Maverick Christmas. Joanna Wayne

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      “He called this morning asking about you. I think he might have taken a liking to you. You’re the best-looking woman around here, and that’s for sure.”

      “What did he ask?”

      “He just wanted to know what I thought of you.”

      “What did you tell him?”

      “That you were a real nice lady and a great mom.”

      “Was that it?”

      “Pretty much. But I think he might come a-calling.”

      “He’s only interested in my qualifications as a babysitter. I’ve offered to fill in for his regular sitter this afternoon.”

      Chrysie put on the gloves again and dropped to her knees. She’d have to work fast to finish this before she had to shower and leave for town. Buying the new battery had eaten up most of the morning and a chunk of her remaining cash.

      She could probably make it through the winter on what she’d saved if they didn’t have too many emergencies, but she’d have to find at least part-time work by spring. Spring in Montana would be nice, but she never counted on being anywhere that long.

      Evelyn sashayed around the edges of the damp floor. “The sheriff is a bachelor, you know. And those kids of his sure need a mother.”

      “What happened to theirs?”

      “No one really knows. He left here last year and came back with two sons and a new last name. He didn’t do a lot of explaining.”

      “And no one asked?”

      “No. That’s the way it is up here. A man’s business is his own.”

      Hopefully that worked for women, as well.

      “Sheriff asked about your husband. I told him you were a widow. That is what you said, isn’t it? That your husband was dead?”

      Chrysie nodded. That was the one thing she hadn’t lied about.

      “I should get Buck to paint this place for you. The hands aren’t all that busy in the winter. He could probably spare a couple of them for a day or two.”

      “That would be great.” Chrysie looked up from the floor and stared at the dingy walls. “A yellow would really brighten up the house, maybe the color of daffodils.”

      “Walls like a spring daffodil?” Evelyn looked around as if seeing the house for the first time. “I was thinking white, but yellow might be nice. Come to think of it, my kitchen could use some brightening, too.”

      Evelyn stayed a few more minutes, then walked over to the door to let herself out. “You sure have yourself locked in here.”

      “I like to feel safe, especially for the girls.”

      “There’s no trouble here on the ranch. Buck wouldn’t have it. Someone come messing around here, he’d shoot them full of lead. Nobody messes with anything on Buck’s property.”

      “That’s good to know.” But the locks would stay.

      “Give some thought to what I said about the sheriff, Chrysie. He’s a good man. Nice-looking, too. All the young, single women in town are after him all the time—not that there are that many young, single women around.”

      “I’ll give it some thought.”

      After Evelyn left, Chrysie finished the floor, then dumped the dirty water outside. She stood for a minute, letting the frigid air fill her lungs while she took in the magnificent mountain view.

      This place was so perfect. Clean air. A decent house for practically no rent. A small, friendly community that had accepted them with a minimum of questions. She just had to make sure it stayed that way.

      Which meant she needed Sheriff Josh McCain to forget she existed.

      A good catch, maybe. But not for a fugitive from justice.

      Chapter Two

      The snow had been no more than occasional flurries for most of the day, but it began to fall harder just as Josh turned onto the road to Buck Miller’s house. Before he’d come to Montana, he’d thought of snow only in terms of powder quality for skiing. Now it was a way of life.

      The frigid temperatures had been a rough adjustment to a Louisiana man’s system that first winter. Physical labor had been a new experience, as well. But poverty had been the real shocker. He’d never realized how important money was until he didn’t have any.

      Buck had given him his first real job. The old rancher and the rest of the hands figured out pretty quickly what a greenhorn Josh was. He got all the dirty work that first year, had gone to bed with aching muscles and new calluses on top of old. But the work had accomplished what years of spending his father’s money and playing with the druggies on the streets of the Big Easy couldn’t—it had made him a man.

      No one had asked Josh why he’d moved to Montana. They judged him by the job he did and his willingness to help out where needed. It was the way of life up here and the reason Josh had stayed.

      He should give Chrysie Atwater the benefit of that same philosophy, but he was having trouble doing that, especially after talking to Evelyn and Mrs. Larkey about her.

      He never underestimated a woman’s ability to do most things a man could do. Some of the biggest spreads in the state were owned and run by women. But Chrysie wasn’t Montana-bred. She was a single mother from the South who’d moved to a small town pretty much in the middle of nowhere where she had no job, no friends and no family. It just didn’t add up, and things that didn’t add up always made Josh suspicious.

      But unlike everyone else who’d tried lately, she seemed quite capable of managing his sons. He’d checked on them several times this afternoon, and their complaints had assured him they were being well cared for.

      Danny had said Mrs. Atwater was bossy and made him practice his reading. And Davy had whined that she made him wear his snow pants when he went outside to play and gave him fruit for his afternoon snack instead of the candy and soda he’d wanted.

      Even more impressive, Chrysie had sounded calm on the telephone when he’d asked her about the boys. That in itself put her in a whole new class as far as his experience with sitters was concerned.

      Not that the sexy Mrs. Atwater was perfect. Last night’s tree-falling incident had proved that the woman was wound a tad too tightly for Josh’s liking. But what the hell. Josh was desperate for someone to watch the boys on a daily basis, and she might be the ideal solution.

      That is, if she checked out. Before he could ascertain that, he’d need to find out exactly what had brought her to Aohkii, Montana.

      THE AFTERNOON HAD been every bit as stressful as Chrysie had expected. The boys were incorrigible, constantly pushing the limits. It was clear they’d never been disciplined appropriately. She’d love to point out to Josh McCain all the ways he was failing his sons, but she didn’t dare. The less interaction she had with the sheriff, the better.

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