Mom's The Word. Roz Fox Denny

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      “Sure would appreciate it,” he drawled. Watching her hurry away, Jake thought she had to be one of the most naturally pretty females in all three of the surrounding counties. Thick corkscrew curls hung past her shoulders, indicating she probably wore braids. Her eyes were huge and expressive. They were more blue than lavender today. She had a generous mouth and even white teeth. Her skin was possibly her best feature. Bronzed a light gold, to Jake it appeared flawless. At least the part he could see. Dang, he’d barely met the woman. He shouldn’t be wanting to see more of her skin.

      Ha, tell that to a certain part of him!

      To keep her from seeing how unsteady his hands were, Jake looped Mojave’s reins around a scrub bush and tucked his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. No, he decided quickly. That was a bad move.

      He snapped his fingers at his dog. When Charcoal dropped panting at his feet, Jake returned his hat to his head and knelt to pet him.

      That was the position Hayley found him in when she returned, not only with the coffee grounds and promised mug, but with the shotgun she’d brandished last night.

      “Whoa!” Jake tipped his hat to a rakish angle, then held up both hands.

      “This isn’t for you,” she said with a laugh. “But when you rode in, I realized it was pretty stupid of me to be out here alone and unprotected.” She leaned the big gun against a boulder and bent to measure coffee grounds.

      The seat of her denims pulled snugly over a gently rounded backside. Jake’s mouth went dust-dry. For a moment he forgot any objections he had to her walking around with a loaded gun. He swallowed a few times before he could speak again. “So, you haven’t had enough of your own company yet?”

      Hayley poured his mug full, even though the coffee wasn’t much more than colored water at this point.

      Jake blew on the liquid to cool it as he waited for her answer.

      “I’m planning to stay until December,” Hayley said forthrightly.

      “December?” Jake scowled. “We’re sitting on high desert here.”

      “Yes.” Her tone held an unspoken So?

      “I don’t think you want to camp out when the snow flies.”

      “Flurries, right? Nothing major. Tombstone and Sierra Vista get a bit of snow. Generally it melts by noon.”

      “We get more than flurries. If snow happens to fall on the heels of a monsoon, it gives new meaning to the great Southwet.”

      “Why are you trying to run me off this claim, Mr. Cooper?”

      “I thought we settled last night that you’d call me Jake.”

      “Either way, I’m not leaving.” She gestured with her own mug, clamped firmly in her left hand.

      That was when Jake noticed the white band of skin on her finger—the perfect width for a wedding ring, obviously recently removed. It drew him up short to think of her having been married to some faceless man. He let his face match his mood and he frowned again.

      Stubborn as she was, no wonder some poor bastard took a powder.

      He’d scarcely had the uncharitable thought when he remembered his mother’s words, and they kicked in. His mom could be plenty stubborn herself. As could Eden. Both women lived in this valley spring, summer, fall and winter. They made daily trips from the ranch into Tubac, where they shared a shop in the arty community on what had once been the site of Arizona’s first mission. The roads in and out weren’t great, but their husbands didn’t expect them to stop working because of a little bad weather. Jake knew he had no business questioning any of Hayley’s decisions.

      “Bringing me a few supplies does not give you the right to stick your nose in my business,” she said.

      Jake was jolted back to the present in the middle of her tart little speech. “You’re absolutely correct.” He rose to his feet in one rolling motion. “Thanks for the coffee, although it’s a mite weak.” Moving aside the books spread across a small square table, he set down the nearly full mug. His eyes scanned the pages she’d propped open with a fair-size rock. The chapter was titled: “How to Know Your Minerals and Rocks.” Any doubts as to her true intentions were dispelled by her choice of reading material.

      “What exactly do you think you’re going to find, hacking around through the rocks and brush, Ms. Ryan?”

      “It’s Mrs. Ryan.”

      “Mrs.?” Jake hadn’t expected that comeback and it threw him. He recognized that his reaction was equal parts shock and disappointment.

      “Yes. Mrs. Joe Ryan.” Hayley bit her lip hard and felt guilty for lying. But technically her divorce wouldn’t be final for six months. By then, she’d better have uncovered whatever secrets this land held. Meanwhile, claiming to be married might discourage Jacob Cooper from making any more uninvited visits.

      But as she saw him climb back on the big gelding, a pang of regret gripped her chest. These past few minutes had been quite pleasant.

      Really, though, she’d be foolish to trust him. Since Joe’s subterfuge, Hayley had been reluctant to trust any man. She certainly ought to know better than to let one as overtly charming as Jake Cooper get under her skin. She’d landed in this fix because she’d tumbled head over bootstraps for one beguiling frog she’d mistaken for a prince. She didn’t plan to let that happen again.

      Shading her eyes, Hayley gazed solemnly at Jake Cooper.

      “I’ve got work to do,” he muttered. “Can’t stay here socializing all day.”

      “I didn’t invite you here in the first place,” she snapped. When guilt stabbed again, Hayley dropped her arm and leaned down to pat his dog. “Take care, old fella,” she crooned. “Tell your master I’ll enjoy my dinner of ham, tomatoes and fresh corn.”

      Jake glanced down at the straight-arrow part in her hair, and despite himself he smiled. She tried so hard to act tough. Something told Jake she was a lot softer inside. But two could play her go-between game.

      “Charcoal, you tell the lady to bury her scraps deep. We’d hate to have her blood spilled by some marauding cougar or one of those Mexican jaguars sighted around here last fall. Honest,” he said. “Oh, and tell her to keep an eye out for rattlers. They come out to warm themselves on the rocks by the spring.”

      That last bit of information stiffened Hayley’s spine. “Ick. I hate snakes. I suppose you’re telling the truth?” Her hesitancy indicated she hoped he was lying.

      “Scout’s honor. Ben collected a whole box of fair-size rattles over the years. Promise me you’ll take care.”

      Hayley didn’t know why she should promise him anything. But the concern in his deep voice melted her resistance. “Same goes for you,” she offered in a whisper. “I mean, you take care around those steers. I noticed you have a scar running along the top of your cheek. Last man I saw with something similar said he’d tangled with a longhorn.”

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