ate alone all the time, but for some reason, it felt awkward for him to do so tonight. Was this some passive-aggressive attempt to remind him that she was the hired help and they were not to socialize in any way?
But he was too hungry to ponder the thought, so he shook it off and said, “Sounds like a plan.” It also sounded as though she had everything under control.
Yet as she herded the kids out of the kitchen, leaving him to eat in peace and quiet, he couldn’t help watching her go—and wishing she hadn’t sworn off Texas beef and possibly even the small-town cowboys who raised them.
Thirty minutes later, Braden had not only finished the plate Elena had fixed for him, but also the second helping he’d served himself. Then he washed the few dishes that were left in the kitchen.
On his way to his bedroom, he heard chatter in the bathroom down the hall, as well as splashing in the tub. Elena sure had the kids talking and laughing a lot. The twins deserved a little fun. Lord knows, Braden hadn’t been capable of providing them with any, which was another reason they’d be better off when his brother or sister arrived and could step in.
For a moment, his gut twisted. What if neither Jason nor Carly wanted to take on a commitment like that? He couldn’t imagine that they’d both refuse to take the kids. After all, the twins were family—blood relatives. And there was no way he’d want to see them shuffled off to foster care or...
A rustle of insecurity slid over him. If there was no other choice, he’d have to keep Beto and Bela—a scary thought.
But surely Jason or Carly would see the benefit of those children growing up with a married couple.
No, this was only a temporary gig. Braden would help out when he could, and the kids needed him now. So here he was.
Thank God he’d found Elena.
Fighting the urge to step in and see what was going on in the bathroom, he ignored the commotion and ducked into the privacy of his master suite and closed the door. Then he took a long, hot shower.
He could have remained in his steam-filled private bathroom or stretched out on his king-size bed, locked away from the hubbub, since Elena was far more competent with the children than he was. But he couldn’t help thinking that the kids could be running amok and that she might need him.
So after drying off, he slipped on a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Things had gotten quiet, so he suspected she had it all under control. But he wasn’t going to hang out in his bedroom all evening. While he was growing up, it had been the hour right before bedtime that he’d enjoyed the most. That was the time when his mom would let him snuggle in next to her on the old plaid sofa while she read to him. Or when he’d sit next to Grammy and Grandpa and watch Wheel of Fortune.
But he wasn’t the only adult in the house tonight, and he had no idea what the protocol was for the first night for strangers who had become new roommates. Either way, it seemed as if he should at least thank Elena for a job well done and a mighty fine meal.
When he stepped out into the hall, she was leaving the kids’ room. A water mark darkened the red fabric of her tank shirt, right across her left breast.
“The kids are bathed and tucked in bed,” she said.
Keep your eyes off that damned water spot. And look at her face. She’s got beautiful eyes—big, brown, expressive...
And she’s an employee, for cripes’ sake. A child-care worker. Domesticity at its finest.
But she wasn’t giving him any reason to think about kids or home and hearth at the moment.
Again, he shook off the sexual distraction and asked, “How about a cup of coffee?”
“Caffeine would keep me awake. But I might have a Popsicle instead.”
He laughed. “That sounds good to me, too.”
“I’m going to pick up the mess the kids left in the family room first. I would have asked them to do it themselves, but by the time I got them settled down and in bed, I didn’t want to rile them up again.”
“Good idea. Isn’t there an old saying about letting sleeping children lie?”
She lobbed him a bright-eyed grin. “I think you mean ‘dogs,’ but it’s pretty much the same thing.”
He stepped aside and swept his arm in front of him. “I’ll help. After you.”
As she passed by him, he caught another whiff of her floral scent and watched as the hem of her skirt swept across her shapely calves.
Damn, she was lovely. What in the hell had made him think his problems were finally solved now that she was here?
As they headed to the family room, where coloring pages, crayons and workbooks were spread about, Braden said, “I really enjoyed dinner.”
“Thanks. When I moved in with my dad, one of my first chores was to help Laura in the kitchen.”
Laura? Not Mom? Then it dawned on him. “I hadn’t realized that Laura wasn’t your...” His words drifted off. He hadn’t meant to probe into her personal life. But he’d seen Paco and Laura Ramirez together with their other children in town and at the feed store on many occasions and had assumed the happy couple had always been together.
Then again, Elena had to be seven or eight years older than their first born son, who was a star quarterback on the Brighton Valley High football team.
“My mom died when I was twelve,” Elena added.
“I’m sorry.” Braden rarely talked about his past, but for some crazy reason, he found himself saying, “But you’re lucky to have a father like Paco. My dad was never really involved in my life.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d opened up about that. He never hinted at any chinks in his armor and, while Elena’s disclosure had caused him to lower his guard, he wasn’t about to say any more than he already had.
But the truth of the matter was, from what he’d observed of the man, he would have given up his share of the Rayburn riches to have had a father like hers.
“Actually,” Elena said, as she placed the last crayon in the box, “my early years weren’t sunshine and roses.”
Her comment took him aback. “Your dad seems like he has it all together. Your mom—well, I mean Laura—does, too.”
“My dad’s awesome. And Laura is the best, but I didn’t spend much time with them until I was older. And when I did visit them as a little girl, it was always pretty stressful. My real mom made life rough for all of us.”
Braden wanted to ask, “How so?” But he never liked people prying into his business—or the awkward relationship between his mom and dad. From the first week of kindergarten, Braden had learned that his family situation wasn’t the norm and he’d always been interested in what happened inside other kids’ families and what he was missing out on. So he kept quiet, hoping she’d continue.
After a long, thought-filled moment, she said, “My parents got married right out of high school, and I was born six months later. But they fought all the time and separated right after my third birthday.”
“It sounds like splitting up was for the best.”
“That’s true. Unfortunately, my mom was one of those people who thrived on drama and conflict. And she always wanted to have the last word. Believe it or not, their divorce proceedings lasted longer than the marriage.”
“That’s too bad. I know some people can remain friends during a split like that, but from what I’ve heard, my father’s first divorce was pretty sticky, too.”
“I can understand that.”
Could she? Apparently