The Cowboy is a Daddy
Page 22
Because if she was truthful, she’d have to admit that what she’d started out wanting in the beginning had morphed into something entirely different.
She needed to clear her head. Go back to chasing her dream. Learn to be a woman who stood firmly on her own two feet, made solid decisions based on the facts as she saw them, and stuck by them.
And by God, the lure of showing her mother her expertise was too great to ignore.
Plus, the opportunity to connect with true friends, the kind you could always depend on, was a draw she couldn’t resist.
Sunny, Donetta Presley, Tracy Lynn Randolph and Becca Sue Ellsworth had called themselves the Texas Sweethearts. They’d formed their secret society when they were kids. Even years and miles hadn’t dampened their bond. Seeing her pals again would be good.
“I’ll square things away here and be out there by Wednesday,” she said.
The problem was, if an infectious disease was plaguing Jackson Slade’s cattle, even Wednesday might be too late to save his herd.
The Texas sun beat down on her like flames from hell. A straw Western hat shaded her blond hair, but her T-shirt and jeans felt as though they’d been shrink-wrapped to her body.
Irritated, Sunny imagined ten different scenarios of how she’d kill her mother. She’d been under the impression that Jack’s ranch was in crisis. But when she’d arrived at the Forked S ten minutes ago and gone in search of Jack, there didn’t appear to be a speck of tension in the air. And none of the hands gave any indication that they recognized her or expected her.
Peachy.
In fact, she’d been told that Jack wasn’t even there, although he was due any minute.
“Meddling,” she said to the huge dog at her side. “Mama’s the Texas state champion at it. I’d lay odds that the minute she discovered Michael was out of the picture, her Southern-lady, all-good-girls-should-be-married-and-settled engine went into overdrive.”
Simba raised his head and gave her a goofy look of agreement, his pink tongue snaking out to bathe her arm with a fast lick.
If matchmaking was Anna’s game, Sunny would let her know right quick that she was pulling the wrong sow’s ear. Never mind that it was fairly typical behavior. Men always came first with Anna Carmichael. It was in the Southern code. Heck, ten years ago, she’d even advised Sunny to turn a blind eye to Jack’s betrayal.
Fat chance. That wasn’t Sunny’s style. And right now, she’d had it with men. The only male she intended to let close was Simba.
She looped her arm around the dog’s neck. Since his wide skull came nearly to her chest, she was able to affectionately hug him for his loyal show of support without bending over.
“See any signs of an airplane yet?”
Simba ignored her question and snapped at a grasshopper that had the misfortune to fly in front of his face.
Instead of watching the private airstrip where Jackson would land, Sunny looked out over the ranch, disregarding the oppressive smell of manure and the stirred-up dust.
The Forked S was some operation, not at all as she’d remembered it from ten years ago. Back then this acreage had been owned by a man who cared more about his next bottle of whiskey than increasing his herd or repairing the outbuildings.
Cattle milled in pens, some bawling as they were squeezed through chutes leading into the corral. Others, dotting the verdant land, munched happily on the feathery grass swaying in the hot summer wind.
Ranch hands in dusty hats, boots and jeans all seemed to have jobs to do and took their duties seriously. No one lazed around smoking in the shade or tipping an icy beer behind the barn.
Evidently, the boss man ran a tight operation.
Sunny took a breath and choked on the cloying, dusty air. Standing in the middle of a ranch that held myriad memories she had no desire to confront was the last thing she’d ever expected to be doing.
She ought to be in Tahiti, floating on a raft in a clear blue bay, drinking sweet, potent concoctions with little umbrellas stuck in a pineapple garnish and licking her emotional wounds in comfort and style.
The drone of a plane engine sent Simba prancing to his feet.
“Yes, I hear it, boy.” Sunny shaded her eyes with her hand and watched as a flashy Cessna descended in the blue sky, wings dipping ever so slightly from side to side as the pilot aimed for the short runway. The landing gear seemed about to brush the treetops, and Sunny held her breath. She let it out when the tail cleared the foliage by inches and the Cessna touched down as softly as dandelion fluff. Typical of a hotshot pilot at the controls, Jackson barely slowed the single engine, blue-and-white plane before putting it into a turn and bringing it around.
“Show-off,” she muttered, impressed despite herself. She appreciated skill, admired a person who strove to be the best.
The engine shut off and the two-blade propeller jerked to a stop like a whirligig with a child’s finger suddenly thrust into it. After several minutes, the door popped open and Jackson climbed out. He jumped down lithely onto the sticky asphalt, where heat-wave mirages danced over the black surface.
Sunny’s heart pumped and sweat trickled down her spine. She was about to come face-to-face with her past.
But she could handle it. She would handle it. She’d spent ten long years building a shield around her heart. And a one-month vacation in Texas wasn’t going to tear it down.
For a moment he paused, watching her from a distance of one hundred yards. She couldn’t see past the aviator sunglasses to his blue eyes, couldn’t gauge his mood from his expression because he wore his tobacco-brown Stetson pulled low over his forehead.
Good granny’s goose, Jackson Slade still made her mouth water.
Six feet four inches of bad attitude, he drew women like flies to a watermelon, and radiated a masculinity that made a girl want to swoon like a Southern belle of old.
However, Sunny wasn’t a Southern belle. Southern, yes, but as much as her mother had tried, her manners were at times abysmal. And swooning wasn’t her style.
After the briefest hesitation, he headed toward her, his stride long and loose. If he felt a sense of urgency, it didn’t show. Nor did recognition.
That poked at her pride.
Then again, Jackson Slade was a master at hiding his emotions.
He stopped in front of her and stared down at her. As she craned her neck to meet his gaze, the bright sunshine behind him made her eyes water. He shifted subtly so that his body blocked the light. It also crowded her. Deliberately, it seemed.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Sunny Leigh Carmichael.”
Damn it, that deep Texas drawl still made her stomach hatch butterflies. She kept her hand on Simba. Not that she was afraid the hound would attack. She didn’t think Jack would appreciate Simba’s obsession for giving sloppy dog kisses just now.
“Good memory, Slade.” She couldn’t tell if he was surprised to see her or annoyed.
“You back in town for a visit, sugar bear?”
“Maybe.” She wanted him to take off those dark glasses so she could see if he was mocking her. Sugar bear had been his pet name for her all those years ago, at a time when she was certain he’d loved her, certain he’d intended to ask her daddy’s permission for her hand in marriage. Well, Daddy was gone now, and Jack had ended up marrying someone else.
“Been a lot of years,” he commented, and stepped back. “Any other time I’d be happy to socialize some, but I’ve got a cow with a possible prolapsed uterus. She’s one of my best breeders and if I don’t get in there right quick, I’ll lose her.” His tone implied he was happy for an excuse not to be sociable. With her.
Astonished, she stood for several seconds and gaped at his back as he walked away.
Who the heck had put a burr up his behind? The man had cheated on her ten years ago and had had a child with another woman, while Sunny had nursed a bone-deep hurt and pined—yes, damn it, pined— for him.
If anyone should be acting bitchy here, it should be her!
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Miffed by his attitude, she considered leaving. But her conscience as a veterinarian forced her to stay.
If Jack’s dead cattle turned out to be nothing more than routine, she was off the hook. In the meantime, she’d made a promise to her mother to look into the matter. And when Sunny made a promise, she didn’t break it.
Unlike Jackson Slade.
Get Sunny & Jack’s story here:
Courted by a Cowboy (Book 1 - Feb 5, 2018)
Surprised by a Baby (Book 2 - March 5, 2018)
Rescued by a Rancher (Book 3 - April 2, 2018)
Tempted by a Texan (Book 4 - May 1, 2018)
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Also by Mindy Neff
ADAM’S KISS
A FAMILY MAN
THE BAD BOY NEXT DOOR
About Mindy
Mindy Neff is the award winning author of over thirty novels and novellas. Her books have won the National Reader's Choice Award, the Orange Rose Award of Excellence, the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award, and the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award, as well as W.I.S.H awards for outstanding hero, and two prestigious RITA® nominations.
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To learn more about Mindy and her books, visit her website at: http://mindyneff.com/ and sign up for her reader’s group newsletter for new and upcoming releases and news.
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This book is dedicated to my parents:
Roland and Martha Barry, and my parents by marriage, Don and Mary Neff. For setting such a wonderful example of true love and romance. I miss you all more than words can express. I know you’re smiling down from heaven.