Chapter Eight #2
She’d been a little surprised to discover that the obviously wealthy family didn’t have a full-time housekeeper-slash-cook.
When she’d asked Wilder about it, he told her that the woman who’d filled those roles in Dallas had declined to make the move to Rust Creek Falls with them.
Although she’d worked for Max for almost thirty years and had been like a surrogate mother to his six sons, she had children and grandchildren of her own in Texas and no desire to move so far away from them.
Max had promised to advertise for a cook when they moved into the Ambling A, but during the summer months, it had been easy enough to throw some meat on the grill.
So while there was a housekeeper who came in twice a week to tidy up, the men of the Ambling A had mostly fended for themselves when it came to meals—or gone into town to eat.
Of course, now that five of his sons were married or headed in that direction, the responsibility for meals in the main house fell to the patriarch and his youngest son.
As a result, they’d eaten a lot of steaks, burgers and pasta over the past several months—unless they were fortunate enough to have Lily prepare a meal for them.
With that thought in mind, Beth rummaged through the freezer looking for some inspiration.
She was chopping carrots and celery when Wilder came down to the kitchen with Cody’s empty bottle in one hand and the baby monitor he’d borrowed from another of his relatives in the other.
“We didn’t have lunch all that long ago,” he noted. “Are you hungry already?”
“Ha ha,” she said. “I’m making stew for dinner.”
“You know you don’t have to cook for us, don’t you?”
“I know,” she agreed. “But I’m sleeping in your house and eating your food, so it seems the least I can do is put a meal on the table.”
“You made meatloaf last night,” he reminded her.
“Are you suggesting that because you had dinner last night you won’t want to eat tonight?”
“Of course not,” he said.
“Is it that you don’t like stew?”
“Stew’s basically meat and potatoes in gravy, right? What’s not to like?”
“Good,” she said, and gestured to the bag on the counter. “You can peel the potatoes.”
Max came in a few hours later, stomping to knock the snow off his boots. “Forecast says we could get another four to six inches of the white stuff tonight,” he remarked.
“Oh, goody,” Beth said dryly.
The old man chuckled as he removed his boots. “Missing Dallas yet?”
“I was missing Dallas by the time I hit Colorado Springs.”
“What’s cooking?” Max asked, hanging his coat and hat on a hook by the door.
“Beef stew.”
“It sure does smell good,” he said.
“Hopefully it tastes as good.”
“It does,” Wilder said. At her questioning look, he shrugged. “I had to sample it for quality control purposes.”
“Well, don’t sample till it’s done,” Max said. “I’m hoping there will be some left over for my lunch tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to be here for dinner?” Beth guessed.
“No,” he confirmed. “I’ve got other plans.”
“What kind of plans?” his son wanted to know.
A hint of pink crept into Max’s weathered cheeks. “I’ve got...a thing...in Kalispell.”
“A thing?” Wilder echoed dubiously.
“I’m meeting someone for a bite to eat.”
“A woman?”
“What’s with the third degree?” his father challenged.
“A woman,” Wilder said again, but it wasn’t a question this time.
Max huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine. Yes. I’m meeting a woman.”
“So you’ve got a date?”
“It’s not a date,” his father denied. “It’s just...a thing.”
“Dinner with a woman in Kalispell sounds like a date to me,” Wilder remarked.
“I’m going to shower,” was all Max said in response to that.
“You shouldn’t tease him,” Beth chided, when Wilder’s father had gone.
“I wasn’t really,” he denied. “I was just...surprised to hear of his plans.”
“He doesn’t date very much?”
“It seemed like he had a new girlfriend every few months when we lived in Dallas, but since we moved to Rust Creek Falls, he’s been so focused on getting the ranch up and running, I didn’t think he’d had a chance to meet anyone.”
“Maybe seeing his sons find love has made him want the same thing,” she suggested.
“Maybe,” he allowed, though his tone was doubtful.
“Does it bother you—your dad dating?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s his life.”
“So why do you seem worried?”
“Because it’s not like him to be so secretive about his plans.”
“Ah, so it’s not really the dating but the possibility he might have met a woman he could really care about.”
“Beneath that gruff exterior is a fragile heart,” Wilder confided. “My mom leaving did a real number on him.”
“Just on him?” she asked gently.
He shrugged. “I can’t say that it really affected me, because I was just a baby when she left and honestly don’t remember her ever being around.”
Beth didn’t know what to say to that, and she suspected any effort to delve deeper into the subject would only be brushed aside, so she remained silent.
“Is it just a strange coincidence, do you think, that Cody’s mom took off when he was too young to remember her—like my mom did?”
“It’s hardly the same situation,” she said.
“It seems like the same situation to me,” he argued.
She shook her head. “Leighton isn’t gone forever.”
He shrugged again. “I guess time will tell.”
Before their conversation could devolve into another argument about her sister, Beth said, “Why don’t you go check on Cody while I serve up dinner?”
As she opened the oven to take out the bread, his words about playing house from earlier that morning echoed in the back of her mind. And while she still maintained that nothing about the current situation was fun, all things considered, being here with Wilder and Cody wasn’t so bad, either.
Wilder took a thick slice of warm bread from the basket and slathered it with butter.
“You know, most people run out to the store if they want bread,” he said, still marveling over the fact that she’d made it. From scratch.
“Why would I venture outside in this ridiculous weather to buy something I could make right here?” she countered.
“It took me some time to adjust to the cold, too,” he acknowledged. “But a rancher doesn’t have the option of sheltering inside when there are animals to be tended to.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a rancher.”
“We’ll get you out enjoying the snow yet,” he said.
“Don’t count on it,” she said.
“Have you ever taken a ride in a horse-drawn sleigh?”
“No,” she said. “And if your next question is, ‘Have you ever wanted to ride in a horse-drawn sleigh?’—the answer would be ‘no’ again.”
“I bet Cody would get a kick out of it,” he said.
Her gaze narrowed. “Oh, now you’re fighting dirty.”
“I’m not fighting at all,” he denied. “But I am surprised that you’d let your nephew miss out on an enjoyable activity just so that you can stay warm.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine,” she relented. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
He grinned. “Don’t forget your thermal underwear.”