Книга - Bachelor Cowboy

Bachelor Cowboy
Patricia Knoll


First-time father!Sworn bachelor Luke Farraday's stubborn resistance to help or friendship–least of all from a woman–had been an infuriating puzzle to Shannon Kelleher since their first prickly meeting. Until Luke's sister left him temporarily in charge of his tiny baby nephew!To her amuesement, the usually independent tough guy was helplessly out of his depth–and desperate for Shannon's assistance. As she taught the reluctant "father" to feed and change little Cody, Shannon noticed a change in Luke. His defenses were melting—just like her heart. And slowly his story began to emerge….Marriage TiesThe four Kelleher women, bound together by family and love.







“Welcome to fatherhood.” (#u12bec7e4-e22f-588a-8d66-cf678bb80c38)Letter to Reader (#u0f370df7-6aab-5659-9d8b-b52379f68a8d)Praise (#u5f410100-cb7d-5bd1-a9b2-ccb0ff81c311)Title Page (#u3af505c8-08fa-599f-8324-fbd60f33e0fc)CHAPTER ONE (#u1e5f72d3-e56a-532c-bad7-c822d9bdc14e)CHAPTER TWO (#uee946623-b4de-5ca4-9bdf-4bfad84fc049)CHAPTER THREE (#u2ba55079-12ef-511a-843c-7df748a7bfcc)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Welcome to fatherhood.”

With a growl, Luke clapped his hat onto the hat rack. “This isn’t fatherhood,” he said, whirling back to face her. “This is only temporary. No way is this going to be permanent.”

“Well, no,” Shannon said carefully, taken aback by his vehemence. “You said your sister would be back for the baby.”

“That’s right.” He took a couple of frustrated turns around the room. “Then things will get back to being normal around here.”

Meaning lonely, Shannon thought. Even though she knew she should drop the subject, she was compelled to ask, “Don’t you ever have plans to be a father, Luke?”

“Heck, no. I like being a bachelor. I like it fine. I’m just not cut out to be a husband or father.”

Shannon’s heart sank, but this was too interesting not to pursue. “Mind telling me why?”


Dear Reader,

Bachelor Cowboy is the third book in my miniseries MARRIAGE TIES, about a family of strong women, the Kellehers. I have already told you the stories of Rebecca, in Another Chance for Daddy, and of Brittnie, in Wedding Bells. If you read these you are ready for Shannon’s story. If you are new to the series, welcome!

In the course of her job, Shannon clashes with sexy but stubborn Luke Farraday. It seems their differences won’t be resolved until Luke has temporary care of his baby . nephew, and Shannon is the one he turns to for help . . .

Later this year, look for Revolution: Marriage, the story of Mary Jane, the mother of these three women. Reunited with her high school sweetheart, she must come to terms with a secret she’s kept for more than twenty-five years.

Be prepared to laugh, and maybe to cry, but certainly to enjoy the strength and resourcefulness of Rebecca, Brittnie, Shannon and Mary Jane.

Happy Reading!







Praise for Wedding Bells:

“...an engaging tale.”

—Romantic Times




Bachelor Cowboy

Patricia Knoll







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

His backside looked good.

Shannon Kelleher stood beside one of the empty stalls in Luke Farraday’s barn and looked up to where he was perched on a huge beam that ran the width of the building. He was inspecting the underside of the roof, and she was honest enough to admit that she was inspecting him.

When she had first seen him, backlit by the June afternoon sun streaming in through the hay door, she’d caught her breath and stared, standing silently in the shadows. She hadn’t called out to announce her arrival for fear of startling him. She just wanted to look.

She liked what she saw, long legs, wide shoulders whose muscles rippled and lengthened as he reached up with a hammer in one hand. He was rapping loudly, methodically on the underside of the shingles, which explained why he didn’t seem to have heard her drive up.

His other hand was braced against a header joist to keep himself from falling. He was wearing boots, the heels notched over the edge of a beam. That position served to extend his legs and tighten the muscles all the way up.

Nice buns, she thought. Scientifically speaking, of course.

Shannon bit her lip to hide a grin. All right, maybe that was exaggerating a bit. She couldn’t actually see the muscles. Besides, human anatomy didn’t have a whole lot to do with her job as a range management specialist. Her areas of expertise were soils, grasses and water control. On the other hand, she appreciated anything that nature had put together beautifully.

Nature hadn’t exactly been sleeping on the job while assembling Luke Farraday. At least, that’s who she thought this man was. There was no one else around.

Shannon admitted that she should be ashamed of herself for ogling the man, especially considering how she hated that kind of thing herself. She had been on the receiving end of sexism more times than she could count and more often in the past year than ever before in her life or career.

Still, she wasn’t being lewd and lascivious. It was more like art appreciation, she thought, leaning against the stall railing and crossing her booted ankles. Like viewing Michelangelo’s David—with a Western theme. The only way it could get any better would be if he took his shirt off.

Besides, she thought, she deserved a little self-indulgent ogling because she’d been sick for a week with a middle-ear infection that had kept her flat on her back in bed. She still felt a little dizzy and weak, but she’d had to get back to work today. Things were piling up. Things that her boss, Wiley Frost, thought only she should resolve.

When Luke Farraday stopped testing the roof and stood staring up, Shannon felt she almost knew what he was thinking. The roof would need to be replaced by winter. The ranch had been allowed to run down by its previous owner, and Luke Farraday had taken on a big job getting the place into shape. Lucky for him, she could help.

Luke reached to place the hammer in his back pocket, and Shannon knew the show was over. She waited until he sat down on the rafter and dangled his feet over the edge before she spoke.

“Mr. Farraday.” She stepped out from the shadowed stall, and his head snapped up.

“Who’s there?” he barked, leaning over to look. His gaze swept the place until he located her.

Shannon hoped that the irate tone was because she’d startled him. She hugged her clipboard to her chest and walked to stand beneath the rafter where he sat.

When she tilted her head, her long black hair swept her waist. The motion made her ears ring, but she formed a warm smile anyway. “My name’s Shannon Kelleher. I’m with the natural resources office. I called your house but couldn’t get an answer, so I thought I’d just take a chance and see if you were here.”

“I’m here,” he said laconically. “What do you want?” As he spoke, he grabbed one of the thick posts that supported the barn roof. It had huge nails driven into it here and there down its length, and he used these as foot and handholds as he made his way to the floor. He moved as easily and gracefully as a trapeze artist from one nail to the next.

Eyes wide, Shannon watched him descend. When one nail broke beneath his weight and clattered to the floor, he grunted, felt for another foothold and continued to climb down.

When he reached the ground, she said, “Wouldn’t that be easier with a ladder?”

He shrugged. “If I had one, I would have used it.”

Shannon noticed a large hammer and more of the big nails at her feet. He’d improvised. She liked that, but it seemed risky. He was here all alone. What if he’d fallen, been hurt? Days might have passed before help arrived. She gave herself a mental shake. No point in manufacturing worst-case scenarios. She needed to concentrate on the reason for her visit.

Smiling, she glanced into his face, finally able to see him clearly. His eyes were deep-set under thick brows and were an unusual light brown. The pupils were wide due to the dimness in the barn. When he looked at her, Shannon had the eerie feeling that he was looking right into her soul. Disconcerted, she quickly glanced at the rest of his face, the square jaw that had a small scar running diagonally across it, the fullness of his lips, which were at odds with the angled cheekbones, and a Roman nose, which had a slight bump in it as if it had been broken.

His face didn’t match up to the rest of his body, but the physical imperfections only added character. This was a man who had worked hard, probably all his life, and expected to work hard for the rest of it, as well.

When his eyes met hers in a rapid, assessing glance, she experienced a moment of dizziness and placed her hand against the post he’d just descended.

“What do you want?” he repeated.

His impatient tone snapped her to the business at hand. Straightening, she indicated her clipboard. “I’ve been sent out to welcome you and let you know what services our natural resources agency can give to help you get the Crescent Ranch into shape.”

“No, thanks.” He bent to pick up his tools.

Shannon gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said no, thanks. I can handle it on my own.” He nodded toward the door. “Close that behind you when you leave, would you?” He turned to the tack room attached to the building.

It took her a few seconds to realize she’d been dismissed. She stared after him in stunned amazement, then she hurried behind him.

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Farraday,” she insisted as she watched him put away tools and pick up a pair of gloves. “I’m here to help you. We would like you to participate in a project we’re doing.”

He didn’t even bother to turn around. “No, thanks. I don’t have the time. I told that to the guy who called last week.”

“The guy who . . .” Wiley, she thought, rocking to a stop. Irritation made her clench her fists at her sides. The same Wiley who had told her no one had contacted Luke. Well, it wasn’t the first lie Wiley had told her.

Luke turned, and his gaze raked over her again. “Did they think that sending a beauty queen out would get me to change my mind?”

She stiffened. Sexism in the raw, she thought, infuriated. “I am a scientist, Mr. Farraday. I’ve worked in this field for three years now. I was born and raised in this county. Just on the other side of that mountain, in fact,” she said, nodding toward Randall Peak. “I know what I’m doing. My looks have absolutely nothing to do with my abilities as a professional.”

He gave her a skeptical glance. “You’ve never used them to get what you want? Never batted those eyelashes of yours over those deep blue eyes?” His voice dropped to a gritty, intimate level that, to her horror, sent shivers up her spine. “Never used those full, sweet lips to whisper promises into eager ears? Promises you never intended to keep?”

“Certainly not!”

He snorted. “Right.”

Appalled, Shannon stared at him. He was the most insulting, insufferable man she had ever met. She fought the urge to tell him so. Instead, she used her most clipped, professional voice as she said, “I’m sorry you can’t get past my looks and accept me as a person who is here to help you. I would like to be able to take credit for my looks, but I can’t. It’s nothing I achieved on my own. I happen to come from a couple of good-looking parents,” she informed him in a tight voice. Never mind that she didn’t look very much like either one of them. They were both blondes.

Her father had said her long black hair, almond-shaped midnight blue eyes and high cheekbones were a throwback to her French great-grandmother. Her full lips had come straight from her mother.

“Whatever,” he said, as if the subject bored him. “I’m not interested in participating in any study, or project, or anything else. I want to be left alone. I have a blocked stream I need to see to, so why don’t you leave?”

He couldn’t have made it any more clear, but Shannon wasn’t going to give up. She had dealt with pigheaded men before, though not ones who had insulted and infuriated her on their first meeting.

She ignored his invitation to depart. Instead, she plastered a cool smile on her face and said, “Water problems happen to be my area of expertise, among others. Why don’t I come along and help you solve it.”

“Because I don’t want you, Miss, uh, Kipper.”

“It’s Kelleher,” she corrected, speaking through her teeth. “Shannon Kelleher. Range conservation specialist.” She withdrew her card from the little pocket attached to the front of her clipboard and handed it to him.

“Kelleher,” he said quietly, as if he recognized her name. Reluctantly, he took the card she offered, his rough, callused fingers brushing hers as he did so. Shannon felt the warmth and texture of him, and for some reason, her eyes flew to his.

His gaze met hers with a steady assessment that she was startled to see was a little less disinterested than it had been a few minutes ago. For an instant, she thought he was seeing her as a person rather than a pretty face or an annoyance, but his eyelids flickered down, hiding his thoughts.

She couldn’t have explained the intense disappointment she felt.

Luke tucked the card into his pocket. “Fine. If I ever need a range management specialist, Miss Kelleher, I’ll be sure to call you,” he said in a when-hell-freezes-over tone of voice.

“How do you know you don’t need one now?” He started from the barn and she stalked after him.

“I’ve been ranching since before you were born. I don’t need you to tell me how to do it.”

Shannon seriously doubted the first part of that statement. In spite of his weathered skin and the lines that rayed out from the corners of his eyes, he didn’t appear to be much more than five years past her own twenty-seven. In the strong sunlight of the barnyard, she could see that his hair was a deep, rich brown, almost as dark as hers. It was thick, in need of a trim but untouched by gray. He ran his hand through it and settled his hat on his head.

“I’m not here to tell you how to ranch, but am I right in assuming you’re new to southern Colorado?”

He looked at her for a second as if weighing her question for hidden traps, then he nodded. “That’s right. I’m from Arizona. Near Tucson.”

She opened her hands wide. “There you go, then. We have different terrain, different climate, different plants, different water problems. I can help you learn about all of those things.”

He shook his head. “You’re as persistent as fleas on a dog’s belly, aren’t you?”

Shannon tucked her chin in and lifted her eyes to him ruefully. “Well, I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but I guess so.”

As they had been walking across the barnyard, he had been slapping his gloves across his palm. Now he tucked them into his waistband as he reached to untie a big roan gelding tethered to the corral fence. “Since it doesn’t look like I’m going to get rid of you, you can tag along.” He swung into the saddle. “But you’ll have to catch and saddle your own mount.” He gathered the reins and headed the gelding out of the yard.

“Aren’t you going to wait . . . ” she asked, then realized she was talking to the air. He spurred his horse with his heels and galloped away.

She slapped her clipboard against her thigh. “Of all the . . . ” He thought she wouldn’t catch and saddle her own mount, she thought furiously. He thought she couldn’t.

The light of challenge sparked in Shannon’s eyes. Little did he know. She watched to see which direction he had taken, then she whirled and raced to the tack room. She was dressed for riding in the clothes she usually wore to work, jeans, soft and snug from many wearings and washings, a long-sleeved shirt of pale yellow cotton, her sturdy boots and a woman’s cowboy hat. Nothing was going to stop her from following him.

In the tack room, she picked out a saddle blanket and a saddle and bridle, hoisted them onto her shoulder and started for the corral.

The swiftness of her movements made her head spin, and she had to stop for a second and catch her breath when dizziness swirled through her. Cursing the lingering infection that was still slowing her down, she picked out a nondescript brown mare with a wide chest and powerful legs. Bridle in hand, she eased into the corral and moved slowly and steadily forward. She spoke in the soft, quietly crooning tone her father had taught her and cornered the animal quickly.

She slipped the bit into the mare’s mouth, complimenting her on what a well-mannered young lady she was. “Unlike your owner,” Shannon muttered to the horse. “What is that man’s problem, anyway?”

The horse tossed her head as if to say she didn’t know, either, and Shannon laughed. Within a few minutes, she was mounted and heading across the fields after her reluctant host. She concentrated on the ride and quickly caught onto the mare’s smooth gait. Shannon was pleased with her choice. The horse’s easy stride didn’t jostle her head, which would have increased her dizziness. Leaning over the mare’s head, she urged her into a run.

It wasn’t long before she found Luke at the stream where it crossed over from his neighbor’s spread. It was a pretty spot, with a small line cabin nearby. Luke stood with his mount’s reins in his hand as he gazed across the fence.

He didn’t even turn when Shannon approached. She dismounted and led the mare to stand beside him. It wasn’t necessary to ask what the problem was, she could see it for herself.

They’d had a heavy rain the week before, along with lightning. A bolt must have hit a cottonwood tree that stood on the bank of the creek. It had been blasted in half. Branches had fallen into the creek, blocking the narrow channel. Water spread over the land, much of it evaporating in the heat before it could trickle into the path that fed water into Luke’s pond.

“That’s easy to fix,” Shannon said.

Luke glanced at her. “I have to wonder why it hasn’t been fixed before. Do you think my neighbor was hoping to keep all the water for himself?”

Yet again, Shannon stared at him. It was gradually dawning on her that this man’s rudeness to her wasn’t personal. He didn’t seem to like anybody.

“Your neighbor is Violet Beardsley. She’s a nice lady, a good neighbor. If she’d known about this blockage, she would have cleared it.” Shannon placed her foot on the bottom strand of barbed wire and grabbed the second strand, stretching a gap in the fence. “We can go through and clear it now. She won’t mind at all.”

Luke lifted a skeptical brow at her. “I have your word on that?”

“Certainly!”

He reached to hold the barbed wire. “Ladies first, then.”

His direct, challenging gaze made her wonder if he thought she was afraid to get dirty. Shannon took off her hat and tossed it lightly over the fence, where it landed rakishly on a sagebrush.

When she paused before ducking under the wire and looked at him, his hard mouth smiled grimly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it go.”

Embarrassed because that was exactly what she had been thinking, Shannon crouched and scrambled through. She turned to hold the wire for him, then scooped up her hat and clapped it onto her head.

Luke walked to the stream and began wrestling the branch out of the way. Shannon hurried to help him, grabbing a branch and dragging it. Seeing the expression in his eyes made Shannon repeat to herself the question she’d asked the mare a little while before. What was this man’s problem?

She hoped her help would convince him of her good intentions, but she had to stop a couple of times and catch her breath when she bent over too quickly and her head spun. She hid it, though, not willing to let Luke see her showing weakness. Surreptitiously, she filled her cupped hands with some of the cool stream water and splashed it on her face to revive herself.

When they were finished and the water was once more flowing in its natural channel, they returned to Luke’s side of the fence.

Shannon immediately launched into a speech about the water table and the changes that had developed in the area over the years in the plants and grasses that grew on his ranch, about how last week’s rain had run off rather than soaked in.

Luke interrupted her. “That’s just fine, Miss Kelleher, but you’re wasting your breath. I—” He stopped and his eyes sharpened as if he’d just experienced a mental finger snap. “Kelleher. Now I remember. Gus Blackhawk said your family was the one that tried to buy this place, but he wouldn’t sell to you.”

“It wasn’t my family,” she said quickly. “It was two of my cousins, Ben and Tim Sills.”

“Blackhawk said none of you were too happy that he sold to me instead.”

“Mr. Blackhawk was exaggerating,” Shannon said, giving him a steady look. Ben and Tim had wanted the ranch badly. They’d pooled their money and borrowed from friends and family, but they’d come short of the asking price.

“So your visit here today has nothing to do with wanting to check out the man who bought this place from under your cousins’ noses? You’re not interested in trying to find out if I’ll turn right around and sell to them?”

“I’m here in my strictly professional capacity,” she answered tightly. “I already know some of the situation on this ranch. I can help. There are government grants available to you to help solve your water and grass problem.”

Luke’s jaw tightened. He leaned close, speaking slowly and clearly as if to insure there would be no misunderstanding. “Government money comes with government strings, Miss Kelleher, and no one is going to tell me how to run my ranch.”

She’d met this attitude before, but never quite so vehemently. She took a breath and tried to quell the anger that was simmering inside her. “I’m not, but there’s a unique opportunity here to do some good, to bring this place back to it’s natural state—”

“Which would probably be impossible with you government types stomping all over, sticking your noses into my business.”

“That’s not true. We only want to help.”

He stuck his face close to hers. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of help before. I want no part of it.”

“You’re being completely unreasonable.” Frustrated, Shannon turned and gazed over his pasture. Her head spun again, and she widened her stance to maintain her balance. She closed her eyes for a moment until her head cleared.

Luke’s sharp gaze, didn’t miss her moment of weakness. His hand shot out to grasp her shoulder. “Is something wrong with you?”

“No,” she said testily, startled by his touch. “I’m fine.” She shrugged off his hand because it seemed to weigh as heavily as an anvil on her. She forced the dizziness back, and when it settled, she pointed across the field. “Look at that grass.”

“There’s plenty of it.”

“It’s brown and dry. No nutrition in it at all.”

“I can see that, but I have other fields.”

“How many cattle are you planning to run?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he answered in a harsh tone. “But I’ll probably start out with five hundred head.”

“Your other fields probably can’t support that. They’re not in much better shape than this one. This field was badly overgrazed by your good friend Gus Blackhawk,” she said, then could have bitten her tongue at the sharp words. She took a breath, lifted her chin and met his gaze. He was glaring at her. “It’s been standing idle for years, but the grass hasn’t come back. The deer and elk won’t even touch it. It needs serious, concentrated intervention to bring it back.”

“Which I can do on my own,” he insisted. “I told you already that I don’t need your help. What’s the point of owning a huge spread like this, having all this to run, to own, if I’m going to let you or anyone else come in and tell me what to do?”

His tone blew all her good intentions to the four winds. Shannon clapped her hands onto her hips. “You’re being impossibly stubborn! Take a look at this.” She bent to grab a handful of the dry grass to show him what she meant. She moved too quickly, though. Before she could prevent it, dizziness swirled through her, followed by blackness. With a soft groan, she folded up right at Luke Farraday’s boot tips.


CHAPTER TWO

“I HAVE to tell you, lady, this is a day for firsts. My first female scientist giving me my first lessons on how to run my place and the first time I’ve ever had a beautiful woman faint at my feet. If you welcome everyone to Tarrant County this way, it’s a wonder there’s been any growth in the population here at all.”

Shannon could barely hear Luke’s voice. It seemed to be coming from miles away. She knew she should have been able to hear him more clearly. After all, her head was against his chest as he carried her with one arm under her knees, the other across her back. She was not a small woman, but he had picked her up as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow.

Her head lolled, seeming to have found its own special resting place between his jaw and his collarbone. As tough as this man was, it should have felt like having her head caught in a vise. Instead, it felt snug, warm and welcoming. For a crazy instant, she fantasized that it was a spot fashioned especially for her. She knew the idea was outlandish and that as soon as she felt better, her sanity would return, but right now, she didn’t mind indulging in the fantasy—and in the comfort he offered.

Giddily, she decided that the best thing about being carried by him was the way he smelled, spicy, faintly sweaty yet all male. Not that she should even be noticing such things, what with her head still spinning, but somehow it soothed her. Her stomach had settled a bit, but she would be grateful to get out of the sun.

Seeming to read her mind, Luke carried her to someplace cool and dark. Shannon opened her eyes to see that he had brought her into the old line cabin she’d seen earlier. She noticed that it was a charming little place, built of sturdy timber, not the ramshackle shack she’d thought it to be. There was a wood-burning stove in one corner and two shuttered windows that could provide cross ventilation. There were two cots with rolled-up mattresses.

“You can lie down here for a minute,” Luke said as he stopped and set her on her feet. He wrapped one arm around her and leaned her against him as he unrolled one of the mattresses, then eased her down on it.

Before she could say anything, he turned and left. Shannon blinked at the ceiling as she wondered where he’d disappeared to. He came back a few minutes later carrying a canteen.

She reached for it, but he gave her a look and sat beside her. “I’ll hold it,” he said, slipping one arm under her to lift her as he held the canteen to her lips. His touch continued to be gentle, filling her with tenderness she couldn’t quite understand. As she drank, she looked in confusion to study his expression. His jaw was set as firmly as a bear trap, his eyes shadowed, but he treated her as carefully as he would a small child. Confused, she paused after one swallow.

He looked at her, his brows drawing together in a frown. “More,” he said in a gruff tone. “If you didn’t feel well, you shouldn’t have started out today with no water.”

“I have some . . . in the truck,” she said, dutifully drinking more water as he pressed the metal opening to her lips.

He grunted as if asking why she hadn’t brought it along with her to the creek. Given his bluntness, she didn’t know why he didn’t voice the question. When she was finished, he settled her onto the mattress, then stunned her by removing a clean handkerchief from his pocket, wetting it and bathing her face.

Casually, he reached for the buttons on her blouse.

Her hand fluttered up to stop him. “No,” she gasped. This was getting way more personal than she wanted it to be.

He raised one of his thick, dark brows. “I’m not planning to try anything. Women who faint at my feet don’t turn me on.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “You said I’m the first one who’s ever done it.” Heat rushed into her face, and she wished she could call the words back.

She saw humor spark in those unusual caramel-colored eyes of his. “I only had to be kicked in the head by a horse once to know I didn’t like it.”

Whatever that meant, she thought, disgruntled as he casually unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse and bathed her throat and chest. His touch may have been disinterested, but her reaction wasn’t. Her heart kicked into quick time, and she was sure he could see it pounding in her throat, feel it as he swabbed the area above the swell of her breasts—which was instantly bathed in a rush of heat. She was surprised steam didn’t rise from her skin.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, rounding her shoulders to discourage his touch, though to her shame, her treacherous body liked it too much. “I feel better now.”

Luke’s answer was a nod of acknowledgment as he stood. He watched her shaky fingers do up her buttons, then he crossed the room, tossed the damp handkerchief on a small wooden table, pulled a chair out and carried it across to her. Spinning it so the back faced her, he straddled it and placed his arms along the top. His gaze swept her again, sending a tingle of awareness through her.

Shannon’s eyes skittered away from his. She wished from the depth of her soul that she could get up and get out of here, but whenever she tried to lift her head, the world tilted on its axis. She didn’t like being at a disadvantage, and with Luke Farraday, it seemed even worse than it would have been with anyone else.

After a minute, he asked, “Are you pregnant?”

Her startled gaze flew to meet his. His eyes met hers with a cynical expression. “Certainly not,” she sputtered. “I’m not even married!”

That brought a rusty laugh from him. It sounded as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “Miss Kelleher, I think we both know marriage isn’t required to produce a baby.”

“I’m not pregnant,” she said quietly but firmly. “I’ve been sick with an ear infection. It’s better, but...”

“But you should have stayed home in bed until you were well. Why didn’t you?”

She was stunned that he seemed to be angry with her. After all, no one had forced him to help her. He could have left her crumpled on the ground to recover on her own. “I had to get back to work. My boss...” She realized that her boss had wanted her to come to work today in order to deal with the man in front of her. Good old Wiley, she thought. His philosophy was, Why deal with a problem if you can get someone else do it?

She wasn’t going to tell Luke that. She’d already blown her professional image. No point in telling him of her problems with Wiley—no matter how numerous they were.

“Your boss insisted you come to work? Why didn’t you stand up to him?” Luke asked, irritation simmering in his voice. “You don’t have any trouble standing up to me.”

“You’re not in charge of my biannual performance review,” she answered ruefully. “Or my salary raises.”

“Maybe you should talk to the person in charge of his,” Luke suggested.

“I might if his boss wasn’t also his mother’s brother.”

“Ah.” Luke tilted his head back. “Nepotism lives.”

“I’m afraid so,” Shannon agreed weakly. She wished she hadn’t said that, but she couldn’t call it back. She seemed to be making one stumbling, bumbling mistake after another today. Luke was right. She should have stayed home until she was well. She was here now, so she was determined to struggle through.

“Mr. Farraday,” she said, trying to sound briskly competent in spite of the weakness in her voice. “Thank you for helping me.” She sat up shakily and swung her feet to the floor. To her intense relief, the world remained firm and didn’t do one of those nauseating spins she’d been experiencing all day. She was pleased that she felt only a slight tremor in her hand when she smoothed her hair from her face. She took a steadying breath and glanced at him. “Now, why don’t we return to our discussion about your rangeland?”

“Because the discussion is closed,” he answered, standing and returning the chair to its place. He stood with his hands resting on his hips while his eyes narrowly assessed the color in her cheeks. “If you’re feeling better, let’s get you back to your truck. It’s time for you to go.”

Shannon gaped at him. “Really, Mr. Farraday, you can’t just refuse our help—”

“Of course I can. Haven’t you heard? It’s a free country. This is my place, and I’m my own boss.” In spite of his dismissive words, he hovered over her as she stood shakily, then took her arm and helped her to the door, gathering his canteen and handkerchief along the way.

She wanted to argue, but she didn’t have the strength. He led her to the gelding he’d ridden to the stream. “We’ll ride double on Dusty,” he said. “I don’t want you falling off of Jezebel.”

Shannon laughed. “That gentle animal’s name is Jezebel?”

He shrugged, and again she saw that spark of humor. “How was I to know when she was a filly that she’d turn out to be such a lady?”

Shannon grabbed the pommel and placed her left foot in the stirrup as she looked over her shoulder at him. “You sound surprised.”

He stood behind her and placed his hands at her waist. “Not surprised. Wary.” With what seemed like the smallest flexing of his muscles, he boosted her into the saddle. “I’ve learned that wariness pays when dealing with the female of any species,” he said, turning to snag Jezebel’s reins and scooping Shannon’s hat from the ground.

Dazed, Shannon replaced her hat while she settled into the saddle. She kept her feet out of the stirrups so that Luke could mount. She wasn’t prepared for her reaction when he did. Awareness moved along her nerves like an incoming tide, first along the backs of her legs where they touched his, then her back, and finally up her spine, across her shoulders and down her arms as he reached forward, tied Jezebel’s reins to the pommel, then gathered those of his own horse. He clucked to Dusty and turned toward the ranch buildings.

Shannon, accustomed to handling her own mount, didn’t know quite what to do with her hands as they rode along. She refused to hold on to the pommel like a tenderfoot, so she tightened her knees against the mare’s sides to hold herself steady and settled her hands on her thighs. Glancing down, she saw that if she moved her hands back a few inches, she could touch Luke. Unexpectedly, her palms grew warm at the thought, and it made her even more light-headed than she’d been when she fainted.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her. These strange reactions couldn’t be attributed to her illness. Something about Luke Farraday was affecting her in the oddest way. Was it because he was a stranger? Most of the ranchers and farmers she dealt with were people she’d known all her life. Maybe it was because he seemed so distant and unyielding. Whatever the reason, she needed to get her mind on business.

Grimly, she straightened away from Luke. “This is a wonderful ranch you’ve bought here,” she ventured.

“Even if the grass won’t support five hundred head of cattle?” he asked in a dry tone.

His deep voice vibrated through her, distracting her from her purpose. Strangely, she felt as if the timbre and vibration of his voice set off an answering chord in her. She leaned forward to escape that sensation. “With some work and proper management, we could have it in shape in no time.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“So you said.” Shannon twisted to look at him. Their eyes met, and she was temporarily distracted when she noticed that his eyes had flecks of gold in them, which only added to their unique appearance. She forced her mind on track. “I’m sure you’ll try to do what you can here, but you need an expert. You need me.”

He set his jaw, and his eyes raked over her. “I have to wonder why this is so important to you.”

“It’s my job.”

“Is that all? Or could it be because it’ll enhance your reputation if you can do what that guy who called last week couldn’t do?”

Stung partly because it was true, she turned. “Of course not.”

He gave another one of those dry laughs. “Can it, Miss Kelleher. I’ve already said no.”

Shannon’s mouth tightened. “I heard you.”

“But you don’t listen very well.”

She ignored that “Do you know the history of this ranch?”

“As much as I need to know.”

His tone discouraged discussion, but she forged ahead anyway. She could be stubborn, too. “The Crescent Ranch is one of the last intact spreads in this area. It was homesteaded at the turn of the century by the Crescent family. The last member, Millard, built the fancy rock ranch house but should have put some of that money back into range management and improvement. He didn’t, though, and lost the place during the Depression. It’s had half a dozen different owners since then, until Gus Blackhawk bought it about thirty years ago. Some people say he bought it for his son, Garrett, but Garrett didn’t want it, so it’s been leased since then. I guess old Gus thought his son would change his mind someday and come back to live here.”

“Thanks for the update on local gossip,” Luke said.

“Sorry,” she answered, miffed. “I just thought you’d be interested in the past so you’d know what to avoid in the future.”

“I already know what to avoid. Interference.”

“So you said.”

“Just keep in mind how impossibly stubborn I am.”

She winced at having her words thrown back at her. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”

“Why apologize?” he asked with a shrug. “It’s the truth.”

Shannon gave up and made no further attempts at conversation as they rode across the range. Looking around, she felt sad at the knowledge that this ranch would never be returned to the lush vegetation it had once known.

When they reached the barn, Luke dismounted and helped her down. “Are you all right to drive back to town?”

“Yes.” She was worn-out, but she couldn’t admit it. Maybe her time with him had made her as stubborn as he was.

As if he didn’t believe her, Luke grasped her chin. Tilting her head, he looked into her eyes as if checking her pupils. Shannon’s gaze flew to meet his. “I’m fine,” she said.

Luke didn’t release her jaw. Instead his touch lingered. His eyes studied her face. One corner of his mouth tilted upward, but it wasn’t a smile. “Beautiful,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re too damned beautiful.”

The way he said it was an insult. Shannon snapped her head out of his grasp and nearly sent herself into another swoon. She turned, plucked the keys from her pocket and scrabbled for the truck’s door handle. He was there ahead of her.

“You’re in no shape to do this.” He rapped the words out. “I’ll drive you back to town.”

“Absolutely not,” she responded, her eyes flashing as she turned to him. “You’ve done quite enough.”

“No, I haven’t.” He snagged the keys from her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Shannon watched in impotent fury as he took the horses to the barn, unsaddled them and turned them into the corral. She wanted to run after him and demand the return of the keys. Unfortunately, he was right. She was in no shape to drive or to go tearing around after him.

But he didn’t have to be so high-handed about it.

Accepting defeat, she climbed into the truck and sat behind the wheel, arms folded and lips drawn into an angry line as she waited for him to return with the keys. He was back within a few minutes and didn’t even pause when he saw her. He scooted her aside and took her place behind the steering wheel.

“I guess it won’t do any good to point out that this vehicle belongs to the agency and only its employees are allowed to drive it?” she asked.

“You’re right. It won’t do any good at all. Fasten your seat belt.”

“How will you get home?”

Luke stuck his right thumb in the air. “I’ll hitchhike.”

Shannon turned in her seat to examine his grim profile, the hard set of his jaw. With his face shadowed beneath the brim of his black hat, he reminded her of a gunslinger of the old west. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “There’ll be any number of people willing to pick you up.”

“I bet you’d be surprised.”

“Not today,” she said wearily. “Nothing about you would surprise me.”

He stopped at the highway to wait for traffic and shaved a look in her direction. “You don’t have this whole diplomacy thing down too firmly, do you, Miss Kelleher?”

“I thought I did until I met you, Mr. Farraday.”

That brought another of those gritty laughs.

Shannon didn’t respond. She wasn’t accustomed to feeling unsettled, infuriated and powerless all at the same time. She’d never been around any man who was so determined to have his own way, who was so convinced his own way was right.

Turning her head, she stared at the scenery they passed. Cattle grazing in the lush grass in a field belonging to the McAdam family gave way to a field of prairie flax waving its lavender blossoms in the breeze. Two years ago, their fields had been as badly overgrazed as Luke’s, but they’d prospered with a little help from her and lots of good management by the McAdams. She wouldn’t waste her breath telling Luke that, though.

She told herself it was none of her business. She had tried and failed, but it galled her.

“Sulking won’t make me change my mind,” Luke said, giving her a sideways glance.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You could also stick your bottom lip out and start crying, but that won’t make me change my mind, either.”

Chin in the air, she said, “Even if I thought it would, I wouldn’t resort to that. I’m a professional.”

He didn’t answer, but she saw his face twitch. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was fighting a grin.

They reached Tarrant within twenty minutes, and she directed him to the agency’s office building. It was a small redbrick structure, and the windows of Wiley’s office faced the parking lot. Shannon noticed a shadow behind the miniblinds and knew that her boss lurked there, watching her arrival. He would have something to say to her about letting Luke drive her back to the office. That was okay, though. She had plenty to say to him.

Luke parked the truck, stepped out and hurried around to help her out before she could gather her clipboard and reach for the door handle. When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “Don’t bother to thank me. I know you wouldn’t mean it.”

“No,” she responded, exasperated. “I wouldn’t.”

His long, callused fingers touched the brim of his hat. “Then let’s don’t be hypocritical by wishing each other a good day. It hasn’t been a good day for either of us.” With that, he turned and strode toward the street, his long legs and easy stride covering the distance in seconds.

Watching him go, Shannon slumped against the side of the truck and shook her head. “Who was that masked man?” she whispered with a silent laugh. She felt as if she’d spent three hours in his company and knew little more than she had when she’d stood on the floor of his barn and appreciated the sight of his backside.

In that time, she had gone through almost every emotion a person could feel, from appreciation to happiness to fury and indignation. No wonder she was dizzy.

Luke strode around the corner, then stopped and stepped back to see if Shannon was all right. She was just disappearing inside the building. Good. She was safely in her office, at her job, in her own life. She wouldn’t be coming to his place again. He’d made sure of that, though he knew he should be ashamed of his rudeness.

He resumed walking down the wide sidewalk of Tarrant’s main street. If he’d been capable of it, he would have stopped to appreciate what a pretty little town it was, but he hadn’t chosen the area for the beauty of its county seat. He’d bought the Crescent Ranch because he could afford it and he could own it outright. No sharing. Never again would he be in a position to let someone have a say in his place. Not financially. Not agriculturally.

Not even a beautiful range management specialist with midnight blue eyes and black hair was going to tell him how to run his place. Unconsciously, Luke’s hand went to the pocket where he’d tucked her card. Yeah, he’d kept it, though he didn’t know why. He’d never use it.

What he had told her was true. She was too damned beautiful. She was also too damned disturbing. He didn’t need that. He had work to do. Alone. He liked it that way.

He crossed to the side of the street where the traffic was heading east, toward home, and stuck out his thumb. The irony of thinking such thoughts, then begging for a ride wasn’t lost on him, but he wasn’t going to make a practice of asking for things from his neighbors, not even rides. The fewer things he asked for, the fewer obligations he had, the less he would be disappointed. Hurt.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something in Shannon Kelleher’s big eyes and sweet mouth that could disappoint and hurt a man. He didn’t need that.

But her card was in his pocket, and he left it there.

Wiley pounced as soon as she walked in the door. “Who was that guy? And what was he doing driving my truck?”

Shannon lifted an eyebrow as she skirted around him and headed for her small office. “When did the agency sign the truck over to be your personal vehicle?”

“You know what I mean.” He dogged her steps.

In a cool tone, Shannon explained what had happened. Typically, Wiley didn’t express any concern for her welfare. She wasn’t surprised. Her boss was a secretive man whose main interest was himself.

“I know you lied to me when you said no one had contacted him.” She pointed a finger at him. “You tried to call him on the phone last week, and when he wouldn’t talk to you, you sent me out there. How I got back is my own business.”

Wiley’s ferocious frown told her he didn’t care that she knew he’d lied. “Did you do any good out there? Get him to sign on for the project?”

Shannon locked her shoulder bag in her desk drawer and sat down to go through her mail. “Not yet. But I will.” She wished she felt the confidence she put into her voice.

“Humph,” he said, turning to leave her office. “You can’t do this job. They should have hired a man for it.”

Shannon wanted to respond that they should have hired a man for Wiley’s job, too, but that would surely get her into hot water. She was growing weary of the constant struggles with him, and lately his animosity was tinged with an undercurrent she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He watched everything she did almost jealously, but she concluded it was because he had wanted his nephew to get her job. She could only think that he couldn’t seem to forgive her for being better qualified for the job—or for being a woman. Her only consolation was the knowledge that it was his problem, not hers.

As she cleared her desk, Shannon came across the paperwork she’d begun to get Ben and Timmy started on the lengthy grant awards process. They would have needed government money to fix up the Crescent Ranch. Except for their names and the date of purchase, she had filled in all the necessary information. It was true that she wanted to help her cousins, but it was part of her job. She would have done the same thing for a total stranger like Luke Farraday. Maybe she still could. She would hold on to these. He might change his mind. With a wry smile, Shannon told herself she was being ridiculously optimistic. She dropped the forms into a drawer and closed it.

She propped her elbows on her desk and pressed her fingertips to her lips as she wondered if there was any way to get him to change his mind. He’d told her that he didn’t want anyone telling him how to run his place, but she thought there was more to it than that. She didn’t know any rancher who liked government interference, but most of them were willing to work with her for the betterment of their land and cattle. She would have to think about the situation with Luke and see if she could come up with a better approach—just as soon as she stopped dwelling on what a disturbingly attractive man he was.

On Saturday morning, Shannon happily snuggled her two-month-old niece, Christina, against her chest and tucked a light blanket around her as they made their way down the sidewalk of Tarrant’s business district. Her mother and two sisters, Brittnie and Becca, were at the grand opening of Lauren’s Boutique, a shop owned by a friend of the family. Shannon, who hated shopping on the best of days, had no desire to go into that crowd no matter how much she wished Lauren well, so she had volunteered to take care of Becca’s baby.

Her family teased that she really didn’t care very much about clothes, and that was true, though she’d sought to please them today by dressing in a red shorts and top outfit that Brittnie had brought back last November from her honeymoon in Mexico. She liked the outfit because the shorts weren’t too snug or revealing and the top was loose enough to be comfortable.

Shannon pushed the stroller with one hand, held the baby with the other and drifted down the walk, gazing in windows and stopping frequently to talk to shoppers, most of them friends who wanted a look at Christina.

The sidewalk ended in front of the feed store, and she started to turn toward the boutique only to get the stroller caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Carefully supporting Christina, she was bending to free it when a hand came down, picked the stroller up and spun it around in the direction she wanted to go.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and glancing up. She straightened abruptly, and surprise sponged the smile off her lips when she saw that her rescuer was Luke Farraday. “Oh, it’s you.”

He lifted a brow at her. “So it seems. Are you feeling better?”

The solicitous words were belied by the coolness of his tone. Shannon wondered why the contrasts in this man seemed to fascinate her so much. It had been more than a week since she’d been to his ranch, but she’d thought about him every day. “Yes,” she finally said. “I’m completely well now.”

He nodded toward Christina. “Not yours, I take it, since you told me you’re not married.”

“My niece.” Shannon turned Christina so Luke could see her face. The whole Kelleher Saunders family agreed that she was an exceptionally beautiful baby, with her dark eyes and wispy hair. The baby looked at Luke and broke into one of her rare smiles.

Shannon glanced up in time to see something move in Luke’s eyes, a swift shadow of longing that first set her back on her heels, then made her doubt what she had seen, so quickly was it gone.

The thought flashed through her mind that he was determined to remain a loner, but even he had vulnerabilities. She wondered if it could be that he had the same needs most people had for family. She wished she knew more about him. She knew he lived, and ranched, alone.

Luke’s gaze flashed to hers, and the softness she’d seen disappeared. She glanced down to see he was carrying a box of items from the feed store. “You’ve been shopping,” she said lamely.

“Isn’t that what everyone’s doing here on a Saturday morning?” he asked, nodding toward the mass of shoppers. “Except you, it seems.”

“I only shop when my back’s to the wall.”

“You don’t like buying stacks of new clothes, maybe some diamonds, a fur coat?”

She burst out laughing. “And wear them where? To help Pete Minton reseed his north pasture? Luke, you’re a riot.”

At her flippant tone, he narrowed his eyes. “Then you’re an unusual woman.”

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” He tipped his hat to her and started to turn away, but he paused, looking up the sidewalk with a frown.


CHAPTER THREE

SHANNON’S attention followed his to see what he was looking at Automatically, she stiffened at the sight of Gus Blackhawk approaching. His feet shuffled as if he could barely lift them. His gray hair was disheveled, as were his clothes. He wore jeans and a faded green shirt topped by a winter jacket, despite the heat of the June day.

Shannon gaped at him. She hadn’t seen him in months and had never seen him looking like this. He was a proud man, always well-dressed, disdainful of those he considered beneath him. But today he looked like a bum. Even as her heart went out to him, she tightened her arms protectively around Christina.

Luke saw her movement and gave her a curious look just as Mr. Blackhawk reached them. He would have passed them by, but Luke said, “Good morning, Mr. Blackhawk,” and the old man stopped.

His eyes, once a deep, dark blue, now murky, lifted to Luke. He stared for a few seconds before he responded, “Oh, Farraday. Yeah, hello.” Unfocused, his gaze slanted to Shannon and Christina. He studied her blankly for a moment, then his lip curled. “You’re that girl of Mary Jane’s. Bet your family wasn’t too happy when I sold to this guy, huh?”

Shannon was offended by his gloating tone, but before she could react, Luke gave her a swift glance and broke in. “Mr. Blackhawk,” he said. “We’re sorry we interrupted your . . . business.” He stunned Shannon by stepping protectively between her and the old man. His voice was harder than steel as he said, “We’ll let you be on your way.”

Mr. Blackhawk blinked as if he’d forgotten Luke was there and couldn’t understand why he was interfering. Shannon swallowed a bubble of hysteria. She couldn’t understand it, either, but she was grateful.

Luke shifted the box he carried to his hip, then he took Shannon’s arm and turned her, stroller and all, hustling her and her niece down the sidewalk.

Shannon stumbled along with him, upset and disconcerted. “Thank you,” she stammered. “I wish I could tell you what that was all about. He’s an unhappy old man who’s always disliked my family, but—”

Luke sliced a glance at her, his jaw set, his eyes cold. “It’s his problem, not yours.”

“I guess so.” She was taken aback by Luke’s swift protectiveness. She knew it was old-fashioned chivalry and nothing personal, but still, she was speechless with surprise. When they arrived in front of Lauren’s Boutique, she stopped him. “I’m meeting my family here.” She sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you again. You were very considerate and . . . chivalrous in the face of his rudeness.” She blushed. Luke had been rude to her the day they had met.

Strangely, he didn’t seem to welcome her gratitude. Maybe he, too, was recalling his rudeness. “I’ll be going then,” he said. “Goodbye, Miss Kelleher.”

Shannon hugged her niece and swayed as she watched him turn swiftly and stroll away. She was grateful to see that Gus Blackhawk was nowhere in sight. Luke reached a brown pickup, set the box in the back and climbed in, then reversed out of the spot and drove down the street.

Shannon saw that his truck still had its Arizona license plate. His vehicle told her a little bit more about him. He might have the money to buy the Crescent Ranch and to take his time about getting it into shape to raise cattle, but he didn’t waste his funds on a new truck when a ten-year old one would get him where he needed to go.

This was becoming like a game, she thought, as she bent to place Christina in her stroller and strap her in carefully. The more she wanted to learn about Luke Farraday, the more he seemed to hide. That was why he fascinated her. She was convinced that once she got to know him, he wouldn’t seem so intriguing.

Shannon had always liked puzzles and ciphers, and Luke certainly qualified. The way to solve a puzzle was to find its secret key.

Shannon gave Luke a week after seeing him in Tarrant. He hadn’t contacted her office—not that she thought he would. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want help from her or any other person or agency. Ordinarily, she would respect that, but she was sure that, given a little more time and persuasion, she could get him to change his mind.

Her motives weren’t purely unselfish, she admitted, as she packed a lunch to take on Friday’s rounds. While it was true that thinking about the methods she could use to get the Crescent back into shape was enough to make her excited about the project, she also wanted to prove to Wiley Frost that she could do her job.

She leaned against the kitchen counter to sip her morning coffee. Absently, her gaze scanned her apartment. Though it was tiny and furnished with castoffs from the homes of her mother and sisters, it was cheerful and full of the shades of blue and green she loved. Plants flourished before the big window that looked on the small apartment building’s lawn. She moved from the kitchen area and examined the plants, plucking a few dry leaves off the philodendron.

Her problems with Wiley were only part of the reason she needed to talk to Luke again. There was something about Luke that intrigued her, drew her to him. Maybe it was because he seemed like such a loner, though she was sure he would deny being lonely. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem to like her.

While she didn’t feel any particular need to be liked by everyone she met, she thrived on challenge. Her mother said she’d always done things the hard way, and Shannon knew she probably wasn’t going to change. And dealing with Luke was definitely a challenge.

With a determined step, she returned to the kitchen, set her cup down and finished making her salad. As she was reaching for some cookies to add to her lunch, she paused and tilted her head. She and her nephew, Jimmy, had made the chocolate chip cookies last night when he’d come to spend the evening with her. Even though his help had consisted of scooping out and eating chunks of dough when he thought she wasn’t looking, the cookies had turned out to be delicious.

Shannon examined the container with narrowed eyes, then smiled ruefully. Luke Farraday definitely didn’t seem like the type of man who would be influenced by baked goods. She was sure that the way to his heart was not through his stomach, but still, cookies might soften him up.

Unbelievable that she was thinking in these terms. She’d spent her life trying to be accepted for her brains rather than her looks or her abilities in the kitchen. The idea of being seen as a helpless female was abhorrent to her though she was also practical enough to know that she’d damaged her image when she’d fainted at Luke’s feet.

Smiling, she gathered a handful of cookies and tossed them into a self-sealing bag. The truth was, she was a fabulous cook, and there was the barest outside chance that taking him a few cookies might make him pause long enough to get him to listen to her. She had two other ranches to visit first. Then she would spend the rest of the day with Luke.

If he would let her.

“This better be a neighborly visit and not an official one,” Luke said as he strode toward where she’d parked the agency truck.

When she had driven into the yard, she’d seen him coming out of the barn with a roll of barbed wire, which he’d tossed into the back of his truck. She was relieved that she’d caught him. If she’d been a few minutes later, he would have been gone.

Seeing him striding toward her in his work clothes of denim shirt, jeans and dusty boots, his accustomed scowl fixed in its usual place just under the brim of his battered straw cowboy hat, she felt a surge of excitement and anticipation. Since meeting him, she’d somehow become enthralled with the idea of living dangerously.

Shannon grabbed the bag of cookies and let it dangle from her fingers as she stepped to the ground. When she answered him, her tone was as direct as his. “Oh? You’re accepting neighborly visits, then?”

Luke stopped in front of her and rested his hands on his waist as his gaze shifted from her to the bag and back again. “That depends. Are you the local welcoming committee today?”

“No, just one neighbor calling on another.”

Luke stripped his gloves off and stuck them in his back pocket, then took the bag and extracted a couple of cookies. As he did so, he gave her an assessing glance. “What else do neighbors do to help each other out around here?”

She knew intuitively that he was testing her. She lifted her chin. “Whatever needs to be done. Last year, Joe McAdam helped my mom load and sell some cattle after she fell and hurt her back.” Shannon smiled ruefully. “My mom’s a little bit accident prone.” She didn’t know why she’d added the last part, except it wouldn’t hurt for him to begin seeing his neighbors as real people.

He bit into a cookie and chewed it thoughtfully, then held it away and gave it an appreciative look. “You make these?”

“Yes. With my nephew’s help.”

He took another bite, chewed and swallowed. “Had any experience in mending fences?”

Shannon blinked. “Are you kidding? I’m one of three girls. We had no brothers, so our dad depended on us to help out.” She offered him a tentative smile. “You got some fence that needs mending?”

His gaze went from her to cookies and back again. “Can you mend fence as well as you bake cookies?”

“Better.”

As she had on her last visit, she glimpsed a flicker of humor in his eyes. She felt her heart begin a slow, heavy beat of excitement. She wanted to encourage that spark of humor.

“Does your boss know you’re here?” he asked.

“Of course.” That wasn’t strictly true. She’d left a list of the places she was going that day, but Wiley probably wouldn’t bother to read it. However, she wasn’t responsible for his negligence.

“And he doesn’t mind that you’re wasting your time?”

She shrugged. “It’s my time to waste.”

“Honey, it’s really the government’s time.”

“Visiting the ranchers and offering my assistance is part of my job,” she answered in a careless tone. “I’m only doing my job.”

Luke munched another cookie while he considered. “Since you’re determined to help me out even though I don’t need your help, and you keep showing up here, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and work with me today?”

His tone told her he thought she couldn’t do it—just as he thought she couldn’t catch and saddle her own horse when she’d been here before.

She smiled. “I’d love to. After all, what are neighbors for?”

“I’ve often wondered.” He turned away. “Come on. If you’re here to help, let’s get to work.” He glanced back. “And bring the cookies.”

With a laugh, Shannon locked the truck after she grabbed her gloves, her lunch and the two-liter bottle of water she’d brought. She could see that his truck was already loaded with tools, cedar posts, staples and wire. Afraid that he might change his mind and decide to leave without her in spite of what he had said, she dashed after him.

When she arrived at the truck in a rush, he glanced up. “Did you think I’d leave without you?”

Color flared into her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled at him as she opened the truck door. “Considering how reluctant you are to take me along, yes. Just remember, you invited me.”

“I remember.”

“Don’t try to back out of it.”

“Let’s hope you figure out pretty quick that I’m a man of my word, or our future dealings won’t be worth much.”

Future dealings? That was a big jump from the way he’d shown her the door the last time she’d called. Shannon gave him a swift glance and wondered if he realized what he’d said.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/patricia-knoll/bachelor-cowboy/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.