A Cowboy For Christmas. Rachel Lee
know the story behind that.
She stared at the stack of library books beside her bed, but didn’t feel much like reading. She remembered the computer out in the living room, and in a moment of genuine curiosity about her rooms, she started investigating spaces she hadn’t yet really looked at.
Oh, she’d put away her clothes in the dresser and surveyed the kitchen appliances and utensils, but she hadn’t examined the desk in one corner of her sitting room. It looked like a simple writing desk with one bank of drawers up the side, but she hadn’t needed a desk yet.
Rising, she went over and began to open drawers. The top one, which appeared merely to be a decorative front and had resisted her efforts to pull it open, turned out to have a tip-down front. When she did that, it slid out and revealed yet another laptop. Regina hadn’t been kidding about them being all over the house, like the TVs.
This one was hardwired into a wall connection, but the cord was long enough that she was able to pull it out and set it on top of the desk. The drawer then closed most of the way and she pulled the secretarial chair back in front of it.
This could be cool, she thought. Maybe she’d research those online courses Regina had mentioned, in case she had enough money to take one before long. Maybe she could get a head start on going back for her degree.
Her heart leaped a little at the prospect.
She should have checked this out sooner. But ever since coming here, housekeeper or not, she had felt a little like an interloper and had tried to respect privacy. She didn’t open drawers outside the kitchen. She didn’t poke into closets. Sooner or later she supposed she’d have to or the closets would get dusty. She needed to ask Rory what her limits were.
Just as she was about to turn the laptop on, she heard a quiet knock at her door. It was so unusual that she started. Immediately she wondered if Regina needed help.
Jumping up, she went to answer it and found Rory standing there, the fingers of one hand tucked into his jeans pocket. He stood back a foot in the short hallway, as if to give her space.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said, smiling, “but I wondered if you could give me a few minutes. Out in the living room.”
“Sure,” she answered promptly, oddly relieved that he didn’t want to come in here, although she didn’t know why. Too intimate? That was silly. He owned the place.
Then she got nervous. Had she done something wrong? Was he going to fire her? Other than her one ugly, incautious remark, she couldn’t imagine that she’d done anything terrible.
Of course, not having done anything wrong didn’t mean much, as she had already learned the hard way.
“Want some coffee?” he asked as they passed the kitchen.
“No, thank you.”
“Grab a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
She perched on the edge of one of the heavy, large armchairs. Built solidly of wood with blue cushions, their massiveness helped counter the immense size of the room, as did the two huge couches and the piano in one corner. You could probably play basketball in here, she thought, trying to keep a sense of amusement. She was failing miserably.
He wasn’t long, returning with a mug of coffee. He looked around. “You know, this isn’t exactly a cozy room, is it? We could shout from opposite ends of it.”
Her tension began to ease, and a small laugh escaped her. “Good for entertaining.”
“I didn’t come here to entertain, although I suppose it could happen. This is what happens when you hand a contractor and a decorator a few ideas and cut them loose.” He shook his head. “Kitchen?”
“Please.” Maybe there she wouldn’t feel so tiny and insignificant.
They adjourned to the kitchen table and sat facing each other across it.
“This feels almost human-sized,” he remarked. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her over the top of his mug as he took a sip. She felt the attraction again, the way something about him seemed to draw her. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, although he was, but some other aura that made her feel the stirrings of passion that she had tried to cut out of her life. No wonder Rory McLane was a superstar. Every woman probably felt the same way about him.
She dared to ask, “Did you really just cut them loose?”
“The builder and decorator? Yeah. See, that’s been part of the problem. I’ve been so busy all the time with everything I’ve had to do that I haven’t been writing any decent music of my own, or running any other part of my life. So this is where I get to. A hermitage that could double as a small hotel.” He shook his head a little. “I shouldn’t complain. I’ve been damn lucky.”
“Talented, too,” she suggested.
“Well, lately I’ve been wondering about that. But that’s not what I wanted to talk with you about.”
Anxiety returned, creeping along her nerve endings. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” He appeared startled. “Nothing like that. I just thought it might help you to understand some of what’s happening here. Yes, I know the ground rules I originally set out. You pretty much go your way and I go mine. But now there’s Regina, and a dog, and things got a little more complicated for everyone. The way things are going, there’s probably even going to be a horse or two, some slumber parties, some other parties....” He paused, looking momentarily overwhelmed, then continued. “So I thought you might be more comfortable if you knew some things, rather than spending your time wondering what the heck happened.”
As her anxiety eased, she was able to smile. “You make it sound like an invasion.”
“It probably will be, by the time all’s said and done.” His smile was a little crooked. “Just another way for Stella to get even.”
“Stella?”
“My ex. Regina’s mother. Do you keep up with country music?”
She shook her head, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “No, sorry.”
“No apology needed. Suffice it to say, my ex is a big deal in her own right, only she eats it all up. The only person she saw more than me and her band during our marriage was her hairdresser and her plastic surgeon.”
Abby couldn’t help it. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.
“Exactly,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t sound so critical. Me, I can age gracefully. She’s a woman, and youth and beauty are part of her trade. Sorry comment on society, but that’s the way it is. Anyway, when we split, there was a custody fight and I lost. The judge was sympathetic to the idea that a girl needed her mama more than her dad. I figured I had to wait until Regina was old enough to decide who she wanted to live with, and put up with our long separations.”
“But something happened.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You could say Regina happened. She created more trouble for Stella than a pack of weasels let loose in the house.”
This time Abby let the laugh escape. “She doesn’t strike me that way.”
“Me, neither. Oh, I’m not gonna claim she’s perfect. What kid is? But the constant loss of nannies finally became enough to make Stella forget how mad she was at me.” He shifted, looking down. “I often think the only reason she wanted full custody to begin with was because it was another way to get back at me. Guess I was right. So Stella gave me full custody and I have my daughter back.”
Everything inside Abby softened. “I could tell how happy that made you. I’m glad.”
“Me, too. She’s out of that plastic, over-regimented environment. Stella is all about appearances, and I was afraid she’d make Regina that way, too. Hasn’t happened yet, evidently.”
Abby