Pregnant In Prosperino. Carla Cassidy
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catch up on the gossip in the area, needed to buy or sell any kind of equipment, or simply wanted a great cup of coffee, the café was the place to come. The café had always been a favorite haunt in his childhood, a place where he had often run to escape from his father.
It was obvious he’d come in the lull between the supper rush and the late evening bunch. There were only three other patrons inside, all sitting in the same booth.
Chance slid onto one of the stools at the counter and eyed the pretty waitress he didn’t know. At another time, in another place, he might have flirted with her. At this moment, in this time, the idea held little appeal.
“What can I get for you?” she asked as she drew a pad from the pocket of her apron.
“Just a cup of coffee. Is Angie still around?”
“Sure, she’s in the back.”
“Would you tell her Chance is here to see her?”
“No problem. I’ll be right back.” She whirled around and disappeared into a doorway that led to the kitchen.
A moment later a robust woman with a headful of gray hair came sweeping out, her face wreathed in a wide grin. “Chance Reilly, you devil.” She faced him across the counter and grabbed his hands in hers. “Let me take a good look at you.”
Chance grinned. “It’s good to see you, Angie.”
“And aren’t you still the most handsome devil I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t you let Harmon hear you say that, he’ll take a bullwhip to me just for looking at you,” Chance teased.
She laughed. “Harmon is getting so old, all he’d manage to do would be to get himself hopelessly tangled in a whip.” Her smile faded and she eyed him soberly. “You doing okay? I was real sorry to hear about your daddy.”
“Then you’re probably the only person in town sorry to hear about him,” he replied.
Angie and her husband, Harmon had worked in the café for as long as Chance could remember, and over the years the two of them had often consoled Chance when his father had driven him from the ranch.
“And what’s this I hear about you tying the knot with Lana Ramirez?” Angie continued. “That had to have been the fastest courtship in the history of mankind.”
“You know me, Angie. I’ve always been a fast worker.” He and Lana had agreed that they would tell nobody the real terms of their marriage. There was only a handful of people who were privy to the terms of the will and who probably suspected an arranged marriage, but nobody would hear it from Lana or Chance. “Besides, Lana just swept me off my feet.”
Angie released his hands and straightened. “I’m glad you’ve finally settled down, and with a good woman, too. Don’t you go breaking her heart, Chance Reilly. I’m sure you’ve already broken more than your share.”
Chance shifted positions on the stool, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “Angie, have you heard of any good ranch hands looking for work?”
She moved aside as the waitress poured him a cup of coffee and slid it in front of him. Angie frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm, Kirk Brighton was in here the other day looking for work. You going to take over the place and get it back into shape?”
“That’s the plan,” Chance said.
Angie nodded with a satisfied smile. “That’s good. It’s a beautiful spread, but your dad’s heart was never really in it, then he got so sick in the last year, he just let it all go. Besides, you belong on that ranch.”
Chance didn’t tell her that he intended to sell it as soon as possible. As the talk turned to the men in the area, he focused on who might be the best to help him get the ranch into shape.
By the time he left the café, he had the names of five men looking for work, had promised that sometime soon he and Lana would have dinner with Angie and Harmon, and had been gifted a freshly baked, still warm apple pie.
He headed for home, the darkness of night making him think of Lana’s sweet perfume, the silky sensation of her skin against his, the soft sighs she had emitted as he’d touched her here, there.
Heat filled him, the heat of desire, and he consciously tried to will it away. He didn’t want to want Lana. She was a duty to fulfill, a bargain to execute. Nothing more. She would never be anything more.
Still, he had to admit it was nice to pull into a driveway and see the porch light burning, knowing the porch light was on for him. Somebody waiting just for him.
She was on the sofa, watching the television when he walked in, and instantly he felt sorry…sorry for leaving her alone all day long, sorry for taking off for town without even having the courtesy to invite her along. Now, he couldn’t remember what had made him run, what had made him feel as if he needed to escape.
She jumped up off the sofa and faced him. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all.” The moment the words left her lips, she frowned. “I’m sorry, that sounded rather like a haranguing wife, didn’t it?”
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