The Way To A Rancher's Heart. Peggy Moreland
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time.”
Jase reached for the basket of biscuits. “Don’t want you missing the bus,” he informed her. “I’ve got a trailer full of calves to unload and don’t have time to cart you kids’ butts to school.”
Tara tossed her napkin down and shoved back her chair. “Since when do you have time to do anything with us?” she snapped and stormed from the room.
Jase watched her leave, noting the hiking boots, the low-waisted, baggy-legged, faded jeans and the inch of bare skin her cropped T-shirt exposed. “Change into something decent!” he yelled after her. “No daughter of mine is going to school dressed like some tramp.”
He heard her sass something in return, but couldn’t make out her words. Scowling, he spread a heavy layer of butter over his biscuit and remembered his sister’s comments about him assuming responsibility for his kids. Well, he was responsible, he told himself. He had let go of a lot of things over the last couple of years, but he’d never let go of his responsibilities to his kids. To prove it, he asked, “Did you kids do all your homework?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Rachel said obediently.
As he took a bite, he angled his head to look at Clay, who had remained conspicuously silent. Butter dripped down his chin, as he gave it a jerk in his son’s direction. “What about you? Did you get yours done?”
Clay shoved back his chair. “Didn’t have any,” he mumbled and headed for the door and the hallway beyond.
Jase snatched up his napkin and wiped it across his mouth and chin. “I better not be getting any calls from your teachers,” he called after his son. He shifted his gaze to Rachel, who remained at the table, staring at him, round-eyed. “Well? Are you planning on going to school today, or not?”
“I’m goin’,” she replied quickly and slid from her chair. “Thanks for breakfast, Annie,” she said, giving the new nanny a shy smile. “It was real good.”
Annie graced her with a radiant smile in return. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Don’t forget your lunch,” she reminded the girl.
Rachel sidled to the side of Annie’s chair, winding a finger through a pigtail. “Did you pack me a surprise like you did on Friday?”
Annie draped an arm around Rachel’s waist and hugged her to her side. “You bet I did. But don’t peek,” she warned, tapping a finger against the end of the child’s nose. “It won’t be a surprise if you do.”
A pleased smile spread across Rachel’s face. “I won’t,” she promised and skipped to the counter to collect her lunch sack. “See you this afternoon, Annie,” she called cheerfully as she raced for the back door.
“Not if I see you first,” Annie teased, waving.
Jase frowned, more than a little surprised by his children’s obvious approval of the new nanny—and maybe a little jealous, if he were willing to admit to the emotion. And now, with all the kids gone, only he and the nanny remained at the table and he wished he hadn’t been so quick to hustle them off to school. Uncomfortable with the silence that suddenly seemed to hum around him, he cleared his throat. “I guess Penny informed you of your duties.”
“Yes. She was very thorough.”
Unsure what else to say, he quickly slathered butter over another biscuit. “I’m outside most of the day, but if you should need anything, I have a cell phone in my truck. The number is on the wall by the phone,” he added, gesturing with the biscuit toward the wall.
“Penny explained everyone’s schedules to me and showed me where to find everything.” She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, studying him, her chin resting on her hands. “The children miss you when you’re gone.”
Feeling heat creep into his cheeks, Jase shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I’m seldom away. When I am, it’s never for more than a week at a time.”
“Just the same, they miss their daddy.”
He cleared his throat again and reached for his cup, gulped a drink of coffee, then shoved back his chair. “I’ve got calves to unload.”
She kept her gaze on his face as he rose. “Do you plan to come in for lunch?”
He was tempted to tell her no, just to avoid being alone with her again, but thought better of it. It was a helluva long time until dinner. “Yeah. But you don’t have to cook. I can make a sandwich or something.”
She rose, too, and started gathering plates. “I don’t mind cooking. In fact, I really enjoy it. Is there anything special you’d like me to prepare?”
Jase snagged his hat from the countertop where he’d dropped it the night before and glanced her way as she headed for the sink, juggling dirty plates. He couldn’t help noticing that the bibbed apron she wore didn’t cover her rear end or hide the sway of a very delectably shaped butt. He cleared his throat yet again when his gaze lit on her bare feet, and heat climbed up his neck, burning his cheeks. “I’m not a picky eater,” he mumbled and tore his gaze away from what shouldn’t have been a erotic sight. “Whatever you put on the table is fine with me.”
She glanced over her shoulder and warmed his face even more with a smile. “Good. I’ll surprise you, then. Should I expect you about noon?”
Flustered, he rammed his hat over his head and turned for the back door. “Yeah, noon,” he muttered, and wondered if the surprise she had in store for him was anything like the one she’d secreted in his daughter’s school lunch.
Annie strolled through the small fenced area, studying the ground and the barely discernable rows that lay beneath the high weeds, enjoying the feel of the sun warming her skin. A garden, she thought dreamily. She could imagine rows of tomato plants, their branches sagging with fat, juicy tomatoes; cantaloupe vines crawling across freshly hoed rows, their plump, succulent rounds of yellow-and green-veined rinds peeking between the plants’ velvety, scalloped leaves.
Oh, how she’d love to plant a garden, she thought, sighing wistfully. It had been years since she’d worked a garden, dug her fingers in rich, fertile soil, feasted on a garden’s bounty. Four years to be exact. The summer before her grandmother passed away.
With another sigh, one filled with bittersweet memories this time, she walked on, deciding she might just ask her new boss for permission to clear out the weeds and plant a few vegetables. There was time yet before spring arrived fully.
She frowned as she thought of her new boss. Penny Rawley certainly hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said that her brother was a little reserved, perhaps might even appear a bit gruff. Gruff? She snorted at the mild description. The man was positively sour. Frowning all the time. All but growling at his children.
But, my, oh my, she thought with a lusty sigh, he was one prime hunk of man.
She shivered just thinking about the way he’d looked when he’d walked into the kitchen that morning, his eyelids still heavy with sleep, rubbing a wide hand over the soft mat of dark hair that swirled over a muscled chest. She wondered if he realized that the first button of his jeans had been unfastened. She wondered, too, if he realized how sexy she had found that glimpse of navel shadowed by dark hair, the equally dark V that seemed to point below the waist of his jeans and to the soft column of flesh that lay beneath a strip of fabric faded a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the denim.
With a delicious shiver, she leaned to pluck a bachelor’s button from the tangled weeds and straightened to tuck the bloom behind her ear.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped, startled, and turned to find her new employer standing behind her watching her, his arms folded across his chest, his hat shading his eyes. She huffed a breath. “Mercy! You might warn a person before you slip up on them unsuspecting. You scared a good ten years off my life!”
He narrowed an eye. “How old are you, anyway?”
She