Claiming The Cowboy's Heart. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ Usually she worked the restaurant side, but she was sometimes tagged to help out in the bar when it was particularly busy.

      Tonight she was scheduled to work 6 p.m. to midnight in the bar. It was six-oh-seven when she parked her car and six-oh-eight when Duke found her in the staff lounge—really not much more than a closet where employees hung their coats and stashed their personal belongings—tying her apron around her waist.

      Her boss folded his beefy arms over his chest and pinned her with his gaze. “You’re late.”

      “I’m sorry.” Macy’s apology was automatic but sincere. “Max was fussing and I wanted to help settle him down before I left.”

      “I’ve got kids,” Duke said. “Of course, mine are grown now, but I remember the early days and can empathize with your situation. However, your customers don’t care if Sam’s cutting teeth or Ava’s got a fever—they just want to order food and drink from a waitress who’s on time.”

      “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said again.

      “You were bussing tables here while you were still in high school. We both know you’re overqualified for this job, but as long as you’re working here, I need you to do the job you were hired to do.”

      She nodded.

      “Of course, if you were to get another job more suited to your interests, then I could hire someone who is more interested in waiting tables,” he remarked.

      “I had an interview with Liam Gilmore today,” she told him.

      “Good. Because I interviewed Courtney Morgan for your job here.”

      “Hey,” she said, because she felt compelled to make at least a token protest. Though it wasn’t her lifelong dream to wait tables, she usually enjoyed working at Diggers’—the hub of most social activity in Haven. Of course, the town only boasted two other restaurants: the Sunnyside Diner and Jo’s Pizzeria, so if residents wanted anything other than all-day breakfast or pizza, they inevitably headed to Diggers’.

      Early in the week, business wasn’t nearly as brisk as it was on weekends, but Macy didn’t mind the slower pace because it meant that she had more time to chat with the customers she served.

      “Somebody was hungry,” she commented, as she picked up the now-empty plate that had contained a six-ounce bison burger on a pretzel bun, a scoop of creamy coleslaw and a mountain of curly fries when she’d delivered it to Connor Neal.

      “Yeah, me and the sheriff got caught up with a case and worked right through lunch,” the deputy told her.

      Macy hadn’t really known Connor while she was growing up in Haven. He was a few years younger than she was and, even as a kid, he’d been known around town as “that no-good Neal boy.”

      She’d never been sure if he’d earned his bad-boy reputation or simply had the misfortune of living on the wrong side of the tracks with his unwed mother and younger half brother, but notwithstanding this difficult start, he’d managed to turn his life around. Not only was he a deputy in the sheriff’s office now, he’d recently married Regan Channing, whose family had made their substantial fortune in mining.

      “Do you want dessert?” Macy asked him now.

      “No, thanks. But I do need an order to go.” He scrolled through the messages in his phone, then read aloud: “Buffalo chicken wrap with extra hot sauce, fries and onion rings, and one of those big pickles.”

      “It sounds like your wife might have worked through lunch, too,” she noted. “Or it might just be that she’s eating for two.”

      “Three actually,” Connor confided.

      “Three?” Macy echoed.

      The deputy nodded. “She’s having twins. We’re having twins,” he hastily amended.

      “I hadn’t heard,” she said. “That’s wonderful news—congratulations.”

      He smiled weakly. “Two babies are twice the fun, right?”

      “For sure,” she agreed. And twice the diapers and midnight feedings, but she kept that to herself. The reality would hit him quickly enough when the babies were born. “Do you know if you’re going to have two sons or daughters or one of each?”

      “Daughters. They’re both girls. Although I’ve been told that sometimes the techs make mistakes,” he added.

      She couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious hopefulness in his tone. “Sometimes they do,” she agreed. “And sometimes expectant mothers get cranky when they have to wait too long for their food, so I’ll get this order in for you right away.”

      “Thanks,” Connor said.

      Aside from being freaked out by the idea of two girls, it was obvious to Macy that the deputy was looking forward to the family he was going to have with his wife. And as she made her way to the kitchen, Macy found herself envying Regan that.

      It was what she’d always wanted—not just a child, but a husband who was her partner in every aspect of life and a father for her children.

      She’d given up on that dream and opted to go it alone. And though she wouldn’t give up her babies for anything in the world, there were moments when she regretted that she hadn’t been able to give them more.

      A family.

      * * *

      It was almost eight o’clock when Liam left the inn. His booted feet pounded on the recently stained wooden slats of the porch that wrapped around three sides of the building. In the spring, there would be an assortment of benches and chairs to entice guests to rest and relax, interspersed with enormous pots of flowers to provide both privacy and color. But now there was only a light dusting of snow on the steps and the rail.

      It had been snowing when Kate came back after court to pick up her daughter, he recalled. He’d noted the flakes melting in his sister’s hair and on the shoulders of her coat when she walked into his office—while he was meeting with another applicant for the manager’s job. He’d pretended to be annoyed by the interruption, but the truth was, he’d been grateful for an excuse to cut the interview short.

      Having left his gloves in the truck earlier, he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket now and hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind as he considered his next move. He had an apartment on the third level, so that he’d be onsite overnight if his guests needed anything. But since there were no guests to worry about just yet, he’d postponed his move to continue helping with morning chores at the Circle G. If he was smart, he’d head back to the ranch, grab a bite to eat and hit the hay for a few hours before he had to be up again to help with those chores. Apparently he wasn’t very smart, because he turned toward Diggers’ instead.

      The double doors opened into an enclosed foyer and two other doorways—one clearly marked Bar and the other designated Grill. Once inside, patrons could easily move from one side to the other as there was only a partial wall dividing the two sections, but the division ensured a more family-friendly entrance to the restaurant side. The interior was rustic: the floors were unpainted, weathered wood slats, scuffed and scarred from the pounding of countless pairs of boots; framed newspaper headlines trumpeting the discovery СКАЧАТЬ