need a housekeeper anymore.”
CHAPTER TWO
“MICHELE!” JON SAID.
“Kaycee’s shy like Wendy,” Michele rushed on. “But Mrs. Hawthorn needs to know we have a mother so you can take care of us. Well, here she is and now you can.”
Mrs. Hawthorn narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously from Kaycee to Jon and back to Kaycee. “Aren’t you the veterinarian?”
“Well, I…I…yes, I am a vet.”
“And you’re married to Mr. Rider?”
Jon looked at his four kids with a stricken expression. Kaycee recognized sheer desperation when she saw it. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his side, his strong arm squeezing the breath out of her so that she had no chance to speak. She could feel his body humming like a strand of barbed wire pulled too tight. Dangerous.
“We’re not married yet,” Jon said without hesitation. “But we soon will be.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Mrs. Hawthorn pressed, her skepticism obvious.
“You didn’t give me much chance,” he answered, then gazed down at Kaycee with adoring eyes that melted her to his side in spite of the tenuous situation—and the fact that the look was faked.
On her other side, Michele squeezed Kaycee’s hand so hard it hurt. There was no way she should involve herself in this family’s problems, whatever they were…. But there were three more little kids panicking behind her.
Kaycee held out her right hand—thank goodness she’d washed it already. “I’m Katherine Calloway.”
Hesitantly, Mrs. Hawthorn took it as if it might be contaminated, pulling away as quickly as she could. “And you plan to marry Mr. Rider?”
Kaycee swallowed hard. “We’ve been seriously discussing it lately. The children do need a mother, I agree. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.” Kaycee spoke carefully. She wasn’t exactly lying. She was only filling the role for a few minutes, until this social worker left. Then Jon Rider would have to figure out his problems on his own.
“I see. When?”
“When?”
“We have to get calving season behind us,” Jon said quickly. “But as you can see, Kaycee’s here today and between the two of us, the housekeeper and my oldest girls, we’ll make out until the wedding.”
Good line, Kaycee thought, but was the social worker buying it? She didn’t seem to have much of a case against Jon. If he’d kept his temper, the woman might have been gone by now. Kaycee’s gut feeling told her the children weren’t in danger of anything other than a messy house and a missing nanny, but she would make sure before she left.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to fix lunch for these hungry mouths.” Mostly, Kaycee wanted to escape before she said something wrong to cause Jon more trouble. And get the kids away from here.
Jon released her with a twitch of his lips before turning back to the social worker. “Now, if you’re satisfied, you can leave.”
Mrs. Hawthorn made a long note on her pad before looking up at Jon. “I’m not satisfied, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt since you have help. I am going to need four or five collateral references, Mr. Rider. People who can vouch for your character and fitness as a father.”
Jon shook his head in disbelief. “It’s bad enough you’re nosing around here. Now you’re wanting to spread this nonsense all over the community? Embarrass my children? Start some ugly rumor you can’t prove? I don’t think so.”
Kaycee gathered the children around her. Michele kept a tight grip on her hand. Wendy watched her warily, but the twin boys fought to grab her other hand. Mrs. Hawthorne took a business card from her notebook and handed it to Jon. “You really don’t have a choice. It could be a close relative. Dr. Calloway can be a reference. I’m not closing this case yet. I want to meet with you next week. Call to give me those references and make an appointment.”
One of the boys tugged on Kaycee’s hand. “We’re hungry. Come on.”
As they crossed the barnyard to the large ranch house, Wendy ran ahead and disappeared inside. Michele looked up at Kaycee and said, “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. But what we did wasn’t exactly honest, was it?”
Michele shrugged, tears in her eyes. “We don’t want to leave Daddy. Daddy loves us. Why would that woman take us away?”
“I don’t know,” Kaycee said.
Behind them, an engine started and the social worker’s compact car eased down the road. Jon caught up to them.
“Michele,” he said, taking the child by the arm and pulling her aside. “You didn’t have any business dragging Dr. Calloway into our family problems.”
“I didn’t want that lady to take us, Daddy. I couldn’t think what else to do.”
“I’ll handle things next time. Go on in with the boys. I want to talk to Dr. Calloway alone.”
“But, Daddy,” one of the twins whined, refusing to relinquish Kaycee’s hand. “She just said she’d make us something to eat and I’m starvin’. Rachel’s been too busy to feed us since breakfast.”
“I’ll feed you in a minute.”
The look of disappointment on the boy’s face was more than Kaycee could take. “How about we all go fix a sandwich together?”
“Yeah, Daddy, please!”
Jon gave Kaycee a lingering look. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”
“No problem, I need lunch, too. Y’all lead the way. I’m right behind.”
The children’s faces brightened.
“What’s ‘y’ all’ mean?” the boy asked.
“That’s the way we say ‘you’ or ‘you all’ where I come from. You’ve never heard that before, huh?”
The kids shook their heads.
“Southern girl,” Jon commented, bringing up the rear.
“South Carolina, born and bred.”
“You’re pretty far from home. Like it out here?”
“It’s cold. But yes, I like it. I suppose you’ve always lived here.”
“Yep, grew up in this house. Went away to college because my dad insisted, did some bull riding on the rodeo circuit. He passed away fifteen years ago and most of the ranch came to me.”
Kaycee followed the brood through the back door into a utility area. Coats, caps and all sizes of shoes and boots were piled up in the corner nearest the entryway on the tile floor, scuffed and tracked with mud. Soiled clothes formed mountains on the washing machine and dryer. A rustic wooden bench stretched along one wall and floor-to-ceiling cabinets occupied another.
A doorway on the opposite wall opened into a great room. Action figures, toy animals, game pieces, coloring books and crayons, dolls and miniature clothing carpeted the floor of the sitting area. Broad windows across one wall framed snow-topped mountains and greening bottomland in pristine, orderly contrast to the shambles inside. Over the stone and wood mantel hung a large oil painting of the family. In a flower-strewn meadow, a youthful blond woman sat on the ground next to Jon, surrounded by the kids. As she gathered her brood close around her, her natural beauty and loving expression made her face radiant. Kaycee studied the picture for a long moment before moving on.
Wendy was already clearing the center island of plastic cups, plates crusted with dried food and a baby’s sipper cup. An only child, Kaycee grew up in a serene,