Roping In The Cowgirl. Judy Duarte

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      A few minutes later, as one of the cowboys began to wave the cars through, Shannon slid behind the wheel and started her engine. Finally, she was on her way. Yet while the ranch was only two miles away, she was still twenty minutes late when she pulled into the yard.

      As she parked near the barn—which Sam and a couple of hands had painted red last week—she glanced at the clouds that loomed on the northern horizon. They weren’t dark yet, which was good. Whenever heavy rain hit the valley, the bridge washed out, making it impossible for vehicles to get in or out of the ranch for days at a time.

      The TV weatherman had said the first incoming storm had stalled and probably wouldn’t hit until tomorrow or the next day. But predictions were sometimes wrong. Either way, she had a well-stocked medical supply room and could handle more than basic first aid. However, a serious accident or illness would require a trip to the Brighton Valley Medical Center, which was forty-five minutes away.

      She’d no more than started toward the back entrance of the sprawling ranch house when a late-model white Lexus pulled up beside her and parked.

      That was odd. The ranch owners were out of town for the next few weeks. And the elderly residents, as well as the ranch hands who worked at the Rocking C, didn’t get many visitors, especially arriving in fancy vehicles.

      By the time the driver, a handsome man in his early-to midthirties, got out of the car, her curiosity had grown to the point that even though she needed to get inside, she couldn’t seem to move her feet.

      He wore an expensive suit and fancy loafers—Italian leather, no doubt. At well over six feet tall, with blue eyes and dark hair that must have cost him a pretty penny to have cut at an expensive salon, he was more than attractive. In fact, he’d be drop-dead gorgeous if he’d soften his expression with a smile.

      Who was he? And what business did he have at the ranch? There was only one way to find out.

      “Can I help you?” she asked.

      “That depends. Who are you?”

      Shannon, who’d had her fill of frustration for the day, bristled at his rude response and crossed her arms. “Why don’t you go first?”

      His lips curled ever so slightly into a smile, and his expression mellowed a bit, as if he might actually respect her spunk. “I’m Blake Darnell, Sam’s nephew.”

      The California attorney? Shannon had heard about him. He rarely visited Sam and had left the poor man to nearly waste away in the nursing facility in town.

      Darnell arched a dark brow. “And you’re...?”

      She let the question dangle a moment before introducing herself. “I’m Shannon Cramer.”

      His gaze swept over her, traveling from head to toe and back again. He seemed to be assessing her and the pink scrubs she wore.

      “A nurse’s aide?” he asked.

      “An RN,” she corrected.

      Darnell nodded, then walked to the back of the Lexus, opened the trunk and pulled out a suitcase.

      What in the world was he doing with that? Surely he didn’t plan to stay here. Maybe he came to bring some of Sam’s belongings to him.

      Before Shannon could question him, Aunt Joy stepped out onto the porch and met Shannon the way she usually did—with a cup of coffee. “Here you go. Fixed just the way you like it—with a splash of cream and a dash of sugar.”

      “Thanks.” Shannon took the mug in both hands, letting the heat warm her fingers from the crisp autumn chill.

      “There’s pumpkin bread to go with that,” Joy said, her voice light, her smile refreshing.

      It was nice to see her aunt happy again. Her second husband had left her in dire financial straits after wiping out the nest egg she’d once had. When most people were thinking of retiring, Joy had had to find a job. But since she’d been out of the workforce for more than forty years, she had no way of supporting herself. Fortunately, the Rocking C had needed a housekeeper/cook, and Shannon had told the owners that Joy was the perfect candidate.

      And that was true, since Joy’s most notable qualifications were her culinary skills and an innate ability to make a house a home. So it had worked out beautifully for everyone involved.

      Then Joy met Sam Darnell, who soon put a sparkle in her eyes and a spring in her steps. There was a happy glimmer in Sam’s eyes, too. It was heartwarming to see.

      “I’m glad you’re finally here,” Joy told Shannon. “Darlene’s eager to go home.”

      “I know.” Shannon took a sip of coffee. “It couldn’t be helped. There was a little incident on the road near the bridge.”

      Joy turned to Darnell and offered him a warm smile, which he didn’t return. Instead, he seemed to assess her, but in a far more critical manner than he’d studied Shannon just moments earlier.

      Why was that? Joy was one of the sweetest women on the planet, which was one reason her jerk of an ex had been able to take advantage of her.

      But then again, Shannon knew that Sam’s nephew had called him yesterday, and the foreman had refused to talk to him.

      The California attorney cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose either of you can tell me where I can find Sam.”

      “He went out to check a leaky pump in the south pasture,” Joy said, her voice soft and kind. “But he should be back shortly.”

      At nearly eighty years old, Sam Darnell could well afford to retire and take life easy, but he thrived on being useful. And he certainly was. The Rocking C had been a struggling cattle ranch when Chloe Martinez had inherited it. There were back taxes and a second mortgage to pay. But Sam, with his wealth of knowledge and experience, had begun to turn things around in a few short months. They certainly weren’t out of the woods yet, but the sweet old foreman had told them not to worry, that everything would be okay in time.

      For that reason, Sam reminded Shannon of her father, a good and loving man she’d lost way too soon.

      “If you don’t mind,” Darnell said, as he strode toward the front porch toting his fancy suitcase, “I’ll sit here and wait for him.”

      Actually, Shannon did mind. A lot. But she bit her tongue out of courtesy to Sam. She adored the former rancher, who’d become a friend. And if he married her aunt, he’d become a part of the family.

      In fact, if Sam and Joy actually did decide to tie the knot, Shannon might have to “accidentally” misplace Blake’s invitation.

      Because while she couldn’t think of anything she’d like more than to help Joy plan the perfect wedding. Sam’s nephew was a stuffy, conceited tool, and she wasn’t looking forward to adding him as a relative!

Chapter Two

      The two women continued to stand in the yard, gaping at Blake as though he’d just dropkicked a puppy. But then again, who knew what his uncle might have told them about him?

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