A Cowboy at Heart. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage. I’m Lincoln Parker, new owner of this facility. I, uh, see you’re in possession of a flyer I’m assuming you picked up down south?”

      Miranda nodded as she pushed Scraps’s nose out of her face. “L.A. My friends and I have been on the road awhile. We’re tired and hungry.” She extended the creased flyer. “So, are you open or not? I wasn’t purposely eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation.”

      “Not!” Linc snapped. “Open,” he added with less force as he saw the defeated slump of her slim shoulders. Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze to the toes of her battered army boots. “I just got here myself. Not only did I expect to have time to fix things up before any teens arrived, but the previous owner threw me a curve by leaving behind three former tenants.”

      Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know why he was confiding so much in this stranger who clearly expected a haven for herself and the friends she’d left at the side of the road.

      “Look, what’s your name?”

      “Randi,” she supplied. “And this is Scraps.” She jerked a thumb toward the road. “Out there are Jenny, Shawn, Greg and Eric.”

      “Jenny? Eric?” Linc spun around and strained to see through the waning light. Even now, hearing the names of Felicity’s so-called friends, who’d dumped her at the hospital and then taken off, made his stomach churn.

      “Do you know them?”

      “Uh…those were the names of two of my kid sister’s friends. Police said they…” Linc broke off suddenly. “They’re common enough names. Merely coincidence, I’m sure. Look, I can offer a place to crash for tonight. I…think,” he added, frowning at the two units flanking the house. “To be truthful, I’ve got no idea how many beds are in those bunkhouses. Nor their condition. As you might have gathered from my phone conversation, I didn’t get a positive impression of the houseparents the Oasis Foundation had in charge here.”

      “I don’t understand any of what you’re saying,” Miranda said. “But the gang and I can make do. Sleeping under a roof will be a bonus. But we’d sure like a hot meal. We last ate yesterday when some hikers gave us a leftover pack of hot dogs and a few buns.” Again she waved a hand toward the four hunkered some yards away.

      “Food? Damn! Wait—Mrs. Tucker mentioned meat in a freezer.”

      “That sounds encouraging. If there’s a microwave, we can thaw it out. So, if you don’t mind my asking, why are you conducting business out here in the wind and cold? Why aren’t you inside fixing supper for those poor kids?”

      “Well, I…” Linc stopped, panic swamping him. “For one, I can’t cook. I’ve lived and worked in the city all my life. I either order in or eat out.”

      Miranda waved the flyer in his face. “Did you think street kids don’t eat?”

      “For your information, I intended to hire a cook and a housekeeper before any kids showed up.” Linc glared. “Not that I owe you any explanation. And let me guess, your smart mouth has landed you in trouble before.”

      Miranda ground her teeth to keep from lashing back. Here she was again, responding like a twenty-six-year-old, instead of the way someone like Jenny would. “Sorry,” she mumbled, biting her lip.

      “Forget it.” Linc shook back a lock of dark hair and offered a tentative smile as he glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s too late to rectify the cook-housekeeper issue today. Whistle up your friends. For now, we’ll all have to make the best of a situation none of us invited.”

      The smile altered his stern features, and Miranda responded accordingly. “Hey, great! Jenny’s worn a hole in her shoe, and the guys stayed behind to try and fix it, in case we had more walking to do.”

      “Do any of you have injuries?”

      “No, we’re just tired. I’ll go fetch them. Then maybe Jenny and I can check what’s in your freezer. I’ll bet we can toss together a meal of some sort.”

      “Really?” Linc felt more grateful for that one simple statement than she could know. His life lately had been hectic. He’d been involved in selling his house and storing the furnishings, as well as studying ranching techniques. He probably should’ve asked John to make a cursory inventory of what was needed here. Under no circumstances, however, would it have occurred to him to take a crash course in cooking. “Damn John—and Gunderson,” he muttered, swinging his fierce gaze back to the three young children he had yet to deal with.

      “Don’t swear at them,” Miranda said testily, again forgetting herself. “Can’t you see they’re scared?” She didn’t care if this jerk took his anger out on her, as long as he left those poor kids alone.

      “I’m not swearing at them. My anger’s directed at the guy who got me into this mess, and at the Oasis rep who sold me a pig in a poke. What makes you even imagine I’d swear at children?”

      “Oh, I don’t know, probably the way you’re glowering.” Miranda stopped and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me. I’ll just go get my friends.” She hugged Scraps to her chest and sidled around Linc. Once past him, she broke into a run.

      Staring after the young woman, he noticed her shapely backside and quickly controlled a punch to his gut that he shouldn’t be feeling. He turned his attention to the problems on the porch.

      John Montoya thought he was crazy to leave his old job. But in the past few years, Linc found himself growing more short-tempered and less tolerant of people. No doubt the dog’s owner had glimpsed and had wrongly assumed he’d swear at little kids. Well, the red-haired boy wasn’t so little. He must be the one George Tucker had said was the biter.

      Linc approached the trio slowly. “Hi. My name is Lincoln Parker. Call me Linc.” He mustered a smile. “Sorry about the phone call and the time I spent talking to the lady with the dog,” he added for good measure, as he’d seen the kids’ interest in the dog. “Let’s go inside and you can give me your names. Hey, hey, relax. I don’t know when I’ll be able to reach your social worker—this…Mrs. Bishop.” Lincoln unfolded the paper and read the woman’s name. “What I’m saying—” he spoke through a thinning smile “—is that we may as well be on a first-name basis because it looks as if we’re stuck with each other for a while.”

      “Screw you,” sneered the boy. Linc stiffened when the kid barreled off the porch straight at him. He didn’t relish getting bitten; Tucker hadn’t warned about kicking, though. The little monster landed a bone-breaking blow to Linc’s left shin. “Damn, damn, damn!” He swore and hopped around holding his ankle as the kid disappeared in the thickening dusk.

      “Wolfie!” The girl not confined to the wheelchair cried out and stumbled on one of the wheelchair foot plates. She fell flat at Linc’s feet, sobbing too hard to get up right away and follow the boy.

      “Easy, easy.” Linc reached for her gingerly.

      “Wolfie is Hana’s brother,” said the round-eyed girl in the chair. “His real name’s Wolfgang, but he hates it, so everybody calls him Wolfie.”

      Bending, Linc gently lifted the hysterical child. He was amazed by how fragile her bones felt under his hands and was reminded of a frightened bird he’d rescued from a cat СКАЧАТЬ