Suzannah Davis - The Rancher And The Redhead

Swallowing hard, Roni pushed the sensation aside. Whatever happened, Sam had to be free to make his own choices. Just as soon as they settled the housekeeper situation, she’d have to start disconnecting herself from her dependency on Sam—for his own good. It was the right thing to do. So why, then, did the thought weigh so heavily on her heart?

Roni was still struggling with this quandary when she parked the Jeep at the ranch house. Juggling two brown paper bags of groceries, she started up the porch steps, only to be met by the sound of Jessie’s wails coming from the rear of the house.

She rushed to set her burdens down on the kitchen table, calling out as she went. “Sam, I’m back. What’s the matter with Jessie?”

There was no answer but the baby’s continued sobbing, and alarm raced down Roni’s backbone. She hurried to Jessie’s room, appalled to find her in her playpen, red-faced, alone and wailing as if her heart were broken.

“Oh, honey!” Roni’s heart tightened at the upsetting sight, and her anger blossomed. Where the devil was Sam? How could he have left the child all alone? Lifting Jessie into her arms, she tried to calm the baby. “Hush, Jessie. Roni’s here. It’s all right.”

The tiny girl clutched at Roni’s hair, arched her back and howled in earnest, giant crocodile tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“Come on now, sweetie,” Roni said.

A quick check found Jessie’s diaper dry, and an almost-full bottle in the corner of the playpen proved it wasn’t hunger that fueled the baby’s ire. Noticing the child’s hot cheeks and sweaty neck, Roni carried her to the bathroom for a cooling cloth. But the damp washcloth only infuriated the child even further, and she kicked and squirmed and screamed in a pure tantrum of ill-tempered misery.

Feeling helpless in the face of such fury, her own frustration spilling over, Roni glanced out the bathroom window and caught a glimpse of Sam engaged in some task down by Diablo’s paddock. Appalled, her own fury ignited, due in part to her inadequacy at dealing with Jessie’s squalling, and in part to her incredulity at Sam’s callousness and utter carelessness. Still holding the struggling baby, she stormed outside.

Sam heard her coming and laid the cinch straps he’d been mending across the top rail of the paddock. Even Diablo, Sam’s ebony stallion, raised his elegant head from the hay bale he’d been investigating and pricked his ears toward the ruckus.

Pushing his straw cowboy hat to the back of his head, Sam frowned wearily and demanded, “Why did you pick her up?”

Roni stared. “What? She’s screaming at the top of her lungs! Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”

Sam winced at Jessie’s ear-piercing wails. “She’s been at it all afternoon. Finally figured she’d have to cry it out.”

“How could you?” Roni railed, struggling to hold the flailing child. “You don’t leave a kid alone like that. What if she’s sick? Or hungry? Or—”

“Dammit, Curly, don’t you think I’ve got sense enough to think of all that?” Sam’s dark glower was mute evidence that he was near the end of his own rope. “Little bit started up not ten minutes after you left and squalled the whole time the county caseworker was here. I tried everything, and not a damned thing pleases her.”

“That’s no excuse, Sam Preston,” Roni said, her tone accusing. “You left her!”

“Since all I did just seemed to make whatever it is worse, I thought I’d give her some space. Believe me, I could hear her just fine out here. I’m not a complete dunce.”

“No, just a heartless one!” Roni shouted to be heard over Jessie’s crying. “You can’t treat a baby like...like one of your damn cows. Of all the insensitive, moronic—”

“Curse it, that’s enough.” Sam’s expression was black as thunder, and his jaw thrust out at a militant angle. “You weren’t here, and I had to follow my best judgment—which was working just fine until you came along and got her started again.”

“I did no such—”

“Don’t try to second-guess me, Curly,” he interrupted brusquely, jabbing his forefinger at her nose. “When it comes right down to it, she’s not your responsibility.”

Sam’s harsh words landed like a physical slap and took Roni’s breath. She stared at him, feeling the color drain from her face. Hot tears prickled behind her lids. With a small cry that was barely audible above Jessie’s weeping, Roni turned and stumbled for the house.

“Curly, wait. I didn’t mean—”

Choking, Roni didn’t pause to hear the rest. Calling herself every kind of idiot, she tried to contain the hurt that bubbled over. The worst of it was that despite the affection and attachment for Jessie already blossoming in her unwary heart, Sam was absolutely right. She had no claim on the redheaded angel who was still making a devilish uproar. No bond of blood or commitment, and certainly no right—best friends or no—to instruct Sam on the upbringing of his new daughter. The knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Roni, stop!” Sam caught her from behind just as she reached the back door, his expression stricken. “Oh, God, you’re crying. You never cry.”

“You’d better take her,” Roni said around a knot of tears in her throat. “I—” A sob stole whatever else she meant to say.

Cussing a blue streak, Sam shot a harried glance from side to side, then abruptly dragged Roni, still holding the baby, off the porch and toward his blue Ford pickup. Without further explanation he jerked open the door and thrust her inside. A child’s car seat sat buckled in the middle of the seat.

“Here, strap her in,” he muttered, then pushed Roni’s fumbling hands aside to perform the task on the screaming baby.

“Sam, what—? Please...” Distraught and unnerved, Roni tried to slip out past him, but he caught her, buckled her seat belt much as he’d done Jessie’s, then slammed the door.

“Stay put.” His mouth was grim as he came around to the driver’s side. “We’re going for a ride.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” Sniffling, Roni wiped her tears on the hem of her knit shirt and tried to glare at him. “What’s so all-fired important about taking a ride?”

“Read it somewhere,” he muttered, starting the vehicle. “Supposed to be soothing to cranky kids or something.” He threw the truck into gear and tore down the dusty drive as if all the demons of hell were after them.

“That’s if the baby has colic!” Roni shouted over the engine noise and Jessie’s continued bellows of rage.

“What have we got to lose?”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Crossing her arms, Roni stared mulishly out the window and said nothing further.

Nearly thirty miles later, Jessie’s screams had turned to soft snores. Sam slowed to a more reasonable pace, made a U-turn and headed back toward the ranch.

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” he said finally.

Roni clamped down on her bottom lip to hide a betraying trembling, then forced herself to speak honestly. “It’s true anyway, and I apologize. I overstepped my place. She’s not my responsibility.”

“Roni, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Sam squinted against the orange globe of the sun resting on the western horizon and ran his free hand down his square jaw. “The way you’ve pitched in, you’ve got a right to say whatever you think.”

Roni stroked Jessie’s plump fist, taking care not to wake the sleeping baby. If Sam was offering an olive branch, she would be foolish not to accept it. “Neither one of us has any experience dealing with a little heifer as stubborn as this one.”

“She’s put me through the wringer, all right. It makes me wonder...” He fell silent.