Maid in Montana Read online

  He slid an envelope from his pocket. “As you know, the ranch management company direct deposits your salary into your checking account.”

  Her heart stopped. “It’s payday?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Finally. We hold back two weeks pay and only pay once a month, so you probably thought you’d never see cash. But here’s your paystub.”

  “Oh!” Joy coursed through her. She’d been dying to see money appear in her checking account like magic, and here it was!

  “I want you to open that now because the money’s a bit more than you expected.”

  She glanced up at him. His eyes were soft and serious. He worried about her reaction.

  “The first month, you weren’t just doing maid’s work—you were also decorating. So I had my accountant check into average salaries for decorators and that’s reflected in your deposit.”

  She looked down at the amount that had gone into her checking account. Her mouth fell open. “Holy cow.”

  He laughed. “The decorating you did was worth every penny.”

  She swallowed. The extra he’d paid her would significantly reduce her bills. In another month she’d be out of debt, two months from now she’d have a savings account.

  How could a woman not fall in love with this guy? He never missed a trick. He saw everything that went on around him, rewarded people. Appreciated people.

  She blinked back tears. “Thanks.”

  He rose from the table. “You’re welcome.”

  She sat staring at the pay stub, a million things going through her mind. But no matter what direction her thoughts took they always came back to one simple fact. Jeb Worthington was a good man. And at Samuel’s House she had realized that she loved him. He wouldn’t have anything to do with her because he couldn’t have children. But over the past weeks of emailing Macayla, her perspective of motherhood and mothering had changed dramatically.

  But he didn’t know that.

  He walked to the door and for the first time Sophie realized how alone he looked, how deserted. Working for the kids at Samuel’s House or on the ranch he was fine. At lunch and dinner with Slim, he was fine. But when he walked through the kitchen door, into rooms meant to be shared, the family room, media room—his bedroom—the emptiness of his life was obvious.

  At the door, he turned and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded. But when the door swung closed behind him, her heart expanded in her chest. She couldn’t stand to see him alone anymore. She loved him and she knew that if he’d give it half a chance he’d love her.

  But she knew he wouldn’t “give” it a chance. He wouldn’t make a move. If anything was going to happen between them, it would be up to her.

  Her mind made up, she rose from the kitchen table.

  She was either about to change both of their lives or make the biggest mistake of her life.

  An hour later, she stepped through the French doors out into the cool night air. Just as she expected, he was in the pool, cutting smoothly through the glistening water. His muscles rippled as he stroked, the faint sound of his movements cut through the silence.

  He reached the edge of the pool, touched it and turned around again in one clean movement. Mesmerized, she watched, stripping her cover-up and dropping it to the chaise.

  After a few seconds of watching him, her blood virtually sang through her veins. Physically he was perfect, but the arousal that shimmied through her took second place to the feelings swelling her heart. For two weeks she’d hidden the fact that she loved him. And it was time to quit pretending they could only be housekeeper and boss, when they could have so much more if he’d simply open his heart to the possibilities.

  She knew there was only one way he’d accept her, a sacrifice. But tonight it seemed easy. They could have as many kids as they wanted. They simply wouldn’t be biological children. But that was okay. There were plenty of kids like Macayla who needed her.

  It was time to admit that they were meant to be more.

  “Hey.”

  He stopped swimming, twisting to bring himself around to face her.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yeah.”

  He ran his hand down his face to scrape away the water. “What’s up?”

  “I just felt like a swim.”

  “Oh.” He paused for a second as if needing to think that through then he said, “Okay.” He hoisted himself out of the pool. “I’ll leave.”

  “No!” Realizing how sharp her word had been, she took a light breath to soften it. “I mean…The pool’s big enough for both of us. Why don’t you stay?”

  He yanked his towel from the chaise, dried his face and turned to her. “You know why.”

  She took a step closer. “Because we like each other?”

  “Like isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

  She laughed. “All right. Maybe lust is a better word. But don’t you think time’s been working on changing that?”

  She saw from the look on his face that he understood, but the way he drew in a long breath also told her that didn’t make him happy. “Sophie, don’t.”

  She caught his hand, yanked lightly in the direction of the pool. “Come on. Stay with me. Give us a chance.”

  He shook his head sadly. “It wouldn’t work. And you know why.”

  “Yes, because you can’t have children. And you don’t want to deprive me.” She sucked in a breath, steamrolling on before he could stop her. “But the past month with you and the trip to Samuel’s House has changed things for me.”

  He caught her gaze. “What are you saying?”

  “Well, you don’t know this but I’ve been corresponding by email with Macayla.”

  “Sophie—” Her name came out as a growled warning.

  But she laughed. “I know she’s not anywhere near ready to go into a private home. I know she’s still working things out. But someday she’s going to be ready and when she is I’m going to be here for her.”

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Yes, it is,” she insisted. “You might have read her file but her file doesn’t tell the whole story. She had a normal life until her parents died. It’s their deaths that made her so out of control. She only ran from two foster homes before they gave up on her and shipped her to Samuel’s House. She’s different from the other kids. More than anything else she needs to get over her parents’ deaths. We could help her with that.”

  Jeb stepped back, away from her. “Don’t.”

  “I know you’re skeptical, but that’s actually good. You’d keep me grounded. When I’d want to adopt every child who came through the Samuel’s House doors, you’d remind me that adoption isn’t right for some of them. That they need their space. And the best thing we could do for them would be simply to be their friends. But Macayla is different.”

  He took another step back, didn’t say anything.

  She stopped the argument that instantly sprang to her head, finally realizing he wasn’t disagreeing. He wasn’t saying anything at all. “Jeb?”

  He pulled in a breath, let his gaze ripple down the length of her body then squeezed his eyes shut. “If anybody could make me consider adoption, it would be you.”

  She would have laughed. Would have given into the glorious sensation that just having him look at her aroused, but she knew he’d only given her half a statement. He’d said if. If anybody could make him consider adoption…

  If…

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you’re reaching for a solution I rejected long ago. I’m saying I’ve been down this road before and I know where it ends because I’ve been there.”

  Zoe. The little girl Jeb and his wife “almost” adopted. Pete hadn’t known the whole story. He only had part. Even he admitted that.

  “It was you who didn’t want to adopt, wasn’t it? Your wife would have taken Zoe, but you said no.”

  “I said no.”

  Her heart stopped and so did her brea
thing. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “But why?” She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Of course, you don’t! You’re young and healthy and could have a hundred kids if you want. You have choices. I don’t.”

  “So what you’re really saying is that you’re mad that you don’t have choices. If you could have children, it wouldn’t bother you to adopt.”

  “No…Yes…” He turned away. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, you do know. You know very well. You’re standing your ground because you’re mad.”

  “Yes, damn it!” He spun around to face her. “I spent my entire life on the outside looking in. Never enough. Lots of times the kid everybody pitied. I don’t want to be pitied anymore. I don’t want to make excuses and take handouts of affection somebody tosses at me.”

  “I’m not tossing you a handout!”

  “Aren’t you?” He took a slow step toward her. His gaze rippled down her body, then strolled back to hers. “You came out here to seduce me. But instead of jumping into the pool, surprising me, catching me off guard, you called me out. Told me how you were going to compensate for my deficiency. Should I have been grateful? Were you expecting me to fall into your arms? Weep for joy? Tell you you could have me and everything I own because you were willing to sacrifice?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” Shame burned through her. He made her sound so cheap. “You said you wouldn’t have anything to do with me unless I knew what I was getting into. I thought that was what you needed to hear.”

  “Which just goes to show how little you know me.” He laughed harshly. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. We can work this out—”

  “I don’t want to work it out!” His angry shout reverberated through the quiet night. “Don’t you get it? I want to be enough. I want a woman to come to me for me.”

  Sophie stared at him, working to understand what he was saying until she broke it down to the most simple terms. He wanted what she wanted. To be loved. Accepted. But where she would hug everybody in the world to her, hoping to find the person or people who could fill the void, he rejected everybody. Never believing he was really loved. He’d probably done this very thing to his ex-wife.

  And now he was rejecting her.

  No wonder he’d told her to stay away from him. She was a fixer. He didn’t want to be fixed. They were the worst possible combination.

  A lump formed in her throat. Tears filled her eyes.

  Would she ever stop being the little girl trying to make a place for herself looking for love?

  She turned and raced to the French doors. He didn’t call her back.

  Running back to her suite of rooms, she suddenly envisioned her and Jeb in the kitchen the following morning.

  He wouldn’t regret what he’d said, but he would regret hurting her. So he’d apologize, trying to make up for embarrassing her. Apologize for not loving her. Because he couldn’t love and she was the one who was desperate for it, not him.

  Humiliation tightened her chest. She ripped off her swimsuit, but rather than put on pajamas, she stepped into clean jeans and a T-shirt. She pulled things from the dresser drawers and closet, tossing them into her two suitcases. She now had thousands of dollars in her checking account. True, she’d wanted to pay off Brady’s hospital bills with that money, but circumstances had changed.

  She was done being the woman who tried to make everybody else happy. The fixer. The one who scurried to find a way. Only to be rejected every damned time.

  This time she really would be on her own. For real. Not dependent on anybody for anything.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JEB walked into the kitchen at noon the following day expecting to smell lunch and finding the room cold and empty. The coffee he’d made at seven that morning sat on the still warm coffeemaker, smelling stale and strong.

  “Sophie!” he called, striding through the downstairs, angrier than he’d been in a long time. He refused to take the blame for this. She’d started the episode the night before, offering something she really didn’t want to give, and making him feel like a damned fool. Somebody so needy she had to give up what she wanted to make him feel okay.

  Well, he wasn’t having it. He was okay. Just the way he was. He didn’t need anybody fixing him.

  Assuming she was in her suite, maybe even holed up with Brady, he calmed himself before knocking on her door. It wouldn’t do any good to yell. He’d yelled the night before but he’d been angry. Today he wanted to get them back to normal. A boss and housekeeper. A woman who needed him. Not the other way around.

  When his knuckles hit the wood, the wood panel creaked and fell inward.

  He frowned and peered inside. “Sophie?”

  The room was dark and cool. The end tables were clear of the books and magazines she typically had lying around. “Sophie?”

  Nothing.

  He peered into the bedroom. The bed had been stripped. The crib was gone.

  His heart stopped. “Sophie?”

  He walked back to the sitting room, looking everywhere for any sign of an explanation but there wasn’t even as much as a note.

  She’d left him. No note. No goodbye.

  He pulled in a breath. She’d gone?

  He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but the argument they’d had the night before played over in his head and he realized something he hadn’t thought of before this. He’d been so angry, so caught up in the drama of his own troubles, that he hadn’t really considered her feelings. In the light of day, he’d figured she’d be mad, but he’d handled her anger before. Now, looking at the empty room, he suddenly realized he hadn’t just rejected her the night before, he’d embarrassed her. And that was the one thing she couldn’t handle.

  Rubbing his hands down his face, he held back a sea of regret by deciding that maybe this was for the best. He couldn’t be what she wanted. He didn’t doubt that she believed she’d be okay with adoption, but he wasn’t okay with it. She didn’t realize that when he’d said he’d never be a father he meant it. He’d taken control by accepting who and what he was. It was the only way he could reconcile himself. So, no matter how much he liked and wanted Sophie and how much she liked and wanted him, he wouldn’t deprive her.

  This was for the best.

  Turning, he strode to the door but a swatch of blue caught his gaze. He stopped. Brady’s shiny blue bear lay on the floor. He stooped and picked it up. His eyes squeezed shut, but he willed away the pain, the regret, the sense of loss.

  She’d gotten him to say and feel a hundred times more than what he knew was good for him. He was limited. Pretending he was okay—normal—when he wasn’t, only made him feel worse.

  Walking to the kitchen he opened the trash and tossed the bear inside. She wouldn’t be back for it and hadn’t left a forwarding address for him to mail it to her.

  It was time to get on with the rest of his life.

  Again.

  Sophie awoke along a deserted stretch of highway with Brady crying in the car seat behind her.

  She groaned at the stiffness of her body from sleeping sitting up. “Sorry, buddy.” She’d left so late at night that around three o’clock, her eyelids had grown heavy and she’d known she had to stop to get some sleep. Brady slept soundly in the car seat, so she pushed her seat back and nodded off.

  “I’ll feed you and we can get back on the road.”

  Pulling a bottle from the cooler, she told herself not to think about Jeb. Not to wonder if he’d noticed her gone. Not to feel a spark of hope that he might come after her, look for her. Because she knew he wouldn’t.

  The embarrassment she’d felt—not from his rejection but from her stupidity in putting herself out to him—washed over her like a tsunami, but she decided the intense humiliation was a good thing. If she remembered the desperate expression on his face when he looked at Brady, her feelings softened. If she thought too long or too hard about what he said, she understood him
. Because their battle was the same battle. Neither one of them really had anybody who loved them.

  But if she remembered the humiliation, remembered that he refused her love, then she could get mad and probably even stay mad, and hopefully forget the crushing blow to her heart.

  She fed Brady, forcing her mind to more pressing concerns. She had enough money for the first and last month’s rent and even a security deposit, but if she didn’t soon find a job she wouldn’t have money for food. She drove the remainder of the way to California focusing her energy on the task at hand. She had to find work…and quickly.

  Just over the border into California, she stopped at a diner and grabbed a copy of the local newspaper for something to read while she ate her late dinner. The paper automatically opened to the classified, she looked down and saw the ad for a two-bedroom apartment over a garage.

  “I see you’re looking at the ad for the Murphy place.”

  Smiling up at the waitress, Sophie closed the paper. “Not really. The paper just sort of opened.”

  The middle-aged woman handed her a menu. Dressed in a pink uniform with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, the waitress looked about fifty. “It’s a great little apartment. Cheap, too.”

  “Yeah, well, it would have to be free next month because I don’t have a job.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a maid.”

  The waitress sighed. “Too bad you’re not a cook. I happen to need one.”

  “You own this place?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’m not a trained cook, but I can cook.”

  “We don’t get too fancy here. It’s not like you have to know anything more than eggs and beef stew.”

  Sophie laughed, but inside her heart stuttered. If she got this job she wouldn’t have to go back to her parents and admit she’d lost her maid’s job. She could rent the available apartment, live in an entirely different town, make new friends—make a new life.

  “I get a little fancier than that.”

  “How fancy?”

  “I make a wicked ziti.”

  The older woman laughed, extended her hand for shaking. “I’m Maggie. I lied when I said we didn’t get too fancy because I was desperate. We need a cook so I was willing to take what I could get. But we’re also just off the interstate and we get all kinds here. Truth is if you cook well, I’d happily make it worth your while to say.”