Page 21 of Rancher to the Rescue

She immediately made her way over. Beautiful as the place was, she needed a caffeine boost. She took a seat and cradled Angel with one arm. The first sip was always the best, Prudence thought, welcoming the burn on her throat.

“Are you hungry?” Adam asked.

“I can’t eat before I wake up. But thank you,” she said, taking in the massive kitchen. There was an oversized gas stovetop with two ovens, all stainless steel. More counter space than she imagined being able to use in a week, let alone for one day’s worth of cooking. She’d seen fully staffed restaurant kitchens smaller than this one.

“What is it?” Adam asked, taking a seat next to her.

She shot her best confused look at him.

“Your forehead wrinkles when you’re thinking hard about something. I’m curious what that is,” he said.

A trill of awareness skittered across her skin at his perusal.

“I was just taking it all in and thinking how lonely it must have been to live in this massive space all by himself.” She took another sip and smiled down at the bundle in her arms.

“The Marshall didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he probably enjoyed the irony,” he said.

“Seems like a shame. I can imagine lively dinners here at this table and holiday meals that make my mouth water just thinking about them. Fresh baked cookies would be cooling over there and the smell of ham and turkey with cornbread dressing would fill the room.” She caught herself spelling out the fantasy and her cheeks warmed.

“What you’re describing would have been nice. Firebrands just don’t work that way,” he said matter-of-fact, but she picked up on a note of sadness he seemed intent to cover. Or maybe he was just resigned to the childhood he’d had. He was on to something there, though. She’d learned a long time ago that it was impossible to go back and change the past.

“Did something happen to make him so hardened?” She couldn’t help but wonder what his grandfather’s story was and why he would push everyone away. Her first hint that he wasn’t a warm-and-fuzzy type came with the fact he had his grandchildren call him the Marshall instead of something endearing like granddad or grandpa.

“I have no idea. He wasn’t the kind of person who discussed his feelings.” Adam covered his disappointment with a smile.

“That makes it hard to get to know someone,” she said, liking that he was talking to her about something important to him. And she sensed the lack of relationship with his grandfather hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

“The crazy part is that all I ever wanted from him was to be able to sit down one day and have a beer together. Talk about my grandmother, who I barely knew, or what they were like growing up. How he knew she was the one. Or we could’ve talked about why he cared about cattle ranching so much. Hell, I don’t care. Having the beer and talking one-on-one was all that mattered. What we would have said wasn’t so important.” He paused, shifting his gaze toward the window. “Now, I’ll never get the chance. That’s the part I hate. He’ll always be a mystery to me, and we no longer have any chance at a relationship. I keep thinking maybe I should have tried harder. He was healthy, though. I thought there was time,” he admitted. “Or at least he seemed so.”

“He’s a fool for missing out on getting to know you if you ask my opinion,” Prudence didn’t miss a beat.

Adam stared at the window for a long moment. Then, he broke into a wide smile in a show of perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. “His loss, I guess.”

“Yes, it is,” she confirmed, happy to see him smile and look like he meant it.

“I still would’ve liked to have had the beer,” he said, raising his coffee cup instead.

“He’s a fool for not suggesting it. No disrespect intended,” she quickly qualified. “And I’ll have a beer with you anytime you want.”

Adam rewarded her with a sincere look and another smile that made her bones liquefy. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve thanks, but you’re welcome.” All she was doing was stating the truth. The bold offer of a having a beer anytime wasn’t something she would normally do. She was getting more comfortable in her skin and with her new bravado.

“How about breakfast now?” he asked, pushing off the table with one hand.

“Do you have toast?” she asked.

“And jam,” he said, turning long enough to fire off a wink.

“Sold.” Prudence wasn’t much of a breakfast eater. In fact, she normally downed a couple of bites of yogurt to get her pills down. Which reminded her, “I need to get home soon.”

“We can leave right after you eat.” Adam made quick work of toast. He had a plate to her with twin Texas-sized slices of bread smattered in jam. She normally ate hers with a dab of butter. After taking the first bite, she would never be able to go back.

“How long do we have until she needs another bottle?” she asked.

“She had one a few minutes before you came down, so we should be good until noon,” he supplied.

He sure had the routine down in a short time. She glanced at the baby. Where is your mother, sweet girl?