The Bride of Willow Creek(14)

On the other hand, breakfast was one of the few meals he could cook with confidence that the result would be eatable.

“How do you want your eggs?” he called over his shoulder.

Both girls said scrambled.

“They’re going to be fried.”

“Every morning we say scrambled, but every morning you give us fried. Why do you ask how we want them?”

“My dear Lucy,” he said grandly. “Fried eggs are a work of art. The yoke has to be set, but not too hard. Absolutely it cannot be broken. And the whites must be butter-crisped but not scorched. It’s an art. Scrambled eggs, on the other hand, require no talent. It’s just stir together, then pour in the skillet.”

The girls laughed and pushed each other. “Scrambled eggs are more work. You have to add milk and stir.”

“That too,” he said, grinning at them.

In the mornings his daughters looked like proper miniature young ladies. Combed hair neatly tied at their necks. Clean faces and hands. Fresh dresses with the sashes tied prettily. That reminded him. Had he paid the seamstress last week? Her bill had been in his ledger for a long time.

Angie’s door flew open and she rushed into the room, hastily tying a wrapper around her waist. A long, dark braid swung down her back and her face glowed rosy from sleep.

Shock rooted Sam’s boots to the floor. A man seldom saw a woman in her nightclothes or wearing her hair down, which made Angie seem as erotic as a French postcard. When he realized what he was thinking, he almost laughed. She wasn’t showing a spare inch of exposed flesh. The high collar of her nightgown circled her neck up to her chin. The wrapper sleeves covered her wrists. All he could see at the bottom were the tips of her house slippers. It wasn’t the actuality of her attire that aroused him, but the idea of it. A woman stood in his kitchen wearing a wrapper tied over her nightgown and with her hair still braided for bed. Such an amazing event was enough to put ideas in any man’s head.

After calling good morning to the girls, she hurried up next to him at the stove, clearly dismayed to discover him sliding eggs onto the plates.

“I overslept. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?”

“You can be forgiven for shirking your duty on your first day at work,” he said, making it sound like a joke. He couldn’t think straight with her standing beside him in her wrapper. Ten years ago, he had fantasized about seeing her with her hair down, wearing her nightgown. In the fantasy she had slowly raised her nightgown, revealing milky legs and thighs and . . . His hand shook and he almost dropped a plate of eggs on the floor. “Sit down,” he said after clearing his throat. “Lucy, please pour Angie a cup of coffee. And be careful with the pot. It’s hot.”

Obviously flustered, she watched him add thick strips of bacon to each of the plates. “Maybe I should get dressed,” she said, waving a hand toward the bedroom door. “You know, before I sit down. It won’t take too long.”

“If that’s what you want to do. But cold fried eggs aren’t the tastiest thing I can think of,” he said, striving to keep his voice light.

He told himself that he’d be relieved if she put on some clothing. It wasn’t decent for him to be thinking arousing thoughts in front of his girls. On the other hand, a long time had passed since he’d had the pleasure of sitting at a table with a woman whose hair was down. Seeing her this way was a sweet form of torture.

Angie shot him one of those narrow-eyed argumentative looks that he was starting to recognize and dislike. In this case, he could almost see her weighing her instinct to get dressed against his implication that letting the eggs get cold would be stupid.

Last night, after he finally crawled into his tent, he’d given some thought to their new arrangement. And he’d made a vow that no matter how bad-tempered, incompetent, and hard to get along with she was, he would not argue or be rude or sarcastic to her in front of his girls. This would be a hard vow to keep, and he knew it. But he was determined not to upset Lucy and Daisy. In fact, the situation with Angie could teach them some good lessons. Such as making the best of a bad situation. Such as not shirking your responsibilities no matter how repugnant they may be. Such as getting along with others.

Remembering his vow, he amended his previous statement. “I suppose getting dressed is a good idea. I could leave your plate on the stove. The eggs might still be warm when you’re ready.”

“No, I think you were right before,” she said, deciding. Chewing her lip, she stood beside the table and watched the girls open napkins across their laps. Sam felt a tiny burst of pride that they’d remembered about the napkins. “The thing is, if I’m going to be part of the household, we should eat our meals together.”