Silent Surrender. Barbara J. Hancock
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on eventually owning the Creedence Creek—a firmly held goal grounded in the past, with roots going back many years.
Thirty-three years, to be exact.
Those roots could be traced back to the day he was born, a fact he’d always kept to himself.
Now, at least for the present, a woman stood between him and his ability to achieve that goal. When she packed up and left, he’d have what he wanted. The last thing he needed was to start wanting her, as well. And if he were foolish enough to act on it, things were bound to get complicated in a hurry.
So it has to be kept simple, Quinn, he told himself. But he hadn’t forgotten that simple didn’t apply with this woman.
“Must be close to time to start supper,” Pete said. He took a step forward, then stopped dead as the rev of an engine suddenly made itself known. “This must be the other female who’s supposed to show up today. Jeez, it’s a regular invasion!”
After negotiating a bend in the gravel road with a flourish, a bright-red coupe zipped neatly into a spot behind the truck. A woman with a trim figure and copper-colored hair got out. She wasn’t young, yet there was nothing at all matronly about the yellow, short-skirted suit she wore, her fashionably high heels or the spring in her step. As she approached the back door, it opened and the deliverymen walked out. She turned and gave both men a frankly appraising glance as they departed before continuing on her way.
“Well, will you look at that. She was checkin’ out their rears, Ry.”
Ryder’s chuckle was deep and low. “She’s seen quite a few, I imagine. Remember, she’s a nurse.”
CLORIS MUNROE was like a breath of fresh air, brisk and invigorating. Eve had come to that conclusion minutes after meeting her in Tucson earlier that week. A hint of a Southern drawl, a legacy of her Louisiana childhood, seemed to be the only thing remotely lazy about Cloris. Her credentials were top-notch, her references excellent. During her thirty-year career as a pediatric nurse, Cloris had cared for untold numbers of children. She had also raised two of her own.
Eve felt downright lucky to have won this woman’s agreement to act as the sole full-time member of the day care staff. She told her as much as they got better acquainted over coffee in the long dining room off the kitchen, where a wide landscape could be viewed through tall windows now framed in ivory lace.
Cloris aimed a small smile over the rim of a stoneware mug. “Thanks, Eve, I appreciate that. But I think I’m the one who lucked out.” She set her mug down on the floral-print tablecloth, leaned back in a rustic oak chair. “When my husband and I split up after our kids were grown and on their own, I have to admit I felt sorry for myself. Too sorry for too long. Finally I got up the spunk to face myself in the mirror and say, ‘Cloris, you need to get on with your life, get rid of a house that’s too big for one person and get involved in something new.’ Caring for children isn’t new, of course, but living on a ranch definitely qualifies. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good.” Eve took a short swallow of the coffee she’d made. It might not be the best in the West, she conceded, but it was better than the take-no-prisoners brew Pete favored. “The nursery area is already set up, for the most part. I’ll show it to you shortly. It used to be the largest bedroom and a smaller connecting room. Your bedroom will be directly across the hall from the nursery. Mine is next to yours. We’ll have to share a bath. I hope you don’t mind.”
After a quick shake of her head, Cloris said, “I made some inquiries about additional help. Anna Montez, a retired nurse who lives in the area, is willing to work on a part-time basis.”
“That’s terrific.” Eve nodded. “Things are moving right along. I’ve made arrangements with a couple of used-car dealers in town to provide cars to women who want to bring their babies here but don’t currently have transportation. Whether they’re going back to school or work, they’ll probably need them for that, as well, and the dealers will bill me by the month.”
Cloris pursed her bright-coral lips. “I hate to say this, but cars can be stolen, and you’d be liable.”
“I know. But if someone trusts us with her child, wouldn’t it be petty in comparison not to trust her with a hunk of metal?”
“You have a point. And a soft heart, I think.” She smiled. “But it’s clear that you also have a sharp mind and a lot of determination. This is a wonderful thing you’re doing here, Eve.”
“No, it’s just something I feel I should do, since I have the resources.” She had already shared her reasons during their earlier meeting. “What’s wonderful is being able to talk to someone who’s equally enthusiastic about it.”
A teasing twinkle entered Cloris’s blue eyes. “Don’t the cowboys around here appreciate your efforts?”
“Not exactly,” Eve replied dryly.
“I saw two of them standing near a fenced-in area behind the house as I pulled in. I have to admit one caught my eye.”
Ryder Quinn, Eve concluded without hesitation, having seen him and Pete over by the corral, watching cribs being unloaded and no doubt wishing her a thousand miles from where she was. Her business manager had probably caught the eye of scores of women, though he was avoiding her as much as possible. She was certain of that, and hadn’t made an issue of it because it suited her to keep some distance between them for the time being. The humming awareness that had leaped to life for a sizzling moment on the day they’d met remained fixed in her memory, despite her considerable efforts to forget it.
Unaware of Eve’s thoughts, Cloris went on. “He was very distinguished looking, with a splendid head of silver hair.”
Eve blinked as realization struck. Then she began to laugh. Then she began to roar. Ryder wasn’t the cowboy under discussion. It was Pete!
“How about letting me in on the joke,” Cloris suggested when Eve finally got herself under control.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry, that was probably rude of me, but I couldn’t help it. I’d be willing to bet that Pete Rawlins, the silver-haired man and our ranch cook, would rather be boiled in oil than be the object of any woman’s attention.”
“He doesn’t like women?” Cloris ventured.
“That’s putting it mildly. Pete firmly believes a woman’s place is anywhere other than within a mile of him.”
“I see. Obviously, he’s one of those poor, unfortunate males who don’t have the good sense to appreciate a woman.”
“You got it.”
Cloris smiled in a way that boded ill for poor, unfortunate men. “Do you mind if a Southern belle has a little fun?”
Eve grinned. “Not at all—as long as I can watch.”
The back door opened, then closed with a familiar near slam. “There’s Mr. Charm now.” Raising her voice, Eve called, “Pete, would you come here for a minute?”
Boots stomped their way closer. Seconds later Pete poked his head through an arched doorway and viewed the two women with a crystal-clear scowl. “I’m here.”
“I’d like you to meet Cloris Munroe,” Eve said. “She’ll be heading up the day care staff. Cloris, this is Pete Rawlins.”
Cloris draped an arm over the back of her chair and flashed a million-kilowatt smile. “I sure am glad to meet you…sugar.” Her smooth-as-silk, rich-as-cream tone would have made Scarlett O’Hara proud. The playful wink that followed would have turned an entire generation of younger women who had never mastered that trick green with envy.
Pete’s jaw dropped and stayed down.
If possible, Cloris’s next smile was even more brilliant. “Eve’s been telling me you do the cooking around here. I’m sure you’re a marvelous chef.”
Dead silence reigned until Pete