The Rancher Next Door

“We’d love to,” she said with a smile. “If you don’t mind, I’ll phone Suzanne and let her know not to expect us.”

Hattie grinned. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Actually, I would appreciate it if you’d use the phone in the kitchen. That way you can pull a couple of Nora’s dinners out of the freezer and pop them in the oven. I would suggest the lasagna. It’s wonderful. I’m a halfway decent cook, but Nora is amazing.”

Katie headed out the door, then paused. “Are you going to tell her?”

Hattie considered the question. As the meaning sank in, her eyebrows rose. “If you’re asking if I’ll let my daughter know that horrible, hated Fitzgeralds have eaten food prepared by her delicate hand, I’ll have to confess that I plan to keep that information from her.” Her humor faded. “On my good days I tell myself that if there wasn’t a feud, no one would have anything to talk about. On my bad days I wonder how many lives have been ruined because the two families can’t get along.”

Katie thought about the problems she was having with her father. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

She made her way to the bright kitchen. Here, as everywhere else on the ranch, was proof of the Darbys’ recent good fortune. New appliances gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Dark blue granite countertops sat on top of refinished cupboards. The white walls were freshly painted, and blue and white curtains hung at the bay window over the double sink.

After calling Suzanne, Katie crossed to the professional-size refrigerator and pulled open the freezer section. Inside were over a dozen wrapped meals, all clearly labeled with contents and cooking instructions. Katie found two claiming to be lasagna, took them out, along with some frozen garlic bread, then started the oven. She looked in the refrigerator, collected fixings for salad and went to work.

When she was up to her elbows in wet lettuce, she heard footsteps on the hardwood floor. Hattie still needed the walker to help her get around, and the step was too heavy to belong to Shane. Which left only one person.

Just the thought of him made the hairs at the back of her neck rise. Her stomach clenched, and a bit lower than that she felt a tingly shiver that had nothing to do with hunger for food and everything to do with needing a man.

“I wasn’t aware that physical therapists cooked dinner as part of their duties,” Jack said.

She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face him. She understood the workings of ranch life and knew that a man who’d spent a day with cattle generally showered before presenting himself at the dinner table. Even so, she was unprepared for the sight of still-damp hair slicked back from a smooth-shaven face. The shiver turned into a full-fledged attack of nerves that had her torn between throwing herself at him and running from the room.

“Your mother invited Shane and me to dinner,” she said, carefully setting the towel on the counter. “I hope that’s all right.”

He looked at her for a long time. His dark eyes gave nothing away. Unfortunately she found herself wishing she could see a spark of something in the bottomless depths. Maybe a hint that he remembered their past with something other than dismissal or contempt. A flicker of interest or even lingering friendship.