“Vanilla,” she corrected, sidling farther away. “It’s my shampoo.”
Coop wrinkled his nose. “I don’t blame you for shying away from me. I’ve been out in the sun for hours. I should have stopped for a dip in your pond.”
“You probably still can. It stays light longer now that summer’s here. What’s the verdict on other projects after the hose?” she asked.
“I don’t have to tell you the whole place is in poor shape.” Removing his hat, Coop raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair, standing the almost-black locks on end. “A good, all-around cowhand could improve this place immensely, you want someone who can paint, do fence repair, fatten cattle and maybe break the wild colt I spotted in your high pasture—which by the way needs new seed in the worst way. It’d take about three to four weeks, but it’s all stuff that’ll attract prospective buyers much faster.”
“Three to four weeks?” Willow gasped and clutched a hand to her throat. “Out of the question. I simply can’t afford that. I need to sell fast, though. Or failing that, get the steers to market. I’m tempted to do that and let the ranch go back to the bank.”
“Then what will you do, Willow? Go live with your mom? I know your dad passed away the year I left town. I was scheduled for a rodeo at the time,” he mumbled, adding belated condolences.
“At least Dad’s no longer suffering. And, no, I can’t move in with Mom. She’s remarried. To a man she met through friends. They live in East Texas, in the Piney Woods. Working two jobs for as long as she did, while taking care of Dad, she deserves to kick back and be happy without me underfoot.”
“Seems to me that you did more caregiving than she did. But, hey, this ranch won’t be half the work once it’s spruced up. If you don’t have anyplace to go…” He tugged an ear, letting his sentence trail.
“I’d have to raise something to make the ranch pay, Cooper,” she said. “But I can’t. I don’t have money for seed. And the bottom line is I need a job that’ll allow me to spend more time with Lilybelle. We need to move to a city with access to services for special-needs children,” she said, her eyes straying to the child rocking herself where she crouched in one corner of the porch.
“My daughter is autistic,” Willow revealed quietly. Cooper could see her lips tremble visibly even though she looked away.
Chapter Three
Coop’s mind jolted, then went into free fall as he tried to process what Willow had just said. Would telling her he was sorry sound too trivial? Man, he hurt for her. Hurt also for the shy child who looked perfect, though petite for her age. Some part of that initial jolt came from hearing the child’s name. Lilybelle. It was a name Willow had talked about when she and Cooper were serious. What she’d wanted to name their daughter if they ever had one. Lily for Coop’s mother, and Belle for Willow’s.
Coop was quite sure Willow named her daughter without informing Tate of the name’s origins. Tate had no doubt left it up to her, as his own parents had separated in a bitter divorce before Willow moved to Hondo. But Coop let all of those issues pass without comment. Instead, he focused on the child’s condition.
“Lord, Willow, it must be extra-difficult for you, knowing how hard it was to care for your dad all those years,” he managed, his sympathetic gaze resting on the child. “I noticed she was shy with strangers, but I figured it was because you were protective of her, since you live way out of town and have no close neighbors.”
“About the work that needs doing around here,” Willow said, crossing her arms and getting back to business. “I can afford to pay you for two days’ labor. The fence is probably the most important. I thought maybe you could set some of the posts deeper?”
Coop shifted his attention back to Willow. “With our history, I can’t in good conscience charge you a dime.”
She stiffened. It was plain at the outset that she intended to refuse. Coop wasn’t surprised when she said, “I pay my way. I don’t need your charity.”
“Okay.” He held up his hands. “I won’t argue with you. I’ve got the time. You need a few things done. Pay me for fixing the fence. Then we’ll see about doing the rest for room and board.”
A wide range of emotions flitted across Willow’s face before her too-thin shoulders sagged. “I’ll agree to those terms provided you’re okay with mine. You’ll bunk in the barn, and I’ll set breakfast and a sack lunch out on the porch. And the same with supper. If you want the night meal hot, be here to pick it up by seven. I have a hard-and-fast rule that no ranch hands are allowed inside my home. Ever.”
“So I heard,” Coop drawled, mentally kicking himself for not going with his first impulse of hightailing it out of there the moment he discovered who the widow was. It irked him that there was no trust between them, despite the fact that they’d once shared every intimacy. He wondered when she’d grown so hard and closed off. Granted, her life had never been a cakewalk, what with having an invalid father, and a mother who was never at home because she worked two jobs. But, hell, they’d been lovers, and now she was leery of letting him step inside her ramshackle house. Telling himself the sooner he blew through the chores and left her place, the better, Coop slapped his hat against his leg, bounded down the steps and scooped up the reins.
“Tonight’s supper will be macaroni and cheese,” Willow called. “We have that a lot because it’s Lilybelle’s favorite. I’ll set out a covered plate in about an hour.”
He gave a curt nod, then led his horse, Legend, away. He found it hard to be curt. Willow talked big, but she looked defenseless, standing there hunched, one bare foot tucked beneath the other. Willow and her delicate child, who’d stared at Coop out of big, wounded eyes.
In the barn, he asked himself again what he was getting into as he jerkily unsaddled his horse, but he shook off the thought, and set to work shoveling out two stalls for his animals. The barn was a mess he’d wait until morning to fully deal with.
He decided to sleep out under the stars that night, where it smelled better. And speaking of smelling better… He dragged the partially repaired hose behind the barn and did his best to fix up a makeshift shower, glad there wasn’t anyone around to see him hop around or hear him curse the icy water. At least the shocking cold neutralized his lingering anger over Willow’s standoffishness.
The shower made him late to pick up his dinner. It was nearly eight o’clock, but he was hungry enough to scarf down the congealed cheesy macaroni, and be thankful for it. The vegetable—zucchini—was less appetizing, but it helped fill the hole in his stomach. After he finished, he rinsed his plate and left it where he’d found it.
In the morning, he saw Willow and Lilybelle crossing the field that flanked the house. They disappeared over a rise, making no effort to contact him. No big surprise there.
Coop scavenged through the toolshed that sat adjacent to the barn, searching for what he’d need to mend the fences and shovel out the barn. He was astounded that the shed and tack room were both devoid of any of the tools one would expect to find on a ranch.
* * *
NOT CATCHING WILLOW at the house or elsewhere on the property for two days, Coop made do with the hammers, pliers and crowbar he carried in his pickup.
Like clockwork, his meals appeared on the
