One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher: Tough to Tame / Carrying the Rancher's Heir / One Dance with the Cowboy. Diana Palmer

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      Kell smiled. “Thanks, Cy.”

      “I’d have come with Eb and Micah when they dropped by,” Cy added, “but we were out of town with the kids. It’s good to see you again.”

      “Same here,” Kell said. “I owe you.”

      “For what?” Cy shrugged. “Friends help friends.”

      “They do.”

      Cappie stared at her brother with a blank expression. A whole conversation seemed to be going on under her nose that she didn’t comprehend.

      “I’ll see you,” Cy said. “Nice to have met you, Miss Drake,” he added, smiling.

      “You, too,” she replied.

      Cy left without a backward glance.

      After he drove away, Cappie was still staring at her brother. “You didn’t say you had friends here. Why haven’t I seen them?”

      “They came while you were at work,” he said. “Several times.”

      “Oh.”

      He averted his eyes. “I met them when I was in the service,” he said. “They’re fine men. A little unorthodox, but good people.”

      “Oh!” She relaxed. “Mr. Parks has an injury.”

      “Yes. He was badly burned trying to save his wife and child from a fire. He was the only one who got out. It turned him mean. But now he’s remarried and has two sons, and he seems to have put the past behind him.”

      “Poor guy.” She grimaced. “No wonder he was mean. Who were the other men he mentioned?”

      “Other friends. Eb Scott and Micah Steele. Micah’s a doctor in Jacobsville. Eb Scott has a sort of training center for paramilitary units.”

      She blinked. “You do seem to attract the oddest friends.”

      “Men with guns.” He nodded. He grinned.

      She laughed. “Okay. I’m stonewalled. What do you want for supper?”

      “Nothing heavy,” he said. “I had a big lunch.”

      “You did?” She didn’t recall leaving anything out for him except sandwiches in a Baggie.

      “Cy brought a whole menu full of stuff from the local Chinese restaurant,” he said. “The remains are in the fridge. I wouldn’t mind having some of them for supper.”

      “Chinese food? Real Chinese food, from a real restaurant, that I don’t have to cook?” She felt her forehead. “Maybe I’m delusional.”

      He chuckled. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it? Go dig in. Bring me some of the pork and noodles, if you will. There’s sticky rice and mangoes for dessert, too.”

      “I have died and am now in heaven,” she said in a haunted tone.

      “Me, too. Get cracking. I’m on the fourth chapter of this book already!”

      “You are?” She laughed. He looked so much more cheerful. More than he’d been in weeks. “Okay, then.”

      He pulled the laptop back into place.

      “Do I get to read it?”

      He nodded. “When it’s done.”

      “That’s a deal.” She went into the kitchen and got out the boxes of Chinese food. It was all she could do to keep back the tears. Cy Parks was a nice man. A very nice man. Except for their splurged hamburgers and milkshakes, for which she still owed Dr. Rydel she reminded herself, there hadn’t been any convenience food for a long time. This was a feast. She put some of it in the freezer for hard times and heated up the rest. Her day was already getting better.

      It got even better than that. A tall man with sandy hair and blue eyes came driving up in Cappie’s own car two days later. The big SUV was following close behind. Cappie gaped at the sight. Her old car had been refurbished, its dents beaten out and the whole thing repainted and repaired. There were even seat covers and floor mats. She stared at it helplessly surprised.

      Cy Parks got out of the SUV and followed the sandy-haired man up onto the porch. “I hope you like blue,” he told Cappie. “There was a paint sale.”

      She could barely manage words. “Mr. Parks, I don’t even know what to say…” She burst into tears. “It’s so kind!”

      He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “There, there, it’s just one of those random acts of kindness we’re supposed to pass around. You can do the same thing for somebody else one day.”

      She dabbed at her eyes. “When I strike it rich, I swear I will!”

      He chuckled. “Harley Fowler, here,” he introduced his companion, “is as good a mechanic as he is a ranch foreman. I had him supervise the work on your car. The insurance company paid for it all,” he added when she started to protest. He grinned. “We get things done here in Jacobsville. The insurance agent locally is the sister-in-law of my top wrangler.”

      “Well, thank you both,” she said huskily. “Thank you so much. I was almost ashamed to ask Keely for rides. She’s so nice, but it was an imposition. I live five miles out of her way.”

      “You’re very welcome.”

      The front door opened and Kell wheeled himself out onto the porch. He whistled when he saw the car. “Good grief, that was quick work,” he said.

      Cy grinned. “You might remember that I always did know how to cut through the red tape.”

      “Thanks,” Kell told him. “From both of us. If I can ever do anything for you…”

      “You’ve done enough,” Cy returned quietly. His green eyes twinkled. “But you could always put me in that novel you’re writing. I’d like to be twenty-seven, drop-dead handsome and a linguist.”

      Kell rolled his eyes. “You can barely speak English,” he pointed out.

      Cy glared at him. “You take that back, or I’ll have Harley shoot all the tires out on this car.”

      Kell held up both hands, his silver eyes twinkling. “Okay, you could get work as a translator at the U.N. any day. Honest.”

      Cy sighed. “Don’t I wish.” He frowned. “Do you still speak Farsi?”

      Kell nodded, smiling.

      “I’ve got a friend who’s applying for a job with the company. Think you could tutor him? He’s well-off, and he’d pay you for your time.”

      Kell frowned.

      “It’s not charity,” Cy muttered, glowering at him. “This is a legitimate need. The guy wants to work overseas, but he’ll never get the job unless he can perfect his accent.”

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