His Country Cinderella. Karen Smith Rose
She picked up the pitcher to pour the tea. “Dr. Traub said he could vouch for your character, that he’d known you since you were both kids. He said you were still a good friend and always there when he needed you and that you liked children.”
Zane had always been grateful for Dillon’s friendship, never more so than now. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
“From the way it sounds, you already have. I know Dr. Traub is from Texas. I hear bits of conversation at the restaurant. You both have a Texas drawl.”
“Dillon and I are from Midland.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Yes, I am.” He realized she wanted more, but he didn’t know if he was ready to give it right now.
“What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“In Bozeman.”
Bozeman was about a half hour east of Thunder Canyon. Truth be told, he was more interested in other things about her than where she grew up. “I don’t know a tactful way to ask this, so I’m going to just ask. Is Jonah’s father involved in his life?” His gaze dropped again to her hand that was devoid of a wedding ring.
“Jonah’s father died before he was born.”
“I’m sorry.” Zane saw her swallow hard and take a breath. Obviously she’d loved the man a lot.
Before Zane could say anything else, Jonah scrambled back through the doorway and up onto a chair. “I’m ready,” he announced.
“So are we,” Jeannette singsonged back, recovering from whatever turmoil Zane’s question had caused. Already he could tell she was a good mom. Whenever he’d dated before, he hadn’t even thought of something like that. Of course he’d never dated anyone who had kids. And he wasn’t dating Jeannette, either. He was just—Having a meal with her…and her son.
The small table hardly fit the three of them. Zane’s long legs seemed to extend to the other side. As tall as he was, he couldn’t move without his elbow brushing Jeannette’s, or shift his legs without bumping Jonah’s knees. The little boy laughed when it happened. Zane made a game of it and Jonah giggled every time he did. With barbecue sauce smeared all over his face, on his fingers and on the spoon he used to scoop mashed potatoes into his mouth, he looked like he was having a great experience.
Zane wiped his fingers on a napkin as Jeannette ate another forkful of her dinner. “So, what do you think about the ribs?”
She seemed to consider his question with the importance he wanted her to give it. But then she shrugged. “They’re great, but the sauce tastes like the sauce we use at LipSmackin’ Ribs. I do have to admit the corn bread is wonderful and not something I should consider eating on a daily basis or my clothes won’t fit.”
Zane let his gaze run over her and there was male appreciation in his voice when he commented, “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Her face turned a pretty color of pink and he wondered if she didn’t get many compliments. She had a smudge of barbecue sauce on her upper lip and without thinking about it he leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb. He hadn’t realized this simple gesture could have such an impact.
They both stilled as his finger lingered on her skin. She didn’t pull away, and he realized from the radar he’d perfected over the years that she was affected, too, by whatever this attraction was between them. It wasn’t one-sided. That pleased him a great deal. Yet it was too soon for him to touch her, or kiss her or anything like that. Jeannette had a son. Zane’s life was so chaotic no woman would ever want to set foot in it.
He pulled his hand away from her reluctantly, and then took his napkin and said to Jonah, “I think you’re going to have a permanent barbecue mustache if I don’t get some of this off.” He wiped the barbecue sauce from around Jonah’s mouth and set the napkin on the table. “Your fingers are going to need soap and water.”
“Gran tells me to use lots of soap,” Jonah informed Zane.
He glanced at Jeannette and she explained, “Jonah stays with his dad’s parents while I work. Ed and I weren’t married, but they’ve become like parents to me.”
Zane considered Jeannette’s expression. It was watchful as if being a mother and not married would elicit some kind of judgment from him. He wasn’t in a position to judge anyone.
“I’m full,” Jonah suddenly announced.
“No apple pie?” his mother asked.
“Not now,” he said as he scooted off his chair. “Can Zane play a game with me?”
Jeannette glanced at Zane. “You’ll have to check with him.”
“Sure, we can play a game. But you’ll have to teach me whatever it is.”
“We could have pie and coffee after he goes to bed,” Jeannette suggested.
“Sounds good.”
Two hours later in Jonah’s bedroom, Jeannette finished buttoning Jonah’s pajama top, well aware Zane was seated in her living room, TV turned off, as he paged through a photo album with baby pictures of Jonah. Tall and muscled, he almost looked out of place on her mauve-and-green plaid sofa. She’d told him he could watch TV if he wanted to, but he’d just shrugged and said he’d rather page through the photo album.
“Mommy, can I give Zane a good-night hug?”
A lump came to her throat. “You’ll have to ask him if it’s okay.”
“I will. I like Zane.”
It was obvious that Jonah did. Zane had played with him as if they’d been buddies for a while. Mel and Edna were great with Jonah, and she appreciated everything they did for him. But they were overprotective at times. Mel didn’t play with him in the yard, just watched Jonah as he played by himself. There weren’t children in Edna and Mel’s neighborhood, and that’s one of the reasons Jeannette had wanted to enroll him in preschool. Zane, however, had played with Jonah as if he was used to being with kids, and Jonah had taken to him, lapping up the attention like a new puppy.
As Jonah ran down the hall into the living room—he never walked anywhere—Jeannette followed him. He went over to Zane and asked, “Can I give you a hug?”
Zane didn’t hesitate. He enveloped her son in a bear hug and squeezed tight until Jonah giggled. “You sleep good tonight, cowboy.”
“I will,” Jonah said as he waved to Zane, then walked with Jeannette to his bedroom.
She tucked him in and kissed his forehead, seeing that his eyelids were already drooping with sleep. “I love you, Jonah. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When she kissed his cheek, he mumbled, “’Night, Mommy.”
As she returned to the living room, she heard Zane in the kitchen and realized he was on the phone. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really she didn’t, but she heard her name mentioned, so she listened. “I understand why you fired her,” he was saying. “But I’m telling you if you keep her on, I’ll pay her salary.”
She was thunderstruck. He would do what? She walked into the kitchen straight-backed and square-shouldered.
Zane didn’t hide what he was doing. He didn’t put down the phone. “Yes, I’m sure about it. I’ll let you settle the details with her. I’m sure Jeannette will be speaking with you. You have a good night, too.”
Jeannette didn’t know what to say or how to say it, so she asked, “Why would you possibly do that? How could you possibly do that?”
“It’s easy. I had looked up the owner’s number on my laptop this afternoon. So I just made her an offer that was hard to refuse. You’re reinstated. You have your job back.”
“No, I don’t. You will not