the end of every day he wouldn’t trade the long hours he spent blistering under a blazing summer sun, or shivering in a winter cold so brutal it seemed to gnaw right into his bones, for any other job in the world. Not even in the midst of calving season, when he rarely slept more than two or three hours at a stretch and worry was his constant companion.
There were roughly a million things that warranted his attention and concern. In addition to constant monitoring of the cows and heifers before labor, there was the birth itself. Then, would the cow accept her new calf? Was the cow producing enough milk? Was the calf nursing? A ton of health problems could befall a calf, not the least of which was scours, which could race through a herd like wildfire. Inclement weather brought on a host of difficulties, too.
During these few weeks, Jon barely took time to eat. When he did get a moment to shower or change his clothes, there wasn’t time to enjoy it because soon after he’d be knee-deep in mud and manure, or shoulder-deep inside a cow assisting with a birth. But every second of this life fed his soul; he needed it, the bad and the good, just like he needed air to breathe.
He wondered what Lydia Newbury needed? What could a woman from Philadelphia possibly think she’d find on a ranch in Montana? Life here could only lead to disappointment.
Sighing, he turned away from the window. Why was he spending time worrying and wondering what she thought? This wasn’t the place for her and because of that she wasn’t the right nanny for his girls. Not used to being idle, he spotted the eggs on the counter and cracked a few into a bowl.
“Hey, are you doing my job for me?” Lydia asked, hurrying over to join him. Pointing toward the island, she said, “Sit.” Beside him, Trout obediently parked his butt on the tile floor.
“Oh, my gosh!” Her grin was pure delight and Jon couldn’t help but smile inside. “That’s amazing. Does he obey like that for everyone?”
Mustering up his best poker face, Jon shook his head. “He does not. Usually, just me. But when you shout at him like that he’s bound to listen.” He glanced at Trout, who was giving him an expectant look. Jon signaled his release and the dog trotted over to his water dish.
“I didn’t shou—” The furrow in her brow was downright cute and he couldn’t maintain a straight face. “Oh. You’re joking?”
He chuckled. “I am.”
The sound of her laughter filled the room, working into him in a very nice way. Jon kept his eyes on her because she was focused on Trout.
“Did you tell him something with your hand?”
“Yep.” He moved around the island to take a stool. Not only had she gotten the girls dressed for the day, but she’d also taken care of herself. Her clothing choice was a sight more practical than her getup of the day before. In her snug jeans, stocking feet and button-down shirt, with a tank top peeking out the top, she could almost pass for a local girl. Almost.
“Incredible. I’ve never met such a well-trained dog.”
“It’s not training, not really.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s more like understanding. Dogs are special that way. They’re like friends. Treat them right and most of them will do about anything for you. Just gotta figure out how to ask.”
“Hmm. That’s nice. You obviously have good friends.” She’d been whisking the eggs, and she poured them into the pan and stirred. She removed the pancakes and bacon from the oven and fixed his plate.
He watched her, mesmerized by the way she moved, fluid and efficient, like a swan or some other graceful, pretty bird.
“You know your way around a kitchen.”
“That I do.” She paused to look at him like she was going to tell him something important. “And I have to say, yours is incredible. Like my dream kitchen.”
“Thank you.” He felt himself smiling at the enthusiasm in her tone. He’d designed the space himself and it was nice to hear a cook appreciate it. “Self-taught?”
“That nana I mentioned last night taught me the basics and then I had a few restaurant jobs over the years. I worked for a caterer and a bakery, too, so lucky you.” With a wink, she pushed his plate across the counter and handed him silverware. “I guess I should ask if cooking is part of my job. I mean, if the girls mostly eat with you in the bunkhouse?”
“That’s expediency, because it’s calving time. I try to cook for us when it’s not.”
Looking thoughtful, she turned and poured herself a cup of coffee. When she faced him again, her expression was twisted up a bit and he knew she had something to say.
“So now that I’m here, I’ll be cooking, and they can eat with me. I think they need to learn some table manners. And I’d like to suggest we have dinner together, or you should have dinner with them at least because...” She added an earnest look. “Because family dinners are important.”
Did she think he didn’t know this about his girls? It stung a little but at the same time he appreciated that she spoke her mind. This was only one small part of the reason he needed her. Well, not her, but a nanny.
“I agree with that.”
“Good.” As she leaned against the counter, he caught a nice view of the pale skin of her face and neck. The creamy smoothness was nearly perfect, a testament to the hours she spent indoors. Unlike him.
“This is all delicious,” he said, because it was and because he realized she was watching him. “These pancakes might even be as good as Willa’s.”
“Ha. I’m sure they’re better.” She added a confident nod. “But who is this Willa competing for my top pancake honors? I hereby challenge her to a pancake throw-down.”
Jon laughed even as he wished she’d quit being so likable. It made this so much more difficult. “Willa Carnes, my neighbor. My best friend Zach’s mom. You met Sofie last night. She’s married to Zach. Willa is her mother-in-law.”
“Ranchers?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. Lots of ranching going on around here, huh? Scooter mentioned a place called Blackwell Guest Ranch?”
“Yep, that would be my grandfather’s place.”
“Big E?”
Jon wasn’t surprised she’d already heard his name. The man was, if not infamous, then certainly renowned. “Elias Blackwell is his name but most everyone calls him Big E.”
“Does he live there with your parents?”
“He did, and so did I, until they died.” Jon managed to keep his voice flat and even, but it still surprised him how much it hurt to say the words out loud.
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Sincerity infused her tone, making Jon suspect she was no stranger to grief herself. “Do you have other family?”
“Four brothers.” He scooped up another bite.
“Do they live on
