“Sheridan! So nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Mrs. Cabot.”
“Oh, it’s Delilah, please.” Wyatt’s mother came forward, a touch of mischief sparkling in her light brown eyes. “Come into the kitchen. I just made a nice pot of tea, and the scones should be done in a minute or two.”
“We tried something different.” Royce laughed as he held out his hand to shake hers, then thought better of it, noticing that there was flour on all of his fingers. He quickly wiped his hands on his apron, but that only seemed to make it worse. “An experiment, if you will. Delilah doesn’t think it’ll work. She’s not thrilled with the flavor combination.” He grinned, then, despite his flour-dusted self, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Do you like chocolate?”
“I do.”
“And peppermint, perhaps?” Delilah asked as she took her other arm.
Sheridan smiled. “Absolutely.”
Royce patted her hand. “Good, then you shall have both. Come taste what Delilah and I created.” They escorted her into the warm, cozy kitchen. She heard the dog follow, his nails making a click-clack sound on the hardwood floor.
Sheridan turned her head to look at Wyatt, who remained where he was, hands on his hips, a big, dumb smile on his face as he watched them. He shook his head, slipped out of his coat and hung it up, then followed, his grin remaining in place.
Wyatt finished saddling Goldie, then brought the horse forward to where Sheridan sat on a bale of hay at the entrance to the barn. “Do your mother and Royce live here?” She rose from her seat and took the reins. There was a bit of chocolate on her lip from the scones they all happily consumed, which were delicious. He wanted to kiss it away, but knew Delilah and Royce were watching. Instead, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “You have some chocolate—” He pointed to her mouth. “Right there.”
“Oh! How embarrassing!” Color infused her face, making her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink and then she wriggled her tongue at the corner of her mouth. It was the cutest, most innocent thing she could have done…and so out of character from the prim, proper woman she’d been just a few months ago.
“Still there.”
She made to reach for the handkerchief, but he pulled it away.
“Let me.” He dabbed at the corner of her mouth as gently as he could, wishing he was kissing her instead. “There. All taken care of.” He smiled then lowered his voice as well as his head as he pressed the handkerchief into her hand. “It’ll be our little secret.”
She laughed like he’d hoped she would and tried to give the handkerchief back.
Wyatt shook his head. “You might need it later.”
“Why?”
“Mama packed more of those scones for us.”
That widened her smile and the urge to kiss her once more flared in his brain. He ignored it as best he could. No sense giving his mother ideas, though in all honesty, he enjoyed spending time with Sheridan. She was different than any woman he’d known. Certainly, from Tamara Willis, who had such grand plans for his future, even though he’d only invited her for coffee and pie. Different than Katie, too, in too many ways to count.
“In answer to your question, no, they have a little house in Santa Fe, but whenever Mama gets that urge to bake, they come here, stay for a couple days and upset my routine.” He helped her into the saddle as he spoke.
“Why?” She settled herself, but her eyes were only on him.
“Well, I’m told it’s because my kitchen is bigger than theirs and that is true, but it’s more because she worries about me. I may be thirty-three years old, but as she’s told me many times, a mother never stops worrying about her child. Truthfully, I don’t know why she and Royce own that house. They’re never there. They’re either here or at Preston’s or at Kyle’s, and for the same reason, I suspect, or visiting one of Royce’s children.”
“They only want the best for you, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I’ve never doubted that.” He climbed into Brigadier’s saddle. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
He kneed Brigadier and started off on a slow walk out of the barnyard and up the hill, remembering that she hadn’t ridden for a while.
He hadn’t planned on running into Hank or Ken, his ranch hands, so soon but there they were…where they shouldn’t be. He suspected it was because they wanted to meet Sheridan. He stifled a groan, knowing he might be in for some teasing…if not now, then definitely later. Steeling himself for what was to come, he introduced her to them.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss DuBois.” Hank doffed his hat. “Wyatt has told us a great deal about you.”
“He has?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ken laughed as his stare went directly to Wyatt with just a bit of humor dancing in his eyes. “He talks about you all the time.”
