Courtship, Montana Style

When she looked up she saw Walker across the hall in his bedroom, the door standing open. He’d shed both his shirt and T-shirt, revealing a smooth back with well-defined muscles that rippled as he moved. His physique hadn’t been built in the airless confines of an upscale gym somewhere in the middle of a big city, she realized, but by years of hard work on his ranch. He’d earned every sculpted inch of his lean body.

Elizabeth had never earned a damned thing, including her own keep. The best she’d done was work as an unpaid gofer for the charitable foundation her family supported. They’d offered her a small salary but she hadn’t wanted to take money away from people who truly needed it.

With a raging sense of self disgust, she turned away from the tempting view across the hall. Why on earth hadn’t she noticed how stunted her life had become?

WALKER COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes.

Every one of the boys was scrubbed clean and had their hair slicked back like a bunch of cowboys ready to whoop it up in town on Saturday night. Even Speed looked like he’d spiffed up for the evening. In this case, however, he suspected the sudden interest in cleanliness had more to do with their houseguest than the day of the week.

“You boys have supper ready?”

“Yes, boss,” they chorused.

Lined up in front of the kitchen counter, they looked like soldiers standing at attention ready for inspection. They’d even hung their hats on the mudroom pegs, an event that only happened under the threat of dire punishment if they wore them while at the table.

“I made baked pork chops,” Fridge announced.

“I did the mashed potatoes,” Scotty added. “And the baked apples are in the oven now.”

“I figured she might like some veggies.” Bean Pole dipped his head. “My mom used to—when she was sober.”

Walker glanced at Speed, who lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Biscuits.”

Apparently Walker was the only one who hadn’t contributed to the meal preparations. He’d been searching out the current price of beef, a project that had been interrupted earlier. The news wasn’t good. Evidently a lot of ranches were selling off their stock due to the drought, and the prices reflected a downward spiral.

He eyed the boys. “Well, are you gonna ask her to join us, or do you plan for us to eat it all ourselves?”

He’d seen a few stampedes in his life. But nothing like the boys jockeying for position as they raced out of the kitchen. For a moment, he thought Bean Pole was going to make it into the lead. No such luck, though. He bashed into a chair, spinning it around, allowing Scotty to squirt past him.

Shaking his head, Walker said, “It might be worth it to keep Lizzie around if it meant the boys would wash behind their ears more than once a year.”

“That it would,” Speed agreed. His weather-worn face shifted into a grin, and he looked far younger than his sixty-some years. “She is a pretty thing, ain’t she?”

Walker wouldn’t deny it. “She doesn’t belong here.” Not with her shiny long fingernails, her enticing scent or her designer jeans. Or the way she made him feel he’d been missing something.

“Cain’t hurt the boys to have a female around for a while.”

“I got along fine without a woman hanging over me all the time.”

“If you say so, boss.” Leaning back against the counter, Speed crossed his arms over his chest.

Walker’s foreman had the most irritating way of telling him he was full of beans without saying a single damn word. He’d been doing that since Walker was a rebellious, snot-nosed fourteen-year-old who’d showed up at the Double O with no prospects and nowhere else to go. Sometimes Walker wondered if it had been Oliver Oakes who’d adopted him—or Speed. The answer was probably some of both.

A hushed sound came over the room. Almost magical.

Walker shifted his attention to the entrance to the kitchen, a swinging door he always propped open.

She’d spruced up, too, as if that were possible. She didn’t look like any housekeeper he’d ever seen as she moved into the room as smoothly as a dancer arriving on stage. The summery dress she wore had a full skirt that floated at her knees, revealing calves that were both firm and smooth. The capped sleeves and scooped neck of her top showed off ivory skin that had rarely been blessed by the sun but looked just right for a man’s caress.

Walker’s hands ached to do just that, and he folded them into fists.

“Supper’s ready.” His throat had closed down so tightly, he was surprised he’d been able to speak.

“Yes, the boys told me.” She smiled demurely.

Walker’s reaction wasn’t demure at all.

Behind her, her youthful entourage brought in the baby and her portable car seat, which they placed on a chair beside her. They hovered, groveling, hoping for some small crumb of attention, which she scattered among them bit by bit.

“Fridge!” Yanking out his own chair, Walker sat down, angry at himself because he wanted some of that attention to come his way. “Think you could serve supper sometime before we all pass out from hunger?”

Elizabeth watched in amazement as the boys exploded into action. A huge plate of pork chops appeared in the center of the big table, surely enough to feed the entire population of Grass Valley. The bowls of mashed potatoes and vegetables confirmed her belief that a hungry army of neighbors would be showing up at the door any moment. When Scotty produced a pan full of a dozen baked apples, the scent of cinnamon filling the room, and Speed added a mountain of steaming biscuits, she knew it had to be true.

With much chair scraping and jockeying for position, the boys took their places at the table. All eyes landed on her.

“It all looks delicious,” she said, not quite sure what was expected of her. If she’d been at home, a servant would discreetly arrive, probably with a tureen of soup, and served her mother first then the rest of the guests. When that course was completed, her mother would ring a tiny bell and the servant would reappear to clear the bowls away.

Here she was supposed to be doing the cooking and serving, not sitting like a guest at the table.

“Why don’t you help yourself, Lizzie?” Walker suggested. “The boys will pass you what you need.”

She might be wrong but she still couldn’t quite believe… “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the guests?”

A puzzled look lowered his dark brows. “You’re it as far as I know.”

“You mean to tell me the six of us are going to eat all of that food?”

His grin softened the hard angles and planes of his rugged face, making him appear more approachable and more handsome. “Guess you haven’t been around teenage boys much.”

Returning his smile, she reached for the nearest serving dish, which was mounded high with mashed potatoes, a treat she hadn’t allowed herself in years in an effort to watch her weight. “Hollow legs, I gather.”

“Arms, legs, stomachs and sometimes their heads,” Speed added, nudging Fridge with his elbow. “Help yourself, boys.”

Passing Elizabeth each dish first before serving themselves, the boys demonstrated considerable self-restraint. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she landed at an exclusive boarding school not a working ranch. Somehow she suspected they were all on their best behavior and that tickled her.

From the way Walker kept glancing around from his seat at the head of the table, she imagined he was surprised by the way the boys were acting, too—out of character for active adolescents.

“Are all of you boys from Montana?” she asked in the hope of getting them talking and therefore more at ease.

Fridge claimed Chicago and Scotty named Minnesota while Bean Pole remained shyly silent.

She tried a few more conversational gambits but the boys were either too busy eating or tongue-tied by her presence. It might take several days before they were entirely comfortable with her, she realized. Walker, too, unless he was always this quiet.

She’d only made it halfway through her gigantic meal when Suzanne started to fuss. Elizabeth picked her up.

“Looks like Susie-Q would like some dinner, too,” she said. She scooted back from the table. “I’ll get her bottle.”

“Can I feed her?” Scotty asked. He jumped to his feet. “I used to feed my mom’s baby, until they all moved away without me.”

Elizabeth swallowed a gasp. The boy’s mother had moved and left her child behind? What a dreadful—

“Feeding a baby’s not so hard,” Fridge said. “I could do it.”

“Why don’t we let Scotty do it this time?” Elizabeth suggested. She reached out and touched the boy with her hand. “And then later tonight you can have a turn, Fridge, if you’re still interested.”

Scotty looked pleased with himself and Fridge seemed grateful.

Softly, Bean Pole asked, “Could I feed her tomorrow?”

Feeling a band tighten around her chest, Elizabeth nodded. “Of course you may.” These young men were so emotionally needy, it nearly broke her heart. They made her own problems pale by comparison. “Susie-Q is going to be in seventh heaven with all you boys paying her so much attention.”

She glanced to the head of the table. An almost imperceptible nod from Walker told her she was doing the right thing by letting the boys help in the baby’s care.

WITH THE BOYS FULLY ENGAGED in feeding Susie-Q, Walker and Speed were stuck doing the supper dishes.

“That was some dinner, wasn’t it?” Walker commented as he rinsed a plate and slid it into the dishwasher.

“Yep. I thought there for a minute somebody had slipped us a whole bunch of new boys who knew how to use a fork right and kidnapped the old ones.”

Walker chuckled. “Guess we’ll have to have women out to the ranch more often so the boys can practice their manners.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, long as they’re as purdy as Miss Lizzie.”

“That might be a little more difficult to arrange.” He couldn’t think of a single female in Grass Valley, married or not, who would match up with Lizzie. There probably wouldn’t be all that many in Billings, for that matter.

After giving the table a final swipe with a damp cloth, Speed rinsed it out and laid it across the arm of the faucet.

“There’s something I think you ought to know, boss.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, now, I’m not quite sure what it means but when we was getting Miss Lizzie’s gear out of the trunk of her car, a box stuck in the back popped open.” Thoughtfully, Speed ran his palm across his evening whiskers.

“And?” Walker prodded.

“Looked to me like there was a fancy wedding dress stuffed into the box. You know, all white lace and stuff.”

Staring at his foreman, Walker tried to grasp the meaning of Speed’s discovery.

Why in hell would a Merry Maids housekeeper travel from Nevada to Montana with a baby in the first place? And why would she have a wedding gown in the back of her car?

Heck of a thing to pack for a long trip. Or for scrubbing floors.

“What do you think?” Speed asked.

“I think I’d better have a chat with our housekeeper.” And do it before some prospective groom showed up at his front door with a shotgun in his hand.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth knew the instant Walker entered the living room. It was as though he radiated a magnetic force that drew every eye in the room, most especially hers. She suspected he’d get the same reaction at a fancy charity ball in San Francisco as he did here, every woman drawn to him.

There was no sign of Speed, who she assumed must have gone to the bunkhouse after the kitchen cleanup. Or maybe even into town, such as it was with a business district no more than two blocks long.

Bean Pole, who was sitting awkwardly on a foot-stool in front of Scotty and the baby, complained, “Scotty won’t let me and Fridge hold Susie-Q.”

“She’s asleep. You don’t want to wake her, do you?” Scotty insisted, speaking softly but with an air of superiority as the resident expert on babies.

Deciding she needed to regain control of the parenting duties, Elizabeth rose from the couch. She felt Walker’s appraising gaze and wondered what he was thinking. Men often found her attractive; she recognized the look. But she saw something else in Walker’s eyes that didn’t bode well for her scheme—the shadow of suspicion.

“Let’s put Susie-Q back in the car seat,” she said to the boys. “She’ll nap for a while and then will want to play again before she goes down for the night.” She carried the car seat to a quiet corner of the room out of the bright light, signaling Scotty to bring the baby. “When she’s ready for her last feeding, Fridge can give her a bottle.”

“Doesn’t she eat any real food?” Bean Pole asked.

“Not yet. In another month I’ll start her on cereal and some vegetables.”

The three adolescents formed a protective semicircle around the baby, watching as though she were the most fascinating thing in the world. Elizabeth agreed with that assessment, of course. In the past three months, she’d spent a good many hours observing Suzanne in every situation imaginable. But to have teenage boys find her baby equally intriguing surprised her.

Lazily Walker strolled the rest of the way into the room. “A watched pot never boils, boys.”

Scotty glanced over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“I mean, you might as well relax and let the baby sleep.”

“Maybe there’s wrestling on TV,” Fridge suggested, glancing at the twenty-four-inch set strategically placed on a bookshelf near the fireplace.

Scotty gave him a thumbs-down on that idea. “The noise would wake her up.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Fridge argued.

“You always start yelling ’n’ stuff,” Bean Pole said.

“You’re the one who—”

Elizabeth winced as the bickering rose in volume. Insults were hurled. One shove became two, and she suddenly worried the wrestling match would take place right in the middle of the living room, putting Suzanne at risk of becoming an innocent victim.

But before she could take action, Walker intervened.

“That’s it, boys.” He didn’t shout or react in anger. Even so, the adolescents responded instantly, freezing in midmotion, their mouths slamming shut. “Settle down or take it outside where it belongs.”

Her admiration for Walker’s ability to handle rambunctious teenagers kicked up a notch. Raised as she had been in a family where decorum reigned as gospel, she could barely imagine the day-to-day physicality of living with three adolescent boys. Yet Walker hadn’t flinched. He was every inch a match for the three of them combined.

That thought gave her a little shiver of apprehension. Walker was so big, so strong, a woman would have no choice but to yield to his strength if he demanded it.

Yet, like the boys, she sensed an inner gentleness in Walker. A woman would have no reason to fear him, at least physically.

Protecting her heart would be a different matter.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, arms folded across his chest, Walker leaned against the doorjamb of the sewing room watching Lizzie as she tucked the baby in for the night. A mighty pretty picture she created bending over the playpen but a puzzling one.

A woman with a wedding gown who wore no rings and acted like a debutante not a housekeeper.

The house was quiet now. The boys had gone back to the bunkhouse after lavishing attention on both Lizzie and the baby, hanging around the house until Fridge had his chance to give the ten o’clock bottle.

But the time had come for Walker to get down to business. He couldn’t put off asking his questions any longer.

“The boys sure have taken a liking to you and the baby, Slick,” he said.

Her head came up as though she’d forgotten he was there. “They’re sweet. All of them.”

“I usually describe them as ornery, rebellious and stubborn. Typical teenagers with pasts that haven’t been easy.”

She gave him a faint smile. “It’s obvious you’re doing a good job with them.”

About twenty times a day he questioned both his sanity and whether he was doing right by the youngsters. Still, he did the best he could. He couldn’t ask more than that of anyone.

Giving the baby a final caress, she stepped away from the playpen.

“Will she sleep through the night?” he asked.

“I hope so. But with so much excitement and being in a new place, it’s hard to say.”

He moved away from the door, and she followed him into the hallway where a low-wattage lightbulb cast muted shadows up and down the corridor, disguising the worn wallpaper and carpeting.

In contrast, Lizzie glowed with quiet vitality, her silver-blond hair shiny even in the dim light and her cheeks blooming with a trace of color. There hadn’t been a woman living in this house in more than thirty years. Suddenly that felt wrong, almost as though the house had been incomplete all these years and no one had noticed.

Aware his thoughts were leading him in an unwanted direction, he cleared his throat. “You and I need to talk.”

“It’s been a long day and it’s late. Would you mind if we waited until tomorrow? If Suzanne wakes up—”

“Tonight would be better. I don’t want the boys interrupting us.”

Her gazed flicked to his face for a moment, then she glanced back over her shoulder at the sleeping baby.

“Susie-Q will be fine,” he said. “If she wakes up you’ll be able to hear her downstairs.”

“I wish you had a baby monitor.”

“We’ve never had any need. Teenage boys can yell pretty loud.”

She hesitated again. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“We can talk in your bedroom, if you’d rather. Or mine.”

With a quick shake of her head, Elizabeth rejected both of those options. If she was going to be grilled by a sexy cowboy she didn’t want to be anywhere near a bed. She was already far too aware of Walker’s elemental maleness and the fact that they were alone in the house. She wasn’t about to tempt fate.

She turned on her heel. “Downstairs will be fine.” Her sandals slapped on the worn carpeting as she strode ahead of him. Now was the time to stay calm so she could keep her story straight. This was a perfect place to hide out. Except for the hum of tension she felt whenever Walker was near, the solitude of the ranch and the wide-open range were ideal for serious thinking.

And for learning how to be the woman she wanted to become.

Even the presence of the boys provided a sense of normalcy that would help her focus on what she wanted for her daughter’s future and her own. Help her find the strength she needed to stand up to her family.

Walker was the only fly in the ointment. He was simply too unsettling for a woman’s peace of mind.

She walked into the living room that was still strewn with baby equipment—Suzanne’s car seat, a receiving blanket, the diaper bag—all of which she’d have to take upstairs. She started to gather them up.

“Speed tells me there’s a wedding gown in the trunk of your car.”

Her head snapped up. Damn! She’d forgotten all about the dress.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, faking a bland expression.

“Not unless a groom shows up here toting a shotgun.”

“That’s not likely to happen on my account.”

“Why? Because there isn’t a groom? Or he doesn’t know where you are?”

Heat crept up her neck. Despite the current situation, she wasn’t used to lying. It made her ill to her stomach. The pork chop she’d eaten for dinner did a roll in her midsection and threatened to do worse if she didn’t come clean. Which she didn’t dare. “What makes you think it’s my gown?”

He eyed her skeptically. “Is it?”

“I was taking it to the cleaners’ for my sister,” she blurted out.

“Try again, Miss Thomas. People who are telling the truth don’t blush.”

The heat on her cheeks grew even more intense. “People who are being grilled by a great big lummox of a cowboy might do a lot of blushing.”

He lifted his dark brows, etching his forehead with a double row of creases.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said. Wherever had her manners flown? Ever since she’d been able to walk and talk, her parents had drilled politeness into her head. Doing what was expected of her. Behaving properly. In the past three days she’d forgotten every lesson they’d taught her. Or more to the point, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, she’d finally decided to rebel against everything she’d ever known. To take charge of her own life—for Suzanne’s sake as well as her own.

His lips quirked ever so slightly. “No insult taken. What I’m after is the truth.”

Which was exactly what she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. She didn’t trust him enough for that. “If you’d like, you could call the Merry Maids corporate office to check my references.”

“No one’s likely to be around the office at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Purposefully he walked over to the big native-rock fireplace, picked up the poker and jabbed at a charred log left over from the last fire. “I’d like to know what’s going on now so I don’t have to start making phone calls on Monday morning.”

At least he wasn’t threatening to call the police. So far.

Bending over, she scooped up Suzanne’s blanket and stuffed it in the diaper bag, frantically trying to come up with a story Walker would buy. It’s not like she had a whole lot of experience lying, a serious omission in her liberal-arts education, she now realized.

“Have you ever heard of the witness-protection program?” she ventured.

He stared at her with narrowed eyes but he didn’t immediately dismiss her latest ruse. “Are you saying you witnessed a crime and are hiding out from the criminals?”

Perhaps with enough practice, she’d get prevarication down to a credible art form. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.” And she really, truly didn’t want to risk her family finding her just yet.

It was bad enough her hasty departure might place her family’s ambition to see her brother Robert successfully launched in a political career in jeopardy without Vernon’s support. She didn’t want to deal with her guilt on that subject.

Sliding the poker back into its holder, Walker closed the fireplace screen and considered Lizzie’s latest story. Assuming she really was from Nevada as her license plates suggested, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d come across a criminal element. Hadn’t he heard about the mafia taking over Las Vegas? But he’d thought the state had cleaned up its act. Not that he paid much attention to any news that didn’t involve the weather or the price of beef.

Maybe she had witnessed a crime. Or maybe she’d been scheduled to marry some mafia hit man and had run away at the last minute with her gown in the trunk.

But the way she still couldn’t meet his gaze told him she’d lied to him again.

He walked over to the couch and picked up a cloth diaper she’d used for a spit-up rag, handing it to her.

“Have you broken the law?”

“Oh, no,” she gasped. “Nothing like that.”

For the first time, he believed her. Her response had been too quick, too insistent, to be a lie. He exhaled, surprised by the sense of relief he experienced.

“How ’bout Susie-Q? Is she really your baby?”

“Oh, my God! Did you think—of course she’s my baby!”

He nodded. “I don’t doubt it. She’s got your smile.”

“Don’t you like babies?”

“I like ’em fine, I guess. But it seems to me, being a housekeeper and taking care of your baby at the same time wouldn’t be easy.” With each of her answers, he had new questions.

“I’m sure a lot of stay-at-home moms would agree with you.”

“How about Susie’s father?”

“He…he died.” Her throat worked as though she were trying to tamp down her emotions. “About a year ago.”

“I’m sorry. But are you telling me you’ve been driving around for a year with your wedding gown in the trunk of your car.”

“No. I was going to marry someone else. It was a mistake and I…”