Holiday Hire (The Cartwright Family #2)

Chapter 10

10

Phoebe

The Next Day

T he Cartwright kitchen buzzes with excitement. Ruby, her daughters, and Georgia help prepare vegetables and meat for the beach party.

After Lance left, I felt a weight had been lifted from my chest. Shortly after breakfast, Ace earned the final star for the beach party, so I suggested we have it today.

The kids were nearly jumping out of their skins with excitement. It must have been contagious because Alexander surprised me and suggested the entire family participate, especially since Ruby and Jacob leave for their mission trip tomorrow morning.

My little beach party soon became a big event. Within hours, a tent with tables, chairs, and a sound system was put up next to the lake. Alexander and Sebastian dug the leftover ashes out of the fire pit and reconstructed it for the hobo dinner I suggested we make. Georgia and Paisley went to the store and bought all the ingredients I requested. And Willow, Evelyn, and I spent hours with the kids, finding or creating everything we needed for games and making decorations for the tent.

Georgia asks, "Phoebe, how does this work? Do we toss everything in the can, or is there a specific order?"

I answer, "Meat first, then vegetables. Then we pour the beer and water over it. The corn on the cob will go in the basket insert."

"Gotcha." She picks up the smoked sausage and tosses it in. The rest of us add the green and purple cabbage, parsnips, turnips, radishes, red potatoes, and rainbow carrots.

Paisley positions the steamer basket filled with corn inside the can, and states, "I still can't believe we've never heard of this."

Evelyn declares, "I just don't know how it's possible Georgia's never heard of it! She always knows everything about cooking."

Georgia laughs. "Not everything!"

"Yeah, right," Ava adds.

Georgia shrugs. "I never went camping, but I'm excited to see how this turns out."

"You're going to love it," I claim, feeling nostalgic. When I was a kid, my family used to camp in the mountains. My dad would always take a metal garbage can, and we'd fill it with all the food, cooking it for hours over the bonfire. I haven't done it since I was ten, but the idea came to me this week when I was thinking about what we could do for the beach party. When I told the Cartwrights about it, the kids thought it was cool to cook and eat out of a garbage can, and the adults all rallied around the idea.

Ruby says, "Let me get someone to come get this can." She opens the back door and shouts, "Alexander! Mason! Can you come help?"

Within minutes, they step into the kitchen. Alexander grasps a handle, glances into the can, and says, "Never thought we'd be eating out of a garbage can."

"It's going to be delicious!" I declare.

"I guess we'll find out." He shoots me a smile.

My butterflies take off. Since yesterday morning, he's been more relaxed. It's a nice change from his usual scowl, but every time he grins, my flutters have a party in my stomach.

"This is heavy," Mason says with a grunt.

Alexander mocks, "Need me to carry it myself so you don't hurt your muscles?"

"Ha ha," Mason replies, then steps toward the door.

They exit, and all of us follow.

They put the can on the trailer that is hooked up to a double-seated ATV.

"Where are the kids?" I question, gazing across the ranch.

"Jagger, Sebastian, and Dad took them down to the lake on the horses," Alexander informs me.

"Ah." I glance at the horses several feet away, tied to the fence post. Each one has a saddle and bridle, ready to ride.

Since the first day I arrived, Alexander hasn't pushed me to ride a horse again, but I always feel like it's coming.

He teases, "Don't worry. I'll let you ride in the ATV with me."

I arch my eyebrows. "You're not riding your horse?"

He shrugs. "Nah, there's a lot on this trailer, and it can be hard to maneuver through the woods. It's best if I don't make you attempt it. Unless you have previous experience hauling a trailer?" His lips twitch.

I shake my head. "Nope."

He points to the passenger seat. "Then I'll drive. Get in."

I don't argue. I slide onto the seat, and he goes around the vehicle. Mason, Ruby, and Willow leap onto their horses. Paisley, Ava, and Evelyn get into the other ATV.

We make our way through the wooded area to the lake. Alexander's scent flares between us, and I wonder if there will ever come a day when it doesn't intoxicate me.

We whiz past trees. Then he slows, ordering, "Hold on, Phoebe, there's a bumpy patch."

I reach for the side rail, and he guides us over the pitted dirt road. He speeds up again and steers the ATV around the final bend.

The lake appears. The sun glistens over the sparkling water, and the sound of country music grows louder. The kids run along the shore, chasing each other and playing tag.

"Your family really knows how to step up for a little party," I comment, amazed at how the Cartwrights put all this together in such a short amount of time.

He shoots me his dazzling grin and chuckles as he parks the ATV. "One thing we know how to do is represent on the party front."

"Looks like it," I agree, then get out of the vehicle.

Alexander adds, "Also, this is Texas. Go big or go home is our motto."

I laugh. "I don't think Texas would be disappointed with this setup."

The others arrive behind us. Alexander and Mason haul the trash can to the bonfire site. Then Alexander grabs the lighter fluid and douses the kindling and wood. He hands me a box of matches. "Your party, your fire."

I take the matches, open the box, and pick a stick. I strike it along the side of the box and then toss it in the pit.

A flame erupts, and he grabs the side of the can. Mason grabs the other, and they put it on top of the metal grill.

Alexander asks, "What now?"

"Now we have fun," I say, then shout, "Who wants to play Pumpkin Ring Toss?"

"I do! I do!" Jacob Jr., Evelyn's five-year-old, yells.

The others echo his excitement, jumping up and down.

I walk over to the first area I set up earlier this morning. Pumpkins sit staggered on the sand. Signs reading 10, 25, 50, 75, and 100 are in front of them. Cones and plastic rings are behind the line drawn on the ground.

The kids run over, and I instruct, "Everyone gets ten rings. You can toss your rings on whatever pumpkin you want. The number in front of the pumpkin is how many points you earn. At the end, you have to add up your points. Whoever has the most points, wins."

Isabella asks, "What do we win?"

I point to the picnic table. "You get to pick whatever you want from the prize box."

She beams. "Okay, I'm going to win."

"You wish," Wilder says. Determination fills his expression, and he picks up the red rings.

She rolls her eyes. "You'll see."

I laugh. "Let's be nice to each other."

"Good luck with that," Alexander states, stepping next to me and crossing his arms. The shadow from his cowboy hat shades most of his features, but I don't miss his lips twitching.

"I want to be pink!" Emma declares, stepping next to the rings and picking one up.

"I'm orange!" Ace claims.

"Red!" Wilder decides.

Jacob Jr. picks up a green ring, and Isabella selects the purple.

Alexander leans closer, lowering his voice. "You have yellow and blue left, but we don't have another two kids."

I nod, replying, "Better to let everyone have a choice than someone whining they didn't get to choose."

"Ah. That's good thinking," he praises.

"Yep!" I step forward and ask the kids, "Are you ready?"

They all shout, "Yes!"

"One, two, three, toss!" I call out.

Rings fly across the beach. Some hit the sand while others go around the pumpkins. Every time one does, excited shouts fill the air.

When all the rings have been tossed, the kids count their points, shouting them out.

Isabella jumps up and down. "I did it! I won! Told you, Wilder!"

He shrugs. "Big deal."

I laugh and point to the prize box. "Great job. Go ahead and pick something out."

"Yay!" She runs over to the table and pulls out a sheet of stickers.

I ask, "Okay, who's ready for pine cone bowling?"

"I was born ready," Ace states, stepping in front of the other line and picking up the plastic bowling balls I bought in town the day before.

"I'm ready!" Jacob Jr. says, taking the space next to Ace.

Alexander asks, "Where do you come up with these games?"

"You've never played these before?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"That's shocking to me."

"Why is it shocking?"

I point out, "Your family seems really into holidays."

"We are into holidays."

"Then how have you never played these games?" I ask in a teasing tone, a little bit shocked.

He shrugs. "Not sure."

Willow yells, "Mark, get set, go!"

I turn my attention back to the kids. They aim the balls at the pine cones.

Wilder's the first to knock his pine cones down. He pumps his fist in the air, shouting, "Yes."

I instruct, "Okay, go set your pine cones back up. We're going to do it for ten minutes and see how many times you can knock them down."

He furrows his brows. "What? I don't win?"

I shake my head. "Not unless you're the only one to knock the most sets down. Now, go set yours back up."

"Ugh!" he grumbles and then runs over to set up his pine cones.

Alexander chuckles next to me. "You crushed his dreams."

I laugh. "Sorry, but not sorry?"

He chuckles again and refocuses on the kids.

By the time the pine cone bowling's over, Ace has the most wins. He taunts his brother. "See! I beat you!"

Wilder spouts, "Whatever. I can still ride a horse better."

"Uh-uh-uh. Not allowed to say that," I remind him.

"It's true!"

"Did you want barn duty for a week?" Alexander warns.

Wilder quickly shuts his mouth.

"He should do barn duty. He went against the rules," Ace claims.

Alexander suggests, "I could have you do it with him so you two can learn to stop harassing each other."

Ace protests, "No!"

I interject, "Let's focus on beach day. Ace, go get your prize."

He runs over and pulls a slinky out of the box.

I step over to the white plastic sheet. We spent hours painting a huge turkey on it, along with red, blue, yellow, and green dots. I ask, "Who wants to play Turkey Twister?"

The kids all run to the edge of the sheet, and the adults follow.

Alexander states, "I was the master at Twister."

I arch my eyebrows. "Were you?"

He nods. "Yep! I could beat all my siblings."

"Why don't you play, then?"

"You want me to play?"

"Yeah."

"The games are for the kids."

"Who said adults can't play?"

"Let's have the kids play first and then adults," Evelyn suggests.

We agree. After several games and tons of laughs, the kids finally have enough. At one point, all of them win, and all get prizes.

Alexander looks at me. "Ready to see how this is done?"

I smirk. "Who says you'll beat me?"

"Guess we'll find out," he says in challenge.

I tease, "Should I be scared?"

He grins. "We'll see." He takes his cowboy hat off and sets it on the picnic table. He grabs my hand and pulls me in front of the game, adding, "Don't chicken out now, Miss Nanny."

I hold in my laugh. He's never called me that before. I realize how much I like the relaxed side of Alexander. He hasn't shown me it until now.

Paisley grabs the spinning wheel that we made. She flicks it, calling out, "Blue."

Alexander puts his left foot on a blue dot. I put my right foot on one.

Isabella takes a turn and spins. She chirps, "Red." We both put a hand on red.

The kids all take turns spinning and calling out colors until our bodies are twisted, and I end up underneath Alexander.

"You're going down, nanny," he taunts, reaching over me and moving his hand to the green.

"You wish!"

"Yellow!" Jacob Jr. yells.

I move my hand, and Alexander moves his leg over my torso so his body is in a V over me. His T-shirt falls toward his neck, revealing his six-pack…and another surprise.

My pulse pounds between my ears. I stare at the ink trailing over the right side of the V of his torso. A rope twists between the letters s, t, a, l, l, i, and o.

What word is that?

"Red!" Isabella orders.

He moves his leg, and I adjust my foot over a row. I stare at his tattoo, then blurt out, "Stallion!"

His body tenses, which makes his abs even more appealing.

"Yellow!" Ace says.

We try to adjust our bodies, but we end up falling. He lands over me, catching his body weight so he doesn't crush me. His face and hot breath come inches from mine. Heat flares in his expression and his gaze darts to my lips.

I inhale sharply.

He slowly redirects his eyes to mine.

Snap out of it.

"You tattooed the word stallion on your V?"

His heated look morphs to one of mortification, and he once again tenses up.

Willow teases, "He didn't tell you about his tattoo?"

Ava smirks, adding, “It’s his pride and joy!”

He groans, then snaps, "Quiet, Willow," before he carefully rolls off me.

I get off the ground and repeat, "You tattooed the word stallion on your stomach? Is that your favorite horse?"

The Cartwright siblings erupt into laughter.

"What am I missing here?" I question.

Alexander's face reddens. He declares, "It was a long time ago. I was young."

Evelyn interjects, "Phoebe, did you see the arrow at the end of the rope?"

He turns his head, and says in warning, "Evelyn!"

I bite my lip, not taking my eyes off a humiliated Alexander.

Willow laughs, announcing, "He claims the bull riders are cocky, but he has no room to talk."

"Too bad he's not as big of a stallion as I am," Jagger claims.

"Shut up," Alexander mutters, clenching his jaw.

I try not to laugh, but I can't help it. I put my hand over my mouth.

"You should tell her how you got it," Evelyn adds.

Sebastian chimes in, "Yep. That was a brilliant day in decision-making."

Alexander puts his hand over his face and groans. "All of you need to stop."

Ace tries to protect him, claiming, "He loves horses that are winners! Don't you, Dad?"

Alexander quickly looks at him. "Yeah, that's right."

The adults snicker.

Mason urges, "Why don't you tell Phoebe the story?"

"Seriously, you all need to stop," Alexander orders.

"Oh no. I think I have to know this story now," I claim, glancing again at his torso even though his shirt is over it. My butterflies flutter harder.

He says, "It was just something stupid I did."

Mason announces, "He was drunk. Well, we were all drunk. Might not have been our best moment."

Amused, I question, "Oh? Do you have a stallion tattoo with a rope and arrows?"

"Ugh, it sounds so bad," Alexander mumbles.

Mason squares his shoulders and shakes his head. "Nah, my tattoos are legit."

Alexander moans. "Please, shut up."

"Kids, go play another round of pine cone bowling," Ruby orders, and points toward the game.

"We already played that," Emma whines.

"Yeah, play it again. The winner gets another prize."

It does the trick, and the kids run over to it.

Sebastian urges, "You might as well just tell her. It's probably better coming from you than us."

Alexander's face turns redder. He shakes his head at his family. "You all don't know when to stop."

"Aw, come on now, brother. You're inked for life. Be proud of it," Sebastian taunts, his grin widening more.

A new wave of embarrassment fills Alexander's expression. He claims, "There's nothing to tell. We were out. We were young. We were drinking. It was a bad mistake."

Jagger mocks, "Oh? So you're admitting you're not a stallion."

"You wish you had my skills," Alexander retorts.

My blood heats further.

Mason teases, "You sure about that? There's probably a lot of women who would claim differently."

Alexander shakes his head. "Time to change the subject."

Jagger continues, "So, are you or are you not a stallion?"

"Jagger," Ruby reprimands.

He puts his hands in the air. "What? It's fair to ask him to clarify that."

Jacob chuckles hard, chiming in, "If a man's going to tattoo that on himself, he might as well be positive that that's what he is."

Alexander's mortification amplifies as the taunting continues.

I finally decide to help him out. I say, "I'm glad we cleared that up. I think it's time to check on the hobo dinner. Alexander, can you help me get the can off the fire?"

"Please," he says, as if relieved to be let off the hook.

When we get to the fire pit, he puts on gloves, takes the can off the fire, and opens the lid.

"Can you take the corn out for a moment?" I ask.

"Sure." He removes it.

I pull a few pieces of food out and study them, then announce, "It still needs about another hour."

"Okay." He covers it and puts it back on the fire.

I can't help myself, so I quietly ask, "So stallion is your big secret tattoo?"

He puts his hand over his face and groans again.

I laugh.

He recovers and says, "Now that you know mine, you have to tell me what yours say."

"No way," I reply, pretending to zip my lips and throw away the key.

"It's only fair."

I laugh even harder. "Nope. Just because you accidentally showed me yours doesn't mean I'm going to show you mine. Sorry."

"Are you embarrassed by them?"

My face falls. "No. Not at all."

He studies me. "Then why won't you tell me?"

Before I can think about what I'm saying, I blurt out, "Only the lucky ones get to see them. Maybe someday your luck will change."

He pins his heated look on me.

I realize what I said and how it sounds. My cheeks turn as hot as the fire.

"That so?" he asks, giving me a challenging stare.

I open my mouth but then shut it, quickly walking away and putting distance between us. I pretend to check on the kids' bowling game, but I can't stop beating myself up about why I said something so inappropriate to my boss.

And there's another question plaguing me.

Did he look at me how he did because he liked my suggestion, or was that all in my mind?