“I bet you didn’t think to get some potatoes at the store in Lusty,” she said to Randy.
“You’re right, I didn’t,” he agreed. “As to other differences? We have spicy food in Billings. But Tex-Mex is only served at a few specialized restaurants. There are things here I’ve tasted for the first time I’d never heard of.”
“I’ve noticed you seem to like Patrick’s taco soup—and his chili.”
“He makes a mean chili,” Lewis said. “Best I’ve ever tasted—sorry, Randy.”
Randy just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, I like his better than mine, too, so no worries.”
The food was good, and she did eat more than she had the night before. But she stopped even when her mouth wanted more, because she didn’t want to give herself any problems.
There’d been codeine in those pain pills she’d taken the day before, and that could sometimes interfere with her regularity.
Michaela might have thought there’d be food left over if she hadn’t seen the way men in general, and these two in particular, could pack away the grub. Lewis got up from the table and cleared away the dishes. Randy poured them all fresh cups of coffee.
“How about, in a few minutes, you take us around the place and tell us what you have in mind for your renovations. Give us an idea what’s ahead for us.”
She’d thought they’d head straight back to bed and nearly pouted. Wow, I have an inner nymphomaniac. How cool. Michaela brought her attention back to the moment. She looked up and understood that the guys must have known where her thoughts had wandered. That smug on their faces told her a tour and a chat would probably lead to more bedroom time, eventually.
“I’d like that. I’m not doing this in any kind of hurry. My plan was to do what I could when I could and make a list and save up so I could hire professional help for what I couldn’t do.”
“That was a good plan,” Randy said.
“But if you’re serious about what you said yesterday at the clinic, about letting others help?” Lewis sat back and kept his gaze on her. “You’ll find you won’t have to actually hire anyone to do anything. The families are teeming with people who know how to do all sorts of things—plumbing, wiring, framing, flooring. We’re not that good at the wiring ourselves, but we’ve a good bit of experience with the rest.”
“I never thought about that.” She shook her head. “I was so determined to stake my claim here I just kind of brushed everyone off.”
“I bet you had a good reason for that, sweetheart.” Randy took her hand in his. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Well, it was a reason, but I’m not certain how good it was.” She blew out a breath.
“Did you know that when it came time to build the barns at Cord and Jackson’s place, the families held a good old-fashioned barn raising?” Lewis asked. “Actually, they had two of them. Jordan Alvarez-Kendall, who’s a contractor by trade, headed up the project.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“The point is, sweetheart, no one does big jobs around here alone. So the fact that so many people want to help you just means you’ve succeeded in staking that claim. As far as the families are concerned, you belong.”
Chapter Eleven
“It’s hard for me to remember the way it was. I only have snippets, like still photographs in my head.” Michaela stood at the first fence that divided the property. She hadn’t actually walked back to this line since she’d been home. Now that she had, she could see beyond this point that some remnants of fencing had been left to fall into disrepair over the years. Dad really did give up on this place years ago.
“I remember Dad on that tractor, and I remember him and Daniel putting their backs into harvesting. Mom had that large vegetable garden, outside the back door.” She smiled. “Hard to forget that, as she had me working in it from the time that I was very young.” They had, in fact, passed an area that could have been that garden as they’d strolled out here. If that was the place it had been, and she was mostly sure that it was, it seemed a lot smaller than when she’d been on her hands and knees weeding it. “The view I’m looking at doesn’t quite match my memory.”
“Can’t see how it could,” Randy said. “You’re an adult now. Your memories are those of a small child.”
“Huh. You’re right. Though it still all looks like a lot of land to me.”
“Well, it is,” Lewis said.
Michaela had put on her boots, because the guys had said they’d wanted a tour of the entire place. She’d thought to begin with her plans for the house, but they argued to do the outdoor part before it got too hot. Of course, it was hot already, the mid-morning sun beating down as it only did, she felt certain, in Texas.
“I don’t recall eating anything that Dad grew—well, except for when he’d send a cow to the butcher.” A memory came, and she pointed to an area ahead and to her left. “I remember seeing a few head of cattle over there, but I don’t have any idea how many he had. I wonder if there are any records hiding in boxes upstairs. Ranch records. I do remember we had a couple of horses, too. Mom and Daniel both loved to ride.”
“And you?” Lewis turned and rested against the fence post. He looked at her in that way he had that told her she was his focus. “Do you love to ride?”
“I do. Or, I did. When I went to college in Austin, I found a place just on the outskirts, a ranch that offered riding lessons to the public.” She blew out a
