Courtship, Montana Style. Charlotte Maclay

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ her arm through the car seat handle, holding it in front of her. With her free hand, she handed him a magazine. “According to this article, you need a housekeeper. I’m applying.”

      He shook his head. “You’ve got a baby,” he said stupidly. “You can’t possibly expect—”

      “I didn’t think in government service you were allowed to discriminate.”

      He frowned. This Lizzie person had the most intense blue eyes, which were currently zapping him with blue-lightning strikes. “I’m not a government employee,” he pointed out, and suddenly he’d lost all interest in Western hospitality. Which wasn’t like him at all. He was an easygoing guy. Friendly with everybody. Which meant maybe the boys had figured out how to play a practical joke on him, and he should just go along.

      “Perhaps not, but you do take money from the government to assist in the support of the foster children placed in your care.”

      A muscle twitched in his jaw. None of this sounded right, and it sure as hell wasn’t funny. Was she accusing him of stealing the money? “I spend every dime of that money on the kids.”

      “Of course. Nonetheless, accepting government funds means you cannot discriminate against working mothers. It’s the law.”

      What the hell! He’d never discriminated against anyone. Ever! He liked women. Even mothers. A lot! And now this sexy female was telling him—

      “Hey, boss, what’s goin’ on?” Speed Pendrix sauntered around the corner of the house, his loose-limbed walk somewhere between a stroll and a full stop.

      Moving at the same pace, Bandit got up to greet the foreman.

      “This woman says I’ve got to hire her to be my housekeeper,” Walker told Speed.

      “Well, now, ain’t that nice.” He ambled up to the car, a big, foolish grin on his face as he took in Lizzie and the baby, who was dressed in pink overalls and a matching denim cap. “Don’t ya know, we surely could use some housekeeping help and darned if she’s not the purdiest little thing I’ve seen in a month of Sundays.”

      “Why, thank you, Mr….”

      “Jest call me Speed, ma’am. Everybody does.” He tipped his wide-brimmed straw hat.

      Extending her hand, Lizzie granted the foreman a radiant smile that would have curled Walker’s toes if it had been meant for him. Which it wasn’t. All she’d done was shoot daggers in his direction. And he’d shot them back, he admitted. But he’d had reason, damn it!

      “It’s nice to meet you, Speed.”

      “Cain’t say as I remember a time when we had a baby around here. It’ll be a nice change.”

      “Now wait a minute,” Walker objected. “She can’t come waltzing in here and expect—”

      His three-man crew of adolescents came bursting out of the house, the screen door banging against its stop. They leaped off the steps—Bean Pole stumbling as he landed—and surrounded the woman and her car. Bandit wove his way between the adolescents’ legs.

      “Yo, man! Look at them wheels!”

      “Hey, she’s got a baby. My mom had a baby.”

      “Bet I could get you fifty, maybe sixty bucks for those cool hubcaps. You wanna sell, lady?”

      “Hold it!” Walker bellowed. He’d lost control of the situation and he damn well was going to get it back.

      The boys snapped to attention. Even the woman pulled her shoulders back, her expression startled and wide-eyed.

      “Let’s take this whole thing a little slower,” Walker said. “This lady is—”

      “Lizzie Thomas,” she repeated.

      “From?” he prodded.

      “Merry Maids, Inc.”

      Which Walker had never heard of but, based on the out-of-state license plates on her car, he concluded it was in Nevada. “And you’re here because?”

      “Because you stated very clearly in this magazine article that you need a housekeeper.”

      She spoke in a reasonable tone, her voice slightly bluesy and very sexy, yet it wasn’t a reasonable statement at all. He didn’t need a housekeeper. Well, he did, but he couldn’t afford one and he sure as hell wasn’t equipped to house a woman and her baby at the ranch.

      “Wow! That’s great!” Scotty, the youngest of the boys at age twelve, leaned forward to chuck the baby under her chin.

      “Your hands are dirty, son,” Walker warned.

      “No, they’re not. I washed ’em—”

      “Enough! I’m not going to start an argument about dirty hands. We’re going to start from the beginning and do this right.” So Walker could get to the bottom of what was going on.

      “These are my foster sons, Miss Thomas. Take off your hats, boys.” They all responded, even Speed. “Scotty here is the one enamored of the baby. His real name is Donald MacLeod and you can figure his red hair is one of the reasons we call him Scotty.”

      “Hello, Scotty. It’s fine if you want to touch Suzanne. A little dirt won’t hurt her.”

      Walker scowled. This was his show, his ranch. No pretty little filly with a quick smile and long, red fingernails was going to muscle her way in here without his say-so. Which he wasn’t about to give.

      “Our resident expert on the value of assorted car parts is Fridge—Arnold Bullock,” Walker continued. “He can empty a refrigerator in one sitting and a junkyard in about fifteen minutes, if you give him a chance. Which we try not to do.”

      Her amused smile shot a flush to the boy’s cheeks, which were just beginning to show the first signs of growing whiskers.

      “And Bean Pole here is Chad Stringer, one of my best cowhands on a horse.” On land, he was so clumsy he was barely able to walk around without falling over his own feet, a trait Walker recalled all too clearly from his own adolescent years. “He outgrows a pair of jeans faster than Fridge can empty the refrigerator.”

      Lizzie nodded to the boys. “I’m glad to meet all of you.”

      “You’ve met Speed, my foreman, and the dog’s name is Bandit.”

      She smiled at the dog and reached down to let Bandit smell the back of her hand. While she petted the top of his head, she kept the baby safely out of the dog’s reach.

      “Now then, the formalities are taken care of…” He tucked his fingers in his jeans pockets. “I don’t know what made you think my comment in that magazine meant I was ready to hire the first housekeeper who showed up at my door. Or any housekeeper, for that matter, and certainly not one with a baby. You’ll have to go back to wherever—”

      “Aw, boss,” Scotty complained. “I know how to take care of a baby. I can even change diapers. It’s a snap.”

      Lizzie СКАЧАТЬ