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After dropping off Dusty and Jayme, Ward ate his microwave dinner and leaned back in his recliner in front of the TV, staring out the window into the night. His head ached. Though he still couldn’t figure out how to fire his ranch hand, he was even more sure now that he must let her go. Time was running out. With a deep sigh, he lay his head back.
Skippy padded over from the couch and sat down by the side of Ward’s chair. The dog reached with his nose and gently touched his master’s hand.
“Hey, Skip.” He stroked the dog’s soft neck and fondled his ears.
The family room had always comforted him when he was growing up. Now it could tear him to pieces. As he stared at the mantle, he allowed memories of Elizabeth and Caleb to play out before his eyes. Ward breathed in sharply, his fists clenching.
Skippy followed him into the kitchen. These were the nights when he didn’t allow himself to drink. Feeling sorry for himself and getting drunk wasn’t a habit he would let himself develop. And it was never a good thing to focus on his losses.
After pouring a glass of milk, he let the dog outside. Warm humidity blew in the door on the soft breeze, and crickets chirped in the darkness—a mild evening, in sharp contrast to his mood.
He walked back into the living room with his drink. Television didn’t appeal to him, and sleep was the last thing on his mind. The Co-op and American Farmer magazines had been read and discarded on the coffee table long ago.
His thoughts slid to Jayme and her boy and the problem they presented. What should he do? The woman was one of the best hands who’d worked with him in a long time. He liked the way she kept her mouth shut, knew her way around cattle, and he never had to tell her twice about anything. Her looks worked against her, though.
Sure thing, he couldn’t keep other men around when he had her with him. A gorgeous gal like her working with a bunch of ranch hands? Not hardly. They’d never get anything done. And, come harvest, he would hire other hands.
He frowned. She had that letter. Seemed things worked out fine at the other place for two years.
To be honest, Jayme and her son were a distraction for him, too. Without thinking, his gaze followed her while they did chores. That woman was so damned good to look at.
Jeans and a t-shirt couldn’t hide her curves, and when she was walking away, her ass was something to behold. His chest tightened with the memory.
The truth was, despite his best efforts, his body responded to hers several times a day. That was a problem. That was why women didn’t belong on ranches.
Elizabeth died almost ten years ago, and somehow having a woman working at his side again settled a part of him back in place. His breath caught in his throat. That wasn’t right.
The woman had to go.
Then there was Dusty. The boy needed a man. The child looked at him with hero worship in his eyes. He didn’t deserve to be worshiped. He’d killed the little boy who used to feel that way about him. No way would he allow that to happen again.
The woman and her boy had to go.
Determined to break the spell, he grabbed his Stetson from the hat rack. A change of scenery was what he needed. He called Skippy in from the yard, and they loaded up in the truck.
Twenty minutes later, he wandered the aisles of Allsup’s, the smell of old grease from the fried chicken they sold filled his nose. A small pack of white powdered donuts caught his eye. On a whim, he picked it up.
After paying for his purchase, he stepped out the glass door and ran into Cash. Ward shoved out his hand. “What’s up, bud?”
His friend gripped his hand warmly. “Nothing but taxes. You still got that lady hand?”
“Hell, yes.” Dammit. The guy knew just how to tease him and loved it.
Cash laughed. “What does she look like?”
Ward stared down at the ground and scuffed his boot. “She’s all right, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, you let me know how that works out.” Cash grinned and slapped him on the back then headed for his truck.
Ward walked across the parking lot, cussing himself under his breath for being such a soft touch. Half the county was probably laughing at him. Or, even worse, thought he’d hired her for more than a ranch hand. Heat rose to his face when he considered that. God, would these two weeks never end?
* * *
Jayme’s second Saturday morning arrived. As she helped Dusty find something to wear, her stomach churned acid up her throat, burning like fire. She still had a couple of days before her two weeks were up, and she had an idea Ramsey had a resounding no in mind for her staying on. His off-putting attitude hadn’t changed since her first day of work. The man appeared to be marking time until he let her go. Well, damn the man, she wouldn’t wait to be fired.
“Dusty, would you do something for me?”
“Yeah, Mom. What?”
“Mr. Ramsey is a pretty cranky guy. I guess you kind of noticed that?”
He frowned slightly. “Well, I think he’s sad.”
She furrowed her brow. “Really? You think so?”
“Uh-huh. Sometimes, when he looks that way, I smile at him. He doesn’t smile back. I think he’s too sad.”
Wow. How had she missed that one? Maybe he was different with Dusty. “Anyway, would you do me a favor and not ask Mr. Ramsey any questions? I don’t want him getting mad about anything.”
“Sure, Mom. He won’t even know this kid’s there.”
His unwavering love reassured her.
Dusty helped with feeding as they waited for her boss to arrive, but she made him stand back from the round bale while she pulled the hay off. A rattler had been nestled underneath it the day before.
He picked up the loose hay and placed it in front of each of the pens that held a cow. Too short to throw it over the fence, it was her job to fork it into the feed troughs inside.
Not long after the cattle in the fields behind the barn were fed, Ramsey drove up and honked.
She put her finger to her lips as she ushered Dusty out the door. Everything had to go perfectly today. She figured she had one chance to keep her place on the ranch. Ramsey had to be in a good mood for it to work.
Dusty rode between Ward and his mom throughout the morning as they put out feed in the different pastures. True to his word, he kept his lips zipped tight.
At one point, Ramsey said, “You’re sure quiet.”
Her pulse picked up. Had he noticed something was up?
Dusty nodded and grinned. That was one thing about her little man. She never had to tell him something twice. A deep sense of pride rippled through her.
Ramsey looked away.
She unclenched her fingers. The man was just being curious.
Around noon, her boss reached into the glove box and pulled out a package of powdered donuts, handing it to her son without saying a word.
Dusty spoke for the first time and smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Ramsey. These are my favorite thing in the whole world.” He tore open the wrapper and popped the first donut in, smacking loudly.
A half-smile played across Ramsey’s lips.
She slid her boy a warning look to mind his manners. The corner of her mouth tilted up. Her boss had actually thought of her boy’s needs. In spite of herself, Jayme warmed a little toward the man.
Her heart raced when they pulled up to the barn at one-thirty. Forcing her voice to steady, she said, “Dusty, why don’t you go on over to the truck?”
He scooted across her knees and got out her side.
Steeling herself, she looked her boss dead in the eyes. “My two weeks are about up.”
Ramsey blinked and lifted his brows.
She’d caught him off guard, just as she’d hoped, and pressed on. “I’m not one to overstay my welcome and I can’t help noticing you don’t want me around. I’ve worked my hardest and done everything you’ve asked. But if this isn’t something you want to continue, then you tell me now. Me and my boy will go.” She hoped by taking the initiative, he’d let her stay. If she only had more time, she knew she could change his mind about her.
Ramsey looked away from her direct gaze and stared out the windshield for a full two minutes. With narrowed eyes, his normal, grouchy expression rode his face.
She kept her mouth shut and waited him out.
He scowled, his brown eyes hard as steel. “I know damn well I’ll regret this. You two can stay on. You do your work and keep out of my way. If that changes—if there comes a time when you can’t do your job—then the deal’s off. You’re out of here.”
Well, her strategy worked, but, dammit, did he have to be such an ass? She threw him her own scowl. “You got it!” And she swept out of the truck, mentally cussing his rude ass all the way back to her ride. Would it have hurt him to say something nice to her, just this once?
At least she didn’t have to yank Dusty out of school. That was what had worried her most. She’d work for Ramsey, and she always gave her best. But, holy hell, screw him and the horse he rode in on. She didn’t need a friend, she just needed a job so she could support her son.
* * *
When she got back to the house, she stopped Dusty in the living room. “Honey, do you mind if I rest by myself for a while?” Her skin crawled and her son didn’t need to bear the brunt of her raw nerves.
Dusty stared, his brows drawn together, for a few seconds. “Sure, Mom.” He grabbed his book off the coffee table and sat down to read.
Relieved as hell to have a permanent job, her nose was still way out of joint at the way that damn Ramsey had given it to her. If there was ever a time when she regretted having a child, this might be it.
Lying down, she punched her fist into the mattress and continued to simmer. Alone, she could throw the freaking job in his face at the way he treated her. By herself, she could make do on so much less and never fail to land on her feet. With gritted teeth, her simmer hit a full rolling boil—she was so damn mad and, if truth be told, hurt.
Facing Ramsey again would be hard—really hard. She squeezed her fists until her nails bit into her palms. That little boy out there was counting on her to show up at the barn Monday morning.
Turning on her side, she curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees. Silent tears leaked onto the pillow. She burrowed her face in, hiding from the light. How could she go on? Her limbs weighed her down. Each labored breath, one too many. It took everything she had to scratch out a living for her son. She couldn’t live in fear of Blacke anymore, peering over her shoulder night and day. Uncurling, she wiped her face and pulled a second pillow tight to her belly. A small voice inside her said it all. She couldn’t face her life alone.
She woke, bleary-eyed and drained of energy. Turning over, her gaze fell on Dusty’s picture. He was her compass, the thing that kept her true. As long as she had him, she could go on. She slid on her jeans and boots and went to find her son.
* * *
Ward, sitting by himself in the quiet house, tilted his head back and groaned. He’d had every intention of letting the woman go. With some kind of answer prepared, he could have done it. But she caught him off guard and his mind froze.
Jayme was fierce and yet so vulnerable. Truth be told, he might never have fired her. Maybe he just told himself that because he was a mean son of a bitch.
Then there was the boy. If he made her leave, Dusty would have to miss school again. He couldn’t do that to the kid, so his mom had stayed.
He gripped the arms of his chair, wondering how the hell to face the consequences of his decision. How could he handle working with the woman every day? And what about the way the boy made him feel? He hadn’t been this emotional since the first years after the accident. He didn’t like it one bit.