“Oh,” Seth called from over his shoulder. “Not too far off from campsite cooking.”
Mac snorted. “Anytime I was out and about, we had beans and taters and not much else.”
Seth grinned at him. “I can do better than that.” As he plopped the dough down onto the freshly floured counter and began to knead it, he said, “After our mother died, I sort of started hovering around Sofia Vasquez in the kitchen. She and my mom had fed us our whole lives, plus the ranch hands. It felt like she was still there, in that room, by the stove.” He turned to give Mac a sympathetic look only to be met with the same. “Guess you came about your skills in the same way,” Seth said quietly.
Mac nodded and rubbed his chest absentmindedly. “I did. My wife passed before she had a chance to teach Emma and Rowan any more than a few basic recipes. We all pitched in, cracked opened Beverly’s Saint Joseph’s cookbooks and worked it out until the meals were edible.”
Seth chuckled. “My mom had all the same ones. Going back thirty years. We still have them.”
Mac nodded, and Seth got the impression that here was a man who understood, understood that the presence of a person was just as important as the memory of them.
Biscuits, fresh from the oven, were set on the table thirty minutes later, and Seth sat down between Rowan and Willow to eat. During dinner, he took a page from Sawyer’s book—not armpit farts certainly, but biscuits became eyeballs and ears, then mouths that had a lot to say about “Spongeboob,”—all to Willow’s squealing delight. Rowan tried to maintain a fierce, disapproving look but fell into laughter beside her daughter. Mac chuckled, too, but winced and rubbed his chest.
“Sorry,” Seth told him.
The old man waved him away with a wrinkled hand. “Don’t apologize,” he replied. “Been a long time since I’ve had a laugh. About anything.”
Seth cleared his plate and grabbed a towel, drying silently while standing next to Rowan. He had a lot to say to her, but they weren’t alone, and maybe it wasn’t the right time yet, plus between them they’d pulled seven lambs today. If she was anywhere near as tired as he was, she was practically dead on her feet.
He kind of enjoyed the way they quietly worked together in the kitchen, just the same way they did in the barn. Being around Rowan, in any capacity, was a comfort. He was sorry to see them finish the chore so soon, and as he laid out the damp towel on the counter to dry, he turned and kissed her quickly, on the top of the head, while she was still standing close, then walked away before she could protest.
“Good night!” Willow cried as she slammed into his legs, pink nightgown swirling across the wooden floor.
He bent, picked her up, and hugged her tightly. “Good night, princess.” Het set her back down and gave Mac a wave as the old man was seated on the couch. He didn’t look back to see if Rowan was irritated or sad to see him go. He knew which one he preferred.
*
April was now in full swing when Seth was headed to the Archer place again, but this time he wasn’t driving his Ford. He and his brothers were driving the herd instead. Choctaw pranced out front as they moved a portion of the cattle to the Archer grazing lands. Up ahead, Sawyer and Austin had dismounted to cut the wire fencing and allow the cattle in.
Once they were all secure, Seth unhooked his new reata from his saddle horn and roped the cow who’d dropped the first calf of the season. Mother in tow, the calf followed naturally, and he led them farther east, toward the Archer farm proper. At the swinging gate, Seth hopped down from the saddle and led the cow to the smaller paddock.
Willow caught sight of him from the interior of the barn, where she was playing with Cloud. She shouted and waved then hurried toward him. Behind her, Kinka followed, tongue lolling, eyes on the livestock. Seth guessed the canine was bored and looking for work since the sheep were tucked safely in the barn.
“The calf!” Willow exclaimed happily.
Seth grinned at her. “Told you I’d let you see her. Back up now, sweetie,” he said as he grasped the chain on the gate.
Willow dutifully moved away, and Seth swung open the entrance just wide enough to lead the cow into the paddock. Her calf followed immediately, and he closed and locked them in. The mama wasn’t too interested in the girl or the lamb, but she kept one eye on the large dog as she stayed near the fence, closest to the protection of her separated herd.
The calf didn’t seem to know what to look at first. She was fascinated by the dog, and the girl bounding around happily. Seth headed to the barn gate, leaned over the fence, and lifted Cloud over and set the lamb on his lanky legs. The calf jogged over, curious yet cautious. Willow managed to touch her shoulder, distracted as the calf was by the other animals and unfamiliar scene.
“She’s soft!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And brown.”
Seth shrugged. “Chocolate milk.”
Willow narrowed her eyes at him, apparently unsure if she could believe this new information.
Seth gave the game away when he couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“Stormy,” Willow declared, patting the calf. “Stormy. And Cloud.”
Seth smiled, pleased she was happy.
The calf lunged and pulled back, lunged and pulled back, until the lamb finally gave chase. The two youngsters sped around the enclosure as Willow shrieked and squealed.
From behind them, Rowan came tearing ass around the side of the barn. “Willow!” she shouted as she flung herself blindly over the gate without even stopping to look. As she charged into the enclosure, Seth grabbed her around the waist. “Whoa!” he cried and pulled her tightly to him. “It’s all right! Everything’s fine! I put the lamb and the calf together. See? Look. They’re playing.”
Willow squealed again and sloshed around in her rubber boots, trying to catch the two newborns as they chased each other around the small enclosed pasture.
“Stormy,” he said.
“What?!” Rowan gasped.
“She named the calf Stormy. And the lamb’s Cloud. Stormy and Cloud.”
Rowan craned her neck to stare at him and then burst into laughter.
“She’s four,” Seth chuckled. “It’s not bad for a four-year-old.”
“Can we keep her?!” Willow shouted.
Rowan frowned. “Baby, these aren’t our cows,” she replied. “I explained this. We’re just leasing the land.”
“She’s on the small side,” Seth told Rowan quietly. “Won’t fetch a good price at market, coming as early as she did and underweight. You could keep the mama and the calf. It’ll be good milk. Good farm work for Willow. And your dad, too.”
Rowan shrugged out of his hold and turned on him instantly. The laughter on her lips just moments ago had melted into a thin, harsh line. “Seth, I appreciate you helping us like this. I do. But you can’t do this. This is just like Court. You can’t buy us, Seth. We’re not for sale.”
Seth grabbed her upper arms and held her firmly in place. “I am not trying to buy you, Rowan,” he growled. “Now, you say what you want about me, that I hurt you, that I screwed up, and I’ll admit it. But I am not trying to buy you off. I want Willow to have the life I had, that we both had, and you do too! There’s a little girl in all this. And two farms to try and hold onto. And none of that is going to wait for us to sort out our shit.”
He kissed her then, harder than he meant to, because he couldn’t help himself. He crushed his mouth to hers. For a moment, Rowan tried to pull away, but Seth let go of one of her arms and cradled the back of her head with his hand. He tasted her, devoured her, dipping his tongue into her mouth like a starving man. Which he supposed he was. It was hell standing next to her all day every day and having to keep his hands—and every other part of him—himself.
Rowan’s cries of protest turned to panting mewls. She parted her lips wider, urging him inside. Her fingers dug into the lapels of his jacket, clawing, dragging, clinging, anything to keep him close, it seemed.
Finally Seth pulled away, leaving both of them panting.
“Mama?”
Willow had come up to the fence and was eyeing them both curiously. “Can we keep Stormy? And Cloud? Please?”
Rowan wiped her mouth and then waved her hand at her daughter. “I…I…yes, baby. Uncle Seth said you could. You can keep them.”
Willow whooped and hollered and forgot, at least for the time being, that she’d just seen her mother and her uncle lose control for a moment. Which was probably what Rowan had intended, a distraction to prevent awkward questions.
When the little girl was far enough away, distracted once more by her tiny little friends, Seth cupped Rowan’s face and kissed her again, softer this time, more like he should. Thankfully, now that Rowan half-expected it, she didn’t fight him or push him away. Despite his best efforts to contain himself, they both came away breathless again, struggling to put their senses in order. Seth could tell it was the same for her from the way she was still clutching at his jacket.
Holden Gray turned up that moment, causing Seth to curse under his breath but plaster on a smile. He let go of Rowan and moved away from her as Gray turned his large Featherlite trailer around in the driveway.