The Cowboy's Twins. Deb Kastner

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      Thankfully, the man with the rooster voice had stopped singing, but the crowd was still hooting and hollering in the background. Jax didn’t seem to notice, nor, apparently, did he want to wait for the rest of the town to finish with the auction before he and Faith started on their picnic.

      He spread the tablecloth across the grass and gestured for her to sit. Then he pulled out plates and silverware and popped the top of a cola can before offering it to her.

      “Thanks,” she said, dropping onto the far corner of the plastic and folding her legs under her. “Although I feel like I ought to be doing the serving,” she said as he inspected the club sandwiches she’d made for the occasion. At least she’d used foot-long sub buns and loaded the sandwiches with meat, cheese and veggies. Dagwood would be proud of her creation.

      Jax glanced up at her, and the unscarred side of his lips curled upward. Close to a smile, at any rate. Faith would take it.

      “You paid for my time,” he reminded her. “I figured now is as good a time as any to start working off my—” He paused and bent his head as he considered how best to finish the sentence.

      “Community service?” she suggested, chuckling at the double meaning.

      “Yeah. That.” He wasn’t laughing.

      “I—uh—okay, right,” she stammered. She didn’t usually stutter like a schoolgirl with her first crush. If she didn’t get a hold of her tongue soon, he would think he was working for an idiot.

      His gaze had returned to the basket, giving Faith a modicum of reprieve. She took a deep, calming breath. There was no reason spending time with this man should visibly shake her, and the sooner she got comfortable around him, the better. After all, if he was as good with horses as Jo claimed, she hoped she might be able to convince him to stretch out his community service and continue working with her until her project was—if not finished, then a great deal closer than it was right now.

      Then again, maybe he was expecting nothing more than to provide one day’s labor. No one had really set the guidelines for what happened after the auction, or at least nothing that Faith had heard.

      “There are canisters of potato salad and barbecue baked beans, as well,” she added, relieved when her voice came out sounding normal. “I’m not much of a cook, but I made them myself. The beans are an old family recipe. Back home we called them Cowboy Beans.” The thought struck her as funny and she chuckled.

      “Well, that’s fittin’.” He pulled out the plastic container of beans and scooped a heaping portion onto each of their plates. “Where’s home?”

      He sounded genuinely interested, putting her more at ease. She leaned back on her hands. “I was born out east. Connecticut. I attended college in Wyoming. That’s where I got interested in horses.” It was also where she’d met...

      She cut the thought off firmly, refusing to let her mind wander in that direction again. It still hurt to think about Keith and his son. She coughed, realizing Jax was speaking and she’d missed what he’d just said. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered for a second there. What did you say?”

      His dark eyebrows lowered over stormy brown eyes. He assessed her, the working side of his lip curving into a frown. “Nothing important. Just that there’s good horse country out in Wyoming. Potato salad?”

      “Yes, please.” She was relieved that he didn’t push her on what had caused her distraction. She wasn’t ready to talk about Keith, or about his precious son.

      They ate in silence for a while, each lost in thought. As the auction continued, more people moved to the green, milling around them, talking and laughing. Some even stopped to introduce themselves. Faith should have been happy to be so welcomed by her new community, but her empty chest echoed with the sounds.

      Before she knew it, Jax had cleaned his plate—not once, but twice, leaving her glad she’d thought to pack extra. Jo Spencer had advised her on the eating habits of the Texas male, and Jax was no slouch in that department.

      “If you don’t mind me asking—why?” Jax’s voice had a hard edge to it, and he didn’t quite meet her gaze.

      “Why?” she repeated, bracing herself. She wasn’t ready for him to elaborate on his question, to have to explain why a city woman wanted to open up a mustang sanctuary in the country, but sometimes there was no way out but through.

      “Yeah. Why?” He lifted his tan cowboy hat and brushed his forearm across his brow. “Why did you bid on me?”

      Her heart skipped a beat. Why had she bid on him?

      “You mean why did I bid in the auction in general, or why bid for you, specifically?”

      He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

      The truth was, he’d looked miserable up on the auction block, especially when there was hesitation from the crowd on bidding for him. She couldn’t imagine why that was. Despite his scar, he was quite handsome, if a woman liked her men strong and rugged. Faith would have expected the town’s single ladies to be shouting over each other in order to get a chance to spend time with this guy.

      And yet there had been silence. The drop-of-a-pin kind.

      Maybe it was too early in the game. Jax was only the second man to be auctioned, and the first bachelor. Perhaps the ladies were waiting to see who else was offering their services. Or maybe there was something about Jax that Faith didn’t yet know about, such as that he was conceited or had a bad temper.

      She hoped not, but she was about to find out— because Jax was frowning again.

      “Look—I don’t want your pity,” he said, his voice husky.

      “What? No.”

      “Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you didn’t feel sorry for this scarred old monster? Because I won’t believe you.”

      “I was standing at the back of the crowd. I couldn’t even see your scar.”

      He shook his head. “That’s even worse.”

      Now she was the one feeling insulted. “Why? You think I’m so shallow that I would want to bow out of our agreement just because of a gash on your face?”

      He scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

      She heard the bitterness behind his words. Someone in his past had injured him deeply. The wound in his heart was deeper than the one on his face.

      “Well, that’s not me. I came here today looking for someone to help me with my ranch. I bought the Dennys’ old place, and it will take a lot of labor to get it in working order. If you’re going to pitch in, then I couldn’t care less what you look like. Wear a paper bag over your face, if you like. It won’t matter to me. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

      His jaw lost its tightness at the welcome change of subject. He whistled softly.

      “That place is pretty run-down. What do you plan to do with it?”

      “I’m going to save wild mustangs.” Her voice rose in pitch as enthusiasm for her life’s dream engulfed her.

      His СКАЧАТЬ