Книга - The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart

The Way to a Cowboy's Heart
Teresa Southwick


FAMILYMATTERSIT WAS JUST A HOUSE…Bachelor Cade McKendrick has no intention of filling his rugged ranch with a family. Then his hastily hired cook turned out to be a gorgeous single mom, and the place was promptly invaded by freshly baked cookies, toys and laughter. Soon, Cade longed for something he didn't even believe in…COULD IT BECOME A HOME?P.J. Kirkland was a mother, not a wife. Yet Cade's tender ways had her dreaming of a husband. Was it possible this cowboy wanted more than a place to hang his Stetson…that he desired his own loving family?Kisses, kids, cuddles and kin–the best things in life are found in families!







“You’ve turned this house into a home, P.J.” (#uf54eb40a-e4d3-52c3-8c77-43da986bfae9)Letter to Reader (#u6228e03b-d343-503c-ac5a-7ab05d86e734)Title Page (#ua4ea3d11-37e9-592d-9fa9-6f0f84f5099b)Dedication (#u841bbce5-0627-53ea-9af2-dfca770a85ef)About the Author (#u7cfbc923-7463-5436-af48-e3c127b6c86b)Letter to Reader (#ud84b5fbe-4ce0-5e9f-8c2d-6251f036dcab)Chapter One (#u95b4c672-ec24-5f80-8690-b8b9d0b89023)Chapter Two (#ue4e47705-b5fe-53b7-8e46-3a01384b198f)Chapter Three (#u8961359a-f57b-5f25-b56c-1f107356872e)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)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“You’ve turned this house into a home, P.J.”

“It was a home when I got here.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not even close,” he said. “How do you do it?”

Shyly she said, “I suppose it’s just because I’m a woman.”

She’d meant the remark in the most innocent way. But the feelings it generated in him went from touch-and-go to downright dangerous.

“It’s easier for women,” she said. “We’re naturally nesters. We pull in a bit of this, a smidgen of that, and—” she threw her arm out in a circular motion “—voilà. A building becomes a home.”

And when she left at the end of the summer, the nest would go back to being just bits of this and that with no one to breathe life and vitality and warmth into it. This home would be a ranch again. And he’d be a footloose cowboy once more.

Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?


Dear Reader

The wonder of a Silhouette Romance is that it can touch every woman’s heart. Check out this month’s offerings—and prepare to be swept away!

A woman wild about kids winds up tutoring a single dad in the art of parenthood in Babies, Rattles and Cribs...Oh, My! It’s this month’s BUNDLES OF JOY title from Leanna Wilson. When a Cinderella-esque waitress—complete with wicked stepfamily!—finds herself in danger, she hires a bodyguard whose idea of protection means making her his Glass Slipper Bride, another unforgettable tale from Arlene James. Pair one highly independent woman and one overly protective lawman and what do you have? The prelude to The Marriage Beat, Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new Romance with a HE’S MY HERD cop.

WRANGLERS & LACE is a theme-based promotion highlighting classic Western stories. July’s offering, Cathleen Galirz’s Wyoming Born & Bred, features an ex-rodeo champion bent on reclaiming his family’s homestead who instead discovers that home is with the stubborn new owner...and her three charming children! A long-lost twin, a runaway bride...and A Gift for the Groom—don’t miss this conclusion to Sally Carleen’s delightful duo ON THE WAY TO A WEDDING.... And a man-shy single mom takes a chance and follows The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart in this emotional heart-tugger from rising star Teresa Southwick.

Enjoy this month’s selections, and make sure to drop me a line about why you keep coming back to Romance. We want to fulfill your dreams!

Happy reading,






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

300 East 42nd Street, 6th Floor

New York, NY 10017

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart

Teresa Southwick







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


For my brother Dan Boyle and his wife, Katie.

Your laughter, loyalty and love is always an inspiration.

Thanks for the verbal crash course, no pun intended, in

horseback riding. I’m grateful that you didn’t call me

crazy for asking, “But he could touch her leg now, right?”


TERESA SOUTHWICK

is a native Californian with ties to each coast, since she was conceived in the East and born in the West. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof, and above all—happy endings.

Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.


Dear Reader,

Relatives. Gotta love ‘em. Right?

I was one of six kids in a close-knit family. My brothers and I still get together one weekend a year, without spouses and children, to reconnect. We actually like each other.

My husband and I tried to give our two sons the foundation of family that we both enjoyed. Then along came their teenage years. The kids tried to grow up while we struggled valiantly to keep them little and convince them that we knew best. I found that often what I didn’t say was more profound than platitudes tuned out by selective teenage hearing. There were times when we fought, but we always loved each other. We were always family, and that relationship—good or bad—shapes our lives.

This is the theme of The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart—a father’s stern discipline and a rebellious teenager’s interpretation that he’s no good. Cade McKendrick is convinced that he has nothing to offer anyone, including the teenagers he’s forced to take in for the summer. He hires single mom P. J. Kirkland as a cook and she soon sets out to show him he’s one of the good guys.

Because family has always been such an important element in my life, I’m very proud that The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart is included in FAMILY MATTERS. Silhouette Romance’s promotion this month. I fell in love with Cade McKendrick and hope this cowboy finds his way into your heart too.







Chapter One

“You’re a woman.”

“You’re a man.” P. J. Kirkland shot back, then winced after the words popped out.

Open mouth, insert foot. The first time she’d laid eyes on her new boss too.

Would she ever learn to think before letting words come out? Cade McKendrick didn’t seem a warm, fuzzy—forgiving—sort of man. She was relieved when his lips curved up slightly in a smile.

“Can’t argue that.” He glanced down at the paper on the desk in front of him. “I just figured P. J. Kirkland was a guy.”

“That happens a lot.”

“Hmm.” The leather chair creaked loudly as he sat down. Not surprising. His approximately six-foot-two-inch, solid-as-a-rock frame would make any piece of furniture groan. Not to mention most females she knew. Luckily, she was the exception.

A good-looking man held no appeal for her. Not anymore. But she couldn’t help noticing that Cade McKendrick, with his deep blue eyes, sun-streaked brown hair and chiseled jaw, would not have to wear a bag over his head in public—unless he wanted to avoid female attention.

P.J. held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. McKendrick.”

“Cade,” he said leaning forward to squeeze her fingers. He indicated the chair in front of his desk and said, “Please sit down. What does P.J. stand for?”

“Would you believe pajamas?”

“No.”

So much for trying to distract him with humor. Although brief, that flash of amusement on his rugged face moments ago had charmed her, and she’d hoped to bring it out again. But it was gone, as if it had never happened, replaced by an unreadable mask. He watched her intently, expectantly, waiting her out. He was going to make her tell him her full name. She would make him pay.

“Penelope Jane,” she said quickly. “It’s nice—”

“What’s wrong with Penelope Jane?” Even as he innocently asked, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his mouth twitched. She had hoped to impress him with her razor-sharp wit, not her dippy name.

She sighed. “Sounds like a character from a bad Doris Day movie.”

“What’s wrong with Penny?”

“Too cutesy. My older brother started using the initials and it stuck.”

“Okay. So tell me what you know about kids.”

“In twenty-five words or less?” she joked.

“Okay.”

He sounded serious. P.J. frowned. Her experience and qualifications were in the résumé she’d sent him. Now that she thought about it, the fact that she was a woman was clear in her introductory letter. But maybe this was his way of breaking the ice.

“I teach high-school kids. Just completed my fourth year.” Her job in Valencia, California, was a far cry from his ranch near Santa Barbara. Hard to believe the two places were in the same state, only a couple hours apart by car.

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “You can cook, right?”

Shouldn’t this have been ironed out before she arrived? “If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have answered your ad, in spite of the fact that this job is exactly what I need. The idea of a youth summer program on a ranch is innovative and a terrific opportunity. For children,” she added, knowing she was babbling. She was nervous. She couldn’t help it. He kept looking at her with those blue eyes that seemed to read every secret she had.

“These kids aren’t children. They’re teenagers,” he said. “What’s your specialty? In food, I mean.”

“I don’t do gourmet/fancy. But I know what kids like—hot dogs, hamburgers, tacos and fries are about as sophisticated as they get. I can make biscuits from scratch that will melt in your mouth. And my chocolate chip cookies wouldn’t be mistaken for hockey pucks,” she added, sacrificing modesty for honesty and complete objectivity.

Small doubts began to creep in on her. This felt an awful lot like a job interview, but she’d been under the impression that she already had the position. He’d left the message on her answering machine that she was hired and the date he wanted her to start.

She was about to ask a few incisive questions of her own when there was a loud crash outside his office door. P.J. jumped up and raced into the hall with Cade right behind her. There beside an antique accent table, she saw her daughter, Emily, with a shattered crystal photo frame on the distressed-oak floor at her feet.

“Mommy—” Her child’s fearful gaze darted to Cade just before she scurried forward and buried her face against P.J.’s jean-clad leg.

P.J. crouched down and gathered the seven-year-old in her arms. ‘ “What happened, sweetie? I told you to sit quietly and not touch anything while you waited for me.”

“Mommy?” Cade frowned. “You brought a kid with you?”

“Not a kid. My daughter, Emily.” PJ. took a deep breath to keep her anger at bay. How long before she learned that when something looked too good to be true it usually was? Case in point: a job on a ranch where she and Emily could live for the summer. It had seemed ideal. She would be able to work and still save money on child care. She might actually get ahead financially.

She glared up at him. “I stated clearly in the letter accompanying my résumé that I had a child. I told you she would be coming with me. When you left the message that I had been hired, I assumed that you had gone over my qualifications carefully. But you haven’t even looked at my résumé, have you, Mr. McKendrick?”

Before he could answer, Emily looked at him with red-rimmed green eyes. Her lips quivered when she said, “I—I’m sorry about the picture, mister.”

He went down on one knee and lifted the photograph from the shards of glass. He studied the granite features of the gray-haired man, then said, “Forget it.”

Emily stared at the picture in his hands. “But it must be special—”

“Just my father,” he said.

She rubbed a knuckle beneath her nose. “You’re lucky. I don’t have a daddy.”

Her words tugged at P.J.’s heart.

“Me either. He died three months ago.” He looked up at P.J. “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he said reading the sympathy she knew was on her face. “I won’t.”

Emily sniffled again. “I’m extra sorry, mister.”

P.J. pulled her little girl more protectively against her. “I’ll see that the frame is replaced, Mr. McKendrick. ”

“Don’t worry about it. And I already told you the name is Cade,” he said, standing.

“I insist. As soon as—” She looked down when she felt a tug on her jeans pocket. “What is it, Emily?”

“Do ranches have bathrooms?”

Cade smiled for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. Once at her, once at Emily. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “double trouble.”

Great, she thought, already planning to apply for work at her local fast-food place. She would figure out some way to arrange child care.

When Emily tugged again, she said, “T’m sure there’s a powder room. Let’s ask Mr.—” she stopped when he slanted her a look. “Cade. He’ll tell you where it is.”

He pointed down the hall. “Go that way and it’ll be on your right.”

“Do you want me to go with you, Em?”

The girl shook her head, then looked uncertain. “But which side is right?”

“It’s the side you hold your pencil. Okay?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

They watched her until she’d found the right door, then P.J. turned to him. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you read my résumé?”

He rubbed his neck. “No.”

“Was mine the only one you received?”

He shook his head. “Got about six or seven.”

“If you didn’t read mine, how did you pick me?”

“Yours was on top.”

“Would I be wrong to assume that you didn’t check out my references either?”

“No.”

“If I were a cowboy, would you have done some checking on my background?”

“Yes, but—”

She shook her head. This was no way to run a youth program. Cavalier and slipshod at best. “We’re talking about children, not horses. This is irresponsible—”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, bitterness twisting his words.

“I can’t believe someone entrusted you with this program.”

“Me either. But someone did.”

“Who?”

“My father. It was his idea.”

“And he passed away before he could get it running,” she guessed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cade. But this could be a dynamite thing you’re doing. Channeling your energy into children will help you get over your grief—”

“That’s what you think this is about?” he asked.

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hardly knew him. We hadn’t spoken since I left home at eighteen. When he found out he was dying he sent for me. He ordered me to finish what he’d started.”

“Ordered? You didn’t want to?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you?”

“If I don’t, I lose the ranch.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If I don’t see this program through the summer, the ranch will be sold and the money donated to his favorite charity.” Cade watched her big brown eyes grow wider.

“You must have misunderstood—”

“His will was so clear I didn’t even need the lawyer to translate.” He shoved his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “He had already picked three kids from a local probation program. By the end of the summer, they’ll go back where they came from and the ranch will be mine, free and clear. I just have to get through the next couple months.”

Cade waited for her disapproving look. He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips tightened. Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw her nose wrinkle, drawing his attention to how freckle-splashed and turned-up-cute it was. A pale yellow cotton blouse tucked into her jeans showed off her slender curves. Shoulder-length brown hair curled in layers around her pretty face. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but clean-cut and appealing. Not his normal type, although under different circumstances he might have been tempted to put moves on her. But she had a kid. That was strike one. Strike two: he had a bad feeling P. J. Kirkland was a do-gooder who would give him what-for about his attitude.

When she took a deep breath, he braced himself. Sometimes he hated it when he was right.

“Get through?” she said, clearly offended. “That’s not good enough. These are children. They’re at risk. You have a unique opportunity. This is a chance to make a difference in their lives. And you just want to ‘get through’?”

“That’s about the size of it.” He didn’t care whether or not she approved. He just needed her until the end of August. “So you still want the job, or do I need to call the second résumé in the stack?”

She blinked. “You’re hiring me?”

The sound of footsteps kept her from saying more, and they both turned to see Emily coming toward them. The child stopped beside her and looked from PJ. to him. “Mister, if you have a broom, I’ll sweep up the glass. Mom always makes me clean up my messes.”

“I have a broom. You can sweep it into a pile, but don’t pick it up. I’ll do that so you don’t cut yourself.”

She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“It’s fine,” PJ. said.

“Good,” he answered pointing. “The kitchen is that way. Follow me.”

He started toward the back of the house when the little girl slipped her small hand into his. It was amazingly small, and wet from a recent washing. Surprised, he looked down at her and she smiled. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure PJ. was following.

“I’ve never seen a cowboy before,” she confided.

“I’ve never seen a little girl before.”

She stared up at him, doubt written all over her small oval face. “You’re fibbing, mister.”

“Call me Cade. And I’m not exactly fibbing. I’ve never been this close to a little girl.” The thought bothered him a little. He wondered what else he’d missed out on because of his wandering life-style.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” he said.

“Did you hear that, Mom?”

“I did, sweetie. Cade hasn’t been around boys either, he says.”

“Is that why you need my mommy to help you?”

Helping him made it sound more intimate than it was. Bottom line: he was the boss; she was the cook. He glanced at the woman on the other side of the little girl. “Yes.”

“At least you know when you’re in over your head,” P.J. said.

“Does that mean you’ll stay for the summer?” He hoped the answer was yes. It would be convenient if he didn’t have to find someone else on such short notice.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“How’s that?”

She sighed. “I need the work.”

Bright-eyed with excitement, Emily tipped her head back and looked from him to her mother. “So we don’t have to go?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I think we have a duty to stay.” PJ. shot him a meaningful glance. “We have to help him get to know kids.”

Emily frowned. “I don’t know how. Travis Wilkins always pulls my hair. I ask him nicely to stop, but he won’t. How can I help Mister Cade?”

“By doing what you’re told,” P.J. said.

The child nodded. “I can do that.”

Cade shook his head, mystified. As easy as that she would behave, he thought. But his cynicism quickly returned. Emily was young yet. Give her time. Rebellion would set in and he’d like to be around to see Ms. Cool, Unruffled, Idealistic P. J. Kirkland deal with that. If Emily was half as much trouble as he’d been, he figured her pretty mother would have her hands full.

They entered the kitchen and he watched P.J. look around what would be her territory for the next three months. The approving light in her chocolate-brown eyes told him the spacious ceramic tile countertops and center island work area appealed to her. The side-by-side refrigerator would hold plenty of food for the three boys who would be boarding for the summer. The only thing he knew about young boys was how much they could eat—that he remembered. At the far end of the room, sitting on the oak-plank floor, was a table with eight chairs. That should give them enough space for eating.

He reached into the closet beside the pantry and pulled out the broom, handing it to Emily. “This is pretty big. Can you carry it?”

“Yes, sir.” She tilted her head back to look at him, then quickly glanced away. “Mister Cade, can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“Will I fall over backwards if I look up at you all the way?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re awful tall. I feel like I’m gonna tip over backwards if I do.”

“I promise if I see you going over, I’ll grab you. Fair enough?”

She nodded. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Do you have a boy or girl of your own?”

“No.” Cade stared at her, not sure where that had come from.

PJ. quickly ran interference. “Emily, you’re procrastinating. It’s time for you to go start sweeping up.”

Cade raised an eyebrow. “Do you understand those twenty-dollar words?” he asked the little girl.

“Not always. But Mom helps me.” She smiled at him. “You’re really a cowboy?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes.” Hadn’t they already covered this?

“But you’re not wearin’ a hat.”

“You don’t have to wear a hat to be a cowboy.”

“But on the way here in the car, Mommy said cowboys wear hats. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“White or black?”

PJ. moved forward and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Enough questions, chatterbox. Go clean up your mess.”

“I will, Mom. First I gotta know what color his hat is.”

“Brown,” Cade answered.

Emily’s forehead wrinkled as she thought that over. “Does that mean you’re a good guy or a bad one?”

He mulled that for a moment, then answered truthfully. “Bad.”

After reading Emily a bedtime story, P.J. wandered out on the front porch. Cade had put them upstairs in the room next to his. There were two other bedrooms down the ball from her and Em where the boys would stay. With a sigh, she sat on the swing. Suspended by thick ropes, the redwood frame was covered with a cushioned canvas pad. Moonlight combined with the lamplight spilling through the window to bathe her surroundings in a silver glow. Sighing again, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body into the cushy softness as she swayed gently back and forth. It had been an unsettling day, but this peace and serenity almost made up for it.

“Evening.”

Her eyes snapped open. The sound of that familiar deep voice shot tension up her spine faster than she could say this town ain’t big enough for the both of us. He was just emerging from the shadows beyond the circle of light from the house. “Cade. I didn’t know you were out here.”

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He walked up the steps. “Before sundown I always do a last look-see around the ranch to make sure everything’s quiet.”

“Emily asked me to tell you good-night.”

“She settle in all right?” he asked, removing his brown hat.

She remembered his words about being a bad guy. She didn’t buy it. Would a bad guy care if a little girl was all right, or pick up her mess so she wouldn’t cut herself? He leaned back against the porch support beam, and rested one hip on the railing beside her. It was a blatantly masculine pose that did strange things to her stomach.

“She couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to hear the end of her favorite story.”

He set his hat on his thigh and rubbed the brim between his fingers. P.J. would never peg him as the nervous type, but, all the same, she sensed that something was eating him.

He cleared his throat. “If I gave you a bad moment today, I apologize, PJ.”

“What do you mean?”

“About the job and all. With the kid to think about, and needing the work since your husband passed away—”

“What?” she asked, sitting forward on the swing.

“Emily said she didn’t have a dad. I just assumed he was—You know.”

“He’s alive and well. I need this job because it allows me to save money on child care. Even if I could find it now. All the good camp programs are full by the time summer starts.”

“What about her dad?”

“I support Emily by myself.”

“He doesn’t see her or help out?”

The mingled surprise and outrage in his voice startled P.J. Earlier she had thought him slipshod and actually called him irresponsible. Geez, she didn’t know what to make of this man who was obviously steamed about Emily’s absentee father.

Thoughts of Dave Kirkland steamed her up too. Annoyance vibrated through P.J., pushing her to her feet. “I don’t want him seeing my daughter.”

“Did he hurt her?” His voice was just this side of an angry growl.

“Not physically.” She folded her arms over her chest, wondering why she was going to tell him. There was no reason she should, but the words still came pouring out. “He’s a charming, good-looking airhead. Flaky as a French pastry.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s more what he didn’t do. He was forever making plans to see Em and not showing up. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on her little face when he broke promise after promise.” She wrapped a strand of hair around her finger and was irritated to see that her hand was trembling. “To his credit, he was the one who decided to bow out and stop hurting her. At least he knew his limitations.”

“How did Emily take it?”

“It’s been a couple years since she’s seen him. She appears to have accepted the situation.” Better than I did in her shoes, P.J. thought. But thinking of her daughter made her smile. “Sometimes she seems far too mature for her age.”

“That so?” he said.

She glanced at him. “She’s had to grow up fast, maybe too fast. Sometimes I wish she could be a completely carefree kid.”

“You? Miss Take-Your-Responsibilities-Seriously.”

She grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I came on a little preachy. I just like kids. I believe every one deserves a chance.”

“So do I. With someone else.”

Puzzled, she shook her head. “You’re so cynical. Beats the heck out of me why Emily’s taken such a shine to you.”

“Me?” he asked, sounding shocked. “She has?”

“Just ask her.”

“No, thanks.”

His rigid posture drew P.J.’s gaze to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest in his plaid work shirt. Moonlight accentuated his rugged face and the frown he wore so comfortably. The pain she saw in his eyes tore at her. He was clearly a man in conflict.

He looked at her. “That little girl’s had enough heartbreak. She shouldn’t go asking for trouble from this cowboy.” He shook his head. “It’s like you said earlier, at least I know when I’m in over my head.”

P.J. appreciated his honesty and sensitivity. On the other hand, she wondered why he would head for the hills, emotionally speaking, because a little girl had a small case of hero worship.

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with any man. Especially a handsome, complicated, mysterious cowboy. On the one-to-ten danger scale, Cade McKendrick came in a whopping fifteen. His problems were his business. Her problem was this job.

“So the boys arrive tomorrow?”

“That’s right,” he said.

She sat down on the swing again and moved slowly back and forth. “This is a wonderful thing your father started.”

He heaved himself away from the porch railing and set his hat back on his head. Turning away, he tucked his fingertips beneath his arms and stared out toward the ranch buildings. “If you say so.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“It’s not that. I’m just the wrong man for the job.”

“Apparently he didn’t agree.”

He laughed, but it was a bitter, chilling sound. “He was determined that those boys not be disappointed.”

“You sound surprised at that.”

“I am.” He turned and walked over to the swing, sitting down beside her. “Even more than his manipulation.”

“Manipulation?”

“He knew how much I love this ranch. He was counting on that to get his way.”

“Why did he feel emotional blackmail was necessary? This project was obviously important to him. Why couldn’t he simply ask his only son to fulfill his dying request?”

She shifted her position on the swing and her thigh brushed against his. Ignoring the flash of heat and sparks, she forced herself to concentrate on the man beside her.

“He couldn’t forgive me for being less than perfect.”

“I’m sure he loved you, Cade.” A man altruistic enough to give delinquent teens another chance would surely care about his own son.

Cade’s mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “How could you understand? I bet your idea of doing something wrong is whispering in church, or not making your bed every day.”

“You certainly have a strong opinion of me based on several hours acquaintance.” She frowned at him. “Do you really believe I’m that one-dimensional?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have you know I got into my share of trouble.”

Genuine amusement glinted in his eyes and relaxed the tension in his body. “Oh yeah? Define trouble.”

She thought hard. “All right. I’ve got one. There was the time I was necking in the driveway with Bill Perkins. My brother came out, tapped on the car window, and told me to get in the house.”

He laughed. “I bet that put a crimp in your social life for a spell.”

“I was grounded for a month. Can you top that?”

“Lady, you don’t want to know.”

“Try me. I’m not the Miss Goody Two-Shoes you apparently think I am.”

All traces of laughter disappeared. The black look was back and with it the tension. “All right. You asked for it.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Grand theft auto.”


Chapter Two

“You stole a car?” she asked in amazement.

He took little satisfaction from shocking her, even though he’d set out to do exactly that. “My father’s car. Truck to be exact.”

“What happened?”

“He made sure I was punished to the full extent of the law.”

“But it was your father’s. It was hardly more than borrowing the family wheels.”

“I didn’t have my old man’s permission.” He shook his head. “If it’d been the old days, he would’ve led a necktie party.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You didn’t know Matt McKendrick.”

“No, I didn’t.” She stared out into the night for a few moments, then looked at him. “So I can only call ‘em as I see ’em. You turned out all right.”

That surprised him. “How do you know that?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Her generous mouth turned up at the corners. “Except for one notable exception.”

“Your husband.”

“Ex-husband,” she corrected.

So she was divorced. She hadn’t mentioned that before. He had no right to be pleased by the information. He didn’t want to be glad that the man was out of her life.

But damn it he was—pleased and glad.

The realization scared the hell out of him. He stood abruptly. “Time to turn in. Sunup rolls around fast.”

“You have to be up that early?”

He nodded. “On a ranch, we need to use all the daylight there is.”

She stood up, too. Taking a step toward him, she was close enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her hair and the fragrance of her skin. Need slammed into him, an ache to touch her and see for himself if she was as womanly soft as she looked.

The instant he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted to kiss her. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours his new cook gave him ideas, things no boss should think about an employee. Only now he was finding it even harder to resist the impulse. He was right to be afraid of her.

“I’ll have breakfast ready for you,” she said.

“No.” The word came out more sharply than he’d intended.

A puzzled frown wrinkled her forehead, but she said, “I don’t mind.”

The last thing he needed was to see her, first thing in the morning. She tripped warning signals in his head that even a cavalier cowboy like himself couldn’t miss.

“Sleep in, P.J. You’re going to have your hands full when the boys get here tomorrow.”

Several days later, while staring down hostile glares from those three disgruntled teenagers, P.J. understood the full impact of Cade’s words. Since the boys’ arrival, he had been too “busy” on the ranch to spend any time with them. The task of supervision had fallen to her. Fresh out of ideas for keeping them occupied, she had decided they could help with her chores.

She found out quickly that housework wasn’t high on their top-ten list of exciting ranch activities.

“Learning to cook is a good skill to have. Someday you’ll be on your own.”

“When do we get to see this place? I didn’t bust my ass staying out of trouble so I could come here and bake cookies.” Steve Hicks, blond, blue-eyed and nearly six feet tall at seventeen, was the leader of the group. He sported a small gold hoop in his left ear.

“Me, either.” Todd Berry, shorter than his buddy, with light brown eyes, agreed.

The third member of the trio, Mark Robinson, nodded. He was less vocal than the other two. Almost as tall as Steve, he always wore a baseball hat.

“I don’t know what to say, guys.” She held a bowl filled with cookie dough as she spooned it onto sheets for baking.

Standing on a chair beside her, Emily reached into the dough and plucked out a chocolate chip. After popping it into her mouth, she said, “I bet Mister Cade would know what to say.”

P.J. wasn’t so sure about that. But one thing she knew. He was trying to pass the buck, smack into her back pocket. She didn’t plan to let him get away with it. She didn’t mind helping out, but she’d bet her last dollar that housework hadn’t been his father’s vision for this program.

“Baking cookies, for God’s sake,” one of them muttered. “We’ll never live this down.”

She looked at the three boys. “You’ve got a point.”

“we do?” Mark glanced at Steve who lounged against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, and if you’ll take the cookies out of the oven when the timer goes off, I’ll do something about this.”

The three looked at each other and answered, “Cool.”

“Mommy, can I stay here with Steve? Please?”

P.J. had observed the boy for the last couple days. He was hostile and standoffish with adults, but with Emily, he was gentle and kind. He had an enormous amount of patience with the little girl and her chattering. She would be fine.

“Do you mind, Steve?” When he shook his head, she smiled. “I won’t be long.”

With the assistance of one of the ranch hands, she found Cade in the barn. His long sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows and he was dirty.

“Something wrong?” he asked when he saw her.

“What was your first clue?”

“You look mad,” he said simply.

“Good. Because I am.” Through her anger, a smidgen of respect for him registered. In all the time she’d known Dave, he’d never once taken the time to figure out what she was feeling. One glance and Cade had pegged her. “I just want you to know you’re not going to get away with it.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb now. I’m on to you. I signed on as cook, not camp counselor. You’re not going to dump those boys in my lap.”

“You’re a teacher.”

“So what?” she asked, mentally cataloging her work experience. Then the light went on. She gave him a disgusted look. “You still haven’t read my résumé, havé you?”

“No.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“I teach English at St. Bridget’s School for Girls.”

“What difference does that make? Kids are kids. Just do teacher stuff.”

“Here’s a news flash for you, cowboy. These are boys and there’s rebellion in the ranks. It was today’s baking that put them over the edge. Eating is the only part of chocolate chip cookies they want. If I suggest a crash course on Shakespeare, I guarantee murder and mayhem will be the result.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“They bent over backwards staying out of trouble to earn the privilege of being in your program. This is a ranch, for God’s sake. Do you think it’s fair to leave them cooped up in the house with an English teacher who moonlights as a cook?”

“I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Me either. Boys are beyond my sphere of expertise.” She glared at him. “At least you were one once.”

He scowled right back. “And I was bad at it. What do you want me to do now?”

“Draw them into your world.”

“Ranching?”

“That’s why they’re here. Chances are they’ve never been within spitting distance of a horse. I haven’t. I bet they can’t ride. They probably don’t know how to take care of animals, at least none that big. This is a new world to them.”

“I don’t know how to let them in.”

“Let them do chores.” She indicated his dusty jeans and shirt “From the looks of you, you could use a little help.”

“It’s dangerous to have greenhorns underfoot.”

“Just let them watch. They’ll ask questions. It will evolve from there. At least try. You owe them that much.”

You owe your father, she wanted to say, but decided that wasn’t the best way to get through to him. His hostility toward the man was obvious. With her hands on her hips, she said, “Bottom line, McKendrick, this summer program is yours whether you like it or not You’re going to have to get involved.”

“Do you treat your boss at St. Bridget’s like this?”

She couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “When Sister Mary Constance gets out of line, you bet I do.”

She’d hoped to coax a smile out of him, but he only nodded, a troubled look on his face. “Send them out.”

“Done.” She started to walk away.

“Did you say there are fresh-baked cookies?”

“I did. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

She swore he was staring at her mouth when he said that, and the gleam in his blue eyes had nothing to do with chocolate chip cookies. Then she decided her brain had malfunctioned in the heat. Or she’d spent too long cooped up in an all-girls school.

“I’ll bring some food out. Unless you want to come up to the house?”

It was becoming her habit to take a snack out to him in the afternoon. He wouldn’t take the time to come inside, more likely he was avoiding her. She enjoyed the break in household responsibilities. And, if she were honest with herself, she looked forward to seeing him during the day.

“I’ll grab something at the house after I’ve worked with the boys a bit.”

That was a surprise. “Something will be waiting for you.”

“What are you grinning at?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering if you’re beginning to realize that all work and no play makes Cade a dull—Well, you get my drift.”

She had been about to say “boy,” and thank God the word hadn’t popped out. There was nothing boyish about him. He was all-man, the first to interest her in a very long time. A wounded man. The worst kind because she sensed that he could hurt back. Yet he touched a part of her that wanted to reach out to him.

If only she’d had a face-to-face interview with him. She never would have taken this job. Now she was stuck. All she could do was protect herself, and the best way to do that was stay out of his way as much as possible. Because she had a bad feeling that it would be easier than falling off a horse for Cade McKendrick to break her heart.

In practically one gulp, Cade downed the lemonade that PJ. had handed him late that afternoon. It was the sweetest tasting he’d ever had. Maybe it only seemed that way because the kitchen was cool and permeated with the lingering scent of baked cookies and freshly broiled burgers and hot dogs. Or maybe it was because she’d given it to him.

She had no idea how he watched and waited for her to bring him lemonade and cookies every day. He was starting to look forward to the distraction she provided. Partly because she was a good cook, but mostly because he liked her. Either way it was a dangerous combination. Still, she would only be there for a little while, just till the kids went back to school. What could happen?

“Would you like some more?” she asked.

When he nodded, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher. Cade held out his glass and she put her hand over his to keep it steady while she poured. Strange, he thought. The glass was cold and moist, her fingers cool. Why the hell was he hot all over from that slight touch?

He leaned back against the counter as he drank more slowly and observed P. J. Kirkland. In his early years of ranch jobs and rodeo riding, he’d met a lot of women. He’d sized them up quickly and slotted each one into a category, like horses in stalls. Some were career women who turned up their noses at him since he wasn’t upwardly mobile enough. Others were buckle bunnies who followed the circuit looking for a cowboy to warm their bed. The nurturing kind were the most touch and go. They were the ones who wanted a husband and kids.

He couldn’t figure out where PJ. fit. She had a career nine months of the year. She already had a kid, and from what she said, there had been one man too many in her life. He’d bet a dollar to a doughnut that he couldn’t pin the buckle bunny tag on her either. Earlier in the barn, he’d felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. He’d wondered if she’d read the need on his face, as fast as she’d made her excuses and headed back to the house. Nope, she was no buckle bunny on the make.

He almost wished she was. She’d be easier to handle.

“How’d it go with the boys today?” she asked.

Before he could answer, the kitchen door opened, and the young people in question trooped into the room with Emily in hot pursuit. P.J. poured lemonade all around, waiting and refilling glasses as needed. When their most immediate need was taken care of, she sniffed and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Showers. Pronto.”

“Do we have to?” Mark asked. There were lines of fatigue around his eyes.

“We don’t smell that bad,” Todd said.

“I’m going to skip the part where we argue that point,” P.J. said. “Let’s go straight to where I tell you no shower, no dinner. ¿Comprende?”

“Yeah,” they grumbled, setting their glasses in the sink just before leaving the room.

Steve lingered, and when he turned, there was suspicion and hostility in his expression. Cade had dished out that look enough times to know it when he saw it. But he’d never been on the receiving end before and it was damned uncomfortable.

“Do we get to ride the horses tomorrow, dude?” Steve asked.

Cade pointed at the kid. “Let’s get something straight. You’re the dude. I’m the boss. We’ll ride when I say so.”

“What do you say about tomorrow?” P.J. asked.

Cade thought about the million things he had to do. He couldn’t turn these city kids loose, and he did’t have time to nursemaid them. But he hesitated as he looked into the boy’s cool blue eyes. Something about Steve Hicks disturbed him. Although anger wiped every other emotion from his face, Cade sensed the eager anticipation just below the surface. For some reason, he recognized that the boy was excited at the prospect of horseback riding. And he also knew if anyone pointed that out to him, he would deny it.

Cade looked at P.J. who also waited expectantly for his answer.

He shook his head. “You don’t just get up on a horse and ride.”

“No?” Steve folded his arms over his chest. He was beginning to fill out. He would be a strong man someday.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It takes time. There are things you need to learn first.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, his expression dark, his tone cutting.

“You have to earn his trust. Then maybe you can find out how to saddle the animal. How to get him to move, to stop, turn right and left. How to—”

“So show us.”

“I don’t have time tomorrow.”

“Then just let us do it.”

“You can’t.” Cade shoved his hand through his hair.

“Why not?”

“Too dangerous.” He stared the kid down even though if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. “You could get thrown, stepped on. Horses can get mean. I need to personally oversee everything and make sure you’re ready.”

“So do it.”

“I already told you I don’t have time.”

P.J. glanced over her shoulder at him as she poured oil into a big pot. “Could one of your employees supervise?”

Steve’s eyes briefly lit up. “Yeah. Why couldn’t one of them teach us?”

“They have work to do.” He sucked air into his lungs. “So do you. I’ve assigned chores to all of you. Remember?”

“year.”

“You never get something for nothing in life. You have to work hard to get ahead.” The words sounded hauntingly familiar, but he didn’t stop to think about that.

“Figures,” Steve said contemptuously.

“What’s that mean?” Cade asked.

“That I should have known better.” He glared. “You don’t want us here. You never did.”

“Hold on—”

“Why should I? What’ll you do? Send me back for telling the truth? What do I care?”

“This is strictly a safety issue,” Cade said. Again, he got the feeling he’d had this conversation before.

“If you’re worried about being sued if I get hurt, don’t. Nobody cares that much.”

Cade moved forward. “I do.”

“Like hell you do.” Steve stomped from the room.

Cade was about to stop him with a stern reprimand about a lady present, but the words never came out. Shaking off the weird, déjà vu kind of feeling, he glanced at P.J.

“You’re mad again.” He’d never been able to read a woman so fast and easily. But he’d never encountered such expressive big, brown eyes either.

“I am not,” she disagreed. She rested her back against the countertop, ignoring the pot of oil she had heating on the stove.

“You’re not upset about what just happened?”

“No.”

Arms folded over her chest, and the rigid line of her mouth convinced him otherwise. It surprised him how much he wanted to put the teasing smile back on her face.

“Does Sister Mary Constance know you’re a fibber?”

“She knows I do my job to the best of my ability and that I care about all the students in my charge.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re suddenly talking about me?”

“Because we are. Do you like the kids?”

“I don’t know them.”

“You’re not doing anything to change that either.”

“What I told him was the truth.”

“I believe you.”

“Then what’s the problem, P.J.? Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad. Not exactly.” She sighed. “He’s crying out for just a little of your time.”

“And I don’t have any to give. Why can’t you understand that? This is a working ranch, not a boys’ camp. If I don’t work, all of us go under.”

Odd, he thought, that she’d figured out that Steve was begging for his time. He had understood that right away and wondered how she had known. But it didn’t matter what he understood or why, he wouldn’t get involved. Not with the kids or anyone else. He had nothing to give.

He looked into P.J.’s dark, troubled eyes. He wanted to erase the concern he saw in her face. Funny, he’d never cared before what anyone thought about him. But it was different with her. She’d only been there a short time and her good opinion mattered to him. That was a real bad sign.

Then again, why should he lose any sleep over it? He was running on empty and he had been for a long time.

P.J.’s anger evaporated as she watched the play of emotions over his rugged face. There were lines of fatigue around his mouth and circles beneath his eyes. She understood that running his ranch was a big job. She realized that squeezing in time for the kids was hard, and he had freely admitted the summer program was something he didn’t want to do.

She wasn’t mad at him as much as she was disappointed and confused. She watched Cade watch her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of cut-up potatoes immersed in water to keep them from turning brown.

She needed something to occupy her hands, hold her nerves in check. The man unsettled her in so many ways she’d stopped counting. Why was he so reluctant to get involved with the boys? On top of that, he seemed to know what she was thinking almost before she did. He read her as easily as a digital thermometer. She sure wasn’t used to anyone paying that much attention.

He moved behind her, close enough for her to absorb the heat of his body and smell the combined scents of hay, horses and cologne that she was beginning to associate with him. Her heart fluttered, and her knees felt about as solid as her cookie dough.

This was the worst, the most disturbing thing of all. The way she responded to his blatant masculinity was nothing short of humiliating. She’d sworn after Dave, she would never fall for a good-looking, emotionally unavailable man. She’d meant it too. But Cade McKendrick was different, and she wasn’t even sure how. A minute ago, she had been mad at him for brushing Steve off. Now, she held her breath, alternately wanting him to touch her and praying that he wouldn’t.

“I know you have work to do,” she said. As she talked, she pulled potatoes from the bowl and dried them so the oil wouldn’t splatter when she cooked. “But your father must have known what it takes to run a ranch. He set the program in motion and apparently felt that he would have time for all of it.”

“Yeah. Strange, too, considering he never had time for me.”

She turned around and looked at him. The expression on his face reminded her of Steve. He quickly shuttered his feelings, but not before she made a guess. “You’re ticked off because your father had time for strangers, and not for you, his own son.”

His eyes narrowed. “You teach psychology too?”

“No. But it doesn’t take Freud to figure out what’s going on.”

“Maybe it does, because frankly, lady, you’re not even in the corral on this one.”

“No?”

“No.” Blue eyes narrowed on her as he glared.

She was about to call him on that when her peripheral vision registered a bright flash. Her heart leaped as she realized that the pot of oil had ignited. “Uh-oh. Fire.”

He whirled around. “Damn it! Where’s the fire extinguisher?” Frantically, he started opening cupboards, looking for it.

Calmly, P.J. picked up the lid for the pot and carefully dropped it over the flames. Determining it was safe, she took potholders and lifted the kettle to a cool burner. When the smoke dissipated, she cautiously lifted the cover to make sure the fire was out. Satisfied that the cut-off-the-oxygen method of fire knockdown had been effective, she breathed a sigh of relief. Cade was still haphazardly searching above the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “Fire extinguisher. There’s got to be one.”

“It’s called a lid.”

“What?”

“The fire extinguisher. I just put the cover on the pot. The fire’s out.”

He glanced from her to the Dutch oven, and back again. As his body slowly relaxed from the nearcrisis, he shook his head and grinned. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“The way you did that.”

“Not flashy, but effective.” She wasn’t sure if she was being insulted or not. “What did you expect?”

“A little more hysteria for starters. Then I wouldn’t feel like such a jerk.”

She smiled back. A compliment. “How often do you cook in here?”

He shrugged and said, “Almost never. I’ve only been back a few months.”

“Then you’d have no reason to know the extinguisher is in the cupboard closest to the stove.” She opened the door and pointed it out.

If she sidetracked him, maybe he wouldn’t realize why she’d forgotten to watch the stove. He was far too good-looking for her peace of mind, and that dash of vulnerability she’d glimpsed had tugged at her heart, nearly pushing her over the edge. The crisis was her fault for not watching what she was doing. Thankfully it was nothing more serious that a ruined batch of oil.

With her unsettled feelings too close to the surface, P.J. couldn’t look at him. She busied herself turning off the heating element on the stove. “Grease fires are the most common in the kitchen. The easiest way to smother them is with the pan lid.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I took a class.”

“That’s not on your résumé too, is it?” he asked, sounding annoyed with himself.

“No,” she said, glancing up. She laughed at the look on his face. “You’re off the hook on that. If you haven’t read it by now, I don’t hold out much hope that you ever will. Besides, if you’re not happy with my work, at this point you’d just fire me.”

“Haven’t we had enough of that for one day?”

She chuckled, then stared at him. “You actually have a sense of humor.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am,” she agreed

And wary too. Western-movie-hero looks and a sense of humor to boot. A lethal combination. This was the first time she’d ever spelled trouble c-o-w-b-o-y.


Chapter Three

“Where’s my mom?”

“Shopping for groceries.” Cade looked down at the little girl beside him on the porch swing. She’d insisted on sitting there to wait for her mother. After the fire the previous night, P.J. had said there were things she needed from the store. Her exact words were, “The idea of three ravenous teenage boys is too ugly to contemplate.”

“Why’d she go without me?”

He sighed. He’d already answered this one. “She was going to get you, but you were busy playing with the new kittens. I told her to go on, that I’d watch out for you.”

“But she’s been gone all day.”

“Not quite.” Although it felt that long. After thanking him repeatedly, P.J. had said she could shop much faster without Emily. Now he was beginning to wonder.

“What if the car broke?” Emily looked up at him, her green eyes begging for reassurance.

“It’s fine.”

“How do you know? What if she got a flat tire? Or the engine blew up?” She brushed a strand of hair, the same shade of brown as her mother’s, back from her face. “Mommy doesn’t know about that stuff. I heard her say so.”

“If she was stuck, she’d have called.”

“What if we were all outside?”

“There’s a message machine. Did you check it?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the swing. “I’ll go look.”

“Good idea.” When the front door slammed behind her, Cade took a deep breath, bracing himself for the next go-around.

A moment later, she appeared at the screen door. “How do I know if there’s a message?”

“Was the red light blinking?”

“No.”

His stomach tightened. He’d hoped for word from P.J. “Then no one called.”

“Where’s Mommy?” She came outside and stood in front of him, her lower lip quivering.

He rested his elbows on his knees. “Buying groceries. Do you know how much boys eat?”

“I watched Steve last night. He had two hamburgers. Then he finished mine. Why didn’t Mommy make French fries the way she usually does? Those weren’t the best.”

He thought about the fire and how competently she had handled the situation. She’d finally baked the potatoes. He’d thought they were pretty tasty. The ones she normally made must be a world-class ride.

“She couldn’t do them the way she wanted to because there was an accident.”

“Accident?” Her eyes widened. “What if an accident happened to Mommy? What if she’s hurt? What if she couldn’t call? What if she never comes back? What if—”

He tapped her nose. “What if you stop borrowing trouble?”

“What does that mean? Why would anyone borrow trouble? Does that mean you have to give it back?”

“When you’re finished with it.”

She grinned. “That’s silly.”

Her smile made him glad he’d been able to take her mind off things for a minute. But that didn’t ease his own misgivings. PJ. had been gone a long time. But how long was too long when you were shopping for a week’s worth of groceries for six people? He didn’t have a clue. What if she had been in an accident? What if she never came back? He didn’t even know who to call to come get the kid. Did P.J. have folks? Where was Emily’s father?

“It’s not gonna work, Mister Cade.”

“What’s that?”

“Distracting me. Mommy says I’m not easily distracted. Not like when I was little.”

“Oh. You’re big now?” He lifted her slightly, pretending that he could hardly heft her slight weight. She was no bigger than a minute. She giggled, then wrinkled her nose, showing him that she was on to him. He noticed the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her cute little button nose. Like mother, like daughter.

Where the hell was PJ.?

“I’m seven, almost eight. My birthday’s before Mommy and I hafta go back home.”

“Is that right?” He tugged playfully on one of her pigtails, just below where the pink ribbon fastened it. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“That doll with the big boobs.” Then her eyes narrowed and she pointed one small finger accusingly at him. “You’re doing it again.”

“Distracting you?” It took every ounce of his selfcontrol, but he managed to keep a straight face and not react to her description of the doll.

“Uh-huh.” Her bottom lip pushed out. “I wish Mommy would get here.”

“If she doesn’t come back soon, I’ll go look for her. Deal?”

“You promise?”

“Yup.”

Just then, he heard the faint sound of a car. In case he was wrong about it, he didn’t say anything so Emily wouldn’t be disappointed. Finally, he saw a cloud of dust, then PJ.’s compact car roared up the circular drive and stopped in front of them. She hopped out, smiled brightly and waved, then unlocked the hatchback. She had a helluva nerve looking so cheerful after what she’d put her daughter through.

“I’m glad you guys are here,” she said. “I could use some help with this stuff. I got some great—”

“Where have you been?” Cade walked down the steps and stood in front of her.

Emily followed and folded her arms over her chest. “We were worried, Mom.”

“We?” P.J. looked at him and her right eyebrow rose questioningly.

“He was keeping me company,” Emily said. “I borrowed trouble and now I have to give it back because you’re here. What took you so long, Mommy?” she asked, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist.

P.J. put her hand comfortingly on the girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had a bad time. But it takes a while to buy enough food for growing boys.”

“That’s what Mister Cade said,” Emily told her, tipping her head back to look up.

“Did he?” She glanced in his direction.

Cade could almost hear her asking questions. Like why he could find the time to reassure a little girl when the boys had practically begged him for a crumb of his attention. She wouldn’t buy his explanation that this was different, but it was. Emily was a little kid and she was scared. End of story.

“Did you get enough for Steve to have two helpings?” Emily asked.

“I got enough to feed a good-sized horse. See?” she said, indicating the back of the car, chock-full of bags and assorted things.

Emily leaned in the opening and started rummaging through the packages. “Can I help?”

“I expected you back a long time ago,” Cade snapped.

PJ. stared at him for three straight seconds before turning away. She rearranged the bags and gave her daughter one that contained a loaf of bread, and a package of hot dog rolls. “Here. This is really heavy. Do you think you can handle it?”

“’Course I can.” She took her package and raced to the front door. “Then I’m gonna go find Steve.”

“Is there a problem?” P.J. asked Cade when the child had disappeared inside. “Was Emily any trouble?” She grabbed several bags and carried them up the front steps.

“Other than the fact that she could talk the ears off a bull elephant, no.”

“Did you need something?”

“No.” He didn’t want to go where that question could take him. He lifted groceries out and followed her into the house.

“So there wasn’t a crisis here that only I could handle?”

They set their bundles on the kitchen counter and looked at each other. P.J. was a little breathless from carrying the bags.

“No,” he answered.

“Then why are you acting like a wounded bear?”

“I’m not.”

“The heck you’re not And I don’t understand why. You offered to let Emily stay here with you. So what’s your problem?”

“What took you so long?” He heard the irritation in his voice, and knew it sounded damn close to worry. It was too late to take back the words.

“I’ll show you what took me.” She brushed past him and he heard the front door slam. A few moments later it banged closed again. She entered the kitchen lugging a flat of fresh strawberries with a bouquet of mixed flowers on top.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/teresa-southwick/the-way-to-a-cowboy-s-heart/) 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.