a living area with a tan-and-white-checked couch, recliner, coffee table and a television on a stand. Windows hid behind tan curtains on each wall, and area rugs protected feet from the chill.
“Here, let me get your bags.” He took the suitcases from her grasp, his fingers brushing hers in the process. A surge of warmth raced up his arms. “Follow me. I’ll give you the tour. Dining. Living. Kitchen. Sorry, no dishwasher, but everything else works fine. Anything not on the open shelves, you’ll find in the cupboards.” He strode through the small space to the back. “Bathroom to the right. Bedroom to the left.”
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting this.” She set her purse on the bed. With her finger trailing the puffy white duvet, she rounded the footboard and pushed open the curtains of one of the windows in the snug bedroom. “It’s lovely.”
He lined her suitcases against the wall and stepped back to survey it. He supposed she was right. The white curtains had a tan curlicue design. Fluffy white rugs were on the floor—nothing a cowboy would buy for sure.
“I’m guessing I have a view of the mountains during the daytime.” She let the curtain fall across the window again.
“You sure do. I have the same view. I’m right next door.”
Her long lashes curled to her eyebrows, and those green-gold eyes arrested him, made him lose his train of thought. Now that he was putting two and two together, this cabin was feminine like her. His had the same layout, but his beams and floor were dark like the walls, and the furniture was masculine. In the months he’d lived on Dushane Ranch, no one had ever stayed in this cabin. Until now.
She looked like she belonged here.
His female interaction had been limited to Belle for longer than he cared to admit. And now was not a good time for that to change.
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’ll let you get settled. Come next door in, say, thirty minutes. I’ll have supper waiting for you.” He spun on his heel to leave.
“You don’t have to make me supper.”
He strode to the entrance, wishing her words were true. Would make life easier if he wasn’t around someone so pretty and nice, but he would be, and he couldn’t let her starve.
“It’s no trouble. There are only a few dried goods in here.” He tipped his hat to her. “See you in half an hour.”
Out on the porch, the clean, frigid air froze his nostrils, and he almost laughed. Winter in Wyoming. Good thing he didn’t mind cold weather. Too bad he didn’t like the situation he was in. Cowboying for his tough-as-nails brother-in-law. Soothing his poor sister. Caring for his nephews and nieces. And fighting an unanticipated attraction to the baby nurse.
He must be out of his mind to stay.
What was the alternative? He’d rather be here with Belle and his nieces and nephews than out there with no one.
Being out of his mind beat being lonely any day of the week.
* * *
What a bizarre day.
Ainsley finished stacking her sweaters, leggings and jeans in the dresser, then went to the living room and sprawled out on the couch. She still had fifteen minutes before heading next door. After hours of baby care and trying to make sense of Belle’s baffling behavior, Ainsley wasn’t sure what to think of being the baby nurse on Dushane Ranch. Was Belle really just tired, or was she neglecting her children? Maybe Marshall could give her some insight about his sister tonight.
It would give her something to think about other than the fact she would be eating with the hunky cowboy who impressed her with his devotion. Frankly, he seemed a little too good to be true.
The man must have a flaw.
They all did.
She took in the room. A soothing retreat. Unfussy. The furniture was neutral, the wooden walls and floors inviting. Even the open shelves in the kitchen pleased the eye with their collection of white dishes. She’d enjoy coming home to this every day.
She had a feeling she was going to need a restful place to decompress each night. The babies were not a problem as far as she was concerned. Their parents on the other hand...
Belle and Raleigh were already stressing her out, and she’d been here less than twenty-four hours. She’d never been around a mother who wasn’t hovering over her infant. Sure, quadruplets were vastly different from one child, but shouldn’t Belle have shown a sliver of interest in holding and feeding them? She’d practically thrown Lila into Ainsley’s arms earlier before vanishing.
Then there was Raleigh. Typical rancher. The man probably paid more attention to the calves in the pastures than his own babies. Ainsley was used to men like him. Her father had been cut from the same cloth. He’d worked on several ranches when she was little.
Thinking about her dad always pinched her heart. He loved her in his own way. She loved him, too. But she hadn’t been able to stick around and watch him destroy his life. His love for her had never matched his love of alcohol.
Leaving him had been like stabbing a knife in her own heart. It still hurt. Probably always would.
She glanced at her watch. The fifteen minutes were up. She shoved her feet into boots, eased into her coat, then strolled next door. A path through the snow had been cleared between the cabins. About twenty feet separated their porch steps. Her spirits lightened as she watched her breath materialize in wispy puffs. One of the wonders of winter.
His porch light was on, and a shovel with snow caked on the bottom was propped against the side rail. The man was thoughtful. Another thing to add to his growing list of virtues.
She knocked on the door and heard, “coming,” and then Marshall stood before her with a ladle in hand. He grinned. “You didn’t get lost.”
“It wasn’t hard to find.” She gave him a smile, taking off her coat and boots. She blew on her hands. “What can I help with?”
“You can set the table.” He backtracked to the kitchenette, identical to hers, except everything in this cabin was dark wood. The place reeked of masculinity. While it suited him, she preferred her pretty space.
Plates, bowls, silverware and paper napkins had been piled near the edge of the table. She made up two place settings. The unmistakable aroma of chili filled the air. He tossed her a pot holder, and she caught it, setting it on the table.
“Hope you’re not a vegetarian,” he said.
“Isn’t that illegal in Wyoming?”
His laugh was low and hearty. It sent flutters through her chest. After carrying the chili to the table, he hustled back to the oven and pulled out a cast-iron pan of corn bread.
“Wow, when did you have time to do all this?” She took a seat at the table.
“I didn’t have to. The slow cooker did all the work.” He ladled chili into each of their bowls. She cut the corn bread into slices and set one on his plate.
His spoon was poised above his food, but she cleared her throat. He glanced up.
“Would you like me to say grace?” she asked.
He set the spoon down and folded his hands.
“Dear Lord, thank You for this delicious meal. Please let it nourish us and give us the strength to care for Your precious babies tomorrow. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
“Amen.”
“Marshall?” She slathered butter on her corn bread. “Would you mind telling me more about Belle and Raleigh?”
His eyebrows drew together, and he seemed really into his food. “What do you want to know?”
“How long have they been married? How did they end up with quadruplets?” Why is your sister ambivalent about the babies? She took a bite of chili. Spicy, meaty, it hit the spot.