Chapter 12 #2
“I’m sorry. You missed something fun. My brothers and I did this all the time.
My mother usually wasn’t happy that we ate anything we could get our hands on in the middle of the night, especially when we became teenagers.
She always said we had hollow legs.” He laughed.
“We were never full, even though, as you know, Mother cooks hearty, healthy food.” He lifted the lid from the cake plate to reveal half a chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting.
Raspberry jelly dripped from between the layers. “How big a piece do you want?”
She looked at the cake then at him. “Just a small slice.”
He chuckled and placed the edge of the knife just so.
“Bigger.”
He moved the knife.
“A little more.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. She was truly enjoying this moment. He moved the knife again.
“Perfect.”
He put her slice on the plate and slid it toward her. She took a bite and an expression came over her face he hadn’t seen before. It was pure, unadulterated bliss. “Oh, this is heavenly. Even better than Sweet Somethings. What does she do to make it taste so good?”
He was enjoying her pleasure at such a simple thing as cake. “Mama says she bakes with love.”
“Yes, I can see that.” She took another bite.
He watched her while he ate his own cake and marveled at the change that had come over her since the first day they’d met.
She seemed more relaxed now, no longer stiff and holding herself back.
She was happy, too, if the expression on her face was any indication.
She’d mentioned that she liked the woman she was becoming.
He had to admit he liked the changes in her, too.
Warmth filled his heart and so did determination. He’d do anything in his power to keep that smile from disappearing.
He finished his cake and his glass of milk, then just looked at her. She was scraping the last bit of frosting from her plate, her fork making a scratching noise, then she slipped the fork into her mouth. The sight made him smile.
“Are you finished?”
She let out another sigh, obviously disappointed the cake was gone, then simply nodded.
“I should show you around the house, so you’ll know where everything is.
I just plain forgot earlier.” He rose from his seat, put their dishes in the sink for the morning, then held out his hand.
Sheridan slipped her hand in his and stood.
“We’ll start here.” He began opening drawers and cabinet doors, revealing dishes and glasses and silverware then moved to the other side of the stove.
Duke stood up, his sleep disturbed but still happy, perhaps thinking he might get a treat, and shook, his ears slapping against the sides of his head.
He poked at Sheridan’s free hand with his nose.
“I’m sorry, boy. I don’t have anything for you.”
“Yes, you do. Believe it or not, Mama bakes special things just for him.” He let go of her hand and reached for a cookie jar in the shape of a rooster on a shelf above where the dog slept. He removed the rooster’s ceramic head and showed her. “You can give him one.”
She reached into the jar and extracted a treat, then laughed softly in surprise as she turned it around. “It’s shaped like a Christmas tree.”
“It is. There are other shapes, too. Snowmen and hearts. Bells, too.”
She handed the treat to the dog, who took it gently in his mouth then settled himself on his blankets once more.
Wyatt put the cookie jar back on the shelf then directed her attention to another cabinet filled with pots and pans and all sorts of baking tins.
“Your mother is right. This is a big kitchen. Bigger than the one at Josie’s.”
He laughed. “That’s one of the reasons she and Royce spend so much time here.” He reached for her hand to lead her out of the room, leaving Duke happily munching on his special ‘cookie’.
“I don’t have gas like they do in town, but I do have some creature comforts,” he said, as he led her past another staircase leading up to the second floor, then into the formal dining room and beyond.
“The guest room is through that door. That’s where my mother and Royce stay when they’re here.
And the powder room is here.” He opened a door to reveal a porcelain sink, commode, and a large, six-foot tall cabinet.
She took a step closer to the cabinet, her head tilting to the side as she studied it before she inhaled sharply. “Is this a Mosley Folding bathtub?”
“It is.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one.” She turned wide eyes toward him. “I can’t wait to bathe in it.”
“And bathe in it you shall, but not tonight. It’s much too late. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”
She nodded. “After you finish showing me the rest of the house.”
As they passed through the parlor, he directed her attention to the piano against the wall. “I hope you’ll play while you’re here.”
“I will.” She tilted her head and glanced at the door beside the piano. “What’s behind that door?”
“My office, but you won’t want to go in there.” He chuckled even as his face heated. “I’m ashamed to say it’s a complete and absolute mess.”
She laughed softly. “Warning taken.”
“And that’s the downstairs. As you know, there are four bedrooms upstairs and another powder room, though that one does not have a folding bathtub.”
“It’s a lovely home, Wyatt.”
“I can’t take credit for it. Mrs. Contreras, the woman I bought Stone Creek from, designed it herself.
She said she always wanted to be an architect, but her father had strict ideas about a woman’s place.
It just wasn’t done, but she continued to draw and design houses and when she married Mr. Contreras, he built her this house using her design.
” He rubbed his thumb against her knuckle as he spoke, loving the way her hand fit so well in his.
“When she sold me the ranch and went to live with her daughter, she left a lot of her drawings behind. They were—are—fantastic, everything from small cottages to huge elaborate mansions. I kept some because they were so well done. She was quite talented. Like you with your music.”
“It’s a shame she couldn’t pursue her dreams.”
“It is.” He looked at her then, wanting to know what her dream was, but noticed that she tried to stifle a yawn, and decided to leave the question for another time. “We should go to bed.”
“Yes, we should.”
He laughed, startled, wondering if she realized what she said. Apparently, she did, as her face took on a rosy hue and her mouth opened and closed several times.
She mumbled a soft ‘Good night, Wyatt’ then kissed him on the cheek and fled the parlor, racing up the stairs as quickly and quietly as her legs would carry her, obviously embarrassed.
He heard her door close after a moment, laughed ruefully to himself then followed her up the stairs.
He stopped at the door to her room and just stood there, listening for any sound, then took himself off to his own lonely bed, wishing, not for the first time, that he could join her in his.
Sheridan awoke to the sound of birdsong and sunlight shining on her face.
She untangled herself from the blankets, and slowly rose from the bed, still tired.
So tired. She hadn’t slept much at all. She tossed and turned, despite the comfort of the mattress, her sleep interrupted by dreams—inappropriate dreams—of Wyatt and how it felt to be in his arms, which left her wanting, even now, with her eyes wide open.
That quivering in her belly had turned to an ache she didn’t quite understand.
She pulled on her robe, tying the sash tightly, then left her room—Wyatt’s room—and wandered downstairs to the kitchen using the back stairs Wyatt had shown her last night.
Delilah was putting the breakfast dishes away in the cabinet as she pushed through the door.
The rich aroma of coffee wafted in the air.
The dog wasn’t on his blankets beside the stove.
She assumed he’d gone out with Wyatt to chase cattle. Royce must have gone out, too.
Delilah turned around and smiled as she caught sight of her. “How did you sleep, dear?”
“Good,” she lied as she took a seat at the kitchen table.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Her smile widened. “It seems we had mice in the kitchen last night.”
“Mice?”
“The two-legged kind.” One eyebrow rose, but the smile never left her face. “You and Wyatt come down for a midnight snack?”
Heat infused her face. “I hope you don’t mind. He said it would be all right. And you bake like a dream. I couldn’t resist.”
Delilah didn’t seem upset, not in the least. “He and his brothers did that a lot when they were young. I’d clean up the kitchen before I went to bed, and I’d come down to a sink full of dishes and half of the food gone.
” She chuckled. “I didn’t mind. Not really, though I wished they would have left the kitchen as clean as they found it.
” She let out a sigh. “It wasn’t easy raising the boys on my own. ”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t. Wyatt told me that his father passed when he was young.”
“He did. Seth was a good man. None of us expected his heart would give out when it did. He was so young—only a year older than Wyatt when he passed.”
“You did an excellent job. With Wyatt, at least. He’s kind and generous and very caring. I haven’t met your other sons, but I’m sure they’re just like him.”
“Thank you. As I said, it wasn’t easy, but the boys and I got through it, and I’m proud of all my sons.” She picked up a dish towel and wiped the already clean counter. “Would you like some coffee? How about breakfast? I could scramble up some eggs and fry some bacon.”