Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Taylor Vannatter

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      “I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.” He spun to face her. “And I’m good and ready.”

      She gasped at his outburst and something flashed in her eyes. Hurt.

      “I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—there’s history to wade through. And I didn’t bring my muck boots.” He turned and strode for the door, intent on going through Chase if he had to.

      “Brock!” The voice he dreamt about too often for peace of mind echoed down the staircase behind him and took him back in time. Ten years old, sobbing on the social worker’s shoulder, wondering when his mom would come back for him.

      Never.

      For the last fifteen years, she’d been here. And never lifted a finger to try to find him.

      The sound of hurried footsteps descended on his ears.

      Pressure built in his chest. He didn’t turn around.

      “Please wait!” A small hand grabbed his arm. “Please.” Pleading, tearful. “At least look at me.”

      She stepped in front of him. Much the way he remembered her. Rail thin, long brown hair. Eighteen years older. But somehow she looked better. Healthier. No telltale sunken shadows beneath her pale blue eyes. The hand on his arm was steady.

      “Sure hope you’ll stick around, Brock.” Chase gave him a beseeching smile. “The job’s yours.”

      “You didn’t even look at my résumé.” He focused on his friend, mainly to escape his mom’s imploring gaze. Why did he still think of her as his mom after she’d abandoned him?

      “I’m familiar with your work and you’re overqualified. Your mom found an article about you building luxury cabins in a magazine a few years back.”

      “I still have it.” She squeezed his arm.

      Why did she think she had the right to touch him? He pulled away from her grasp, took a step back.

      Her hand fell to her side. “Please stay.”

      “We’ll give you some privacy.” Chase stepped away from the exit, motioned Devree to follow.

      “I need to stash my wedding paraphernalia in the chapel loft.” A pinched frown drew her brows together. Her gaze clashed with his, and then she whirled away and disappeared outside. Was she embarrassed to witness their turmoil? Did she feel sorry for him? Or for his mom?

      “Please, Brock, can’t we talk? You came here for a reason. Don’t back out now.”

      His mom’s plea clanged in his head. He’d come for the job. But also because the eight years he’d spent at the dude ranch were the best of his life. When his dad had been alive. When his mom hadn’t been catatonic and actually cared if he ate or not. Before their move to Dallas. Before they lost their apartment and ended up moving in with his alcoholic grandfather. Before she got hooked on drugs.

      He’d returned to come to terms with his past and his mom’s abandonment. To remember his dad. He’d expected to come face to face with the memories that haunted him. But not with her.

      “Please come to the office with me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

      But not as many as he’d cried over her. “I didn’t know you were here.”

      “Or you wouldn’t have come.” She hiccupped a sob. “I get that. Can’t we just talk for a few minutes?”

      “Do the Donovans know everything? I mean, about you.”

      She sucked in a big breath, shook her head. “Granny did, but she’s been gone several years. I told everyone else your father’s family turned you against me and we haven’t spoken in years.”

      “So you expect me to stay and live your lie with you?” He glanced at the door, seeking escape. “I don’t think so. Tell Chase bye for me.”

      “But you can’t leave.” She blocked him off, set her hand on his arm again.

      “I’m leaving now. Please get out of my way. I think I’ve had enough of memory lane.”

      “I wish you’d stay. Jesus forgave me. For everything. Can’t you give me a chance?”

      How dare she pull the Jesus card.

      “If you stay, I’ll give you space. And if you give me some time, I’ll summon up the courage to tell the truth.”

      “I’ll think about it.” If it would get her out of his way, he’d think about all she’d said. All the way to his truck. All the way back to Waco.

      She stepped aside.

      He practically bolted out the door, down the porch steps and across the pristine yard to the parking lot.

      But Devree, with the sun setting her cinnamon hair aflame, waited by his truck. Blocking his escape.

      “Could you tell Chase I’ll call him?” He willed her to step aside.

      Her brilliant blue gaze locked on his. “Please don’t go.”

      A heartfelt plea from a beautiful woman. Normally he couldn’t resist that. Even though it was obvious the redhead was just the type he needed to steer clear of: a city girl.

      Just like his mom. And he certainly didn’t want anything to do with her. He needed to get out of Dodge. Fast.

       Chapter Two

      Devree’s face heated when she realized he could have taken her plea for him to stay as her own. “I mean, Chase could use you around here.”

      “I’m sure he can find someone else.” Brock shifted his weight, obviously wanting her to move out of his way.

      But she had to convince him to stay. For her sister’s sake. And Becca’s too. “The chapel’s completed, but they’re still in the middle of expanding the ranch. Their new house, along with honeymoon and hunting cabins are in progress. Chase is up to his eyeballs with all of it and the handyman bailed.”

      “Surely there’ve been other applicants.”

      “Several who would be great as ranch hands, but painfully inexperienced when it comes to fixing anything other than fences.” She drew in a long breath.

      “I can’t stay here.”

      “I have a wedding scheduled next month. Plus, they’ve got more weddings starting in June and wild boar hunts booked through fall with guests expecting cabins ready for their stay. Meanwhile, there are a dozen projects that need attention and a very pregnant lady who’d like to be in her new house before the baby comes. Please say you’ll take the job.”

      “I can’t do this. Not with—”

      “Landry СКАЧАТЬ