Chapter 8
There’s a man cooking dinner in my kitchen. And here I thought one-armed push-ups were the sexiest thing that could happen in there.
His dark hair is still damp, and there’s moisture beading along the side of his neck as the scent of an unfamiliar shampoo mixes with the aroma of something equally unfamiliar grilling in a pan. He’s changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I can’t help admiring how good the shirt looks stretching across his muscled shoulders.
The man is still too thin though. I should have stuck one more extra snowman into his lunch. I can’t help sneaking in closer to the stove, sniffing curiously. Whatever it is he’s cooking, it smells good. I’m not sneaky enough, because he catches me watching.
“Hey,” Guy says, giving me a shy smile. “You were still working, so I got started on dinner. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Feeding me is always a good thing,” I promise him. “What are you making?”
Guy tilts the pan my way, looking proud. “These are Emma’s favorite kind of veggie burgers. She has to be careful what protein sources she eats, but these are good. I make a bunch of them at a time so we have leftovers. They’re easy to cook up on a hot plate when we’re traveling.”
So now I know what some of the containers in my fridge are. I was too busy today to go poking my nose around in them, despite being curious.
Guy suddenly stills, looking down at his pan and the browning burgers. “And it’s just occurring to me you’re a cattle farmer.” He squeezes his eyes closed as if mentally berating himself, and his voice shifts to a more stressed-sounding version of himself. “Okay, I can make you something else.”
I join him by the stovetop and pat his arm to reassure him. The happy, relaxed man I saw in the barn is gone, and I don’t want that for him. Not because Guy was just trying to make Emma a healthy dinner.
“Don’t worry. Since I’m the daughter and former daughter-in-law of multigenerational cattle farmers and the former co-owner of one of the largest cattle farms in the state of Idaho, people think I’ve never actually eaten a veggie burger.” I give him a quick smile. “And they’d be wrong. These look delicious.”
And if it’s awful, I’ll choke it down, and he’ll never be the wiser.
“Anything I can do to help?” I ask. The look he gives me is hard to read, but then he shakes his head with a bemused smile.
I settle into a seat at the kitchen island, watching a stranger try to find his way around my cooking utensils. There’s a salt grinder near the stove, and I notice he doesn’t touch it. Instead, he sprinkles seasoning from a small Tupperware container onto the burgers. Everything he’s making is homemade and, from the look of it, as healthy as humanly possible.
Guy’s doing what he can to keep his daughter safe and healthy.
“How was Emma today?” Guy asks as if reading my mind, his voice dropping with seriousness.
I think about the day, about what she said and did, filtering through the lists he’d given me about her condition.
“She wanted to drink more than you said she could, and she didn’t like the restriction, but it wasn’t an issue. And like yesterday, her appetite isn’t much. I logged her lunch and snack in the tablet like you showed me.”
“Thank you.”
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
Guy gives me a quick smile over his shoulder. “I have access to the food log from my phone, and it pinged me anytime you entered something. If it happens again, it’s okay to give her a few ice chips or one of the mouth swabs in her bag. She likes the lemon ones more than the mint-flavored.”
His smile triggers a memory of a conversation earlier with his daughter. “Emma thinks you look at me funny,” I joke.
“I do look at you funny.” Guy laughs and lowers the heat before turning and resting his arms on the island catty-corner from me. “A gorgeous woman sent me to work with snowman cutout sandwiches and Oreos, took care of my daughter all day, and made Emma laugh in a way I haven’t heard in forever. And when I came home, there was coffee waiting for me. If I’m looking at you funny, it’s because I’m trying to figure out if I’m hallucinating all this.”
I don’t expect the gorgeous comment, and my face heats up.
“I’m currently hallucinating a dinner that doesn’t involve me doing anything,” I reply, leaning over in my seat and giving his waist an impulsive hug.
When Guy realizes what I’m doing and wraps his muscled arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently, I realize I’ve made a critical error here. The man gives an excellent hug, and I’ve been working with a severe deficit.
You’re leaning too long , my brain tells me, but it takes a moment for me to force myself to pull away. My face must be beet red now because my cheeks feel hot. As soon as I drop my arm, he moves away.
“Sorry,” I mumble, because clearly, I can’t be trusted to not plaster myself all over him.
“I’m not. It was a great way to end a great day.” Guy opens the lid on a pot of brown rice, and a rich scent hits my nose, making my mouth water. He scoops out a little bite of it, offering me the spoon. “Here, tell me if you want this hotter. I went with mild seasonings because I wasn’t sure if you liked spicy.”
“What about Emma?” I have my list of rules, and avoiding spicy foods is in there.
“I set aside her rice before I seasoned it.” Guy waggles the spoon at me, so I accept the bite of rice.
I definitely miss the sodium, but the subtle flavors of garlic, onion, and curry are delicious. True, if I were alone, I’d drop a slab of butter on my rice and grind up the saltshaker for a while, but these two don’t just choose to eat healthy. They need to eat healthy. Already, my brain is starting to make the mental switch.
“Yum,” I decide. “And go as hot as you want. I’m not afraid.”
He dips into a second small Tupperware of seasoning, and soon the scent of heated chili pepper makes Barley sneeze in the living room.
While Emma tries to teach Barley how to use a tissue, Guy portions out the veggie burgers on scoops of rice, and I set the table. We sit down to eat together, and the whole situation is…surreal. We’re a picture of domestic bliss, except for the tiny little part where it’s all a lie. A complete and utter lie. It hits me hard all of a sudden, how this was supposed to be what Micah and I should have had, only a real version. Not the version where I’ve never even been on a date with the man across from me, unless you count meeting at the Daily Grind.
“What was the job like?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
“Good.” Guy sounds pleased. “We got a lot done, so the foreman was happy.”
I try desperately to think of something else to say, but nothing comes. An old song plays in my mind, the lyrics messing with me. This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife.
This is not my beautiful life , my brain adds of its own accord.
I don’t regret helping them, but it’s different when Guy’s in the room. The fun, relaxed day with Emma was easier. Having Guy sitting within arm’s reach feels entirely different, almost as if the air between us is charged. I’m overly aware of his presence, of the sound of his voice, of his low laughter when Emma says something he thinks is funny. His hands are particularly distracting, especially connected to the muscled forearms resting on my dining table.
The same hands I recognized as familiar yesterday suddenly seem very large, very male, and very new.
“Can we, Sen-na?” Emma asks, pulling me from where I was watching Guy’s hands.
Blinking, I try to focus on Emma and recall what she just said.
“I doubt Sienna wants to make a whole new set of stockings, Em.” Guy saves me from my inattention. “One for each animal is just fine.”
“But Legs is big. He should have two.”
“She makes a fair point. But Dunkin and Paddlewhack are small. Should they only get half a stocking?”
Emma giggles and shakes her head.
Guy’s eyebrow raises. “Dunkin and Paddlewhack?”
“The donkeys , Daddy.” Emma gives him a look that says he’s embarrassing her.
Guy grins at me. “Oh, the donkeys. Sorry, I’m still learning everyone’s names.”
Emma launches into a description of all the animals, and I’m impressed by how much she’s retained just from being here for a short time. It’s a lot of information, and despite Guy giving his daughter his complete attention, he’s looking a little lost.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t name the cows. Just the bull,” I murmur to him.
We agree the donkeys aren’t losing any stockings, and only Legs is getting a second one. Guy logs Emma’s food and liquid with a few quick taps of his fingers, much more quickly than I did today. There are so many tiny things happening around me, and they’re all new.
This is not my beautiful life.
“Daddy, are you going to stress-ercise?”
“Not until after everyone goes to bed.”
“Why?”
Guy glances at me, but I don’t know why any more than Emma does. “I don’t want to get in Sienna’s way, sweetie. Her routine and our routines are different. We’re kind of taking over the house, and she deserves some peace from our noise.”
“I don’t mind the push-ups.”
Why did I say that? Why didn’t I just say I don’t mind the exercise?
I clear my throat, adding, “This is your home too. Whatever makes you two happy. We’ll get our routines blended.”
He’s smart, and I can see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I have a feeling Guy knows I’m unsettled, but I don’t think he’s going to ask me about it in front of Emma.
We finish eating, and even though my mouth enjoyed the meal, my stomach is resisting the sudden change of food and spices. A little walk will probably do me good, and I need to take a beat and try to recenter.
“I need to go double-check the cattle gate,” I tell him. “Leave the dishes for me, okay? You cooked, so I’ll clean.”
Checking the gate isn’t a lie, although I already checked it earlier today. I know because I have my list on my phone, and there’s a little mark next to “Evening chores, check the gate.” I just need to step away for a minute because good intentions aside, this is a lot. A lot of new. A lot of noise and brightness and laughter and changes and too-nice hugs.
I haven’t eaten dinner with someone else for over four months.
When I return to the house, I end up lingering on the porch, and I’m sitting on top of the wooden rail when my phone chirps. I glance down at the number calling and feel a rush of relief at the much-needed normalcy. Sometimes it feels like in a world of texting, Jess and I are the only ones who still like to talk on the phone.
“Hey, good timing,” I tell them. Somehow Jess always seems to know when to call.
“I was promised details, and so far, all I have are pictures of a cutie-pie making stockings in the barn,” they say by way of greeting. “Please tell me you’re in Aruba right now.”
“Nope, I’m sitting on the railing, listening to the moos. The moon is pretty tonight, isn’t it?”
“Spill, woman. I refuse to hit dating apps during cuffing season, so I’m living vicariously through you.”
“Cuffing season?”
“People who would rather be single but who lock it down with someone over the holidays so they won’t be alone. I mean, most don’t go so far as to marry them, but…”
I exhale a small laugh. “I think I went beyond a cuff and did a full ball and chain on this,” I joke as I watch Jerkface lumber toward the water trough.
Maybe something in my tone gives me away because they wait a moment for me to continue, and when I don’t, Jess asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
Nope. Nope nope nope.
“If you weren’t okay, would you tell me?”
My heart warms at their gentle prodding. “Don’t worry. Guy’s nice. I think I’m just still getting used to having male energy around the house again. He’s a good cook though.”
“The fact that he cooked is raising my opinion of him already. How about the stepdaughter?”
A sigh escapes me. “Emma’s perfect. Adorable. Brilliant and so much better to talk to than Barley.”
“A sack of potatoes is better to talk to than Barley. Let’s have dinner soon because I want to meet them. Oh hey, I’ve got to go. My date’s about to arrive.”
“I thought you weren’t participating in cuffing season,” I remind them.
“And I thought you were going be in Aruba right now.”
I can practically hear Jess waggling their eyebrows, so I end the call with a laugh and a “Be safe.”
Dating is scary for all of us, and I don’t know what I would do without them.
Jess and I have spent a lot of holidays together. I’m lost in memories of running around the yard with them and Charley as a child, throwing snowballs and making snow ponies in the front lawn, when I hear the squeak of the door opening behind me. I look over my shoulder, my hands tightening on the railing for balance.
Guy gives me a tentative smile as he sticks his head out. “Are you up for some company?”
“My porch is your porch,” I say, patting the railing in invitation.
He props the door open a bit so we can still hear Emma call, and he meets me at the rail. “I wasn’t sure if ‘check the gate’ meant check the gate, leave me alone, or follow me and let’s flirt with each other under the moonlight. Since I’m hoping for the last one, I brought a cookie to break the ice.”
I blink and then find myself laughing despite myself.
“Feeding me treats is a really good opener,” I promise, accepting the small bakery box he offers me. I know he’s joking about flirting, but when I look inside the box, I see a frosted sugar cookie shaped like a snowflake and dusted with blue and silver sugar crystals. “This might be the best pickup line I’ve ever gotten.”
“I wanted a snowman to continue the trend, but this was prettier.” He must have picked it up after work, because it’s from the best place in town and definitely not renal-diet friendly. “Is Emma still awake?” The cookie looks delicious, and I don’t want to eat it in front of her.
“Yep. She doesn’t want to take a bath before bed until she asks you a super-important question, which she wouldn’t share with me.” Guy sounds amused. “Now she’s watching Rudolph with Barley.”
“The cute cartoon one she had on earlier or the creepy puppet one with the terrifying snow monster?”
“Terrifying snow monster and island of misfit toys.”
I shudder. “That one stayed with me, but hey, more power to Emma if she likes it. Well, supersecret important questions take precedence.” I start to move, but Guy signals for me to stay.
“She’s happy on the couch, and I can see her through the window,” Guy promises. “She can wait a minute.”
“Is that how this works?” I ask him, earning a second, softer laugh.
“No, I pretty much come when called. If you manage to tell her no, teach me the trick of it. Em’s had me wrapped around her little finger since she was born.” He leans against the post next to me, looking out at the edges of the cleared part of the ranch. “Do you have to worry about bears out here?”
“Sometimes we get them and some wolves too, although they tend to stay higher in the range. More often than not, it’s a coyote causing trouble, going after the calves or colts. They’re why I have Dunkin and Paddlewhack.”
“The donkeys?”
“Yep. Dunkin and Paddlewhack, like all donkeys worth their salt, absolutely hate coyotes and will run them off the herds. I pair them with the cattle each season. Seriously cuts down on losses. Paddlewhack especially loves his calves, so try not to get him riled up.”
I wink at Guy to let him know I’m teasing…mostly.
“Why did you name him Paddlewhack?”
“Because if I ever tried to get him to work, I’d probably have to whack his butt with a boat paddle,” I joke. “Not that I ever would. Besides, guarding babies is what he’s the best at, so I leave him be, and he keeps them safe for me. It’s a good relationship, built on mutual understanding of each other’s limitations. I suck at running down coyotes, but I only have two feet.”
“You like animals a lot more than people, don’t you?”
“Depends on the people.” I lean over and nudge his shoulder with my elbow. “The donkeys never make me dinner.”
Guy gives me a kind look. “Never in my entire adult life has anyone but a drive-through window made me lunch. I think I stared at my lunch for a full minute before I realized it was actually mine.”
“What you’re saying is we’re the pretend-married version of Dunkin and Paddlewhack?”
“I can think of worse things to be.” Guy grins down at me. “Relationship goals, right?” He pauses, then adds, “Do you want some time out here alone? Emma can ask her supersecret question after a bath, despite what she’s convinced herself.”
“No, I’m good.” And I am, despite being overwhelmed. Probably because after a lot of years of not having someone care enough to check on me, I appreciate he’s out here.
Suddenly he blinks, then turns to look through the windows to where Emma is still sitting with Barley. “I grew up near Yellowstone,” Guy tells me. “There were always bears wandering in and out of town, so I’m used to double-checking for wildlife when I’m outside. But I never even thought to ask you if there were weapons in the house.”
“You mean you forgot something in between a wedding, moving, and starting a new job in a twenty-four-hour span?” I gently tease.
“Admittedly, it’s a pretty big oversight.”
I nod. “True. For what it’s worth, almost all the guns were Micah’s, and he took them with him. I only keep a rifle locked up in the gun safe in my closet in case an accident happens and I have to put one of my animals down. I don’t like guns, so I don’t keep it on me when I’m riding or working. I carry bear spray and an air horn instead. Both do a plenty-good job at keeping wildlife at bay. The code for the safe is my mom’s birthday, if you ever need it. I’ll write it down for you.”
Guy nods, accepting what I say as truth. Which is a whole lot nicer than the constant arguments I’d had with Micah because I don’t like guns. I eat my cookie, watching the way the moonlight gleams on the snow-covered mountains around us.
“What about your parents? Are they in Montana? You said you have a sister overseas, but you’ve never mentioned them.”
“My sister and I grew up in foster care.”
I blink at his unexpected answer. “That must have been difficult.”
“It was, but we were lucky. We only got shuffled around a couple homes before we were placed together with really nice foster parents. They kept us together and made sure we knew we were loved. They take in a lot of kids, so they have their hands full, but we still keep in touch on birthdays and holidays. They can’t leave Montana very often, but my foster parents were some of the first to get tested when Emma got sick. They’re good people.”
“What’s your sister like?” I don’t know why I’m asking so many questions, but it’s easier to focus on him and Emma right now than on my own feelings.
Guy chuckles. “Hayden was wild growing up. Well, we both were, but she has this no-holds-barred approach to life I was always envious of. She’s a year older than me, and she left right before I found out about Emma’s illness.” His face grows more serious. “Hayden was tested too when Emma got sick, but she wasn’t a match for Em. We both tried to find our birth parents, but the records were sealed. It’s better to have a kidney from someone her same size, but it was worth a shot.”
“Is it hard not knowing what happened to them?”
“It used to bother me a lot, but after Emma got sick, a lot of things didn’t matter as much anymore.” He’s quiet for a while, then says, “Are you okay, Sienna? Did I do something to upset you? I feel like we ran you out of your house.”
The fact that he didn’t say “did we upset you” makes me respect him even more. I almost tell him the same thing I told Jess, but then I hesitate and reconsider.
“No, you both were fun tonight,” I reassure him, and as I say the words, I know they’re true. “I don’t know why I started feeling overwhelmed in there. I’ve lived my whole life in this house, on this property, and you both have a lot more change happening than I do.”
“You have two people in your home, eating your food, stealing your shower and your dog,” he reminds me. “If you weren’t feeling overwhelmed, I’d ask to have some of what you’re having.”
I break my cookie in half and offer him part.
Guy chuckles but shakes his head. “You watched my daughter all day. You earned that cookie.”
“Emma’s welcome with me anytime. I like having someone to talk to. It gets lonely out here.”
His muscled arms cross on the railing next to my leg, not too close but close enough I feel a silent comradery in his company.
“Hey, Sienna? If this gets to be too much, I’ll understand. Just because you’re helping us out for now doesn’t mean you have to help us forever. You made my daughter happy today, which means a whole lot more to me than you realize.”
“She made me happy too.”
Guy’s quiet for a moment before whispering softly, “Emma is the best thing to ever happen to me.”
He doesn’t say out loud that he’s losing her. He doesn’t have to. It lies between us, a truth that brought two strangers together. There’s a reason why it’s okay tonight was overwhelming. The reason has a supersecret question and a father who’s beside himself trying to fix something he just can’t make better.
For a moment, just a moment, I want to lean over and rest against his shoulder. Instead, I hand him half of the cookie, and in the quiet of the winter moonlight, we share it together.