Rodeo Rancher

Mick pouted but stood still while his father fitted what looked like hearing aids into his ears.

“How’s the level? Good?”

Mick nodded and said, “You guys want to see the playroom?”

They all ran out of the room with little Lily trailing behind, still dragging her unfortunate doll by the hair.

Sammy stared after them.

Once she was alone in the room with Michael, the silence stretched. Strange, she could usually talk to anyone, but this taciturn man intimidated her with his silence.

She rushed to fill it. “How old are your children?”

“Mick is five and Lily’s four. Yours?”

“Jason is nine.” He nodded as though he’d already figured that out. “Colt is five.”

Silence fell.

“Mick has hearing issues?”

“Yeah. It’s why he yells. He forgets to put his aids in every morning unless I remind him. He doesn’t like them. He’s just being stubborn, I think.”

She nodded.

The silence between them stretched. Sammy’s inner neurotic raised her head again. No. Nope. Not saying anything this time. When she rushed to fill the void, she ended up saying the most inane things. People tended to take her less seriously than they should because of it.

Words clogged her throat, begging to be released.

“Why do the rooms have so many beds if they don’t have friends over?”

“We—I thought maybe they’d want to someday. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

We? He and the children’s mother?

She tried to gloss over the awkwardness of the moment. “Maybe after they start school.”

“Maybe,” Michael said, and changed the subject.

“We’d better take a look at the food situation,” he said.

Oh, yes, food. “We’re putting you out a lot, aren’t we? I’ll make sure the boys don’t eat too much.”

He waved a hand. “I have plenty of food in the freezer.”

“Why?” she blurted before realizing it was an impertinent question. She tended to shop for fresh food every day.

“This is the third bad storm in two months. Meteorologists predicted a bad winter this year, and they were right. I like to be prepared.”

He left the room and headed for the kitchen. She followed, interested in what he might have. She’d sensed his disapproval of her vegetarianism.

“Earlier in the week when I heard we were likely to be snowed in again, I put in an extra supply of stores. Wasn’t expecting company, though.”

Her hackles rose. “I’m sorry. If I could have stopped at a motel I would have.”

“I’m not complaining about that,” he said, as though there were other things he wanted to protest.

Like what?

He opened the refrigerator. “Come here and check everything out. What will your boys eat?”

“Anything.”

He looked at her skeptically. “Really?”

“Just about.” She studied the contents of the fridge’s shelves lined with ground beef, chicken and steaks. “You’ve got a lot of meat.”

She opened the crisper to find only root vegetables. Not a single salad green in sight.

“No greens?”

“Nope.” He sounded defiant. “I don’t eat ’em and the kids don’t want ’em.”

A loud bang at the back of the house startled her. Michael rushed down the hallway and opened a sturdy-looking exterior door. The storm door was banging against the wall of the house.

Michael latched it firmly and closed the door again. The gust of frigid air that had rushed in like an invader brought home to Samantha just how lucky she and the boys were to have found this refuge.

Grumpy guy or not, Michael had taken in three extra people who would need to be fed. It would behoove her to keep a generous heart and an open mind.

Mick stepped out of the bedroom where the children played. “Sorry, Dad, I guess I didn’t hook it properly when I came in this morning.”

Michael rubbed his son’s hair. “It’s all right. No harm done.”

When he returned to the kitchen, Samantha said, “Thank you.”

He pulled up short and looked behind him. Maybe he thought she was talking about closing the back door?

“I mean for taking us in,” she clarified. “For letting us stay here when you don’t want us here.”

When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “It’s okay. I understand. We’re strangers. We’re an unexpected burden. When this is all over, I’ll make it up to you.”

She didn’t have a clue how. What on earth did she have to offer a man who seemed to have everything while she would spend the next few years fighting for control of her own life?

Chapter Three (#ulink_c6ad2e08-3254-527a-92b1-77e2d12c10f0)

Michael felt a distinct unease wash through him, a sense of shame that she knew he didn’t want her here.

He’d been raised to be hospitable, to share whatever he could. Had he become such a loner that he no longer knew how to extend a helping hand to someone in need?