Moss began and then trailed off, looking as if he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal.
“Look, I’d volunteer,” she began, but before Moss’s grin could spread too wide, she added, “but it wouldn’t work.”
“What do you mean?” Curly asked. “It’d be perfect.”
“No, it wouldn’t. Mr. Graybow doesn’t want me here.”
“He hasn’t tasted your pancakes,” Moss said, his smile still in place.
She chuckled but shook her head no. “Thanks for the compliment, but he made his wishes clear last night.”
“Last night, he thought he could manage. It’s pretty obvious now that he can’t.” Moss watched her reaction.
“We can’t cook for Daddy, Leslie. How will he get something to eat if you don’t stay?” Gareth asked.
“And us, too. You promised to bake cookies,” Justin reminded her.
Leslie knew the boys were trying to manipulate her into feeling sorry for them. They’d already suggested several times that she should stay.
Not that she disagreed with them. She hadn’t been sure what she’d been looking for when she set out on her travels, but a home and family were definitely on the list. This job would be perfect for a few months. She could try out being a mom, see if she really wanted children. The cowboys seemed nice, too. She might even meet that special man she had dreamed of. There certainly seemed to be enough men around to choose from. Immediate thoughts of the one upstairs were hurriedly dismissed.
“I thought we’d have time…” she began in response to the child’s reminder.
Justin’s mouth sagged and Leslie hesitated. “Maybe…maybe I could just stay until tomorrow. That would give you time to find someone, wouldn’t it?” she asked Moss.
“And we could make cookies?” Justin asked.
She nodded to the child, bringing a smile back to his face.
“I’ll sure try to find someone,” Moss promised, his look as eager as the other three males in the room.
“I can do some extra cooking, too, to help out. Things that can be frozen,” she added, her mind racing with the possibilities. “You do have someone to cook for you, don’t you?” she asked Moss.
“Blackie cooks. But lately he’s been having to be in the saddle most of the time. What with the shortage, you know. We’re all mostly living off sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches? After working outside in the cold all day?” she asked, horrified. She’d been cooking for her invalid mother, but she understood the appetites hardworking men could have. “I’ll try to help out while I’m here.”
“That’d be great,” Moss said as he stood.
“But there’s not a lot of supplies here,” she hurriedly added, knowing once the two men left the kitchen she wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions. They’d be out in the cold, working.
“Blackie just got a full order in three days ago. I bet the boss didn’t get around to taking his share of it. You go on down to the bunkhouse and get whatever you need. The boys will show you.”
“All right. I’ll try to have something fixed for dinner when you get in.”
They grinned at her and stepped out onto the snowy porch. As they walked down the steps, Curly said to his friend, “Man, how did we get so lucky?”
Leslie shook her head. The grouch upstairs wasn’t going to think her staying was luck. Unless it was the bad kind. But what could she do? He certainly couldn’t take care of anything since he had to stay in bed. And she was just staying until they found someone else.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself as she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Somehow she didn’t think Moss thought it would be that easy, in spite of the smile he’d given her. If it were, why hadn’t Doug Graybow already filled the position he’d advertised for?
She told the boys to clear the table while she checked on their father. With a few grumbles, they started carrying the dishes to the dishwasher. After several minutes of working in silence, Justin whispered, “Do you think she’ll stay?”
“Maybe. But how come we have to work? I thought a mommy was supposed to take care of us,” Gareth complained.
“I know, but…but I kind of like her. I think she’d make a good mommy. She smells better’n Agnes.”
“Yeah, but she hasn’t made any cookies yet. If she doesn’t make cookies, she can’t be my mommy,” Gareth declared, his jaw squared in determination just like his father’s.
“Okay. She has to make cookies,” Justin agreed. “But do you think Daddy will let her stay?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we just won’t tell him.”
“I think he’ll find out. He always does. And then we get in trouble. How about we let him have some of the cookies? I bet he likes ’em, too.”
“Okay, but not too many. I’m this hungry for cookies,” Gareth exclaimed, flinging his arms wide. Unfortunately, he forgot about the glass in his hand, and it went flying across the kitchen to shatter against the cabinet.
“Uh-oh.”
LESLIE EASED OPEN the bedroom door and looked in. Doug Graybow lay sprawled out on the big bed, his eyes closed.
“Mr. Graybow?” she whispered.
When there was no response, she crept over to the bed. He was a big man, his hard, muscled body covering much of the mattress. Even in sleep he looked powerful.
A shiver ran over her, and she took an involuntary step backward. As if recognizing her presence, he stirred and groaned. Afraid she’d wakened him, she froze, not relaxing until his breathing evened out again. Then she frowned.
The doctor had obviously split the seam on his jeans since the material flapped around the temporary brace. But he couldn’t be comfortable with those tight jeans around his waist. She should have had him remove them before taking his medicine.
She looked around the room, as if seeking help. If he were a woman, she wouldn’t hesitate to make him more comfortable. Maybe she could get the twins… No, they weren’t strong enough.
The cowboys wouldn’t be back until dark.
That left only her.
If only she could just think of the man as her patient, not as a hunk of masculinity that would make many a female heart swoon. She remembered the way he’d looked when he’d first opened the door to her. Even then, with that ferocious frown, she’d registered his sex appeal.
“Stop that!” she whispered to herself. When he didn’t stir, she stepped closer to the bed. Leaning over him, she inched his T-shirt up from his waist, her fingers brushing against warm flesh.
Just below his belly button,
