Boone sat down on the bed and lit the candle on the nightstand. The daylight was quickly fading. He pulled off his boots, rubbing one foot over the other. Once he’d stimulated warmth back into his toes, he lay down and rested his head against the feather pillow.
He couldn’t help but think back to six months ago. It had never been his dream to work as a roustabout on an oil rig off the coast of Galveston, Texas. And that was where he’d met Russell Eldon.
Boone hadn’t cared much about making friends, only about making money to buy back the ranch he’d lost. Russ wanted to give something to the child he’d abandoned, and he couldn’t stop talking about it.
Sharing close quarters, Boone had listened to Russ’s story. How at twenty-one he’d gotten a girl pregnant. In a panic, he’d taken off, even before he knew if she had the baby or not.
About a year ago, Russ had learned that he had a son. For the past months he’d worked on the oil rig to make fast money so he could help with support before he came to meet his child. Jesse Hughes.
It wasn’t to be. Last summer they’d been evacuated when a hurricane headed for the platform, but the last helicopter crashed and they all ended up in the gulf.
A shiver went through Boone as he recalled that awful night. The rough waters that kept pulling him under. The excruciating pain in his injured shoulder. His struggle to stay conscious. Through it all, he kept hearing Russ’s voice, telling him not to give up. The guy had been there with him, keeping him afloat until help came.
Boone shut his eyes, seeing Russ’s face as the rough waters took him down, all the time knowing it should have been him who died that night.
If Russ hadn’t had to rescue him, Jesse wouldn’t be without a father.
Chapter Four
THROUGH THE FOG Boone heard a feminine voice whisper his name. A rush of sensations drifted through him, and his body stirred with longing. He groaned, wanting the dream to go on. Then came the gentlest of touches, and warmth shot through him.
She spoke his name again and he blinked, aching to see her, praying reality would be even better. When he opened his eyes, he saw Amelia Hughes’s face in the dim candlelight.
She smiled shyly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he returned.
Her gaze was guarded and she stepped back from the bedside. “Sorry to wake you, but you said you wanted us to let you know when it’s suppertime. Jesse wasn’t sure what to do when he found you asleep.”
He wiped a hand across his eyes, taking time to ease his racing pulse. “Thanks, I’m glad you woke me.” He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. “I don’t usually fall asleep on the job.” He checked his watch to see that two hours had truly passed.
“It’s probably the boredom,” she said. “There isn’t much to do trapped in the house.”
He definitely hadn’t been bored since coming here. The brisk chill in the room made him realize he wasn’t going anywhere, not for a while, anyway. He noticed Amelia wore a long sweater that covered her all the way down past her shapely hips. On her feet were heavy, wool socks.
“How’s the wood holding out?”
“I’ve been keeping both fireplaces going, but even after closing off the upstairs, it’s still chilly. We’re managing for now, but tonight the temperature is predicted to drop well below freezing.”
Boone pulled on his boots, trying not to think about the intimacy of her watching him. He stood and walked toward her. At six foot three, he towered over most women, but Amelia was also tall. He liked that. She tilted her head back slightly as her emerald eyes met his gaze. Suddenly his mouth went dry. There wasn’t much about this woman that he didn’t like. She was definitely trouble.
“I’ll bring in more wood.”
“It can wait until later,” she said. “I don’t want your supper to get cold.”
He wasn’t used to anyone worrying about him. “Okay.” With a nod he followed her into the warmer kitchen. The table was adorned with candles and three place settings.
“Hi, Boone.” Jesse came over and took his hand, leading him to the seat at the table. “Mom made stew for supper. It’s my favorite.”
Amelia placed her hands on her hips. “Hey, I thought you liked my macaroni and cheese best.”
The boy nodded his head. “I like that, too. I like everything you make.” He turned to Boone. “Mom’s the best cook. She makes pies for the diner in town. Everybody loves them.”
“Jesse,” she warned. “Stop bragging.”
“I’m only saying what’s true, Mom. Even Mrs. Hoffman at church said so. She told my teacher, Miss Claire, that Mom’s a good catch.”
Amelia gasped. “Jesse Thomas Hughes you’re not supposed to listen to other people’s conversations.”
“But I didn’t, Mom. They were talking right to me.”
Boone tried hard not to smile as a blushing Amelia came to the table. She avoided his gaze as she placed the soup tureen in the center, then went back for the basket of rolls.
She sat across from Boone. “Enjoy this meal, because if this storm keeps up, no one will be eating anything but canned soup.”
“Are we going to be snowed in for Christmas?” The boy looked worried. “And what about Izzy’s puppies?”
Amelia spooned up a bowl of stew for Boone. “She’s not on her own, we’re here to help if she needs us.”
Boone took the warm bowl. “Thank you.” He looked at Jesse. “I think she can handle it.”
“Have you ever seen puppies born?” Jesse asked Boone.
“No, but I’ve helped with calves and foals. Believe me, mamas know what to do.”
Jesse gave his mother a curious look. “Mom, did you know what to do when I was born?”
Even in the dim light, Boone watched another blush cover Amelia’s face. “Well, not everything, but I had Aunt Kelley and Gram Ruby with me. And the doctor, of course.”
Still looking bewildered, the boy picked up his spoon. “Do I get to help Izzy, too?”
Amelia placed a napkin on her lap. “Well, I’m not sure.”
“It depends on Izzy,” Boone jumped in. “She might just want to do it all by herself.”
“Is that why Mom put a big box in the closet?”
Boone nodded. “So Izzy can have some privacy.”
Before Jesse could ask another question, Amelia spoke up. “Let’s say grace so we can eat.”
Jesse took his mother’s hand, then held out the other to Boone. It had been a long time since he had much to pray about, but maybe it was time he started. He took the boy’s hand, then reached across the table for Amelia’s. For a second he allowed himself to think about a home and family.
Amelia liked the feel of Boone’s large hand. Too much. The man was little more than a stranger. That alone sent up warning signals. She definitely couldn’t let herself romanticize the situation. She let that happen once, not again. She had a lot more at stake this time than to be foolish enough to allow some good-looking cowboy turn her head.
She glanced at her son as he talked with Boone. It didn’t take much to get a five-year-old’s attention. Especially since all he’d ever wanted was a father.
“Are you going to be here for Christmas, Boone?”
“Not