RaeAnne Thayne - The Christmas Ranch

“Kitchen mishap,” he said, embarrassed. “I was making spaghetti sauce and forgot to stir. I just tossed it out but I’m afraid the smell tends to linger.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Been there, more times than I can count. I’m a lousy cook.”

“We could start a club.”

She grinned. “Except we’ll be very clear that our members are not to bring refreshments to meetings.”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “Definitely. We’ll put it in the bylaws.”

She paused, then tilted her head. “Do you need a little help? Maybe it’s like grammar, you know? Two negatives making a positive. Maybe with two lousy cooks working together, we can come up with something a little more than halfway decent.”

“English and math in one paragraph. You must be a teacher.”

“Well, I have dual degrees in art history and education. I should also add that while I couldn’t bake a decent chocolate cake if cannibals were waiting to nibble off my arms if I didn’t deliver the goods, I do make a kick-ass red sauce.”

Was she really offering to help him fix dinner? Okay, that was unexpected...and a little surreal.

He ought to politely thank her for the offer and send her on her way. He really wasn’t in the mood for the messy conversation about her parents he knew they needed to have—but he had also spent the past few weeks with very little adult interaction and he was a little desperate to talk about something besides Star Wars and Ninjago.

“Couldn’t hurt. Between the two of us, maybe we could come up with something Joey might actually eat. So far, my efforts in that direction have fallen pretty flat.”

“Excellent. Let’s do it.” She reached to untwist her multicolored scarf then unbuttoned her red wool peacoat. Beneath, she wore a bright blue sweater that matched her eyes. She looked bright and fresh and just about the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

After an awkward moment, he reached to help her out of it, with manners he had forced himself to learn after he joined the military.

Up close, she smelled delicious, some kind of exotic scent of cinnamon and almonds, and she was warm and enticing.

He told himself that little kick in his gut was only hunger.

He took the coat and hung it on the rack then led the way into the kitchen. “Where do we start?” he asked.

She paused in the middle of the kitchen. “First things first. If you don’t mind, I’ll just rinse out the rest of this saucepan before the fumes singe away more of my nasal lining.”

“Go ahead.”

She headed to the sink and ran water in the sink to flush it down then started opening cupboards and pulling things out. “So where is the little snowball-throwing champion?”

“Next door. Playdate with his partner in crime.”

“Is this the infamous Samantha?”

“The very same. Last night we had a talk with her and her parents about the dangers of throwing snowballs at cars. It should now be safe to drive through the neighborhood.”

“Whew. That’s a relief.” She started mixing things in the now-clean saucepan. “So what’s the story here, if you don’t mind me asking? Where are Joey’s parents? I would love to hear they’re on an extended cruise to the Bahamas and you’re just substituting in the parental department for a few days.”

His mouth tightened. “I wish it were that straightforward.”

It really wasn’t her business but the truth was, he didn’t have anybody else to talk to about the situation and found he wanted to explain to her.

“Joe’s dad took off before he was born, from what I understand. I don’t know the details. I was overseas.”

“Military?”

“How did you know?”

“The haircut sort of gives it away. Let me guess. Marines.”

“Close. Navy.”

For reasons he didn’t want to look at too closely, he didn’t mention he had been a SEAL. It was a snap decision—similar to allowing her into his house and his kitchen. If he mentioned it, she might more easily make the connection between him and that rebel camp in Colombia and he couldn’t see any good reason to dredge up the painful past they shared while they seemed to be getting along so well.

“Ah. A sailor.” She seemed to accept that with equanimity. “So Joey’s dad isn’t in the picture. What about his mom?”

He pulled a large pot out to boil water for the pasta. Again, he debated what to tell her and then decided to be straightforward about this, at least. “It’s a rough situation. My sister is in trouble with the law. She’s in jail.”

“Oh, no!”

He could have left it at that but he was compelled to explain further. “Last week she pleaded guilty to a multitude of drug charges, including distribution to a minor. Multiple minors, actually. Right now she is in the county jail in Pine Gulch while she awaits sentencing.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s a mess,” he agreed.

“So you stepped up to help with Joey.”

“Somebody had to. We don’t have any other family.”

She mulled that as she opened a can of tomatoes and poured the contents into the saucepan. “Are you on leave, then?”

“I had my twenty years in so I retired.”

It had been the toughest decision of his life, too, but he didn’t add that.

“You gave up your career to take care of your nephew?”

He shifted, uncomfortable. “I’m not quite that noble. I’d been thinking about leaving for a while.” That was somewhat true. As he headed into the tail end of his thirties, he had started to wonder if he still had the chops for what was basically a younger man’s game. He had started to wonder what else might be out there, but he hadn’t been ready to walk away quite yet and had all but committed to re-up for another four years, at least. Everything changed after that phone call from Cami.

“So what will you do now? Are you sticking around Pine Gulch?”

“Only until my sister’s sentencing. I’d like to go back to the San Diego area where I have a condo and a couple of job offers, but she begged me to stay until she is sentenced so she can see her son once or twice. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let Joey finish school here since he has friends and seems to be doing okay.”

“San Diego is nice. Pretty beaches, great weather. An excellent place to raise children.”

He let out a breath, more uneasy at her words than he should be. He was now raising a child. How the he—er, heck was he supposed to do that? The past few weeks had been tough enough. Looking ahead at months and possibly years of being responsible for a boy who wanted little to do with him was more daunting than his first few weeks of BUD/S training.

He would get through this new challenge like he did that hellish experience, by keeping his gaze focused only on the next minute and then the one after that and the one after that.

Right now, the next minute was filled with a beautiful woman in his kitchen, moving from counter to stove to refrigerator with a graceful economy of movement he found extremely appealing. He liked having her here in the kitchen, entirely too much.

Something about her delicate features, the pretty blue eyes and those wild blond curls held back in a ponytail, made his mouth water more than the delicious aromas now wafting from the saucepan she was stirring on the stove.

He wasn’t sure he liked this edgy feeling. As a rule, he tended to favor control, order.

His turbulent childhood probably had something to do with his need for calm. He had a feeling Hope was part of it, too—after the way he had screwed up on his very first mission as a SEAL, he had channeled all his guilt and regret into becoming a highly trained, totally focused, hard-as-titanium special warfare operator.