“I have some money in the bank, but this is what I planned for winter expenses. There’s a little over five hundred dollars here. You’re welcome to however much you need.” He started to return the can to the top shelf, then reconsidered and shoved it between the spices so it would be within her reach.
“I’ll pay you back. Once we’re square, I’d like it if we both put the same amount into the can each year. Then whatever else you make on the ranch or I make working will be for each to decide.”
He wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but she’d said each year like there would be many. Figuring he’d have time to talk out expenses later, Hank asked, “Did you decide if you want to use the room upstairs?”
“I thought I’d make it my indoor workroom, that way the kitchen won’t get cluttered. The light’s good up there and on cold days the kitchen fire will keep it warm.”
“I could frame you up furniture tomorrow. The good thing about winter on a ranch is there’s time to do all the chores I couldn’t get to in the spring and summer. The bad thing is I never seem to finish the list before calving.” He stood and lifted a lantern from the peg by the back door. “You want to walk with me to the barn and tell me where to put that bench?”
She nodded and followed him out of the house and along a path of smooth stones. Ulysses tagged along as far as the barn door. He growled and barked at the shadows, but before Hank could tell him to be quiet, Aggie touched his head and he moved to her side, standing guard as if something were just beyond the light waiting to hurt her.
They spent ten minutes walking around the barn, determining where would be the best place for a bench, and finally decided on a spot near the door. There she’d get the breeze, the morning sun, and anything left on the bench overnight would remain protected from the weather once the door was closed.
“I’d like to start tonight.” Hank knew it was late, but he wouldn’t sleep anyway. Too much had happened today, and Aggie would be too close, even three rooms away. “I’ll turn in before midnight.”
She looked up at him. “All right. I think I’ll turn in now. I feel bad taking your bed though.”
“Don’t worry about it. Somehow it wouldn’t be right if you were the one on the floor. I’ll talk Blue into helping me string another frame this week, but for now a bedroll will be nothing unusual for me to sleep on.”
She hesitated. “Well . . .”
They stood in the circle of light staring at each other. As he guessed she would, she broke the silence first. With her fingers laced together in front of her, she said suddenly, “It’s not fair.”
Hank fought down a smile. She fired up fast when something bothered her. “What’s not fair?”
She fisted her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “If I want to kiss you good night, I have to ask you to bend down first.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He grabbed a milking stool from the first stall and set it firmly in the center of the light, then he lifted her atop it.
They were equals. He stared straight into the devil dancing in her blue-green eyes.
He waited as she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. When she straightened she said, “Good night, dear.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. She made no effort to remove it.
“Good night,” he said as his mouth touched hers. This time his lips were soft and slow. He fought the urge to pull her against him. He knew where a kiss could lead, but she was innocent. If he moved too fast, she might be frightened.
Too fast! his mind shouted. When had he crossed some invisible line from accepting her as a partner and nothing more to thinking of what came after the kiss?
Gently pulling away, he smiled when she pouted. “I’ll put a stool in every room so all will be fair,” he whispered, so near he could feel her quick breaths on his cheek.
He couldn’t resist; his lips found hers
“I’ll pay you back. Once we’re square, I’d like it if we both put the same amount into the can each year. Then whatever else you make on the ranch or I make working will be for each to decide.”
He wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but she’d said each year like there would be many. Figuring he’d have time to talk out expenses later, Hank asked, “Did you decide if you want to use the room upstairs?”
“I thought I’d make it my indoor workroom, that way the kitchen won’t get cluttered. The light’s good up there and on cold days the kitchen fire will keep it warm.”
“I could frame you up furniture tomorrow. The good thing about winter on a ranch is there’s time to do all the chores I couldn’t get to in the spring and summer. The bad thing is I never seem to finish the list before calving.” He stood and lifted a lantern from the peg by the back door. “You want to walk with me to the barn and tell me where to put that bench?”
She nodded and followed him out of the house and along a path of smooth stones. Ulysses tagged along as far as the barn door. He growled and barked at the shadows, but before Hank could tell him to be quiet, Aggie touched his head and he moved to her side, standing guard as if something were just beyond the light waiting to hurt her.
They spent ten minutes walking around the barn, determining where would be the best place for a bench, and finally decided on a spot near the door. There she’d get the breeze, the morning sun, and anything left on the bench overnight would remain protected from the weather once the door was closed.
“I’d like to start tonight.” Hank knew it was late, but he wouldn’t sleep anyway. Too much had happened today, and Aggie would be too close, even three rooms away. “I’ll turn in before midnight.”
She looked up at him. “All right. I think I’ll turn in now. I feel bad taking your bed though.”
“Don’t worry about it. Somehow it wouldn’t be right if you were the one on the floor. I’ll talk Blue into helping me string another frame this week, but for now a bedroll will be nothing unusual for me to sleep on.”
She hesitated. “Well . . .”
They stood in the circle of light staring at each other. As he guessed she would, she broke the silence first. With her fingers laced together in front of her, she said suddenly, “It’s not fair.”
Hank fought down a smile. She fired up fast when something bothered her. “What’s not fair?”
She fisted her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “If I want to kiss you good night, I have to ask you to bend down first.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He grabbed a milking stool from the first stall and set it firmly in the center of the light, then he lifted her atop it.
They were equals. He stared straight into the devil dancing in her blue-green eyes.
He waited as she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. When she straightened she said, “Good night, dear.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. She made no effort to remove it.
“Good night,” he said as his mouth touched hers. This time his lips were soft and slow. He fought the urge to pull her against him. He knew where a kiss could lead, but she was innocent. If he moved too fast, she might be frightened.
Too fast! his mind shouted. When had he crossed some invisible line from accepting her as a partner and nothing more to thinking of what came after the kiss?
Gently pulling away, he smiled when she pouted. “I’ll put a stool in every room so all will be fair,” he whispered, so near he could feel her quick breaths on his cheek.
He couldn’t resist; his lips found hers
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