room, Hadley realized that he was a planner and apparently thought ahead, always prepared with plan B.
She set the water to boil and glanced over at the momma cat and kitten. They stayed cuddled together in the bed Eli had made.
When he returned to the tack room with two flashlights, Hadley said, “I’ll have to feed momma again when we’re done. She needs nourishment to be able to nurse her baby.”
From somewhere Eli had found two more foam cups. Hadley dropped a tea bag into each. “I hope you like orange spice. That’s all I have.”
“Orange spice is fine. My mother has a whole cupboard full of everything from chamomile to Earl Grey.”
Again Eli had surprised her. Men didn’t usually notice that kind of thing. “You’re a tea drinker?”
“It’s not always my choice,” he admitted. “But whenever Mom wants to talk, she pours us both a cup of tea. In a sense, I’ve learned what I like and what I don’t.”
From the cabinet he pulled out a jar of peanut butter. “We can always slather peanut butter on the cookies.”
With a smile, she suggested, “I think beef stew and plain cookies will be fine.”
Once the water for the tea was poured, Eli popped the top of the beef stew can and dumped it into the saucepan. He found a few utensils in a drawer and used a fork to stir the stew. The light from the lantern was bright in the dark room and played over Eli as he prepared their dinner.
She handed him a cup of tea. “It should be brewed. You don’t want it to get cold.”
“It will feel good going down.”
Every time Eli spoke, his deep voice seemed to mesmerize her. She found herself staring at his face, the creases around his mouth, his firm jaw, his lips. She didn’t know why, but she got the feeling that he was a sensual man, not afraid of touching.
She quickly shut down that thought and took a sip of her tea. It was hot and did feel good going down. Now was the time to apologize.
However, just as she was about to open her mouth, and probably put her foot in it, he looked away, down at the stew. “I think it’s ready,” he said, and she wondered if he’d been studying her face as carefully as she’d been studying his.
He’d found only one bowl in the cupboard. It had a black stripe around the outer rim and was chipped here and there. “We’ll have to eat out of the same bowl,” he told her gruffly. “Or you can have the bowl and I’ll eat out of the pot.”
“Whatever suits you is fine with me.” After all, she could roll with the punches, couldn’t she?
After a quick glance at her, he said, “You take the bowl.” He produced a glove from somewhere, and when he sat on the desk chair, he laid it on his thigh. Then he propped the pot on that.
They ate for a few minutes in companionable silence, hearing only the sounds of the wind against the barn, the soft whinnies of horses stirring in their stalls, the creak of the timbers overhead as the roof absorbed the cold.
Finally, she moved restlessly on the stool and worked up her nerve. “Eli, I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Earlier?” he asked as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.
“I never meant to give the impression that I thought—”
He cut in. “That you thought I was just a cowboy. That I only knew how to rope a steer. That I didn’t pay attention in school because my life was only here on the ranch.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to all that.
As if he’d never intended to say what he had, he sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “I guess we all have preconceived notions.”
She was cognizant of the fact that he didn’t mention what his might be about her.
He did add, however, “Just so you know, I ran track. I could have had a scholarship to college.”
“You didn’t want to go?” There was no judgment in her voice. She seriously wanted to know.
“I had other things on my mind then. And, no, I didn’t see the need. One year passed into two and then three. My parents depended on me, and I’d made a life here.”
He wasn’t saying what had happened in those years after high school, and she really had no right to pry. She certainly didn’t want him asking her personal questions.
After Eli had finished his stew, he set the pan on the desk. Hadley passed him her bowl, and he set that on top of the pan. She couldn’t help but slip her phone from her pocket and check it.
“There’s still no signal,” she said with disappointment.
“Your family knows you’re here.” His tone was reassuring.
She shook herself free of the notion that her family was worrying about her. “Old Gene and Melba know I can take care of myself. I don’t think they’ll worry. What about your parents?” she asked him.
“They’ll have watched the weather reports for here from Missoula. They’ll know what’s happening. I’ve often handled the ranch on my own, and they know everything will be taken care of.”
“Because you’re the dependable one?” Hadley asked.
“Something like that,” he said with a nod. “I’m the oldest, so I’ve probably always had more responsibilities than the others.”
She could easily see that.
“Ready for that cookie now?” he asked with a smile that made him look rakish and charming, even handsome. At first she’d thought his face was too craggy to be handsome, but she’d been wrong. And now with a bit of beard stubble shadowing his jaw, he was downright sexy. Way too sexy.
“A cookie sounds good,” she said, noticing the husky tone in her voice. Eli Dalton made her insides quiver.
The cookie tin was sitting on the desk. Removing the lid, he smiled at her. “There’s only one. Do you want it?”
“We can split it,” she suggested.
He took it from the decorative tin, and she couldn’t help but notice his long fingers and large hands. Those hands had been so gentle on Amber.
As if he’d caught her watching him, he said, “I washed up a bit ago. I let snow melt and added dish detergent.”
“I wasn’t thinking that—” Her voice broke off because she didn’t want to tell him what she had been thinking. That the touch of his hand on her skin would be a pleasurable thing. She was hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the dusky barn.
He didn’t question her further. Rather, he broke the cookie in half and gave her the larger piece. That said something about him, too. Not only that he was a gentleman, but that he might often be self-sacrificing. No. She was reading too much into a simple gesture. No man she had ever known had been self-sacrificing, and certainly not the
