up at Breezy. Drool and cheese slid down her chin.

“Rose likes it,” she informed him.

“Rose doesn’t know better.” He pushed back from the table and headed for the kitchen. “I think we’ll have more soup and crackers, if you haven’t found a substitute for those.”

When he returned to the dining room, she looked less than sure of herself. “I thought it would be healthier for them.”

“They’re two, they need to eat dairy.” He ladled more soup in the bowls and tossed a sleeve of crackers in front of Breezy. She had taken a bite of sandwich and made a face.

“It is pretty gross.”

“So you’re not really a vegetarian?”

She shook her head. “No, I just thought it sounded like the right thing for children.”

He laughed and then she laughed. Maybe this is how they would get through this mess, with laughter. Maybe they would work out a friendship and he would learn to trust her. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not right now. He sat back down and pushed the sandwich away. “I think maybe next time we’ll stick to real cheese.”

“Right,” she said. “And maybe we should go over the rest of the rules.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on Violet’s dark hair as she sipped soup from her spoon. “It isn’t as if I’ve made a list of rules, Breezy. I’m not trying to make this difficult. I just have to be the person who keeps them safe.”

“You think you’re on your own with this?”

He didn’t answer the question because he didn’t want to explain that having Sylvia Martin for a mother meant he’d been taking care of children since he’d been old enough to reach the stove.

He didn’t know how to let go. And in his experience, women had a tendency not to stick around. At least not the ones in his life.

“I’m not on my own,” he finally answered. “But I’m the head of this family and I will always make sure these little girls are taken care of.”

“Maybe give me the benefit of the doubt and understand that I want the same for them. I want them happy and healthy. I want to be part of their lives.” She leaned a little in his direction. “C’mon. Give me the rules. You know it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t know what the rules are.” Even as he said it he found himself smiling, and surprised by that. She did that, he realized. She undid his resolve with a cheerful smile and a teasing glint in her golden-brown eyes.

“You have rules,” she said. “Should I get some paper or do you think I can remember them all?”

“Okay. Church. We always attend church.”

She smiled at that. “Because it’s a law in Martin’s Crossing or because you are a man of faith?”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “You made it sound like a law,” she said. “If broken, they’ll what? Stone me in the town square?”

“No, they won’t stone you in the town square and yes, I’m a man of faith.”

“Okay, Rule Number Three, church. I can do church.”

There was a hesitance to her voice that he wanted to question but he didn’t.

“We eat as a family on Sunday afternoons.”