Cowboy Be Mine. Tina Leonard

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      He couldn’t be bothered with that silly remark. Fred was clearly in pain, so he hurried off to do Bailey’s bidding. When he returned, she had the putter unplugged, Fred’s foot elevated against an ottoman, and she was peering up his ankle into the cup.

      “Maybe I should take a look,” Michael offered.

      “No!” Fred cried. “Don’t let him, Bailey! He’ll leave my toes in there!”

      “Michael!” Bailey’s glance was stern. “I can handle this! You’re just making matters worse, upsetting poor Fred.”

      “I—” He held out the ice in a plastic container. He’d been trying to assist her, and already she thought he was a lost cause. Poor Fred, indeed. He was milking Bailey’s warmth and sunshine like a professional con man.

      “What a crybaby!” Deenie leaned back in the chair and curled her legs underneath her. “I’ve fallen off horses and not cried as loud as you are.”

      “Maybe it’s because once you had that lobotomy, you lost all feeling,” someone muttered under his or her breath.

      “Who said that?” Michael demanded. He couldn’t tell, but he didn’t think it had been Bailey. Her eyes were amazingly serene and innocent. “There’s no reason for rudeness.”

      Bailey sighed. “Michael, maybe you could take Deenie to the kitchen and get her a glass of tea. I think Fred could relax more if his every move wasn’t being scrutinized. I’ll have him out of this raccoon trap in a jiff.”

      She really did think he was helpless. And in his own house! “All right,” Michael said, defeated. “Deenie, let’s head back to the kitchen.”

      “Gladly.” She shot Bailey a pleased smile as she exited the room.

      Bailey patted Fred’s cheek when they were gone. “You nearly got yourself in big trouble.”

      “I know.” His lips were pinched with pain. “I’m not the kindest person when I don’t feel good. I broke my arm once when the old man was alive, and as he was taking me to the hospital, I told him what a sorry-ass, son of—”

      “I get your drift.” Bailey smiled at him. “I’m not myself when I don’t feel good, either. Most people aren’t.”

      “Is he going to have to go to the hospital?” Curly asked worriedly. “He doesn’t like it much when he goes. Doesn’t care for women in white—nurses or brides.”

      “No.” Gingerly, she put her fingers into the cup and felt where Fred’s toes were obstructed.

      “We tried poking tongs in there, but he hollered something fierce and my fingers are too durn big,” Chili said sorrowfully. “We knew you could probably do the trick.”

      “And this once, I can.” Gently, she released Fred’s toes and slid the device off, revealing red and angry marks on his skin. “You’d better keep your foot up for a while.”

      He scooched to a chair and heaved himself in it. Curly propped a pillow underneath his friend’s foot. “Shoo! I thought I was going to lose a toe! Bless you, Miss Bailey.”

      “You’re welcome, Fred.” She got to her feet. “I’d better get home. If you don’t mind, Chili, I think I’ll go out the front door instead of the kitchen door.”

      “I’d rather myself,” he agreed. “She’s an alligator!”

      Bailey laughed but hurt all the more for knowing that Michael must like the Rodeo Queen if he was eating her pie, from her fork, no less. “You fellows be careful. Good night.”

      “Good night!” Curly and Fred called.

      Chili opened the front door, motioning her through before he closed it behind them.

      “You don’t have to walk me home, Chili.”

      “I’d never let a lady make her way in the dark alone.”

      “All right.” She tried not to think of all the times she’d slid out of Michael’s bed before dawn—before the children awakened and looked for her, before anyone might see her truck and before he’d need to get up to tend his chores. Michael had never once offered to even walk her down the stairs. “Chili, do you think he likes her?” she asked, unable to help herself.

      “Nope. I think he likes you,” he said eagerly, obviously comfortable in a Dear Abby role, “if he could just figure out how to tell ya, I just know he would.”

      “Why do you think so?” Bailey’s heart beat faster with hope.

      “I dunno. Just a funny feeling I had that Michael thought pretty much of you.”

      “He didn’t like Fred’s lobotomy remark.” Michael had taken up for Deenie fast.

      “Yeah, but he doesn’t like rudeness for much of any reason. Michael believes his every emotion should be kept under lock and key. ’Course, most folks can’t live that way.”

      She sure couldn’t! She felt like she might blow up from the thought of Deenie putting her lips where she’d put her fork—Michael’s mouth. But he was right. Just because Deenie was being a pain didn’t mean anyone else should follow her lead. She wished she were better at being like Michael. Maybe she wouldn’t be hurting so much right now. Fred had only given voice to the very thoughts Bailey had been guilty of thinking about Deenie.

      So she took Chili’s assurance that Michael liked her as comfort, even though she didn’t believe it wholeheartedly. Michael had never had her over in the light of day.

      “The question is, do you like him?”

      She felt the cowboy’s cagey gaze on her face. If she wasn’t careful, she might reveal more than she should—and she didn’t want her secret sprung on Michael until she had a chance to tell him herself. “I…I don’t know. I’m not sure he’s looking for anyone to like him,” she replied carefully.

      “He’s not good at romance, Bailey. Women are not Michael’s specialty.”

      “You could have fooled me!” Bailey shot back.

      “Oh, don’t let Deenie stir your pot. She’s a mantrap. Mind you, he’s going to be long in figuring out how to tell you how he feels, if he ever does,” Chili stated. “You’ll have to be mighty patient, more patient than a saint, Bailey. Michael won’t let his feelings just spew out of him like a valve letting off. But given enough time, you just might win the day. That is, if you want him.”

      Oh, I do. Bailey closed her eyes. She’d been patient for six months, all her life, really, hoping Michael would learn to love her. Say the words she wanted to hear.

      She’d simply run out of time.

      DEENIE AND MICHAEL watched Chili help Bailey over the wooden cross-timber fence that separated the two properties. Bailey barely made it over before the youngest Dixons met her, jumping around her like anxious puppies. The cries of greeting to their big sister could be heard by anyone within a ten-mile radius.

      “That СКАЧАТЬ