Four
A HEARTY MEAL Daddy requested, a hearty meal he’d get. Peggy whipped potatoes until they were light and creamy. She even added extra butter. Meatloaf was resting on the counter, and creamed peas were ready too. She didn’t know how to bake bread, so sliced sandwich bread would have to do.
All afternoon, she could not stop thinking about Merle Hart. When she told Alice about him and his rude behavior, filthy clothes, and overgrown hair, she’d scrunched up her nose. Alice’s tart expression had mirrored Peggy’s.
And yet, she couldn’t explain the butterflies in her stomach. They had appeared when her eyes connected with Merle’s. Boy was he a mess, and he hardly talked, but when he did, his raspy voice sent a shudder through her like nothing she’d ever felt before. She hadn’t told Alice that part or about the butterflies or how her toes had curled.
“Evening, dear. Sure smells good.” He daddy entered the kitchen freshly showered and took his spot at the table.
“Hi, Daddy. Figured meatloaf would please you.” She watched the entrance but no Merle. She avoided asking about him, though she was curious.
“Merle should be here any minute. Told him dinner was at seven every night.”
Every night? “Hmm…” Peggy took three plates out of the cupboard, then sliced the meatloaf.
“He’s sleeping in the barn.”
She paused with a piece of meat on the spatula. Had she heard her father correctly?
“It’s part of the deal I made with Merle. Room and board, plus meals.”
Strange, her daddy never made a deal before with a ranch hand. Peggy resumed her task and said nothing. How could she when her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest? She licked her lips several times and swallowed.
None of the other ranch hands ever lived on the property before. Why now? Her father never liked men around her.
A knock on the kitchen door startled her. When it opened on its own accord and Merle appeared, she sucked in a breath and dropped the spatula, along with the slice of meatloaf right in front of her feet.
“Shoot!” Peggy squatted to clean the mess she’d made. It wasn’t a lot, but sticky glaze had splattered on the floor.
She didn’t dare look back at Merle. What happened to all his hair?
A damp dishcloth dangled in front of her face, nearly touching her nose. Her eyes flitted up to Merle’s. There were no words were exchanged, only an intense stare.
She nodded and took the rag.
“Merle, come sit down. Peggy’s got that,” her father said from behind her.
“Yes, sir.”
Once everyone was served and she was seated at the table, across from Merle, nobody spoke. It drove her nuts. She wasn’t one to talk all the time, but eating in silence wasn’t pleasant in the least.
She tried not to stare at Merle. There was just something about him, something she couldn’t put words to. There was a draw to him she hadn’t felt toward a boy before. It wasn’t because he’d gotten his hair shaved off or the clean, stain-free, hole-free clothes he was wearing either. The feelings she had swimming through her veins had happened within seconds of seeing him earlier in the day.
Peggy sipped her iced tea, hoping it’d cool her down. She was sure her cheeks were as red as the sliced tomato on her plate. Fortunately, neither her daddy nor Merle would notice with their eyes glued to their dinner plates.
They both had a second serving, and pride bloomed in her chest. She felt pleased with her cooking abilities. It wasn’t thanks to her father. He’d eat anything she made and call it good.
No, the streak of happiness blossoming inside her came when she heard Merle humming as he ate. She forced herself to not smile or delight in his obvious enjoyment. He also finished his meal in record time.
It would’ve been nice if he’d acknowledge her in some way. A quick glance. Maybe smile a little.
Merle cleared his throat while wiping his hands and mouth. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you.” His eyes flitted from her father to hers. “I’ll head to the barn now.”
“You don’t have to. I usually watch a little television before calling it a night,” her father said, and she was glad. Perhaps Merle only needed to spend a little time with them so he could relax. Although, she wasn’t quite sure why she cared one way or the other.
“Thanks, sir, but I’m tired. Maybe another time.” He stood from his chair and collected his plate and glass.
“Oh, I’ve got it!” She was out of her chair in a snap and at Merle’s side. She took the dishes from him.
“Thank you… Peggy.” His dark gaze dropped toward hers. They moved to her lips and back up to her eyes. Merle cleared his throat again. “Good night.”
“See you bright and early,” her daddy replied.
“Good night,” she said as Merle opened the side door. As it latched closed, she turned toward the kitchen sink. A long sigh escaped her.
“You all right, darlin’?”
She whirled around, surprised by his question. “What? Me? Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She removed the rest of the dishes from the table and began cleaning up.
“Just making sure. You seem a little flustered.”
She laughed and waved him off. “Not at all.”
“Okay then. I’ll be in the living room.” He sidled up next to her and kissed her temple. “Thank you for dinner, Peggy. It was delicious.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. It was a new recipe out of the Betty Crocker Cookbook I picked up in town last week.”
“It’s a keeper, I think. Merle devoured it too.” He chuckled and shot her a wink as he left the kitchen.
Merle devoured it too rang in her head. She shouldn’t care if he liked the meal she’d prepared, but oddly, she cared a lot more than she wished to admit.
She smiled, remembering how her name rolled off his tongue in a wonderful, low raspy voice. She also couldn’t stop thinking about how well he’d cleaned up.
If only he weren’t a ranch hand.