that I know of. Why?”
“I called the hospital while you were in the tub. They said you could take these if you weren’t on any medication or allergic to them.”
She took the bottle and read the label. “I’ve taken these before. They make me sleepy, though.”
“That might not be a bad thing. You did a good job wrapping that ankle.” The professional-looking bandage impressed him.
“Injuries are a fact of life in my profession. You have to get good at taping joints.”
He brought her a glass of water, and she took two of the tablets. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
“How about a bowl of homemade chicken soup? It’ll only take me a minute to heat it up.”
She arched one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you know how to make soup from scratch? My image of cowboys may never be the same.”
“Good. I haven’t had a gun fight in ages, and I never sing to my horse,” he said, heading into the kitchen.
“I’ll bet that makes Dusty happy. Anything else I need to know to completely destroy my concept of macho Western men?”
“I can use a vacuum cleaner, and I’m an architect.”
“An architect—really?” She glanced around. “Is this one of your designs? It’s beautiful.”
“Natalie and I collaborated on it.”
“Natalie?”
“My ex-wife.” For some reason, he suddenly felt the need to explain. “We split up about three years ago. We met in college, two budding architects hot to leave our mark on the world. We seemed to have a lot in common. As it turned out, we didn’t. We lived in Kansas City for a while, but after Dad died, I gave up the business and came back to ranch full-time. She didn’t care for life out here. She met someone else and that was that.”
“I’m sorry. Do you see your children often?”
“The twins live with me, not with their mother.” He looked up with a brittle smile. “She’s in China, the last we heard.”
“That’s a long way from Kansas. What does she do?”
“She’s the International Design Director for some big-shot hotel over there.”
“Sounds important.”
“I’m sure she thinks so.”
“Where are your children?” She looked toward the stairs.
“Fortunately for you, they’re spending the night with my mother.”
Her head snapped around. “Why is that fortunate for me?” she asked, her tone oddly sharp.
Out in the kitchen, Sam laughed. “Let me see if I can enlighten you. ‘Why is the sky blue? What holds the clouds up? Why do rocks come in different sizes? Why can’t we eat grass like the cows? Why does the sun always come up in the east? Why do we call it east?’ They never stop talking.”
Cheryl smiled, but her mind was racing. How was she going to avoid meeting more of Sam’s family? Even if his mother wasn’t Eleanor, there had been other Hardins at Jake’s and her father’s trial. Cheryl was dying to ask specific questions, but she didn’t want to arouse Sam’s suspicions.
“They sound charming. Do you think they’ll be back before I leave?”
“No. Believe me, you do not want to ride in a car with them all the way to Kansas City.”
“And your grandfather, will he be joining us? I’m not exactly dressed for company.”
“Gramps was asleep when I looked in.” Sam carried in two steaming bowls of soup and two glasses of milk on a tray and set it on the coffee table beside her. “I’ll pick the girls up on my way back from Kansas City. What about you? Do you have a husband, children?”
Cheryl relaxed once she realized she wasn’t going to meet more of his family. “No, no ball and chain or rug rats for me. I can’t even take care of a parakeet.” She took a bowl of soup from the tray.
Looking up, she realized he wasn’t amused by her flippant remark. She had made it sound as though she didn’t like children.
“My work comes first,” she explained. “I don’t have room in my life for anything but dancing. Ballerinas don’t usually have long careers. A husband and children will have to wait. Besides, while I was in school I earned money by working at a daycare center. That was enough kid-time to last me for a several more years.”
“What about other family?” he asked.
Briefly, she considered how to answer. When in doubt, tell the truth—just not all of it. “There’s only my sister. I have a half brother somewhere, but we’ve never kept in touch. My parents are both dead.”
A half brother somewhere was partly true. As far as she knew, Jake was still in prison. Harriet had kept in touch with him, but she was gone now.
“I always wanted a brother but all I got was a little sister. Becky lives in Denver. I don’t get to see her as much as I would like.”
To change the subject, Cheryl said, “This is good soup, cowboy.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to sound so surprised.”
There was a lot about the man that was surprising to Cheryl. She only hoped that his good cooking was the last shock in store for her tonight.
They ate in companionable silence and listened to the sound of the storm outside as the driving snow hissed softly against the tall windows. When she finished, he gathered up her tray and carried it into the kitchen. She tried to hide a yawn, but he saw it.
Walking back to the sofa, he held out his hand. “Come on, New York, it’s time you went to bed. You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“I thought I would sleep here.” She patted the sofa and looked away, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny.
“Take my bed. You’ll be more comfortable, and the bathroom is only a hop away. The guestroom is on the lower level, and I don’t think you should tackle the stairs. I’ll sleep down there.”
He made sense, and it wasn’t as if she were throwing him out of his bed to sleep on the floor or something. Another yawn convinced her she’d probably fall asleep standing on one foot when the pain pills really kicked in.
“Okay, but I can get there by myself.”
“At least lean on me so you don’t fall.”
She hung on to his arm as they made their way to his bedroom. At the edge of the bed, she sat down just as a yowling, hissing ball of fur erupted from underneath it and attacked her good foot. Cheryl shrieked in surprise and jerked her legs up on the bed.
