for two people. Would she ever find a real love seat? One where she and someone else would sit together every evening, no matter what the day brought?
It was doubtful. But then miracles did happen sometimes. She’d proven that when she woke up to the sounds of two squealing little girls and wound up not only with a job but a place to live. And she hadn’t touched a dime of the banded thousands of dollars hidden in her suitcase.
A gentle knock startled her. Expecting one of the girls to tell her that they wanted rid of a goat right then, she said, “Come on in.”
The door opened wide and Mason filled the entire opening. He wore orange Texas Longhorn lounge pants with a white tank top stretched over his broad, muscular chest. The scent of manly soap wafted across the room to send her senses in another twisting spiral to areas where it had no business going. She reminded herself for the umpteenth time that she was a nanny and that was all.
“I made a pot of tea. Would you like a cup?” he asked.
“I’d love one. In the kitchen?”
He nodded and turned his back. She followed him into the kitchen to find a little white teapot and two cups on the table. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down.
“Shall I pour?” she asked.
That look of pain she’d recognized earlier crossed his face and settled into his eyes, but he nodded.
She filled two cups and said, “It’s very good. I would have never taken you for a tea drinker. I would have figured you’d be a strong black coffee man.”
“I am in the morning. Late at night when I can’t sleep for bleating goats, I like a cup of tea. Blame it on my late wife, Holly.”
Just the mention of her name brought a change in the air, something sad and lonely, an aura that hauled out every one of Annie Rose’s fix-it tools.
“You said late wife. Then your wife has passed. A car accident?” She thought of those sharp curves and the one she’d missed.
“She died with a brain aneurysm. She kissed me on the cheek and headed out the door. She worked in Whitewright at a real estate agency. She didn’t even make it off the porch and was gone before I could get to her,” he said.
“Their birthday brings it all back so vividly, doesn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded and sipped his tea. “We were high school sweethearts, moved in together in college, and married the week after we graduated. My folks gave us the ranch for a wedding gift with the stipulation that I could never sell it, but it has to go to my children or the child who loves it, so that it’ll stay in the family. I got my degree in business agriculture. Holly got hers in business administration and went straight into real estate and insurance.”
“Do the girls look like her?” Annie Rose sipped at the hot tea and then added a spoonful of sugar.
“Oh, no. Holly had red hair with curl that gave her fits and green eyes. The girls have my mother’s blond hair and blue eyes, which did not sit well with Holly at first. She and my mother never did get along.”
“Red-haired temper?” Annie Rose asked.
If he needed to talk, then she’d listen. That was part of her fix-it nature and sometimes talking did more good than anything, even if it was to a stranger he’d met only that morning.
“No, not her temper, although Holly did have one, and so does my mother. It was blond-haired control issues. Mother thought Holly should help me run the ranch and raise our children and be happy doing it. Holly had more modern ideas. She would have smothered to death on the ranch, day in and day out, so we hired a nanny and a housekeeper and Holly worked at the agency in town,” he said.
She waited, but he didn’t go on, so she asked, “Do the girls remember her?”
Mason shook his head. “They have pictures, but they were only a year old when she passed. I’m sorry, Annie Rose. I didn’t come down here to dredge up depressing things. I figured with the sound of a barnyard in the house that you couldn’t
It was doubtful. But then miracles did happen sometimes. She’d proven that when she woke up to the sounds of two squealing little girls and wound up not only with a job but a place to live. And she hadn’t touched a dime of the banded thousands of dollars hidden in her suitcase.
A gentle knock startled her. Expecting one of the girls to tell her that they wanted rid of a goat right then, she said, “Come on in.”
The door opened wide and Mason filled the entire opening. He wore orange Texas Longhorn lounge pants with a white tank top stretched over his broad, muscular chest. The scent of manly soap wafted across the room to send her senses in another twisting spiral to areas where it had no business going. She reminded herself for the umpteenth time that she was a nanny and that was all.
“I made a pot of tea. Would you like a cup?” he asked.
“I’d love one. In the kitchen?”
He nodded and turned his back. She followed him into the kitchen to find a little white teapot and two cups on the table. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat down.
“Shall I pour?” she asked.
That look of pain she’d recognized earlier crossed his face and settled into his eyes, but he nodded.
She filled two cups and said, “It’s very good. I would have never taken you for a tea drinker. I would have figured you’d be a strong black coffee man.”
“I am in the morning. Late at night when I can’t sleep for bleating goats, I like a cup of tea. Blame it on my late wife, Holly.”
Just the mention of her name brought a change in the air, something sad and lonely, an aura that hauled out every one of Annie Rose’s fix-it tools.
“You said late wife. Then your wife has passed. A car accident?” She thought of those sharp curves and the one she’d missed.
“She died with a brain aneurysm. She kissed me on the cheek and headed out the door. She worked in Whitewright at a real estate agency. She didn’t even make it off the porch and was gone before I could get to her,” he said.
“Their birthday brings it all back so vividly, doesn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded and sipped his tea. “We were high school sweethearts, moved in together in college, and married the week after we graduated. My folks gave us the ranch for a wedding gift with the stipulation that I could never sell it, but it has to go to my children or the child who loves it, so that it’ll stay in the family. I got my degree in business agriculture. Holly got hers in business administration and went straight into real estate and insurance.”
“Do the girls look like her?” Annie Rose sipped at the hot tea and then added a spoonful of sugar.
“Oh, no. Holly had red hair with curl that gave her fits and green eyes. The girls have my mother’s blond hair and blue eyes, which did not sit well with Holly at first. She and my mother never did get along.”
“Red-haired temper?” Annie Rose asked.
If he needed to talk, then she’d listen. That was part of her fix-it nature and sometimes talking did more good than anything, even if it was to a stranger he’d met only that morning.
“No, not her temper, although Holly did have one, and so does my mother. It was blond-haired control issues. Mother thought Holly should help me run the ranch and raise our children and be happy doing it. Holly had more modern ideas. She would have smothered to death on the ranch, day in and day out, so we hired a nanny and a housekeeper and Holly worked at the agency in town,” he said.
She waited, but he didn’t go on, so she asked, “Do the girls remember her?”
Mason shook his head. “They have pictures, but they were only a year old when she passed. I’m sorry, Annie Rose. I didn’t come down here to dredge up depressing things. I figured with the sound of a barnyard in the house that you couldn’t
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