The Cowboy's Valentine

“Anytime. They’ll be in Grandma Duggan’s cookie jar if you find yourself snackish.” She gestured towards a stone crock that she must have unearthed from somewhere, now sitting on the counter next to the toaster.

“Will do.”

Quinn put the lid on his dish and shoved everything back in his lunch bag, then put it in the fridge, empty, where he’d collect it at the end of the day.

Back in the office he pulled up a spreadsheet and tried to wrap his mind around the numbers in the columns, but nothing was fitting together right. His focus was shot. He kept getting stuck on the look on Lacey’s face when she admitted she using baking as a coping mechanism. She’d looked lonely. Vulnerable. Feelings he could relate to so easily that when she’d put her fingers on his sleeve, he’d been tempted to turn his hand over and link his fingers with hers.

Ludicrous. Crazy. Duke Duggan’s sister, for Pete’s sake. His boss’s pain-in-the-butt sister who hated anything to do with ranching.

With a frown he tweaked the column again, fixing the formula at the end. It wouldn’t do to start thinking of Lacey Duggan in a friendly way. Certainly not in a kindred spirits kind of way.

A few hours later he heard her go out the door, heard her start her car and drive away. He let out a breath. Working here while Lacey was living at the house was going to be tougher than he thought—and not for the reasons he expected.

She wasn’t back yet when he got his lunch bag from the fridge and left to pick up Amber. But when he got home, and as supper was cooking, he opened the bag to take out his dirty dishes. To his surprise, the container that had held his lunch was perfectly clean, and a little bag was beside it, full of cookies. A sticky note was stuck to the front. “For you and Amber,” it said.

Quinn swallowed. Lacey had to stop being so nice, trying so hard. She was going to make it difficult for him to keep disliking her if she kept it up.

Chapter Three

Lacey had only been at Crooked Valley three days when she got her first phone call, asking her for an interview. A company in Great Falls was looking for someone to do their payroll. When Quinn came in for lunch on the day of the interview, she was running a lint brush over the dark material of a straight skirt. For some reason little bits of fluff kept sticking to the fabric, and she wanted to look perfect.

Her head told her it was just an interview at a manufacturing company, not a high-powered lawyer’s office or anything. Neat and tidy business wear would have sufficed, but she was determined to put her absolute best foot forward. She’d brought out the big guns: black pencil skirt, cream silk blouse, patent heels.

She was turning into the kitchen from the downstairs bath at the same time as Quinn entered from the hall. Both of them stopped short, but Quinn just stared at her. “Oh. Hi.” He sort of recovered from the surprise but his expression plumped up her confidence just a little. It was definitely approval that glowed in his eyes for the few seconds before he shuttered it away.

“I have an interview this afternoon,” she said, grabbing some hand lotion from the windowsill above the sink. She rubbed it into her hands as Quinn opened the fridge. “In Great Falls.”

“That’s good news,” he answered, but now she noticed he was avoiding looking at her.

She frowned. Maybe she’d misread his expression before. “Do I look all right, Quinn? Should I maybe wear a different top or something? Are pearls a little too much?” She touched the strand at her collarbone. They were her grandmother Eileen’s pearls. As the only granddaughter, they’d automatically gone to her. She rarely wore them, but it seemed appropriate somehow now that Lacey was living in the farmhouse. Like a good luck charm.

“You look fine,” he answered.

Her frown deepened. He hadn’t looked up when he said it, just stuck his lunch in the microwave and set the timer.

“I was hoping for something more than fine. More like, ‘Wow, let’s hire this one on the spot.’”

He turned and looked at her then, his face set in an impersonal mask. “You look great, Lacey. Very professional.” He paused. “Very pretty.”

It might have meant more if it didn’t seem as if it pained him to say it.

“Thanks,” Lacey replied, and then felt a bit silly. She hadn’t really been fishing for a compliment, but it felt that way now.

She wanted a splash of color, so she transferred her wallet and necessary items from her black purse to a turquoise handbag. “I made a coffee cake this morning,” she said, doing a check for her car keys. “It’s under the domed lid. Help yourself.”

The microwave dinged and Quinn took out his lunch. “You trying to fatten me up with all this baking?”

“Not much chance of that.” The words came out before she could think. She’d noticed Quinn’s build. A little on the slim side, and she wondered if it was because he found it hard to work and be a full-time dad and do all the household things that needed to be done. “Like I said, I enjoy doing it. And I don’t really have anyone to cook for. Duke’s started coming in for coffee break each morning, and sometimes Carrie comes with him, but she’s really watching her diet with the baby and all.” Once again, the little pang of envy touched her heart but she pushed it away.

She’d never have a big family to cook for. She might as well accept it.

She took a minute and looked at Quinn. Really looked at him, and wondered what it must be like to lose a spouse and try to raise a small child on your own. Certainly he was doing a good job, but at what cost? She noticed he didn’t smile all that often, and his eyes had lines at the corners. He wasn’t that old, either. Maybe midthirties at the most. It seemed more like life had aged him.

“Quinn, how’s Amber doing?”

He shrugged and twirled some spaghetti noodles on his fork. “She’s fine. Likes preschool. Does okay at the day care.”

“It must be rough, bringing her up on your own.”

He looked up at her sharply. “We get by.”

“Oh, of course you do. I just thought that...” She hesitated. What was she thinking, anyway? She didn’t really want to get involved with Quinn’s life, did she? They’d sort of formed a truce since she’d moved in. Less criticizing and arguing, and that was good. Still slightly awkward, but good.

Truth of the matter was, Lacey was lonely. She didn’t know anyone in Gibson, didn’t have contact with colleagues since she was out of work, and she was going just a little bit stir-crazy here at Crooked Valley.

“I just thought that since cooking for one is a real pain, maybe I could send some food home with you. It’s stupid. I make a recipe and then end up either freezing or throwing out half because it’s more than I can eat.”

“Didn’t you cook for one before?”

She did, but it was different. “To be honest? I froze some, and I often gave some to a neighbor. She was elderly and alone and struggled to cook for herself and eat enough.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped at her. “So what, Amber and I look like we need charity, is that it?”

“No!” She twisted her fingers together. “I didn’t mean that.”

“We get along just fine, thanks.” His lips were set, and Lacey dropped the subject. She hadn’t meant to insult him or imply he was, well, lacking in any area.

“I’d better get going, then,” she said quietly, and picked up her handbag.

“Good luck. I hope you get it,” he answered, but his voice lacked any warmth and the encouragement stung. Sure he hoped she got it, so she’d be out of his hair. Message received loud and clear.

She reached for her coat and keys and left him sitting there at the table. Maybe he was lonely and bitter but she didn’t have to be! She was starting a new chapter in her life, and Quinn Solomon was not going to bring her down.

But fate had other ideas that afternoon. The directions that had seemed so clear earlier were suddenly not, and she got turned around. It was five minutes after her scheduled appointment time when she pulled into the parking lot. In her rush, she snagged her panty hose getting out of the car and there was no time to change or take them off, just hope that it wouldn’t be visible once she was seated.

She stopped outside the office door, blew out a breath, rolled her shoulders, pasted on a smile and walked in.

“Hi,” she greeted the receptionist. “I’m Lacey Duggan, here for the interview?”

The receptionist looked at her over the top of her glasses. “Just have a seat for a minute. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

If she were any more hyped up she’d explode. “Maybe some water? That’d be great.”

The woman returned with a small glass of water. Lacey removed her coat and hung it on a nearby coat tree and she reminded herself to calm down. It had only been a few days. This was her first interview. She took a sip of water and at the same time, her cell phone buzzed in the purse on her lap. It startled her enough that she jumped, and splashed water on the front of her silk blouse.

For the love of Mike.

An office door opened just as she was reaching in her bag for her phone. She dropped it back into the purse and stood up as a friendly-looking woman came out and smiled at her. She would get herself together and ignore her bad luck so far...

“You must be Ms. Duggan. I’m Corinna Blackwood. We spoke on the phone yesterday.” She held out her hand and Lacey shook it.

The head of HR. And she looked approachable. Maybe Lacey could turn this around.

“I tried to call you about an hour ago,” Ms. Blackwood said, stepping back. “I’m sorry you drove all this way. We filled the position earlier this afternoon.”

Lacey swallowed, so surprised she didn’t know how to respond. “I see.” She licked her lips and tried not to sigh. “I drove in from Gibson. I must have just missed you.”

“Yes, I spoke to someone at your home number. He said he’d try to reach you. I’m assuming he was unsuccessful.”

Lacey felt her cheeks heat and struggled to keep her composure.

“I’m very sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Duggan.”

Lacey blinked and got herself together. She called up a smile. “Me, too, but perhaps you can keep my résumé on file? In case anything else comes up in your accounting department in the future.”

Ms. Blackwood’s face lightened. “I certainly will. Can we offer you a coffee or something?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, trying to mask her disappointment. “But maybe I’ll leave you my cell number as well as my home number.”

Ms. Blackwood seemed to appreciate the wry sense of humor and nodded. “Give it to Jane, here, and she’ll put it on your résumé. It was nice to meet you.”

They shook hands again, and then Lacey found herself back outside the office door.

She walked across the parking lot, the winter air freezing against her legs. Stupid shoes...she’d worn them for vanity and now it was for nothing and she was freezing her toes off. She turned on the car and finally looked at her phone. There were two text messages, one from Quinn and one from Duke.

The first one said Call home as soon as you get this. Q.

The second was the one that Duke had sent while she was in the office. Did Quinn get in touch with you?

She texted Duke back right away and let him know she was on her way back. Then she texted Quinn and simply replied that she’d just received his text and thanks.

Quinn already knew, then, that she didn’t get the job. Great. She loved looking like a failure in front of him.

Worse, his truck was still in the yard when she got home. She would have preferred to lick her wounds in peace, but apparently today was just not her lucky day. Wearily she turned the key in the door and walked in, only to hear the television going and some very girlish laughter.

Amber was here.

Lacey tried to be annoyed but she couldn’t. Amber was a total doll, clearly more like her mother than her father. She smiled easily and had gorgeous curls that set off a pair of impish blue eyes. Lacey shut the door and put her handbag on the first step of the stairs, then slipped off her heels. The office door to her right was closed; Quinn was probably in there working. She went through on stocking feet and found Amber sitting at the table, coloring some sheets that Lacey guessed were from school, and watching cartoons.

“Well, hello,” she greeted. “Whatcha got there?”

“Lacey! Daddy said you were here!”

To her surprise, Amber hopped down from the chair and hugged Lacey’s legs.

Suddenly the day didn’t seem so gray.

“Okay, okay. No day care today?”

“Miss Melanie was sick today. Daddy came to pick me up after school, but he said he had some work to do first so I could watch TV.” She looked up at Lacey, her eyes troubled. “Is that okay? You live here. Maybe Daddy should have asked p’mission.”

God, if the kid were any more sweet she’d be made of sugar. “It’s perfectly fine. You go ahead and carry on with the coloring. I’m going to change out of my clothes, okay?”

“But why? You look pretty.”

Now there was a compliment that was heartfelt and Lacey smiled a little. “Why, thank you. But I think I’ll put on something a little more comfortable so I can cook some dinner.”

Instead of getting back in her seat, Amber followed Lacey down the hall to the stairs. “What are you going to make?” she asked, and Lacey hid a smile.

“If you were me, what would you make for supper?”

Amber followed her up the stairs. “I would make...fried chicken and ’tato salad.”

It sounded like a strange order, and Lacey looked down at her companion. “Really?”

Amber nodded. “’Cause it’s Daddy’s favorite only he doesn’t know how to make it and I’m too little.”

And just like that Lacey’s heart did a little turn. Quinn and Amber did the best they could. It wasn’t hard to forgive him for his earlier sharpness. After all, he’d tried to pass on the message right away and it was her own fault she hadn’t gotten the text. That she’d gotten lost.

“Now, what a coincidence! I was just going to make that!”

Amber turned her head sideways and peered up at Lacey as they reached the top step. “What’s a coinc’dence?” She struggled over the word.

Lacey smiled. “Well, it’s like taking two things that aren’t related at all and connecting them together.”

“Like me and my best friend, Emma? We’re not related but purple is both our favorite color.”

Bad grammar and all, Lacey was enchanted. “Well, sort of like that.”

Amber actually followed her right into the bedroom and plopped up on the bed while Lacey went to the closet for a pair of sweats and an old hoodie. Not sure how Quinn would feel about Amber’s intrusion, she did a quick change right in the closet and came out in her comfy clothes.

“Ta-da! Presto chango!”

Amber fell over on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“Amber? Where’d you go?”

“Uh-oh,” the girl whispered, crawling off the bed. She stuck her head out the bedroom door. “I’m up here, Daddy.”

“You’re not supposed to wander around upstairs. You know that.”

Lacey was right behind her. “That’s okay. She came up with me.”

Quinn’s face changed, adopting that impersonal mask again that Lacey was starting to hate. “Oh. I didn’t know you were back.” He looked at Amber again. “Don’t you go bothering Lacey, now.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

Lacey put her hand on Amber’s curls. “It’s okay. I had a cruddy afternoon and Amber’s a real ray of sunshine.”

“You’re sure?”

Lacey nodded. “I’m sure. Tell you what.” She squatted down beside Amber. “Sometimes when you come over, I might not have time to hang out. If I tell you that I’m busy, you’ll respect that, right?”

Amber’s little head bobbed up and down. “I won’t get in your way.”

Lacey got the feeling that Amber’s life revolved a little too much around being out of the way. Her heart ached for the little girl. Lacey wasn’t a stranger to that sensation, either. Being the middle child in a single-parent home, she’d often felt invisible. Superfluous.

She held out her hand and they went down the stairs together, with Quinn waiting at the bottom. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he was tense about it. “Amber, why don’t you go tidy up your crayons? Then you can help me in the kitchen if you want.”

“Yay!” Amber raced off, while Lacey faced Quinn at the bottom of the stairs.

“You don’t have to babysit her,” he said quietly, so his daughter couldn’t hear. “She’s used to amusing herself while I finish up.”

It hurt a little to say, but she did it anyway. “Quinn, I like kids. Amber’s sweet. I mean it. If she’s in my way, I’ll speak up. But you know I had a rotten afternoon. She really did perk it up.”

“You didn’t get my text, did you?”

She shook her head. “Not until after I’d gotten lost, ripped my panty hose, spilled water down my front and was told the position was already filled.”

He laughed then, a dry chuckle that made her smile. “I know. It sounds ridiculous,” she added.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, and this time she knew he meant it.

“Ah well, it was my first nibble and it’s only been a few days. Something will turn up.”

“Yes, it will.” His gaze was warmer as he looked at her and there was a moment where she got the feeling they almost...understood each other. But that was nuts. Oil and water. That’s what they were...what she had to remember.

And she remembered the way he’d told her she looked pretty and got a little whoop-y feeling in her stomach.

“I’d better finish up,” he said softly, and for the briefest moment his gaze dropped to her lips. Oh. Oh, my. She sucked in a breath.

“Okay.”

Quinn left her standing there, still reeling from the split second where he’d stared at her mouth. He couldn’t be attracted to her. Couldn’t have thought about kissing her. He didn’t even like her!

She didn’t like him, either, but if she were honest, the thought had crossed her mind that kissing him might not be so bad.

The door to the office closed and she shook her head. Fried chicken. Potato salad. She’d better get on it if they planned to have a decent dinner.

* * *

AMBER WAS AS much a distraction as a help in the kitchen, but Lacey didn’t mind. She cut up the potatoes and Amber put them in the pot, and then while they waited for them to cook, Lacey set the girl to work mixing dressing for the salad while she put together seasoning for the chicken. Together they decided on frozen corn for a side, with a dish of sliced cucumbers, Amber’s favorite raw vegetable. Potatoes were drained and rinsed repeatedly in cold water to cool them down, and Lacey started frying the chicken while Amber poured corn kernels in a casserole dish for heating in the microwave. They agreed on celery and a little red pepper in the salad but no onion, and by the time Quinn came out of his office, the chicken was frying merrily in a pan, the salad was in a pretty scalloped bowl, and the microwave was running.

“What on earth is all this?” he asked, staring at the mess on the countertops.

“We made dinner! I helped! It’s your favorite, Daddy. Fried chicken!”

She looked up at him so happily that Lacey could tell he didn’t have the heart to scowl.

“Fried chicken? How did you know that’s my favorite?”

“Chicken and ’tato salad! Everyone knows that.” She rolled her eyes and Lacey laughed.

“You’re expected to stay, you know.” She said it softly, holding a pair of tongs in her hand. “I made enough for all of us. This way you don’t have to go home and worry about supper.”

She could tell that Quinn was torn. After their conversation at noon, this was exactly what he said he didn’t want. She lifted her chin. “It was Amber’s idea,” she added.

His gaze held hers. Momentarily she felt guilty for putting his little girl in the middle, but Amber was very hard to resist. Couldn’t he see how happy his daughter looked right now?

“Amber, why don’t you set the table? Do you know where everything is?” she asked, breaking the connection.

Amber nodded and raced for a step stool that allowed her to reach the plates and glasses in the cupboard. Lacey turned the chicken in the pan, putting the splatter screen over the top again to keep the grease from dotting the top of the stove. She heard Quinn behind her, helping Amber put things on the table in preparation for the meal.

It felt homey. It felt...like everything Lacey was sure she’d been missing. Only this wasn’t her family. Not her husband, not her daughter, not her home. It was just pretend. Something to make her feel better, to fill the gap until she got her life in order again.

And if now and again it gave Quinn a hand, all the better.

When had she started caring?

The chicken was perfectly done and she removed it from the pan and put it on a platter. The salad was placed in the middle of the table, and she added a sprinkle of paprika for color, then put the bowl of corn on a hot mat and stirred in just a little bit of butter. “There,” she said, stepping back. “All done. Let’s eat.”

She took the spot at the foot of the table while Quinn sat at the head, where he normally ate his lunch, and Amber was in between them on the side. Lacey watched as Quinn helped Amber put salad, corn and cucumbers on her plate, and then chose a drumstick for her to eat. Her eyes were huge as she looked at all the food and then, just as Lacey was about to taste her first bite of potato salad, Amber dropped her fork with a clatter.

“Daddy! We forgot to say grace!”

He put down his fork. “So we did.”

Amber turned her face to Lacey. “Do you want to say it, Lacey?”

Lacey struggled to answer. Grace was not really her thing. They’d never said it at home at mealtime and she wasn’t quite comfortable right now, being put on the spot.

“Why don’t you say it, sweetie?” Quinn came to the rescue and made the suggestion.

“Okay.” When Lacey sat still, Amber held out her hand. “We hold hands, like this,” she said, wiggling her fingers.

Hesitantly Lacey took the little fingers in her own, and watched as Quinn held Amber’s other hand. Her heart melted a little bit as Amber’s eyes squinted shut.

Lacey was expecting a scripted blessing, sort of the “God is great, God is good” thing she remembered from vacation Bible school when she’d spent time here at Crooked Valley when she was little. But instead, Amber took a few seconds to think before she offered up a simple prayer.

“Dear God, thank you for fried chicken and ’tato salad and for my daddy and for my friend Lacey. Amen.”

When she was done she dropped their hands, picked up her drumstick and took a bite, utterly unconcerned.

But Lacey met Quinn’s gaze and saw something there she wasn’t prepared for. She saw beyond the ranch manager and her biggest critic and the single dad to the man beneath.

And that man made her catch her breath.

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