The Triplets' Cowboy Daddy. Patricia Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ is,” he said, “you walked away, and life went on. For sixteen years I worked this land, drove the cattle, worked my way up. I’m ranch manager now because I know every job on this ranch and could do it myself if I had to. No one can get one over on me.”

      “You’re good at what you do,” she confirmed. “Dad always said so.”

      “And when you did come back to visit, you’d wave at me across the yard. That was it.”

      Admittedly, their relationship changed over the years. But having him here—that was the awkward part. If they’d just been school friends, then a change in the closeness they shared would have been natural—like the ebb and flow of any relationship. But he’d worked with her father, so unlike her school friends—where some of those old friendships could die a quiet death—she still saw Easton on a regular basis. From a distance, at least. He couldn’t just slide into the past. When she did come home, she only had a few days, and she had to see a lot of people in that time.

      “I was busy,” she replied. “Friends and family—”

      She heard it as it came out of her mouth. Friends—and she hadn’t meant him. She’d meant people like Kaitlyn Mason, who she’d been close with since kindergarten. She winced. There was no recovering from that one, but it didn’t make it any less true. Easton hadn’t been high enough on her list of priorities when she’d come back.

      “Yeah,” he said with a sad smile. “Anyway, I was the worker, you were the daughter. Well, your dad saw fit to give me a little patch of land. I worked for this. I know that your great-grandparents built this house, and I know it means a whole lot to you, but I’m not about to sell it or tear it down. I actually think I might take your dad’s advice.”

      “Which was?” she asked.

      “To get married, have a few kids.”

      That had been her father’s advice to him? Her father’s advice to her had always been “Wait a while. No rush. Get your education and see the world.” The double standard there irritated her, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Whoever Easton decided to marry and whatever kids they’d have, they’d be no kin of the people who built this house with their own hands. Her family—the Carpenters—had been born here, had died here... Easton might have worked for her father, but he didn’t deserve this house.

      “Anyone special in mind?” she asked, trying to force a smile.

      “Nope.”

      There was no use arguing. The house was his. She couldn’t change it or fight it. Maybe one day she could convince him to sell to her, but that was about as much as she could do.

      “If you ever want to sell this house,” she said, “come to me first.”

      He nodded. “Deal.”

      Easton turned back to the stove and lifted the bacon from the pan with his tongs, letting it drip for a moment in sizzling drops before he transferred it to a plate. She had to admit—it smelled amazing. He grabbed a couple of eggs and cracked them into the pan. Was that it? Was that all she could ask from him—to sell to her if he ever felt like it? Probably, and he didn’t look like he was about to back down, either.

      He’d had a point, though. He’d spent more time with her dad than she had...he’d know things.

      “Did you know about the other woman?” Nora asked.

      He grabbed a couple thick slices of bread, dumped the bacon onto one of them, added the eggs sunny side up, and slapped the second piece on top. He turned toward her slowly and met her eyes.

      “I get that you’re mad at him,” he said. “And you’ve got every right to be. But he wasn’t my father, and what he did inside of marriage or outside of it wasn’t my business.”

      Nora stared at him, shocked. Was that the kind of man Easton was? He was just talking about a marriage and family of his own. She’d thought he’d have a few more scruples than that.

      “But did you know?” she demanded.

      “I’m saying he was my boss,” Easton retorted, fire flashing in his eyes. “His personal life wasn’t my business. I had no idea about the other woman—how could I know? We were working cattle, not cozying up to women. I’m not going to bad-mouth him, even if that would make you feel better for a little while. He was good to me. He was honest and fair with me. He taught me everything I know and set me up with this house. If you’re looking for someone to complain about him and pick him apart with, you’d better keep looking. I’m not that guy.”

      He dropped his plate on the table and squashed the sandwich down with the palm of his hand. Then he grabbed a few pieces of paper towel and wrapped it up.

      “You’re nothing if not loyal, Easton,” she said bitterly. Loyal to the man who’d given him land. He should have been loyal to a few basic principles.

      Easton tossed the wrapped sandwich into a plastic bread bag then headed to the mudroom.

      “I’m sorry for what he did to you,” he said, not raising his head as he plunged his feet into his boots. “I get that it was a betrayal. But I’m staff, and you’re family. I know the line.”

      The line? What line? Was he mad that they’d grown apart over the years, that she’d moved away to Billings for a degree in accounting? What line was so precious that he couldn’t stand up for the women who had been wronged?

      “What does that mean?” she demanded. “Do you want me to go? Have I crossed a line with you?”

      He grabbed his hat and dropped it on his head.

      “No,” he said quietly. “Stay.”

      He didn’t look like he was going to expand upon that, and he pulled open the door, letting in a cool morning draft.

      “You forgot your coffee,” she said.

      “I leave it on the stove to let it cool down a bit,” he said. “I’ll have it in an hour when I get back.”

      With that, he stepped outside into the predawn grayness. Then the door banged shut after him, leaving her alone with a freshly percolated pot of coffee and three sleeping babies.

      Easton had made himself clear—his loyalty belonged to her dad. Well, her father had lost hers. Ironic, wasn’t it, that the one person to stand by Cliff Carpenter’s memory was the hired hand?

       Chapter Three

      Around midmorning, Nora heard a truck rumble to a stop outside the house. She looked out the window to see her mother hop out of the cab. She was wearing a pair of fitted jeans and boots, and when she saw Nora in the window, she waved. Nora hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her mom until she saw her, then she felt a wave of relief. It reminded her of waiting to be picked up at Hope Elementary School. All the other kids got on the bus, and Nora had to sit on the curb, alone. Her heart would speed up with a strange joy when she finally saw her mom in the family truck. She felt that joy on that school curb for the same reason: sometimes a girl—no matter the age—just needed her mom’s support.

      The СКАЧАТЬ