Fortune's Prince. Allison Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ her when they were little more than kids.

      Then he grabbed his hat and plopped it on his head again. “I’ll stop at the fruit stand on my way back from Vicker’s Corners,” he said, giving her a quick wink. “Replenish the stock.” He started to push open the back screen door.

      “Deke—”

      He hesitated.

      “You’re the love of my life, you know.”

      His smile was slow and sweeter than the peaches. “And you’re mine. That’s what gets me up in the morning every day, darlin’.”

      Then he pushed through the screen door. It squeaked slightly, and shut with a soft slap.

      Jeanne Marie pressed her hand to her chest for a moment. “Oh, my.” She blew out a breath and laughed slightly at the silliness of a woman who ought to be too old for such romantic swooning.

      Then she looked up at the ceiling, thinking about her young niece. Amelia was running away from something, or running to something. And she needed to figure out which it was.

      Jeanne Marie was just glad that she was there to provide a resting place. And that she had a man of her own who could understand why.

      * * *

      Quinn had no intention of going by Jeanne Marie and Deke’s place later that evening. But he ran into Deke at the tractor supply in Vicker’s Corners before the baseball game and the man—typically short on words and long on hard work and honor—asked after Quinn’s mom. That brief exchange of pleasantries had somehow led to Deke casually tossing out an invitation to come by for supper.

      “Havin’ a cookout,” Deke had said. “All the kids’re coming. And you know how Jeanne Marie always cooks more’n we need.”

      Quinn had wondered then if it was possible that Deke didn’t know his wife’s new niece was there. And then he had wondered if it was possible that Jeanne’s new niece wasn’t there.

      Which had led to him poking at that thought all through the ball game, same way a tongue poked at a sore tooth, even though it hurt.

      He ought to have just asked Deke.

      Instead, here he was at six o’clock in the evening, standing there staring at the front of Jeanne and Deke’s place.

      He could smell grilling beef on the air and hear the high-pitched squeal of a baby laughing. Ordinarily, the smell of a steak getting seared really well would have been enough to get his boots moving. He didn’t even mind the babies or the kids much. He’d had plenty of practice with Jess’s batch, since she popped one out every couple of years.

      His reluctance to join them now annoyed him. He’d had plenty of meals at the Jones’s place over the years. He’d been in school with the older ones and counted them as friends. He’d danced at Toby’s wedding. With Amelia. Right here, in fact, because Toby and Angie had been married out in back of the house.

      Quinn hadn’t been back since.

      Muttering an oath, he grabbed the short-haired wig, slammed the truck door and headed around the side of the house. He knew they’d all be out back again and he was right.

      This time, though, instead of rows of chairs lined up like white soldiers across the green grass and a bunch of cloth-covered tables with pretty flowers sitting on top arranged around the space, there were a couple of picnic tables covered with plastic checked tablecloths, a bunch of lawn chairs and a game of croquet in the works.

      He spotted Amelia immediately and even though he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been concerned about whether she had or had not sought haven with her aunt, the knot inside him eased.

      She was off to one side of the grassy backyard where Toby’s three kids were playing croquet, and talking with Stacey, Jeanne’s and Deke’s second youngest. The two females were about the same age and the same height, but Stacey was as sunny and blonde as Amelia was moonlight and brunette.

      Both women were engaged, too, he thought darkly, though only one of those engagements caused him any amount of pleasure. He was just a little surprised that Colton Foster, who was Stacey’s fiancé, hadn’t gotten her to the altar already. As he watched, Amelia leaned over and rubbed her nose against Piper’s, Stacey’s year-old daughter, who was propped on her mama’s hip.

      He looked away and aimed toward Deke where he and Liam were manning the grill. “Smells good,” he greeted. “Would only smell better if that was Rocking-U beef.”

      Liam snorted good-naturedly. Horseback Hollow was dotted with small cattle ranches and all of them were more supportive than competitive with each other. “You got yourself a new pet there? Looks like a rat.”

      Quinn wished he’d have left the wig in the truck. He’d only thought as far as returning it to its owner so he wouldn’t have the reminder around. He hadn’t thought about the questions that doing so would invite. “It’s a wig. Thought maybe one of Toby’s kids might want to keep it around for Halloween or something.” The excuse was thin and he knew it. “My sister’s kids outgrew it, I guess,” he improvised and felt stupid even as he did. He’d never developed a taste for lying. Anyone who knew Jess’s brood would also know the five boys were hellions who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a wig.

      Liam was eying him oddly, too. “Whatever, man.” He grabbed a beer from an ice-filled barrel and tossed it to him. “Crack that open and get started. Maybe it’ll soften you up before we get to dickering over that bull of yours I want to buy.”

      Despite everything, Quinn smiled. He tossed the wig on one of the picnic benches nearby. “Rocky’s not for sale, my friend.”

      “Even if I paid you twice what he’s worth?”

      They’d had this debate many times. Quinn knew Liam wouldn’t overpay and Liam knew Quinn wasn’t selling, anyway. “That bull’s semen’s worth gold to me.”

      “Oh.” The word was faint, brief and still filled with some shock.

      The knots tightened inside him again and Quinn turned to see Amelia standing beside him.

      Chapter Four

      Her fragility struck Quinn all over again, like a fist in his gut.

      The red dress that she was wearing was pretty enough, he guessed. But it was loose. And the straps over her shoulders couldn’t hide the way her collarbones were too prominent.

      She looked like she needed to sit at a table and stuff herself for a month of Sundays.

      As if she read his disapproving thoughts, her cheeks were nearly as red as the dress.

      The day of Toby’s wedding, she’d worn a strapless ice-blue dress that ended just above her perfect knees, and a weird little puff of some feathery thing on her head. When they’d ended up sneaking off for a drive in his truck, he’d teased her about it. She’d promptly tugged it off, and plopped his cowboy hat on her head, where it had slipped down over her eyes, and said she was in the market for a new look, anyway.

      His lips twisted, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re going to hear words like bull’s semen if you’re going СКАЧАТЬ