Juanita wasn’t having any of the drama. “Take your seat,” she told Lane. “Food ain’t getting any warmer.” She scooped up a bowl of the steaming stew and slapped two biscuits on top.
Lane nodded to Amanda and hastily took the last seat at the table. He didn’t look at anyone else and dug into the meal as if it were the most important thing in the world.
What had she expected? That he’d rush in, as Chet had to Juanita, and give her a resounding kiss? Just the idea sent her heart to her knees.
Did these men know? Had Lane told them? Had Wyatt?
She saw several shared glances fly across the table and the light conversation fell silent. Finally, Chet leaned back. “You outdid yourself, love. Good stuff.”
All the men nodded and thanked Juanita for her work. She smiled as she gathered up dirty dishes. “Mandy and Tara helped.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” Anthony, the youngest cowboy, said. “It was mighty good.” He blushed clear up to his ears. Amanda was pretty sure it was the first time she’d ever heard him speak.
“That little one’ll grow up strong if you feed him like this.” Paulo ran his spoon around the bowl with the intensity of someone who’d rather lick the bowl.
“Would you like some more?” Amanda offered.
“No, ma’am. I’m on a diet.” He actually looked sincere. Yet he’d already had two bowls with four biscuits slathered with butter and jam.
“Uh, okay.”
“You better eat up there, Lane.” Paulo leaned forward. “Gotta keep up your strength.”
“What the hell for?” The glare Lane threw the older man held a threat.
“If that boy’s anything like you—” Paulo tilted his head toward Lucas. “You’re gonna need it.”
All the men laughed, answering Amanda’s earlier question. They knew. She glanced over at her son, nestled once again in the swing. He’d fallen back to sleep, apparently now adjusted to the men and their noise. The warm teasing between the hands was a normal part of the ranch life. She remembered it from all the visits when she was a kid. This time, though, she sensed an edge to the teasing, and couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
“Don’t start,” Lane warned.
“We got work to do, son.” Paulo’s grin widened. “We gotta get you in shape for when that boy starts walking, riding horses and—” He winked at Amanda. “Chasing the ladies.”
Amanda stared over at her son. That all seemed so far away.
“Shut up.” Lane stood and carried his dirty dishes to the sink. “Like I’d let him hang out with a bunch of misfits like you guys.” He grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee before he leaned back against the counter.
“You won’t have much choice.” Paulo was still laughing. “He’s gonna love hanging out with us.” He leaned over to Amanda. “We’ll teach him how to be a real man.”
Amanda watched the flush rush up Lane’s face. Not embarrassment. Anger. Interesting, considering Lane said he wasn’t going to be around for her and Lucas. Still, she couldn’t let this get any more out of hand. “Paulo, cut it out.” She stood and grabbed her own dishes.
She didn’t want to move any closer to Lane, but what else was she supposed to do with the dishes other than take them to the sink? And she couldn’t sit there much longer and let them harass Lane because of her. The weight of half a dozen sets of eyes on her and Lane was too much. She tried to act as normal as possible, but everyone was watching. Her bowls clattered against the porcelain sink.
With a hand on her hip, she faced the room with her best glare. “Don’t you men have better things to do other than tease Lane? Like work?”
“Mandy—” Tara spoke up warningly.
“What?”
“I’m fine,” Lane reassured her.
“But—”
“Okay, ladies, it was a pleasure.” Chet pushed back from the table as if she hadn’t spoken, with a noisy shove of his chair. “We got work waitin’, boys.” His simple words cut through the tension, ending it.
Lane didn’t move. “Give me a minute, boss.”
Amanda turned to stare out the kitchen window, watching him in her peripheral vision. Tara and Juanita were pretending, badly, not to listen, as the men stood and prepared to leave.
“You doin’ okay?” Lane asked softly.
Amanda couldn’t help but glance over at him. Nor could she look away as she caught a glimpse of the gentle man she knew. The man who was Lucas’s father.
“I’m getting better, slowly.”
Dear God, the scintillating conversation was astonishing. Amanda barely resisted the urge to bang her head on the counter in frustration. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with them?
Lane glanced around the room, then back to the door where a couple of the men sat on the porch, having a smoke. He shook his head and she wondered what he was thinking. Before she could ask, his fingers curled around her wrist, not tight, but gentle and warm. “Come on.”
Amid the catcalls and soft whistles, Lane led her through the kitchen, across the living room and hall into the front parlor. Memories and sensations slammed into her.
She’d always loved this room. So many memories here.
Granddad had built this place, and this room had been his pride and joy. Decorated with mahogany and typical cowboy décor, it was the family room, the ranch office, and on Friday and Saturday nights, a gathering place for the hands. The well-stocked, carved mahogany bar at the other end of the room had been well used and cared for. And off-limits to a bunch of nosy kids.
But those memories faded as more recent ones arrived. The last time she’d been in this room she’d been with Lane, too. Alone. At night. In his arms.
“Why are we here?” she asked, pulling her arm from his grasp, a bit disappointed when he let her step away so easily.
“Because this is as close as we’ll get to alone. I’m not interested in an audience.”
“For what?” Butterflies settled in her stomach. She took a tiny step forward.
“Damn it, Mandy.”
She stared at him, shocked. Why was he upset with her? She hadn’t been the one harassing him earlier. She’d stuck up for him when he wasn’t stopping the men.
Hurt rippled through her. “What do you want?” She backed away, not sure where to go. Her room was just off the kitchen, and the last place she wanted to be right now. Juanita and Tara were in the kitchen. The men on the porch. This room was it. She settled on the couch, leaving Lane in the doorway. He stood there a long minute, glaring at her.
“What
