just gobbled down about four ounces of warm goat’s milk,” Rachel said, smiling as she put the last strips of the fried bacon onto a paper towel. “She’s doing fine.”
“Done her business?” Cade asked, tucking the corner of the baby quilt down a little.
“Oh, yes, that, too. She’s a good girl.”
Lifting his head, Cade studied Rachel. She looked fetching in a pair of cranberry slacks and a long-sleeved pink sweater, with her sable hair tied up in a ponytail behind her head. His body went tight on him. Surprised, Cade straightened and said, “Good.”
“You look exhausted,” Rachel said. She pointed to the table. “I figured you’d be up sooner or later. Would you like some breakfast?”
The table had been set with the white china plates and flatware. The salt and pepper shakers were nearby. “You didn’t have to do all of this,” Cade said. “I never expected it.”
Shrugging, Rachel opened the carton of eggs next to the stove. “I’m here. I have to eat. Why not cook for two instead of one?” Besides, that was what she’d done in her former life: cooked for two. It felt good to do it again. “How do you like your eggs? And how many?”
Moving over to the stove, Cade saw she had found a red-and-white checked apron and had tied it around her waist. His mother had sewn that for Abby. “I’ll take three eggs scrambled.” He went to the toaster and opened up the whole-wheat loaf. “Toast?”
Rachel smiled. “Yes, two slices, please.”
Cade liked the simple partnership that had naturally sprung between them. “You got it,” he said. Out the kitchen window he could see the new snow across the backyard and beyond into the empty cow pastures. The sun was bright, the sky an amazing turquoise color above the rugged Tetons off to the right. Things were looking up. How could they not after what they’d witnessed yesterday?
He brought the butter out of the cabinet and placed it on the table. Going to the fridge, he turned and asked, “Do you like jam on your toast?”
“I do. What kind is in there?”
Searching, Cade leaned down and looked. “Some strawberry and a bit of apricot.”
“I love apricot.”
“Apricot for the lady,” he murmured, pulling it off the shelf.
“I’ll bet you’re a strawberry-jam guy.”
Grinning, Cade said, “Does it show?” He took both jars from the fridge and shut it with a nudge of his hip. When he looked up, her eyes were warm with laughter. There was an incredible ease between them, as if they had known one another forever.
“Mmm, you just remind me of a country-boy type,” Rachel said, breaking the three eggs into the black iron skillet. She grabbed a fork, broke the yokes and rapidly mixed them all together.
“Ah, I see,” Cade said, his mouth lifting. “What does a strawberry-jam man look like?”
She grinned. “Like you, I suppose. As an artist I see the colors, connections and symbols between things.” And because of her abuse from Dirk, Rachel had become hyper-alert and missed nothing. Brenda had told her she had post-traumatic stress disorder. It came from feeling so threatened that she feared for her life. And although several years had gone by without such a threat, the hyper-alertness never left. It was always there, like a frightened animal on the verge of running away in order to survive a coming attack.
“So, cowboys and deputies are strawberry-jam men?” He ambled over and poured himself some coffee. Rachel already had a cup of her own next to the stove. He was interested in how she perceived him. Still, Cade reminded himself that he was going to do a background check on her. Over the years he’d learned never to judge a book by its cover. As he leaned against the counter and watched her scramble the eggs, he hoped the report would come out clean. If it did, then he could trust his eyes…and his heart.
“I guess so,” Rachel said with a shy smile. The way Cade stared at her made her feel incredibly feminine, which was new to her. There was no question Cade Garner was a fine-looking man. Handsome in a rugged, outdoors sort of way, with straight brows above his intelligent gray eyes. The way he slouched comfortably against the counter—that lazy kind of masculinity beckoned strongly to her. Would she be able to keep these new feelings at bay while working for him?
Cade noticed she wouldn’t often meet his eyes. She was shy. Maybe she was an introvert by nature. He supposed that could account for her demeanor. “Are you okay being here in this house with me?” he asked her.
Rachel’s hand poised over the skillet for a moment. Startled, she asked, “Why…yes. Is anything wrong?” She scooped the scrambled eggs onto the plate he’d brought from the table.
“No, no, everything’s fine. I realize we’re strangers and a lot is being asked of you out of the blue. A woman might feel uncomfortable with a man she doesn’t know, more so sleeping in the same house with him.”
“Thanks for your sensitivity,” she said. Breaking two more eggs, Rachel quickly scrambled them for herself. “I always had my own apartment in New York City but sometimes I’d stay overnight at my employer’s home when they were out of town. I’m okay with the arrangement.” Cade couldn’t know that she’d awakened at 7:00 a.m. feeling joyous and safe. Two emotions she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And Rachel knew it was due to that protection that emanated from Cade like a powerful beacon. That and the baby. For Rachel, Christmas had given her the one thing she yearned for the most: a baby to care for. It didn’t matter that Jenny wasn’t her biological child. Just getting to take care of a baby fulfilled her in a way she would never be able to put into words. Maybe, too, it was because of her large, tight farm family in Iowa.
“Thanks,” Cade said. He put the toast on his plate and loaded two more slices into the toaster. “So, if I’m a strawberry-jam man, then that makes you an apricot-jam woman. Right?”
Laughing softly, Rachel brought her scrambled eggs over to the table. Cade positioned himself next to Jenny’s bassinet and Rachel sat down opposite him. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of myself in that way.”
Buttering his toast, Cade studied her. Rachel’s cheeks were flushed, almost as if she were unaccustomed to this kind of attention. Either that or she was hiding something. He realized upon closer inspection that sable was not her real hair color. She was more a blonde. “I hadn’t, either,” he chuckled.
The toaster popped. Rachel stood and retrieved the browned slices. When she sat back down, her expression was more serious. “Today is Christmas.”
“I know. Merry Christmas. Bet you didn’t think it would be like this, did you?”
She buttered her toast. “I feel like I’m in some kind of dream.” She looked out the window. “And your ranch is like a beautiful picture-postcard to me. This area of the country is truly breathtaking. If you take out yesterday, it’s a merry Christmas for me.”
As he salted and peppered the steaming pile of scrambled eggs on his plate, Cade felt a wonderful familiarity settling over him. Rachel was bright, quick and easy to talk with. Suddenly, breakfast was something special once more. And with baby Jenny sleeping between them, Cade swore he felt giddy. He hadn’t felt this way since his family’s death. “Well,” he said, “at least you didn’t
