"Okay," Nellie said, drawing out the word. She moved reluctantly to the door. "Well, I'll be with the horses. Everyone tends to gather here about seven for food. That gives you some time yet." Still, she hesitated by the door. "Haley, are you sure you don't want me to help you? It's really okay to tell me."
"I'll be fine," she repeated, trying to remain calm. God, the kitchen was huge. Despite the coolness of the morning, sweat pooled at the base of her spine. She watched Nellie reluctantly leave and she bit her lip. Could she really do this?
She had to. With no money and nowhere else to go, what choice did she have? She couldn't come out of hiding, not until she figured out what to do. She couldn't withdraw money without fear of being traced. And for now she couldn't even call for help, not until she had some hint of who was involved, or until she could clear herself. No doubt, she was in a mess.
With a firm sigh of resolution, Haley searched the kitchen, familiarizing herself. Humming with triumph, she pounced on the shelf of cookbooks she found and buried herself in her new work with the same focus and single-mindedness she tackled everything.
That was exactly how Cameron found her, twenty minutes later-bent over two pans, both steaming from the heat, her brow crinkled in such fierce concentration, she might have been studying Latin instead of cooking. He took a minute to admire how perfectly adorable she looked in jeans. And how perfectly behaved his precocious puppy seemed, sitting at her feet.
"Do you always frown when you cook?"
She jumped in surprise, then made him smile when she shooed him off with a hand. "Go away," she said rudely, turning back to whatever she was stirring. "It's not ready yet."
He would have liked to oblige her, but something smelled so absolutely delicious, his mouth started to water. He moved closer, but whether to satisfy his belly or his strange need to be near her, he didn't know. "I'm starving. What's cooking?"
She spared him a quick, frustrated look. "I need a few more minutes."
"Eggs?" he asked hopefully, trying to catch a glimpse over her shoulder.
The woman actually tried to muscle him out of the way so he couldn't see. "Come on," he cajoled. "Let me look. Mmm. Is that an omelet?"
Her blue-eyed gaze flew to his and he wondered at the surprise he saw there. "Is that what it looks like?" she asked hopefully.
"Yeah, and it looks scrumptious." He leaned over, his body brushing up against hers. She moved away instantly. Max didn't, and yelped when his tail got stepped on.
"I said go away," she mumbled again. "Don't you cowboys hear?"
He smiled. Damned if he didn't like her. "You should know, such sweet talk turns me on." He sniffed appreciatively over her shoulder. As always, he was famished. "God almighty, so does that smell. What is it?"
"It's soap. I don't wear perfume." She swatted at him.
He grinned. "I was talking about the food, sugar. But you smell good, too." Moving in closer, he sniffed in exaggeration at her ear, earning a smack in the chest that had him laughing out loud.
"You fool," she exclaimed, never taking her eyes off whatever smelled so good, but a reluctant quirk of her lips softened her words. Encouraged, he nudged even closer, hoping to talk her into a spoonful, and discovered-perfume or not-she did smell as good as the food.
"Back off," she warned, rolling a shoulder into his chest when he crowded her again.
He did back off, but only because he'd felt her stiffen when he'd touched her, and that quick flicker of something that might have been fear in her eyes bothered him. When her shoulders slumped imperceptibly in relief, he slipped his hands into his pockets and studied her thoughtfully. She wasn't easy around friendly teasing, or maybe just men, and even now she stood there trying to ignore the fact that he watched her. It might be a while before she felt comfortable with the rambunctious bantering he was used to. But he figured, being the patient man he was, he could wait.
Besides, the waiting was half the fun. So he backed off and winked at Max, who lolled his tongue as if to say, I was here first, buddy. Wait in line.
"Food!" Jason exclaimed, staggering into the kitchen, adjusting his arm sling. "Is that really-dare I ask-real food you're cooking?"
"Thank God," Zach said reverently as he moved into the kitchen, as well. He caught a plate in midair when Jason tossed it to him from the cabinet. "It sure smells real."
Cam watched as Haley smiled at his brothers, and damn her if it wasn't an easy, carefree smile.
"It all depends on what you call real food," she said.
Zach moved in close to look, as Cam had done only a moment before. He, too, sniffed in appreciation. Cam waited gleefully. He was going to enjoy watching Haley set down his brother, who in Cam's opinion could use it.
Nothing happened. Except Haley actually moved out of his brother's way to let him see.
Okay, Cameron thought, eyeing his older brother speculatively. Cam knew he and Zach looked alike, with their sun-streaked light brown hair, brown eyes, tall and rangy bodies-but that was where the resemblance ended. Somehow he hadn't thought Zach's quiet, reserved nature would appeal to Haley.
Or maybe he'd just hoped.
Haley laughed at something Jason said; the sweet, musical sound ringing in his ears. Cameron seriously considered hurting his brother, but it would take too much energy. Besides, he was damn hungry.
Zach inhaled deeply, smiled gently at Haley and grabbed a fork. Smiling back, Haley dished out a heaping helping for him. Jason pushed his way in, grinned at Haley from ear to ear, and also earned himself a full plate.
"I'm starving, too," Cam said, muscling his way back to her and grabbing his own plate. But when he held it out to Haley, she just looked at him blankly. "Smells great," he added, with his most charming, gotta-love-me smile. He gestured with his very empty plate, watching out of the corner of his eye as Zach and Jason dug in with gusto.
Haley put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Serve yourself."
Jason laughed, then choked it back into a cough at the murderous look Cam sent him. Ducking his head, he shoveled food into his mouth, unable to contain his knowing grin. "Tough luck, brother," Jason said around a mouthful. "It's terrific, Haley."
"Thanks," she said sweetly, then scowled at Cam. "You're in my way."
She was crazy about him, Cam decided, scooping his own food. Now all he had to do was get her to admit it.
Cooking had been as easy as following the given formula. Or in this case, the recipe. Haley was still riding on the high of that as she contemplated the big, silent, and very messy house.
She didn't have to work, she knew that. She could keep running. Or better yet, make a decision on what to do. But for so many years, she'd been thinking so hard, always pushing herself. For now, just for now, she needed a break.
Nellie had gone into Colorado Springs to have her nails done, claiming she knew exactly how vain it was, but didn't care. If she had to be fat, she'd said with a good-natured laugh, she wanted to at least have good nails.
The guys were off doing whatever ranch people did. Haley had no idea what that was, exactly, but assumed it had something to do with the heavy beating of horse hooves and shouts she'd heard leave not too long ago.
Cleaning was truly a whole new ball game for her. The physical aspect of it felt good, she discovered immediately. Digging out a bucket of cleaning supplies that looked as if it hadn't been used in a while, she attacked the kitchen first. The instructions on the pine-scented cleaner claimed it cleaned tile to a perfect shine.
So why, after running the mop over the tile, didn't it look clean, much less shiny? Frustrated, Haley read the directions again. Then she started over.