Linda Ford - Falling for the Rancher Father

He reached the cabin door and paused to listen. Laughter came from inside and he forgot to list the other things against Mercy.

Ducking his head, he stepped inside and ground to a halt. Flour covered half the surfaces in the cabin and if he wasn’t mistaken, dough spatters decorated the surfaces that had been spared the flour dusting. The children wore generous amounts of both and Mercy’s hair had turned gray. When had he ever seen such a mess? Was this her idea of looking after the twins? “What exploded?”

The three looked up, saw his expression and glanced around. Their gaze returned to him, guardedness replacing the laughter.

“We made cookies,” Ladd said, his words solid.

“Mercy helped us.” Allie sounded a little more conciliatory.

Mercy didn’t say anything and her gaze dared him to object.

He swallowed hard, the aroma of cookies from the oven overwhelming his annoyance. “Cookies, huh?”

“Want some?” Allie asked.

“They smell good.” He’d overlook the mess in order to enjoy the cookies. And the company of those who had baked them. Tonight he’d clean the mess. At least he’d be too busy to be bored and lonely.

He sat at the table and tried not to look too surprised at the cookies set before him. One was small and slightly black around the edges, another was the size of a saucer, several were balls and one had been shaped into— He peered more closely at it.

“It’s a horse,” Ladd said. “Allie made it.”

Allie stood at Abel’s side waiting for his approval. Who’d have thought to make a horse out of cookie dough? Probably Mercy. “It’s looks very nice.”

Allie beamed her approval.

Mercy handed him a cup of coffee although she didn’t join him and the children at the table.

He studied her out of the corner of his eyes. Was she uncomfortable around him? He had no one but himself to blame if she was. Nor could she find this any more awkward than did he.

He downed his coffee and ate two cookies—one each child had made—pronounced them delicious, then hurried back outside to deal with the load of firewood.

A couple of hours later, he returned to the cabin. When he stepped inside, he blinked at the transformation. The flour and dough had been cleaned up and the vegetable soup Allie craved simmered on the stove. The table had been set for three. No reason he should be disappointed, he told himself. Mercy had to get going if she planned to get back while she could see the trail.

She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out the door.

“Keep alert. I don’t like to think what a man is doing out in the woods.”

She chuckled. “I’ll keep my gun and rope ready and, if need be, use them both.”

He didn’t ask how she’d use them both but, no doubt, she could.

She swung into the saddle and sat there. “I don’t know if you were aware that there are church services at the ranch every Sunday. There’s a service tomorrow, in the cookhouse. Everyone is welcome. If you’re interested.”

“I’d love to come. I want the children to realize that Sunday means church. What time?”

“We meet right after breakfast.” She gave the time. “See you then.”

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