nodded. “We agree on a lot of things.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“We both like to eat.” He snatched a radish from the salad.
Holly swatted his hand away but truthfully he thought she’d enjoyed the camaraderie they shared today. Luc wasn’t sure he should have dumped his sad story all over her, but he needed her help with Henry and to get that, he’d felt compelled to explain his reasons for wanting to circumvent marriage. Maybe he’d let her see a little too far into his heart but he knew he could trust her. Holly was like a soul mate.
“So what will we do about those missing cattle and the ruined fences you showed me?” she asked after she’d said grace.
“I’ll go up into the hills tomorrow and find those cows if it takes all day. But I need to figure out something to take the place of those fences where that steer was injured.” He took a large helping of the macaroni and two pork chops, his stomach rumbling as he inhaled the delicious aromas.
“I guess it’s been ages since Dad installed that fence.”
Holly showed surprise when he told her the date he’d found in her dad’s ranch notebooks. “That long?”
“Yes. They’ve been repaired once too often. We need something else. There are coyotes in those hills and our cattle are too valuable to serve as their food.” He paused. “Unfortunately, building a more solid fence means I’ll have to cut down some of those gigantic spruce you planted with your dad.”
Holly rose to get the teapot. When she returned to the table a tear glittered on the end of her lashes. Luc knew she was remembering happy times she’d shared with Marcus, and missing him. How he hated causing her pain.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it, Holly.”
“You always do, Luc. Thank you.” Her gaze locked with his and in that instant he wondered if he should have embraced her. That’s what Marcus would have done, and Luc had promised him he’d make sure Holly was taken care of. “You’re a good friend.”
Friend. His heart sank a little. Was that all he was? Some kind of long-distance acquaintance who never made it into the family circle? Luc chided himself. Holly and Marcus Janzen had always made him feel a valued part of their lives. From the moment he’d stepped onto their Cool Springs Ranch, Luc had felt at home. What more did he want?
More.
“What’s that funny face about? Does my cooking taste that bad?” Holly asked in a worried tone.
“It’s delicious,” he reassured her. “I thought your dad was a good gardener but you’re even better. Lettuce, onions, radishes—that’s good for early June.”
“I’m not just the town superstar you know,” Holly teased with a self-mocking grin.
“Apparently not. What else have you got planted?” As far as Luc was concerned, Holly was as pretty as cotton candy, inside and out. He figured any man should be more than happy to forgive her for anything. Her fiancé obviously hadn’t seen it that way. Again Luc wondered what had gone wrong between them.
Holly talked about gardening for a while. As she did, Luc studied her. She’d changed from her jeans and shirt into a pretty blue sundress that brought out her eyes. Her orange-tipped toes were bare again in a pair of comfortable-looking sandals. Her hair wobbled in a topknot that he expected to tumble down over her shoulders any second. She looked like the perfect rancher’s wife. For somebody.
Though Luc could envision Holly as a wife, he couldn’t settle on which of the available local guys would be the best candidate for her husband. Any of them would be lucky.
“You deliver a lot of babies,” he blurted. “Have you ever thought about having your own?”
Holly’s hand paused halfway to her lips. Her head went back and she gaped at him as if he’d asked where she’d buried her secret treasure.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he apologized. Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? “I just thought that you’d naturally dream about your own kids and—”
“I’ll never marry, Luc. I told you that.” Her voice sounded hoarse as she set her fork back on her plate.
“You don’t have to marry to have—”
“I’ll never have children,” Holly cut him off for the second time, exhaled and forced a smile. “I’m one of those women who don’t have the motherhood gene.”
“Not true.” Luc speared a noodle and held it up for examination. Something was wrong. “I’ve seen you with your Sunday school class. Pretty sure you’re what they call a born mother.”
Holly said nothing. A moment later she jumped up from the table and began making tea.
“I’m sorry. I guess your mom probably turned you off motherhood, huh?” he guessed, coming up with a reason for her jumpy behavior.
“My mother?” She turned to frown at him. “She never stuck around long enough to make much of an impact on me. It was Dad who was most hurt by her leaving.”
“Really?” Unsure whether or not to continue, Luc pressed on, curious about her response. She was hiding something or else he didn’t know this woman at all. “You were what—seven?”
“Almost eight. So what?” Holly returned to the table, completely forgetting the tea. She leaned her elbows on the table and crossed her arms as if to put a barrier between them. “She wasn’t around here much even when she was supposed to be. Dad was the one who met me when I got off the school bus. As I said she didn’t have an impact on me.”
“Holly, it’s okay to admit it.” Why was she so adamant? “I imagine all kids would miss their mother if she suddenly wasn’t there.”
“Well, I didn’t miss her. Her absence never mattered because I had Dad. I always knew I could count on him.” Her shrug signaled the end of that topic. “I drew a rough sketch of what I want in my sewing room. I’ll show you after dessert.”
“Dessert? Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have eaten so much.” Luc let it go for now, but was determined to find out what kept Holly from admitting she missed her mother.
* * *
“I think it’s very doable,” Luc said after examining the bedroom she wanted renovated. “The costliest stuff will be the cabinets and countertops you put in.”
He’d barely stopped speaking when Holly’s cell phone rang.
“Hey, Abby. It’s late for you to still be at work.” Holly waited for her friend to explain. “He what?” She glanced at Luc and frowned. “Yes, I’ll go look right now and I’ll get Luc to help, too. I’ll call if we find anything.”
“Look for what?” Luc asked when she’d hung up, following her into the kitchen.
“For whom and it’s Henry,” she said as she kicked off her sandals and pulled on her boots. “He left Hilda a note.”
“A note?
