Cowboy in Charge Read Online Free

EXPECTED Jason to put on enough soup for all three of them, but he announced he had done exactly that. And when Scott came to take her hand to lead her to the kitchen, she couldn’t say no. To tell the truth, with nothing in her stomach, she needed the nourishment, needed to get her strength back so she could take care of the kids and get Jason out of her life again.
    Their awkward dinner would have taken place in near-silence if not for her son’s chatter all through the meal and dessert.
    She focused on getting her few spoonfuls of soup to her mouth without spilling anything...and on trying to keep her gaze on her soup bowl and away from her ex. And failing miserably. Every time he walked away from the table, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek, couldn’t help watching the way his muscles flexed beneath his gray T-shirt as he reached for dishes from the cabinet and the way his faded jeans pulled tight when he leaned down to pull the container of milk from the refrigerator.
    When Scott had finished eating, Jason rose and began gathering up the dishes. He had taken control of her tiny kitchen and, worse, dominated her space. She was finding it hard to breathe, let alone keep her head upright. “Leave the dishes, please,” she said. “I can take care of them.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    He locked gazes with her. She managed to take a steadying breath and turn to Scott. “Honey, how about you go and get into your jammies for Mommy?”
    “No, Mommy. I play with cars. Please? ”
    She smiled. “Well, we’ll see. But jammies first. They’re on your bed. You go get started, okay?”
    He slid from his booster chair and left the room.
    Slowly, she turned to face her ex-husband again. He had set the dishes in the sink. Hips settled back against the counter, he stood with his arms crossed and his biceps bulging against his T-shirt sleeves and his frown looking too much like Scott’s for her liking. This situation was all too much for her and had been from the moment she had seen him standing in her hallway.
    “Jason.” Anger at him and irritation at herself made her hiss his name. “Just who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do in my own kitchen?”
    “Just the guy who carried you back into the house after you passed out.”
    “It was only for a second. You told me that yourself.”
    “I lied.”
    Her breath caught. “Why?”
    “The baby was wailing and the boy looked scared to death and you sure didn’t seem in any shape for more bad news at that moment. The moment right before you ran off to toss your cookies. Remember that?”
    “Yes,” she snapped. She appreciated that he had been there at the time, but she didn’t like having to feel grateful to him for anything. She didn’t want to feel anything for him at all. “Then, thank you for carrying me in and taking care of supper. But I’m fine now. You can go.”
    He opened his arms wide, unknowingly allowing her a look at well-defined pecs and six-pack abs. He gestured around the room. “You’re on the verge of collapse, and you expect me to leave you by yourself with two kids? What kind of man would that make me?”
    “As far as I recall, the same kind who walked out when I was pregnant with one of those kids.”
    A muscle in his jaw worked hard, telling her he was having trouble holding back another response. The sight made her uneasy, not out of fear of him but from her memories of past fights. No matter how often they argued, he had almost always been better at hanging on to his anger than she had.
    “You refused to talk to me,” he said finally, his tone harsh but even. “And you kicked me out. Have you got a recollection of that day, too?”
    “Yes,” she snapped. “I remember it very well.”
    “Great. Then remember this, too. I didn’t drop in only to say hello. I...I want to talk with you. But that can wait until you’re feeling better again. I’ll go. As soon as you call someone and they show up to stay with