Rancher's Proposition. Anne Marie Winston

it was, as were the homemade muffins, the stewed apples and the devils’ food cake she set before him when the table had been cleared. It was just the two of them, since the men who worked for him had families of their own and went home at the end of the day. He’d gotten into the habit early on of telling her all about his day, mostly as a way of filling the silence at the table. Tonight was no different except that she asked questions a few times instead of nodding and raising an eyebrow to get him to continue.

      She grimaced when he told her about the young rabbit that had gotten caught in the sickle. “I know it’s impossible to miss them, but it always made me cry,” she said.

      Cal nodded. “Well, I did manage to avoid hitting a fawn today. You should have seen him run.”

      Her eyes glowed, a striking emerald in the evening light coming through the big window by the nook where the kitchen table was set, and he was reminded of cats’ eyes in the dark. “They’re so sweet when they’re little,” she said. Then she chuckled. “Of course, I even think calves are sweet, so I guess my judgment is suspect.”

      Cal smiled at that. “God, I missed this life. I didn’t even realize how much until I got back again. I can’t wait for calving season.”

      Her eyebrows rose in that silent way of hers. “You have to get through winter first,” she reminded him.

      “Don’t I know it,” he grumbled. “It’s going to be a long one.” He rose from the table then, picking up his plate to take it to the dishwasher.

      “Oh, don’t. I’ll do that.” Lyn rushed over and whisked the plate from his hand, along with the water glass and fork he’d lifted.

      “I don’t mind. You work hard enough during the day,” he said.

      “But I mind,” she said. “You work hard, too, and this is what you’re paying me for.” She crossed to the dishwasher and rinsed the plate before setting it in the rack.

       “I haven’t told you how much I appreciate you giving me this chance,” she said slowly.

      “You don’t have to. I promised Silver I’d hire you but I also told her I couldn’t keep you on if you didn’t work out. I need someone I can depend on to be in charge of the house.” He gazed across the kitchen at her. “I can depend on you. The job is yours as long as you want it.”

      She stared at him, and to his dismay her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

      He shrugged, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “No big deal.” And before she could really get the waterworks flowing, he beat a hasty retreat to the living room to catch the evening news. But as he sat, trying to focus on what was happening in the rest of the world, he was far too conscious of the woman moving around in the kitchen. When she finally turned out the kitchen light, his body relaxed in relief as she started for the stairs.

      “Good night,” she said.

      “Good night.” Now he wished he could get her to sit down and talk some more. He was fascinated by her husky, musical voice. That voice smacked of long afternoons making love in dim bedrooms and every time she spoke, his body reacted to the promise in those sexy tones. Just yesterday, when she’d been helping him bandage his finger, that voice had distracted him into an erotic dream. Then her whole face had lit up when he’d told her she seemed like she was getting better, and he hadn’t been able to resist hugging her. The feel of her warm, firm frame against his—

      And this was ridiculous! Here he was again, in a hot sweat having totally inappropriate dreams about his housekeeper. He practically leaped out of the chair and grabbed the phone off the kitchen wall, rapidly punching the buttons.

      Deck answered on the third ring. “What?” The single word was a snarl.

      “Well, that’s a heck of a way to greet your brother-in-law.”

      “You’re interrupting us. What do you want?” Deck sounded distinctly disgruntled and Cal realized exactly what he’d interrupted. He grimaced. Was everybody in the world getting next to a warm body except for him?

      “A woman.”

      “Then go find one.” The receiver clicked off decisively on the other end.

      Cal sighed. Lifting the phone again, he punched in Deck’s brother Marty’s telephone number. He hit the speakerphone as he ambled across the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door, surveying its contents. As his best buddy’s voice came on the other end of the line, he selected a soda.

      “Lucky Stryke.”

      “Hey, neighbor. Is your kid in bed?”

      “Yeah. Thank God.” Marty’s answer sounded heartfelt and Cal grinned. He’d been around Marty’s daughter, Cheyenne, a number of times since his move back out here, and she was…unforgettable. A stunning little beauty who looked like her dead mother and acted—unfortunately—a lot like her deceased aunt Genie, who’d been a hell-raiser from the day she was born until the day she died young in the accident that was reason he’d left South Dakota all those years ago.

      “What are you up to?” Marty’s voice called him back from the past.

      He popped the top on his soda and leaned against the counter. “Where the heck do you go when you want to meet women out here?”

      A low rumble of laughter vibrated through the connection. “A bar.”

      “That’s not the kind of woman I want to meet,” Cal said.

      “Oh, hell.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “You’re starting to sound like me. You got marriage on your mind?”

      “No, I do not have marriage on my mind.” He conveniently ignored the fact that he’d been thinking that very thing only hours ago. “I just need to get laid. And I’d prefer to do it with somebody I like and enjoy spending time with.”

      Something moving in the corner of his vision made him whip his head around. Though he saw nothing, he’d have sworn he saw a shadow in the kitchen doorway just for an instant. He moved toward the door, but realized he couldn’t leave the room without picking up the handset of the phone. Shrugging, he turned his attention to what Marty was saying.

      “…know what you mean. I’m meeting a girl at the city bar tomorrow night. She, uh, answered my ad.”

      Cal laughed aloud. He’d heard about Marty’s other disastrous encounters that were a result of advertising in the personals for a wife. To his way of thinking, the guy was insane. “I might have to check this out. What time?”

      “Eight. I figure if she’s willing to meet me in a bar, she can’t be a teetotaler who thinks I’ll go to hell if I drink a beer.”

      “That’s logical. Eight, huh? You might see me.”

      “Sounds good. You can rescue me if this date turns out to be a bust.” His oldest friend’s voice sounded hopeful.

      Cal stifled a comment about the odds of that being pretty good. “It’s a deal.”

      Two

      He raked the mown hay with two of his men the next day and came in grumpy and sweaty with broken blisters on the hand where he’d held the dump rope. He’d bought the machinery along with the ranch and it didn’t look like one damn thing had been added since his father’s time. He promised himself the next time he got a chance to look around, he’d buy a swather that would mow and rake at the same time. Then he’d have a ceremonial burning of the old hay rake.

      The house smelled of something wonderful again—a roast in the oven—and by the time he’d showered and changed, he felt marginally more human. When he came back down, Lyn was flitting around the kitchen getting the roast, potatoes and carrots out of the pan, and he picked up a pot holder and pulled the