The Bride of Willow Creek(31)
“I managed the household after my mother died, even after Papa reduced the funds several times. And I did it well.” When he didn’t say anything, she rushed on. “Here’s how I’d manage our money.”
“Our money?” He flat could not believe what she was saying. Since when had his money become her money, too? From what she’d said in the last minutes, she appeared to think there was her money and “our money.” He hadn’t heard any reference to his money. By God, she had brass.
“I’d set up a ledger with a list of creditors and see that everyone got paid. Then I’d portion out what was left. I’d put aside funds for provisions, emergencies, saloon money for you, a bit for me and the girls, some toward Daisy’s operation, and a little for the divorce.”
She had thought about this, and she had worked out a reasonable-sounding plan. That halted his furious response and gave him pause.
Sam pulled a hand through his hair then down across his jaw. If he stripped out his pride, if he took a long, hard, honest look at his strengths and his weaknesses, if he really didn’t care whether she respected or approved of him—then he had to concede that he probably didn’t manage money as well as some did.
The thought that tipped the balance was: If allowing Angie to manage the money hastened Daisy’s operation, then he should hand over his pay packet and be grateful. No matter how much he hated the idea. And he hated it.
He turned the envelope between his fingers, reluctant to give it up. Laura had never asked for his pay packet. But Angie was as different from Laura as peas from pudding.
“I don’t know about this,” he said finally.
“The only way you’ll know is if we give it a try.”
It wasn’t like he’d be surrendering his manhood. With one or two exceptions, all the married men he knew gave their pay packets to their wives. Women had a knack for managing money. At least most of them seemed to. Or their husbands believed they did. Of course he didn’t know about Angie, except for what she claimed.
“I suppose we could try your plan,” he conceded slowly, grudgingly. He reminded himself that he would do it for Daisy. “For a week or two. See how it works.”
“Good!” Her dark eyes narrowed and flashed in the lamplight. “You won’t regret this.”
Hell, he regretted it already.
“You should probably pay your crew. I wouldn’t be comfortable doing that.”
He managed not to roll his eyes. “I’d be a laughingstock if my wife paid my men. I should tell you though, I’m paying a lot of overtime right now and will be for several weeks.”
She held out her hand and reluctantly he placed his pay packet on her palm. Damn. In less than a week she’d taken over his house, his daughters, and now his money. What he had left was a tent in the backyard. And a lot of heated thoughts about a woman who detested him that kept him from sleeping.
“Are we finished?” he asked, scowling.
She tucked the envelope in her skirt pocket. “Every morning, you interrogate the girls. You ask them questions designed to discover how I’m treating them.” Her chin came up. “I feel like you’re looking over my shoulder, judging everything I do or say to them.”
“You’re damned right I am. I don’t have much choice; I have to leave my daughters in your care. But the fact is, until I know you well enough to know you aren’t going to mistreat my girls, you’re right. I’m looking over your shoulder and judging everything you do.”
Offense stiffened her shoulders. “I’ve never been a mother, but I certainly know enough not to mistreat a child!”
“Then we won’t have a problem.” To be fair, she hadn’t done anything to make him think she might treat his girls harshly. “Look,” he said in a softer voice. “I’m all the family that Lucy and Daisy have. I’m their father and their champion. I stand between them and the rest of the world. It’s my job to protect them. I’d be remiss if I wasn’t looking over your shoulder.” A vision of a soft rounded shoulder flashed through his mind. Pale smooth skin leading to . . . Sam gave his head an impatient shake. These thoughts tended to take him completely by surprise.
She frowned. “They have grandparents, don’t they?”
Stiffening abruptly, he stared. “How do you know about that?”
“Molly said Laura’s parents live in Colorado Springs.”
He swore. “Like I said, I’m all the family they have.” Standing, he looked down at her, his gaze suddenly cold. “I didn’t realize Molly Johnson talked so much.”