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do you think?” he asked, as she continued to stare at him.

      “You’re serious?”

      “Why not? We’d each get what we needed. A temporary husband for you and a housekeeper for me. Sounds like the perfect bargain.” He grinned at her, hoping to chase away those tears that still lingered.

      Her eyes narrowed. “I shouldn’t have to pay you if I’m going to work for you. Oh! I mean, I already have a job. But Mother and I together could—”

      “I agree. No money. Does your mother keep the kids while you’re working?” His wife had never worked. Or cleaned house for that matter. He’d had a housekeeper. He wished he still had her. In fact, he’d been having dreams about Maria and her enchiladas, but she’d retired when he left Austin.

      “What can you cook?” he asked, his gaze intent on her face.

      “You seem to be fixated on food,” she muttered, frowning at him.

      “If you’d been eating what I have, you would, too.”

      “You don’t have enough money for food?” she asked, her voice rising in horror.

      “I have enough money for food, but when I come dragging in at dusk, after putting in twelve or fourteen hours, I don’t have the energy to cook anything. Or find a clean pan,” he added under his breath, hoping she didn’t hear him.

      “You don’t have any pots and pans?”

      “I’ve got a few.” But they were all dirty. He pictured his kitchen as he’d left it this morning. Not a pretty sight.

      “We have plenty of kitchen things. We could bring ours and then there’d be enough. We’re renting a place month-to-month, so we could move in at the end of the month.”

      He barely heard her words. All he could think about was sitting down to a decent meal at the end of the day. Coming home to a clean house. Maybe even having his laundry done for him.

      Maria had taken care of all that stuff for him. He hadn’t even considered those aspects of his life when he left Austin. He’d thought of a breeding bull. Fencing materials. A secondhand tractor. A couple of trucks.

      Nothing for the kitchen.

      “So, you still haven’t told me. What can you cook?”

      Chapter Two

      “What did he say?” Faith asked, meeting her daughter at the door of their small apartment.

      Megan tried to smile. She wanted to reassure her mother. The past year had been hard on her. “He said yes.”

      Faith closed the door and turned back to Megan. “You don’t sound happy about it. Have you changed your mind? You shouldn’t marry him if it’s not what you want to do, Meggie.”

      “Megan?” a shrill little voice sounded only seconds before her niece burst into the small living area. “You’re here!” Victoria squealed and launched herself into her aunt’s arms.

      Megan held her close, kissing her little cheek. The child’s warmth against her chased away the chill she’d been feeling. She looked over Torie’s shoulder. “I’m happy about it, Mom. He’s…he’s a little strange, but nice,” she hurriedly added.

      “Where did you go?” Torie demanded, putting her hands on Megan’s cheeks and turning her face to her.

      “I had to go to a meeting. Were you good for Grandma?”

      “Very good. I took my nap, didn’t I, Grandma?”

      “She did. She just woke up a few minutes ago. Andrew is still sleeping.”

      The guilty look that covered Victoria’s face, plus the cry from another room, told its own story.

      “You woke up your brother?” Megan asked Torie.

      “I didn’t mean to. I thought he would play with me,” Torie responded, her eyes filling with tears.

      Megan knew she had to be stern with her niece, but not now, not today. She hugged the three-year-old closer. “Then let’s go see if he wants to play.”

      When she and Torie, along with nine-month-old Andrew, returned to the living area, Faith was seated at the breakfast table.

      “Let the children play and you come talk to me,” Faith ordered.

      Megan settled the children with some toys. Andrew sat on the floor, his chubby legs spread wide to give him balance. Torie had several stuffed animals she used to entertain the baby.

      Her mother poured her a cup of coffee as she sat at the table. “Why did you say Rick Astin was strange?”

      “Because all he wanted to talk about was what we could cook. He wanted to know if you could make enchiladas.”

      “Didn’t you ask him to marry you?” Faith asked, her eyes widening.

      “Of course I did. And he agreed. And I don’t have to pay him any money,” Megan assured her mother, her chin jutting out as she remembered her negotiations.

      “Not pay him? Then why is he willing…Megan, he didn’t assume…you explained it wouldn’t be a real marriage, didn’t you?”

      “Of course I did. But we’ll have to share living quarters if we’re going to convince the courts. You knew that.”

      “Yes, but—we agreed you and I would share the sleeper sofa, the children would have one bedroom, and he could have the other.”

      “He can’t stay here.”

      Faith’s alarm increased, upsetting Megan. The doctor had warned that her mother had to be relieved of stress or it could cause permanent damage to her heart. “Mom, let me explain. Everything’s going to work out fine. But he’s a rancher. He has to live on the ranch. But he has a big house.”

      “He does? And we could live with him?”

      “Yes. And we’re not paying him because we’re going to be his housekeepers and cooks during our agreement. So we’ll save on rent, too.”

      “That way we can save more money to pay for the legal bills,” Faith said, obviously relieved.

      Megan took a deep breath. However much she hated the agreement she’d made, it would be worth it if it brought relief to her mother and saved the kids.

      “So we’re invited to his house for dinner this evening, to look at our new living quarters,” Megan added, putting on a big smile.

      “Tonight?” Faith asked and looked at her watch. “But it’s already four o’clock. Let’s see, I’ll bathe the children. While I’m dressing them, you can have the shower. Then—”

      “Mom, he’s not going to inspect us. He already agreed.”

      “But you want to look nice for him, Megan. He should

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