Read Online Cowboy Take Me Away by Lorelei James - Free Book Online
Authors: Lorelei James
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reached for her hand. “I’m sad to hear that. I imagine bein’ the oldest girl in a family of boys and your mama bein’ sickly that most the household stuff fell on you.”
Carolyn squirmed and sipped her Coke. Then she said, “It wasn’t all bad.”
But that didn’t convince him. “How old were you when you started doin’ all the cookin’?”
“Ten. But I didn’t do it all. My brothers sort of helped and my mother supervised. She taught me how to do everything. I didn’t look at it as a chore until a couple of years ago when I came home and my father expected me to do everything around the house.” She disentangled her fingers from his. “What about you? How much work does your father do on the ranch?”
He pretended not to notice her physical retreat when his question hit too close to home. “He still runs everything. Me’n my brothers are just pups to him, as he reminds us every day. But he does listen to us. At least he did when two parcels of land came up for sale in the last year and he bought ’em up. With the extra grazing areas we added more cattle to our herd.”
“I know I’m not supposed to ask a rancher how many heads he runs, but I’m asking you.”
“Between us? Three hundred.”
“Oh. That’s a lot.”
“Keeps us busy. We’ve had a couple of neighbors approach us about buyin’ them out too, but we gotta wait to see how our finances are when we start selling cattle in October.” He reached for her hand again. “I get plenty of ranch talk. I don’t want that with you.”
“Can I say something, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way?”
Hard not to bristle at that question. “I reckon.”
“You seem a lot older than twenty-four. Not with the way you look, because heaven knows you’ve been blessed there, but how you act.”
“My mother said God took an old soul and split it between me’n Cal in the womb. My dad…” Last week’s conversation with his old man pushed front and center. Jesus, son, what is wrong with you? You gonna be chasin’ skirts, getting drunk, starting fights and driving that truck like an idiot until you kill yourself with your own stupidity? Grow up. And get your damn chores done. I swear lately you’ve been worse than Casper.
“Your dad what?”
Carson refocused on her. “My dad and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“I know how that goes.”
“And he’s been a miserable jackass to everyone since Mom passed on.”
She squeezed his hand. “How long ago was that?”
“Six years. Me’n Cal had just turned eighteen. She had a stroke. Standin’ in the kitchen cookin’ bacon and eggs one minute and layin’ dead on the floor the next.”
The waitress served their meals and he was grateful for the interruption. He’d ordered biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage and pancakes. Carolyn ordered chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. He hid his smile. The woman could eat.
Probably because she’s the last to eat in her household.
“How long do I have you today?”
“I should be home by four to start supper.”
“Can I say something and hope you don’t take it the wrong way?”
Her blue gaze narrowed. “What?”
Carson wanted to follow the edge of her stubborn jaw with his fingertips, but he refrained. He’d never been into that touchy feely stuff in public. “You seem older than eighteen. Not with the way you look, although, sugar, you are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, but because you inherited all these responsibilities and you just accept them without question and you’re not bitter about it.”
She delicately wiped her mouth with the napkin and set it aside. “Some people tell me that just accepting those responsibilities means I have no backbone.”
“You’re too kind and too Christian to tell those folks to fuck off, aren’t you?”
She whapped his forearm. “Language.”
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s get outta here and blow off all responsibilities for a few
Carolyn squirmed and sipped her Coke. Then she said, “It wasn’t all bad.”
But that didn’t convince him. “How old were you when you started doin’ all the cookin’?”
“Ten. But I didn’t do it all. My brothers sort of helped and my mother supervised. She taught me how to do everything. I didn’t look at it as a chore until a couple of years ago when I came home and my father expected me to do everything around the house.” She disentangled her fingers from his. “What about you? How much work does your father do on the ranch?”
He pretended not to notice her physical retreat when his question hit too close to home. “He still runs everything. Me’n my brothers are just pups to him, as he reminds us every day. But he does listen to us. At least he did when two parcels of land came up for sale in the last year and he bought ’em up. With the extra grazing areas we added more cattle to our herd.”
“I know I’m not supposed to ask a rancher how many heads he runs, but I’m asking you.”
“Between us? Three hundred.”
“Oh. That’s a lot.”
“Keeps us busy. We’ve had a couple of neighbors approach us about buyin’ them out too, but we gotta wait to see how our finances are when we start selling cattle in October.” He reached for her hand again. “I get plenty of ranch talk. I don’t want that with you.”
“Can I say something, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way?”
Hard not to bristle at that question. “I reckon.”
“You seem a lot older than twenty-four. Not with the way you look, because heaven knows you’ve been blessed there, but how you act.”
“My mother said God took an old soul and split it between me’n Cal in the womb. My dad…” Last week’s conversation with his old man pushed front and center. Jesus, son, what is wrong with you? You gonna be chasin’ skirts, getting drunk, starting fights and driving that truck like an idiot until you kill yourself with your own stupidity? Grow up. And get your damn chores done. I swear lately you’ve been worse than Casper.
“Your dad what?”
Carson refocused on her. “My dad and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“I know how that goes.”
“And he’s been a miserable jackass to everyone since Mom passed on.”
She squeezed his hand. “How long ago was that?”
“Six years. Me’n Cal had just turned eighteen. She had a stroke. Standin’ in the kitchen cookin’ bacon and eggs one minute and layin’ dead on the floor the next.”
The waitress served their meals and he was grateful for the interruption. He’d ordered biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage and pancakes. Carolyn ordered chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. He hid his smile. The woman could eat.
Probably because she’s the last to eat in her household.
“How long do I have you today?”
“I should be home by four to start supper.”
“Can I say something and hope you don’t take it the wrong way?”
Her blue gaze narrowed. “What?”
Carson wanted to follow the edge of her stubborn jaw with his fingertips, but he refrained. He’d never been into that touchy feely stuff in public. “You seem older than eighteen. Not with the way you look, although, sugar, you are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, but because you inherited all these responsibilities and you just accept them without question and you’re not bitter about it.”
She delicately wiped her mouth with the napkin and set it aside. “Some people tell me that just accepting those responsibilities means I have no backbone.”
“You’re too kind and too Christian to tell those folks to fuck off, aren’t you?”
She whapped his forearm. “Language.”
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s get outta here and blow off all responsibilities for a few
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