When she finally sat down across from him with her own plate of buttered bread, she looked happier than she had since her parents had left.
“Things are going well?” he asked her between bites.
“I love baking,” she said with a sigh.
“Why don’t you do it more often?”
She shrugged and her smile slipped. “There’s never really that much time to.”
“This bread is better than anything I can buy in town,” he said truthfully.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Thanks.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “It’s the truth. Have you thought about selling it?”
She frowned. “Selling? Like you’re selling your jelly?”
“Amongst other things. I made enough last year at the local farmers markets and in a few hand-selected stores to buy my truck.”
She sat up, and her eyes got a little wider. “Seriously?” She bit her bottom lip.
“You could always try. The next farmers market is this Sunday. I’ll bet since it’s the week before Christmas, you’d make a killing. Some people don’t like to bake for themselves for the holidays. Especially if they’re traveling. If you made a dozen of each of these”—he motioned to the breads—“a bunch of those”—he pointed to the oven—“along with a dozen or so pies, I’d wager you will sell every last one.”
She tilted her head. “I could sell some of the cinnamon rolls and coffee cake along with slices of bread individually. You know, for people to eat as they’re walking around.”
“Throw in some Christmas cookies, and I’d bet you’d make a killing,” he said, taking another bite.
She bit her lip again. “I don’t know if I have time to…”
“Hey, remember, you have me to help out around here. Use me.”
She smiled and then laughed. “Okay, I won’t turn away free labor. Not when I could possibly earn enough to buy a new truck. Or at least new tires for mine.”
For the rest of the morning, while they enjoyed the cinnamon rolls and worked around the ranch, they talked about what would be needed for her to sell her baked goods at the next farmers market.
Normally, he had Cheryl, the wife of one of his workers, man the booth at the market. He gave her a small cut of the profits. She also sold some of her jewelry in the booth.
He called her and she agreed to letting Kara set up another table with her baked goods this weekend.
Kara decided she’d need a full day to prepare, which meant he’d have to make sure everything ran smoothly at his place. She’d called Liz and her best friend had agreed to help her bake and prepare everything.
Since his father’s death, he’d realized that even with his dad’s failing health, the old man had done more than he’d known.
His phone rang constantly that morning while he helped Kara. Shortly after lunch, he had to leave her and head back to his place to deal with a broken flatbed truck, which they used to haul the hay out to the fields. Then there was a small fight between two temporary workers. In the end, he had to let the instigator go, and he and Daryl escorted the man off the property.
It wasn’t the first time that had happened, nor, he figured, would it be the last. Part-time workers were hard to come by, especially in Wyoming.
His full-time workers were steady enough that Nick didn’t have to worry much about them. Thankfully, by the next day, the worker had been replaced with another.
Still, it was almost noon by the time he made his way over to Kara’s place. He found her in the barn, trying to clean some riding gear.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, stepping inside the barn.
She glanced up and smiled. “You’re not. Remember, you’re only helping me out. You don’t work here.”
He took her hips in his hands and then pulled her into a kiss. “It’s been crazy the last few days. But I just want you to know, I really want to see you again.” He brushed his lips across hers.
He felt her relax in his arms as the kiss deepened. “I’d like that,” she said when he pulled back.
“Tonight?” he asked, then winced. “Scratch that. Tomorrow night?”
“Can’t tomorrow. It’s Liz’s birthday. She wanted to head into town and go dancing.”
“I can dance,” he said with a smile. “If you let me know where and when you’re going, I can just happen to bump into you?”
She laughed. “Where else is there to dance in Cedar? The Firehouse.”
He kissed her again. “How will Liz take it if I crash her party?”
She shrugged. “I think it depends on what you bring her or how many drinks you buy.”
He laughed. “What is she in the market for?”
“A man, but she can’t have you,” Kara said, pulling him back down for another kiss.
From there, she had him run out and refill all the water troughs. He spent a few minutes with Wilbur before hunting Kara down in the hen house.
She was trying to hammer a board onto the roof of the house, but she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach.
“Here,” he said, taking the hammer from her and easily pounding the nail in.
“I could have…” she started, but he glanced down at her and she shut her mouth. She pouted up at him. “I could have done it myself.”
“You needed a ladder. You’re too short.” He started hammering another nail in. “This hen house needs rebuilding.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve told my father…” She let out a large sigh. “Dad was going to do it when he got back. This will help. Thanks.”
He smiled, knowing it took all her willpower to say those words.
“Anytime,” he said after he was done. “Anything else I can help with?” He looked around.
She followed his gaze. “No, not today. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. I wanted to go for a ride, but…” She shook her head.
“How about a short walk then?” he suggested, needing the fresh air and time with her.
She smiled. “Sure.” She set down the rag she’d wiped her hands on. He took her hand, and they headed out across the yard.
In front of the home there was a large oak tree, the kind most would hang a swing from. All of its leaves were long gone, making it a twisted dark figure that they headed towards.
“I can’t wait until spring,” she said with a sigh.
He chuckled. “We just started winter.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Three months ago. Besides, in the last week we’ve had enough snow for a full winter. Christmas is next week. We are definitely in the middle of winter.”
“Right, but we’ll get snow for the next five months. Don’t you enjoy the snow?”
“I love the snow, but in the spring, this tree blooms with the most beautiful pink flowers.” She motioned to a smaller tree that sat next to the oak. “In the fall, its leaves are the first to change to a bright red.” She lifted her face to the sky and took a deep breath. “Winter is fine if it’s snowing. If it’s not, it’s just…”
“Depressing,” he finished for her, understanding. Each day since his father’s death, he’d slipped deeper and deeper. When the snow came or when he was with her, his spirits lifted.