He stepped back and looked toward the two vans. Three doors opened as if they’d been synchronized. A kid, who reminded Finn of a young colt that hadn’t quite grown into his spindly legs, jumped from the van. Shotgun ran out to the boy, put his paws on his shoulders and the two of them fell to the ground for a wrestling game.
“Remember me talking about my nephew, Martin?”
“He need a place to stay, too?” Finn asked.
She nodded and for the first time she had doubts about the whole thing.
“You brought government men. I guess this is serious?”
Another nod. “It is.”
“Then I expect we’d best go in the house and talk about it.” He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Okay if Martin stays outside with Shotgun? Old dog has missed kids since we’ve been in Burnt Boot. You haven’t changed a bit in two years. You still as sassy as ever?”
“Callie?” the boy called out.
“You can stay outside if you stay in the yard.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well? Are you still a pistol?” Finn asked as they took the three steps up to the porch.
“Damn straight, O’Donnell,” she answered.
Callie’s breath tightened in her chest. She could think it was fear of leaving Martin alone, but if she was totally honest with herself, it was the way Finn had hugged her and still yet kept an arm thrown loosely over her shoulders. Old feelings surfaced that she thought she’d buried long ago, and now there was no Lala in the picture. Sweet Jesus, could she trust herself to walk into a situation like this?
***
Finn stood back to let Callie go inside first. “I’ve got a pot of coffee brewing and sweet tea in the refrigerator. Excuse the mess. I’m not even unpacked yet. I’d hoped that these men who brought you here wouldn’t be able to ever find me again, but I guess Big Brother has his ways. Might as well come on in the kitchen.”
Three men filed ahead of him and stopped inside an enormous great room housing a living room with a huge stone fireplace on the east end, a big dining room, and a country kitchen. Finn led the way to the kitchen area and motioned toward a round table flanked by six chairs. He hated to take his arm away from Callie for fear she would vanish into the cold winter air, and he had so much to tell her about what had happened since they’d said good-bye in Afghanistan two years ago. Lord, he’d fantasized about Callie right up until Lala came into his life, but he remembered how much he wanted to kiss her full lips and how his hands itched to brush her long, dark hair away from her face. He’d dreamed about waking up to those big aqua-colored eyes staring at him in the morning. And now she was right there in his kitchen.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“Need some help?” Callie asked.
“I got it covered.” He opened three cabinet doors before he located the coffee cups and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Coffee for everyone?”
Three men nodded.
“Black just like always, Callie?”
“I haven’t changed a bit,” she said.
He carried cups to the table then drew his chair close enough that his knee touched hers. “Okay, Callie, let’s hear that story.”
Otis picked up his coffee and said, “She needs to go into Witness Protection. She and the boy both. I’m Otis, by the way, and this is Special Agents Jones and Smith.”
Finn shot a look across the table. “I know Jones and Smith. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Otis, but I asked her to tell me, not you.”
Callie’s hand shook as she picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. When she set it down, he covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”
“My sister was killed in a car wreck a couple of weeks before I got out of the service two years ago. I came home to a six-year-old nephew in foster care. I convinced the authorities to let me have him. Last week he witnessed a murder in the alley behind our apartment complex. They want to put us in the wit-sec program but I refused.”
“Go on,” Finn said.
“Even though he’s only eight, he got a good long look at the man who did the killing and they are going to let him testify when it comes time,” Callie said.
“Are you willing to let this be a safe house for her?” Otis asked.
Finn turned to face Otis. “I owe this woman my life more times than I can count. If she wants to stay here, she damn sure can stay. We were more than partners and she was more than my spotter. She was my best friend, so does that answer your question?”
“Thank you, Finn,” she said.
He cocked his head to one side. “Callie, this is a ranch. If I remember right, you joined the Army because you hated every damn thing there was about ranchin’. Are you sure you want to live here?”
“Guess I’ve found out there’s worse things in the world than the cows, hay haulin’, and calvin’ season,” she said. “I’m not askin’ for a handout here, Finn. I’m willing to work. I’ll work outside. I’ll work inside cleaning and cooking or both if you’ll give me and Martin room and board. And it doesn’t matter if I like it, Finn. I’ll do it until the trial is over, then we’ll be out of your hair.” She inhaled deeply. “I can ride a horse or a four-wheeler. I can pull a calf or drive anything that’s got wheels and fix most anything that’s got an engine. I’ll work cheap and, in exchange, Martin and I get to live here without fear until the trial is over, probably in early February.”
“That’s putting a lot of faith in one man,” Otis said.
“Not this man,” Agent Smith said seriously. “I’d trust him with my life. Hell, I’d trust him with the life of the president of the United States. I’ve tried to hire him to do just that but he turned us down, twice.”
Finn hated to unpack, do laundry, and most of all cook, and she’d offered to work inside or outside.
Finn O’Donnell, cats, dogs, and baby rabbits are one thing, but people are not strays. You don’t train them. You don’t get them well and turn them loose. Be careful, his inner voice warned.
“Have you gotten any better at frying a chicken? Is your gravy still lumpy and your biscuits tough?” Finn grinned.
“Chicken will melt in your mouth and my biscuits and gravy are fine, thank you,” she answered.
He hugged her close to his side, almost toppling her out of the chair. “Don’t you lie to me, Brewster. I remember your burnt fried chicken and your biscuits could have been used as weapons of mass destruction.”
She pushed away from him. “Don’t you talk to me in that tone, O’Donnell. We were both drunk when we fried that chicken and we did it together and you were as much to blame for it as I was. I’ve learned to cook in the past two years. Raisin’ a kid means making dinner every night whether I want to or not.”
His heart kicked in an extra beat. He hadn’t felt so alive since he left Afghanistan and surely not since he’d heard what a fool he’d been when he fell for Lala. “Okay, we’ll try it until after the holidays. I wouldn’t want to spoil Christmas for Shotgun and it looks like he’s done took to that kid.”
Callie laughed until she snorted, held her hand out, and said, “Shake on it. I understand it’s all for your dog, not for me or my brother. Your crazy sense of humor hasn’t changed a damn bit, Finn O’Donnell. Thank God for that.”
***
“We were living in a furnished apartment.” Callie shrugged when she caught Finn looking at the bags the federal boys unloaded on the porch before they left.
“What’d you do for a paycheck?” he asked.
“I worked as a trainer in a gym and taught women’s self-defense classes,” she answered. “The Army didn’t give me a lot of marketable skills for the outside world.”
The muscles in his arms flexed against the knit of his long-sleeved Western shirt when he picked up one of the duffel bags and threw it over his shoulder like
a bag of cattle feed. Then he stooped, grabbed the other one, and hefted it up on the other shoulder.
“You want to get the door for me and call the kid into the house? I’ll show you where your rooms are,” he said.
“Hey, Martin, a little help here,” she yelled over her shoulder as she opened the door.
The boy came in a dead run with the dog right behind him. “Yes, ma’am. Wow, Callie! I bet Finn could pick you up.”
Callie could feel the heat coming up the back of her neck, but she couldn’t stop it. Soldiers didn’t blush. They were mean and tough and could take out snakes, spiders, and even enemy combatants. But a visual of her hanging over Finn’s back with her butt so close to his lips that he could kiss it—well, hell’s bells, that would make the devil himself blush.
“I don’t imagine she weighs as much as this bag,” Finn said. “What’d you pack in here, Martin? Rocks?”
The boy picked up one of the smaller zippered bags and managed to hoist it up on his shoulder like Finn, but it came close to bowing his legs. “No, sir, but Callie put books in that one. This one is heavy, too.”
“I bet it is, son. Just keep a tight hold on it and follow me. I’ll show you where to unload it,” Finn said.
The cold wind whipped around and came at them from the north, cooling Callie’s scarlet cheeks considerably. “That wind feels like it’s comin’ off snow or ice. Martin and I can share a room. Couldn’t afford a two-bedroom place. Mostly I just slept on the sofa and let him have the bedroom anyway.”
The dog shot into the house before the door shut behind her and flopped down on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, put a paw over his nose, and promptly went to sleep.
“No need for that. This is a big house. This wing has three bedrooms and a huge bathroom. Y’all can have your choice of rooms, but I bet Martin is going to like this one.” He slid the bags off his shoulders at the doorway of one of the bedrooms.
“Which one is yours?” Callie dropped a bulging suitcase in the hallway.
He turned her shoulders toward the living room and pointed. “There’s another wing off the living room. I chose a bedroom in that area because it has a fireplace. It shares a flue with the one in the living room. Actually Shotgun chose it when we first got here. We had a fireplace in my bedroom at the ranch in Comfort and he recognized it as a place to warm his bones after working all day out in the cold,” Finn answered.
The deep Southern drawl in his voice still affected her the same way it had back when she first met him. She didn’t know the story, but Lala was a complete idiot not to be living on the ranch with him.
Martin let go of the bag on his shoulder, and it fell to the hardwood floor with a loud thump. “Are you serious? Is this really my room? I’m afraid to shut my eyes because it might not be here when I open them again.”
Callie peeked around Finn’s shoulder to see Martin jump over all three bags and spin around in the bedroom, trying to see everything at once. “If I don’t get nothin’ else for Christmas, this will be the best one I ever had in my whole life. Can I invite friends over? There’s two bunk beds, so I can have three friends, right?”
Callie heard him talking but her mind was on Finn’s hand on her shoulder. She felt safe for the first time since the murder, but it went much deeper than that. Finn had always sent a wave of heat through her body. She’d just managed it better in Afghanistan.
“Callie!” Martin said loudly.
“Sorry, kiddo, I was gathering wool,” she said.
“I asked if I can unpack my bag right now.”
“Yes, you may,” Callie said.
Finn leaned over and whispered, sending shivers up her spine. “I figured he’d like this room. We need to talk.”
“He’s begged for bunk beds since he was big enough to know what they were,” she said softly.
Martin kicked off his shoes, climbed up to a top bunk, and sat cross-legged. “It’s my dream room. Can I read them books? I bet there’s some good stories in them. Can Shotgun come in here with me and sleep on one of the beds? Can I have friends spend the night?”
Before he could ask another million questions, Callie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Give Finn time to think and give yourself time to breathe. Yes, I’m sure you can read the books if you are careful with them. We’ll talk about the dog and friends later on, but right now you get settled in while Finn and I have an adult conversation. Okay?”
Martin smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Finn led the way into the living room and sat down on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him and motioning for her. “Callie, I mean it, I’m really glad to see you. Not just to have a hand or a cook. I missed you. I tried to get in touch, but the phone number you gave me was disconnected.”
“I tried to call you for a whole month after I got things straightened out with Martin. I figured you were married to Lala by then, but I wanted to know you’d made it home safe,” she said. “How did you wind up here? And how long have you been here? The neat freak Finn I knew wouldn’t still have unpacked boxes after even a week.”
He reached over and ran the back of his hand down her cheek, sending another round of flutters to her heart. “I’ve been here two days, Callie. I know that’s you sitting there, but I keep thinking you’ll vanish if I don’t keep touching you. We’ve got two years of catching up to do. Am I right in thinking there is no boyfriend, since you came here?”
“You are very right.” She held his hand to her cheek a few seconds longer before letting go. “Now tell me how you ended up in this little place.”
“The lady who owned this property, Verdie, sold it to me, lock, stock, and barrel. She wanted out of town before any more cold weather set in. I’m not sure what I bought in the house. I’ve spent two days in the barn and on the property counting cows,” he said.
“But it’s miles from Austin.”
“Comfort. I lived in Comfort, Texas, not too far from Austin. I looked for a place there, but nothing fit. Crazy to think of a ranch fitting like a pair of cowboy boots, but this place did. When Verdie said she wanted to sell it as it stood, it seemed like a dream come true. And now you are here for a few weeks and it seems like old times, sitting here, almost like we were back in the tents after a mission.”
“I missed that most of all,” she said.
“Hey, Callie, when is supper? Do I have time to read a little while?” Martin yelled from his room.
“He’s afraid to come out here for fear he’ll wake up and this will be a dream,” Callie said and then raised her voice, “Go ahead and read.”
“Speaking of supper, we should probably go to the store and lay in staples. It’s closed tomorrow,” he said. “I make a pretty mean ham and cheese sandwich and I do know how to open a can of tomato soup to go with it, but I’m not even sure there’s enough ham for three sandwiches.”
“I’ll make supper, Finn. I think I can do better than soup and sandwiches if you’ll show me where things are located.”
He chuckled. “Your guess is good as mine. I’ve been living on frozen pizza and sandwiches for two days.”
He stood up and held out his hand. “Trust me, there’s nothing in the refrigerator. The freezer is full but everything is frozen, and the pantry isn’t too shabby but pickin’s are slim on staples.”
She put her hand in his. “Then I suppose we should go to the store.”
How to Handle a Cowboy
The first book in the
Cowboys of Decker Ranch series
by Joanne Kennedy
His rodeo days may be over…
Sidelined by a career-ending injury, rodeo cowboy Ridge Cooper feels trapped at his family’s remote Wyoming ranch. Desperate to find an outlet for the passion he used to put into competing, he takes on the challenge of teaching his roping skills to five troubled ten-year-olds in a last-chance home for foster k
ids, and finds it’s their feisty supervisor who takes the most energy to wrangle.
But he’ll still wrangle her heart
When social worker Sierra Dunn seeks an activity for the rebellious kids at Phoenix House, she soon learns she’s not in Denver anymore. Sierra is eager to get back home to her inner-city work, and the plan doesn’t include forming an attachment in Wyoming−especially not to a ruggedly handsome and surprisingly gentle local rodeo hero.
“Realistic and romantic… Kennedy’s forte is in making relationships genuine and heartfelt as she exposes vulnerabilities with tenderness and good humor.”—Booklist Starred Review
“The sex scenes are juicy…and the plot moves seamlessly.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
For more Joanne Kennedy, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
The Cowboy’s Mail Order Bride
by Carolyn Brown
New York Times Bestselling Author
She’s got sass…
Emily Cooper promised her dying grandfather that she’d deliver a long-lost letter to a woman he once planned to wed. Little does adventurous Emily know that this simple task will propel her to places she never could have imagined…with a cowboy who’s straight out of her dreams…
He’s got mail…
When sexy rancher Greg Adams discovers his grandmother Clarice has installed Emily on their ranch as her assistant, he decides to humor the two ladies. He figures Emily will move on soon enough. In the meantime, he intends to keep a close eye on her—he doesn’t quite buy her story of his grandmother as a mail-order bride.
A lost letter meant a lost love for Clarice, but two generations later, maybe it’s not too late for that letter to work its magic.
“While the romance is hot, there is an old-world feel to it that will bring out the romantic in every reader, leaving them swooning and wishing they had their very own cowboy.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
“Carolyn Brown’s characters become my friends and I find myself laughing with them, crying with them, and loving with them.”—Bitten by Love Reviews
How to Marry a Cowboy (Cowboys & Brides) Page 28
