Montana Wrangler. Charlotte Carter

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СКАЧАТЬ to you. Don’t you want to wash your hands first?”

      He shot her a startled look. “They aren’t dirty.”

      “You’ve been out there with the horses, haven’t you?”

      “Sure, but that’s no big deal.” He dragged the plate of sliced roast beef from the refrigerator and plopped it on the counter.

      Her career in the hospitality business, particularly at an Elite Hotel property in Seattle, had taught her cleanliness was crucial not only for the health of the staff and guests, but for the hotel’s reputation as well.

      “Bryan, please. Wash your hands before touching the food.” Who knew what he might have picked up in the barn or stable?

      “Mom always said a few germs won’t hurt anybody,” he grumbled. He turned on the faucet in the sink, waved his hands under the water and turned it off. “You happy now?”

      Not even close. But Paige wasn’t Bryan’s mother. She needed to give him a break. The poor kid was hurting and likely looking for someone to rail against.

      Assuming he had won the battle, Bryan rubbed his hands on his jeans, which looked like he’d worn them to roll around in the dirt. Paige squeezed her eyes shut. Leave him be. You’re not his mother.

      Jay chose that moment to saunter in the back door, all long legs and lean body, his old tan-colored cowboy hat perched on the back of his head. He tossed his hat on a peg in the mudroom, then walked into the kitchen. A ring of sweat made his dark hair glisten where his hat had rested.

      “What are you doing, kid?” he asked.

      “Fixing myself a sandwich.” Bryan found a loaf of bread in the bread box, a jar of mayonnaise in the refrigerator and put them on the counter beside the plate of meat.

      “Don’t go messing with that stuff until you wash up,” Jay said.

      “I did. She saw me.” He cocked his head toward Paige.

      “Let me see.” Jay took one of the boy’s hands, turning it palm up. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen cowboys spit and get their hands cleaner than that. Go use some soap in the bathroom.”

      “Aw, come on. I’m hungry.”

      “You won’t starve.” He turned the boy by his shoulders, shoving him gently toward the half bathroom that was just inside the back door.

      Bryan stomped away, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor, and slammed the bathroom door.

      Paige winced. “I was going to give him a pass on his dirty hands. I know he’s upset—”

      “He’s a kid. He needs to be told what to do.”

      “I thought this one time, he said his mother never—”

      “Krissy probably didn’t. She wasn’t much for discipline.” He helped himself to a couple slices of bread and a big chunk of meat.

      “And you think it’s okay for you to discipline him?”

      He slathered mayonnaise on the bread. “Sure. Kids are like horses. They have to learn who’s boss. They’re happier if they know the rules.”

      Paige didn’t like the idea of Jay comparing her nephew to a horse. Granted, the boy smelled like one. But he was still a child, not a horse to be broken of his bad habits.

      Bryan returned to the kitchen, sullen but with clean hands.

      “Get a couple plates down,” Jay ordered, his tone easy and casual. “You can have this sandwich and I’ll make another one for myself. Pour us both some milk, would you?”

      Without balking, Bryan did as he was told.

      Still holding the can of ground coffee, Paige looked on with amazement and a fair amount of admiration. Bryan appeared quite content to follow Jay’s orders. Clearly Jay knew more about raising boys than she had ever hoped to learn. Her focus on her career, and her ambition to move up to a position of manager of one of Elite Hotel’s European properties didn’t leave room for marriage or raising a family. Maybe someday, of course. But not in the foreseeable future.

      So far no man had made an effort to tempt her to change her mind.

      She watched as they sat down together to eat their sandwiches, then remembered Grandpa and the snack she’d promised him. Hurriedly, she got the coffee going and found a plate for the home-baked cookies.

      She was just pouring his mug of coffee when Grandpa came into the kitchen.

      “Since everybody is here, guess it’s time we all had a talk.” He sat at the head of the table and placed a large manila envelope beside him.

      Paige delivered his coffee and cookies.

      “Sit down here, child.” Grandpa indicated the seat next to him. “It’s important you hear what I got to say.” He glanced down the table. “You, too, boy. Pay attention now.”

      An uneasy feeling raised the hair on her nape as Paige slipped onto the chair. Grandpa sounded so serious; something monumental must be on his mind. Could his health be failing? He seemed especially tired and stooped, which wasn’t like the grandpa she knew. Maybe he was going to sell the outfitting business and retire?

      “Now then, we all know that Krissy could be reckless sometimes, but she did do some planning ahead. I’ll give her credit for that. ’Course, I did prod her a bit.” Clearing his throat, he pulled some papers from the envelope. “Your ma loved you, Bryan. Don’t you ever forget that.”

      The boy poked his finger into his sandwich, making a hole in the soft bread.

      “After your parents passed on a few years ago, Paige, I sat Krissy down to have a long talk about Bryan.”

      The boy looked up. “What’d you say?”

      “Hang on a minute, son. I’m getting to that.” His hand shook as he took a sip of coffee. “The point is she wanted to make sure Bryan was well taken care of if something should happen to her.”

      A band tightened around Paige’s chest. Her little sister had actually worried about what would happen to her son if she had died prematurely. Grandpa must have been very persuasive. A swell of love for him and her sister filled her chest.

      “She made arrangements for Bryan?” she asked.

      “Yep.” Grandpa nodded and patted the papers he’d pulled out of the envelope. “She wrote out sort of a will, not that she had much money to leave to anyone. But she had her son. If worse came to worst, she wanted to be the one to name the person who’d raise her son. Be his guardian.”

      Paige’s breath lodged in her throat. Maybe Krissy had finally named the boy’s father and wanted him to care for his son. Take responsibility at long last.

      Grandpa shoved the papers toward Paige. “Krissy wanted you to raise him, child. Raise him like he was your own.”

      Paige’s mouth opened. Not a sound came out. She’d been named Bryan’s guardian?

      Why СКАЧАТЬ