Maverick Christmas. Joanna Wayne

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СКАЧАТЬ the weatherman hadn’t predicted anything but flurries today. The real storm wasn’t due until tomorrow.

      They were almost to school when he spotted the blue compact car parked at the side of the road with the hood up. He pulled up behind the vehicle. The woman who’d been staring at the engine waved and smiled. He didn’t recognize her until the hood of her parka blew off and he caught sight of her short blond hair snaring snowflakes.

      It was the woman who’d gotten all bent out of shape last night over the Christmas tree mishap at the civic center. Obviously she wasn’t as demanding that her husband keep her car in good working order. But then, if you had a woman that cute around the house, you might have better things to do than work on cars.

      “The motor died on me,” she said as he walked up. “And then it wouldn’t start again.”

      He looked around under the hood, but didn’t see anything obvious. “Probably the battery,” he said. “I can give you a jump.”

      “I’d appreciate that.”

      “I’ll get the cables and be right back. You can wait in the car if you like.”

      “I’d definitely like. Are winters always this cold in Montana?”

      “It’ll get a lot colder than this. Where are you from?”

      “The South.”

      “That covers a wide area. I’d guess Texas, judging from your accent.” If he was right, she didn’t admit it. “What brings you to Montana?”

      “Just wanted a change of scenery.”

      “Are you and your husband ranchers?”

      “No.”

      He strode to the truck, checked on the boys—who were arguing about whether Ice Age or Ice Age 2 was the better movie—then returned with the jumper cables. It didn’t take but a minute to bring the engine to life.

      The woman put her head out the car window. “I really appreciate the help, Sheriff.”

      “No problem.”

      “Can I pay you?”

      “A good cowboy doesn’t take pay for helping a lady in distress.”

      He clapped his hands together to warm them. “Your husband needs to replace that battery. It’s going to be a long winter, and you don’t want to risk getting stuck out in a blizzard.”

      “Thanks. I’ll see that it’s done. Are you sure I can’t pay you for your trouble?”

      Actually, he did need a favor. But she had two little girls sitting in the car with her right now. What would she know about caring for two rambunctious first-grade boys? For that matter, what did he know about it?

      “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” he said, lingering by her car while he figured out if he dared leave his boys with this woman—even if she agreed to watch them. “I’m Josh McCain. I’m the local sheriff.”

      “I’m Chrysie Atwater.” She ran her hands over the steering wheel, clearly ready to be off. Her children were sitting in the car, talking to each other in nice, quiet voices. He could hear his boys from where he was standing. She must know something about tending kids.

      “If you really want to thank me, you could do me a favor.”

      “What would that be?”

      “I’m kind of in a bind. I have an important meeting with the county prosecutor this afternoon, and my sitter can’t watch the boys. I’d be much obliged if you’d watch them for me for a couple of hours.”

      “Just for today?”

      “That’s all I’m asking.”

      “I suppose I could do that.”

      “I’ll pay you the going rate.”

      “No, that’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll be repaying your favor.”

      “Where do you live?”

      “We’re renting the foreman’s cabin on Buck Miller’s ranch.”

      “So your husband works for Buck?”

      “No. I’ll take the boys home with me after school if you’d like. You can pick them up at my house when you’ve finished your meeting.”

      “Sounds like a deal.”

      She nodded and dropped her gear into Drive. The second he stepped away from the car, she revved the engine and pulled back onto the highway.

      There was something about her that bothered him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something all the same. He figured her for a socialite, a woman used to getting her way. He’d been around enough of those in his younger days to recognize them a mile away.

      Not that she was a snob. Refined was probably the better word. And she didn’t seem that fond of cold weather for a lady who’d just moved from the South to Montana for a change in scenery.

      He’d give Buck’s wife a call and he’d stop and see Mrs. Larkey, as well. Unless they gave her a glowing recommendation, he’d just have to cancel the meeting with the D.A. The meeting was important, but the boys came first. He might not be the best of fathers, but he loved them like crazy. That had to count for something.

      CHRYSIE WAS DOWN on her hands and knees scrubbing the old wooden floors with a vengeance when she heard the knock at the door. Apprehension hit as always, sending her pulse racing and her insides rolling. She jumped to her feet and ran to the window, not breathing easy until she spotted Evelyn Miller at the door.

      She peeled the yellow rubber gloves from her hands and dropped them near the bucket of soapy water. It took several seconds to unlatch the triple security locks she’d installed herself and open the door.

      “I was making us a rhubarb pie for dessert,” Evelyn said, smiling broadly. “So I made one for you and the girls, too.”

      “That was thoughtful.”

      “No more trouble to make two than one.” Evelyn handed her the pie. “You sure have this place sparkling. It hasn’t been this clean since Buck and the hands built it some thirty years ago.”

      “I’ve enjoyed working on it.” Strangely that was the truth. Other than run the vacuum cleaner, she’d never done any heavy housework. But this was the closest thing she’d had to a real house since she’d lived in Houston. And that was only because the Millers had rented it to her for less than she’d paid for that crummy apartment they’d lived in before settling in Montana.

      Evelyn straightened the stained apron that puckered around her plump waist and broad hips. She was short, probably no more than a couple of inches over five feet, big-boned, with more than ample breasts that drooped nearly to her waist and short brown hair that frizzed about her reddened cheeks. But her genuine smile and dancing eyes radiated warmth.

      “I’d ask you СКАЧАТЬ