Teaching the Cowboy (18 page)

“Have her parents asked to see the kids in a year? Longer?”

John sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “No. They’ve called a few times asking about her rent, though. Oh, and wanted to see if I could get Sid to make them a quilt. That was nice.”

“I’ll get the paperwork to you to sign.”

“I’ll look for it after Thanksgiving. Bye.” John disconnected the line right as a small plane completed its descent onto the runway behind the single terminal. He pounded the inside truck door with his elbow and wished he had a goddamned drink. He’d have to tell his father, and John didn’t want to hear what tough love Johan Senior would offer. He’d told John not to marry the gold-digging twat in the first place.

Chapter Fourteen

“B
ecka, everything was just lovely,” Ronnie said, reaching out to squeeze the shorter woman’s plump hands reassuringly. “I’m so full right now I’m in pain.”

Becka didn’t look convinced. The tight set of her jaw and the twitching of one of her hazel eyes gave her away. “Are you sure you don’t want to take some pie back with you? Let me go get you the pie.” She started to break loose but Ronnie grabbed her shoulders before she could get too far.

“Becka, that’s really okay. You know I’ll be over here for lunch tomorrow or the next day, and I’ll just eat it then.”

Becka wrung her hands. “You sure?”

“Really. Besides, I’ve gotta start watching my weight. It’s getting harder for me to fasten my jeans with everyone trying to feed me. Did you know the pastor’s wife brought me a cake this week?”

Becka’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“Yeah. Raspberry swirl.”

“I didn’t know that. I should talk to her more. See what she’s up to.”

Ronnie nodded. “I’m sure it was just a one-time thing.” Ronnie was pretty sure it wasn’t. The pastor’s wife wanted to
introduce
Ronnie to her single brother. Ronnie had her hands too full as it was.

“I’ve got to make a call. Would you like for me to send one of the kids to take you home?”

Ronnie put up her hands. Success. “Oh, no. I need to walk off the big air bubble in my gut.”

Becka waved her off and closed the door.

Ronnie breathed out a long sigh as she headed down the path toward the staff lodging. She chewed her ruined manicure wondering how she could safely, and discreetly, get to the Lundstroms when she noticed Eddie’s beat-up truck parked in front of her unit. He was in the driver’s seat and rolled down the window as she approached.

“Your chariot awaits, madam.”

“Who put you up to this? Landon?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Sidney. Could tell she hated asking but promised I’d get a good meal out of it. Look, I even put on my good shirt.” He popped the collar of the white button-up under his work coat.

“That Sid’s a sneaky one,” Ronnie said as she started around the hood.

Eddie waited until she had climbed up and closed the door and said, “Just slump in your seat. If one of the Erickson kids are out on their ATVs and sees you riding around with me, Becka’s probably going to question you on it tomorrow. She thinks I’m a bad influence.”

“But you’re not.”

“I used to be. Can’t lie.”

She laughed as she flattened her bun and slumped as low in the seat as she could manage. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“Hey, I’ve earned my reputation. It’s deserved. I like women.”

“And they like you back, right?”

“Yeah. Not always the right ones, though.” That hard-chiseled cheek of his twitched in a way that made Ronnie a little sad.

She knew it then and there. The cowboy was lonely. Seemed like an epidemic in Storafalt. “Want to talk about it?”

Eddie angled sea blue eyes down to her for a moment and offered a weak grin. “That why everyone loves you? ’Cause you’re the sounding board of everyone in the county?”

“You tell
me
. It’s not my intention to hear confessions. I just always seem to be in the wrong place at the right time.”

Eddie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he paused at the turn-out to the main road. He didn’t say anything else until he was on the highway. “You can sit up now.”

Ronnie inched up with some effort and pulled her sweater down over her exposed belly before Eddie looked down again.

“Well, I like this woman who has her own money. Comes from a good family. Has her head screwed on right.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“And I’m just a ranch hand, Ronnie. I don’t have shit. I share a bunkhouse with three other guys, and pretty much everything I have to my name is in a storage unit down in Fort Collins.”

“But you’ve been back here for three years. Why are you still living out of a storage unit?”

Eddie shrugged. “Wasn’t my plan to settle down here.”

Know that feeling.

“I thought I’d work here for a while until I helped Mom get back on her feet, but she’s doing okay. Been doing okay for a while, especially now that the nurse comes to visit. I don’t know why I’ve stayed as long as I have. Just couldn’t get up and move on.”

“And why do you think being just a ranch hand isn’t enough?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know it’s not, but I kind of don’t want her to confirm the suspicion for me.”

“Does she?” She snapped her fingers as she tried to structure her question. “Is she aware of your, uh, previously overactive social life?”

“Pretty sure. But, I’m on the straight and narrow now. I swear.”

She put up her hands. “Hey, you don’t have to swear it to me.”

“She doesn’t know I’m Native.”

“What makes you think she’ll care? Everyone claims to be a little bit Indian.”

He laughed. “I can’t say for certain that she would, but her entire family has that blond Anglo-Saxon thing going on.”

“That sounds like most of Storafalt. And are we talking about anyone I know?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

Eddie ground his teeth as he turned into the Lundstrom ranch road. “Sidney.”

“Aha.”

“See?”

“Eddie, my reaction has nothing specifically to do with your crush on Sid. I think you just need to do some more research about the tree you’re barking up.”

“What’s that mean? I mean, have you seen her ex?”

“I have not had that privilege, but I imagine he’d look like John’s ex. Landon showed me a picture of her. She’s cute.”

“Yeah, I got there before John.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Anyhow, he looks like a goddamned Alexander Skarsgård body double.”

“And?”

“And people tend to have a type.”

“What’s your type?”

His cheek twitched again.

“One point for Veronica.”

“You’re a smart lady, Ronnie.”

“Sometimes,” she said to the window.

John scraped his hands through his overgrown hair and forced his eyelids shut before tipping his head back over the top of his desk chair. “Dad, berating me isn’t going to change anything.”

John heard a
fwump
as the senior Johan sank into the leather loveseat near the picture window in the ranch office. When John opened his eyes, the gray-haired man had one booted foot crossed over the opposite knee and was tapping his fingertips against his boot side as he gave his only son a
you’re so stupid
look.

“Go on. Say it one last time, and get it out of your system.” John made a
get on with it
gesture.

“You shouldn’t have married her in the first place.”

“Okay.”

“But you got the kids out of it.”

“Exactly.”

“But you didn’t have to give her anything during the divorce.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

“You’re an idiot. Your mother would be reaching for the vodka if she were here.”

“Don’t bring Mom into this.”

“Your mother was far too tolerant with both you and Sid. Where is Sidney, anyway? She is coming this year, isn’t she, or are you two on the outs again?”

John shrugged. “Don’t know. Heard Kitty arrive, so she must be around here somewhere.” John wasn’t so concerned about Sid. Where was Ronnie? He glanced down at his watch. Five forty-five. Anna would start getting antsy soon.

“Like I was saying, you didn’t have to go marry that woman.”

“Dad.”

“Nope, I’m gonna put it out there without you interrupting me for once. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Sidney.” Dad dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward. “She married that sniveling jerkwad because she wanted to make a point. How’d that work out for her?”

“Brilliantly,” John deadpanned.

“And you married the jerkwad’s sister, why? Because you ran out of options?”

“This is Storafalt. You’ve seen the options. What’d you expect me to do, mail-order a bride?”

“No,” Dad said, “You could have done the same thing I did. Drive down to the city and haunt the bars until you found a pretty girl who wanted to live the fairy tale ranch life.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Both men turned their gazes toward the husky voice at the door. Ronnie, dressed in a loose black sweater, a black knit skirt, and leggings printed with cardinals, birds that never came that far west, started easing back in the direction from which she arrived.

John stood.

“Ronnie, wait. Come back, honey.” He walked out into the hall to find her several paces down and grabbed her back by the elbow. She narrowed her kohl-rimmed eyes at him. He ignored her misplaced anger and started pulling her back to the office. “I want you to meet my dad. Quit runnin’.”

Dad was standing with a hand extended to shake by the time John led her into the room. He’d even fluffed up his hat-flattened hair.

“This is the kids’ tutor you’ve probably heard all about by now. Veronica Silver.” John nudged her and Ronnie, on cue, placed her small hand into his father’s much-larger, much-rougher one. “Ronnie, Johan Lundstrom. Senior.”

His dad winked at her.

John rolled his eyes.
Here we go.

“I would have been the Johan the fifth if my grandmother hadn’t bucked the trend.”

“Well, that’s impressive,” Ronnie said.

“Oh, yeah, we Lundstroms are a virile bunch. There’s always a boy or two.”

John couldn’t be sure, but he thought she blanched.

Dad finally let her hand drop, after what was probably an uncomfortably long time for her, and returned to his sofa.

She started edging toward the hallway again.

“You stay here, woman,” he said almost inaudibly through clenched teeth.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb,” she mumbled back.

“I was praying for a disturbance.”

“So, Miss Silver,” Senior started, back to his previous relaxed posture. “How old are you?”

“Dad, that’s rude.”

Dad shrugged. “You want me to hash my words? Okay.” He leaned forward and rubbed his palms together while he studied the grimacing teacher. “Miss Silver, you look like you can’t be much over twenty-two. Certainly, you’re couldn’t possibly be qualified to handle this lot of hooligans.”

John wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Ronnie’s extra-straight posture actually relaxed. She even grinned. “I’m older than I look, Mr. Lundstrom.”

“Plastic surgery?”

“Dad.”

She laughed. “No. I’m a teacher, remember? If insurance doesn’t cover it, it’s not happening.”

“So, I’m guessing you’re well below thirty-eight?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why thirty-eight?”

John wrapped an arm around her waist and started to backtrack them toward the door.

She pushed his hand down playfully and gave him a look. “Tell me.”

“It’s the half plus eight rule. He’s trying to figure out if you’re too young for him to flirt with.” John turned to his father. “And yes, Dad. Way too young.”

Senior shrugged.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend she never sees.”

“That true, Miss Silver?”

John watched her open her mouth and he clenched in anticipation of what she’d say. Before he could hear it, Anna, way on the other end of the house, shouted, “Soup’s on! Let’s go.”

Sid poked a head into the office and raised her eyebrows with surprise at seeing them all there. “Oh, there you are, Ronnie. Didn’t hear you get dropped off. Well, come on before the creamed corn gelatinizes.”

Ronnie rubbed the area right over her heart and cringed. “I don’t know if I could eat another bite.”

They all filed out into the hallway with Dad bringing up the rear. “What’s wrong, had too many appetizers?” Senior asked.

John turned around and looked over the two women’s heads at his father. “I guess you could call it that. Becka fed her first.”

Dad snorted.

“Am I missing something here?” Ronnie asked as they clustered at the entryway of the dining room where the kids were already seated.

“Same old, same old.” Dad took the seat of honor at the end of the table nearest the kitchen right as Anna carried out the turkey.

“What now?” Anna huffed.

“Ronnie, sit here!” Liss pulled out the chair next to her, quite far from where John planned to sit. His inclination had been to grab the woman by the back of her sweater and say, “No, this way,” but it wouldn’t have been proper. Ronnie smiled and made her way around the table.

“Same old shit from the sounds of it,” Dad said in response to Anna’s question as John took a seat at the far end across from his father.

Sid slipped into the chair between Ronnie and Eddie. John would never admit it out loud, but he liked having Sid back at the table. His mother would have been pleased.

“Oh.” He stood and jogged back out of the dining room and down the hall into the great room. He picked up a small, framed picture and carried it into the dining room where he propped it at the place setting between Landon and himself. That’s where his mom had always sat in the last years of her life. Right between her boys. She’d kept Peter on her lap until the kid was damn near eight. When she died, Peter had started his slippery fall downhill. John didn’t realize until then how his mother had been such a rock for the kid. She had been the one to go to all those damned parent-teacher conferences with John, not Charlene. She’d been the one who’d taken cakes to school on the boys’ birthdays, and the one who’d volunteered at all the book fairs, and the one who got them interested in the rodeo. He closed his eyes and blew out a ragged breath. They didn’t make ’em like Gail Lundstrom anymore. She’d been a saint. But maybe one woman came close.

When his opened his eyes he found Ronnie casting a worried gaze at him from the middle of the table. “You okay?” she mouthed.

He nodded and looked down at the napkin on his lap.

“What do you mean, Mr. Lundstrom?” Ronnie asked.

“Oh, this has been going on ever since my folks were alive. The lady of the ranch over at the Erickson place used to try to outdo my grandmother every time there was a church picnic or what have you. Gail used to hate it, but she was too nice to argue about it. She just let Maryann run the show. And my ex-daughter-in-law, well…”

John looked down the table. “Dad.”

Dad put up his hands. “Just saying.”

Landon nudged John’s foot under the table and gave his father a knowing look. Of course Landon knew. He remembered it all. Her half-hearted efforts at cooking. Her inadequate housekeeping. The woman spent more time in front of a mirror than she did the kitchen sink. John would venture to guess that by the time Liss came around, Landon was the one changing most of the diapers. Suddenly, John felt like a major asshole. Landon hadn’t had a fair shake.